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uncookedfeeler · 5 months ago

Text

Citrus II🍋

Yuna x Reader

Tags : 7k, smut, incest, daddy kink,

Part 1

Five past eight in the morning, you arrive in front of your company, after having crossed a few blocks in the capital, at the automatic barrier, you wave to the guards to say hello and make your way to the underground car park, of course you have reserved your own space, not far from the lift, the privilege of having an important place in the company, you say to yourself; once the car has stopped, your bag in hand, you walk at a brisk pace to the lift and press the button for your floor.

Your impatience and shame are growing, you're late, which is far from your usual routine, especially when your president is probably waiting for you in your office. The reason for your lateness is even more shameful, but you're determined to put these thoughts aside during the working day.

Once you are on your floor, you pass through a second glass door, which you open with your badge. In the corner is the office of your secretary, who stands up to greet you and to warn you that the CEO is already in your office, just as you had expected.

"Hello Mrs Kang, and thank you, how long has he been here?"

"Not long, he arrived 5 minutes ago, he seems to be smiling, I think you'll be fine," she replies with a nervous smile, "would you like me to make some coffees and bring them to you?"

"No need, I'll do it myself, otherwise nothing else for the rest of the day? "

"There's a lot of paperwork to do today after the president leaves, your meetings don't start until this afternoon". You give her a thumbs up before putting your hands on the latch of your door.

Your office was a modern space filled with clean lines and muted tones. A large executive desk dominated the room; behind it, tall windows filtered soft daylight through half-drawn blinds, while recessed lights softly illuminated the dark wood cabinets lining the back wall. In the corner, a pair of white armchairs and a sofa were accented by a single red cushion.

Across from you is your chairman, a middle-aged man with short grey hair and a warm smile. His face has visible wrinkles, particularly around the eyes, suggesting a friendly mood. He is wearing a formal dark suit and tie.

“I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr Ahn,” you say, bowing 90° to him.

"Ha ha, hello director, there's no need to be so formal, just get up and sit down,”he says, pointing with both hands to the seat in front of him.

“Thank you, would you like a coffee while I'm up?”

“A short one then, my wife says I drink too much.”

You walk over to your desk and behind your chair is a piece of furniture that runs the full height of the wall, on top of which are various decorations, including your personal coffee machine.

“They all say that, but a good machine needs its fuel to work properly, doesn't it?”

“Absolutely.”

A few minutes pass as you place your respective coffees on the table between you, warning him that they are still very hot.

“I heard about the new contracts with JYP, good work Director Shin, I imagine it must have taken a lot of negotiation, they're notoriously difficult to do business with.”

“You could say that, it's not the first time they've worked with a cosmetics company like us, and it seems that their previous partnerships haven't been very successful, but with the work of the whole team, I think we've convinced them to count on us.”

“We still don't know the names of the models who will be wearing our products? if they match our latest collections well, I think it would be a great boost to our sales.”

“No information on that, the TWICE girls would be perfect, they embody the mid-twenties woman and seem to have finally lost their all-cute and pink ribbon image.”

As you finish your sentence, you see the chairman smiling after taking a sip of his coffee.

"Really good coffee, and why not ITZY, I'm sure they could certainly manage it too", the President smiles obviously as he mentions the group to which your daughter belongs.

"Yes, I'm sure", you reply with a touch of humour, the President knows very well who your daughter is and the joke shows how close you are to him.

"By the way, how is your daughter, she's appearing all over the country, she really seems to be riding on her popularity, you must be very proud of her".

"Sure, I try to keep up with her, although it's not as easy as it sounds, I imagine she'd be surprised to model for our company, I doubt she knows where I work or my position," you say with regret in your voice.

"Raising a daughter is not easy, I'll give you that, my older daughter... "Before he can finish, your phone rings to tell you that you've received a message with an attachment.

"When we were talking about the wolf, she sent me a message, sorry, go on, sir," you say, trying to get the conversation going again.

"Take your time, it's important to maintain a relationship with your children, especially when they've left home," he replies, leaning back on the sofa to take a step back.

After unlocking your phone, you click on the notification to open Yuna's message, which contains a link to a video and the message "how to grow my lemons", the link takes you to the streaming site Yuna uses and a replay starts :

"I've talked about this before, but the other day I took two lemons home to my parents that I've been growing for a long time, I'm not very good at it, so I asked my dad for help, he worked hard on them yesterday, you should have seen him, he played with them first and then he watered them generously, I think he's learning as much as I am, so I looked up on the internet how to grow them properly:

- First you need to stir the soil well with your fingers or a tool, then you need to push the seeds in deeply until they reach the end, then you need to water the soil regularly with love to increase the chances of getting a big lemon.

My two lemons have already grown well, so I'm wondering if I shouldn't put in a new seed to make a third, much bigger than the others," she said as she finished her explanation, stroking her stomach several times each time the word seed was mentioned.

Your promise to keep your impure thoughts out of your workplace, but Yuna's provocation, so innocent at first, is dangerously immoral and exciting in the right context.

"Your daughter seems to have found a passion for gardening, which is rare for young people who have only known the capital and its huge buildings," the President replies in an amused tone.

"However, I wonder if young women have an attraction for fruity things, it brings a sweet and innocent side while retaining the exotic taste of a sweet and strong flavour, should we explore this avenue for our products?" he asked, he's the President after all, so business comes first for him.

"It's hard to say, I know she had a shoot with different fruits as a concept, she doesn't quite fit the image of a young teenager, but an entry-level range for young girls with products that are easy to apply and discreet or even fragrant could be a target".

Another message appears on your screen with only the text ‘Now you know how to do it 💦🍋’.

The shock is quite brutal, you would never have imagined that your daughter would be so direct with you on this subject, after all you only really resumed your father-daughter relationship yesterday, the difference in personality between the nice, almost innocent girl you had yesterday and this morning and now, where she doesn't hesitate to tease you in public or by text message, a part of you hopes that she is just doing it for fun and not to satisfy you for fear of being abandoned again.

At no point do you want to force her down a path that won't make her happy, you've already thrown away your morals for her, now her happiness is your only concern, her wishes are your orders and pleasing your princess remains your goal in life.

You thank her for the guide and send her a sticker of a cat blowing kisses, followed by an 'I love you'. You put your phone back in your pocket to resume your conversation with your CEO as the clock ticks.

"I think we're done, I've really enjoyed this chat, I knew I could count on you to come up with new ideas, would you like to join the monthly review of their project, let's bring them the seed of your future fruity project," as the President stands up and walks towards the door.

"Sure, I'm following you"

The meeting has seemed endless, the chair and the others have taken it in turns to stimulate the discussion with their ideas, and what was supposed to be a simple project review has turned into a kick-off meeting for your project. It's past lunchtime and you've just returned to your office, completely drained of energy and with an appetite that's starting to grow. However, your position in the company means that with a simple phone call you can have a member of the kitchen staff come to your floor with your food.

"Knock, knock"

"You can come in"

"Morning, Director Shin, here's your lunch," says an athletic-looking young man as he places it on your desk.

"Sorry for the inconvenience, I've had a busy morning and my legs need a rest," you say in a moment of weakness.

"No, no, no problem, sir, I'll come back for the tray later, enjoy your meal". The young man leaves your office in a hurry.

As you pounced on your meal like a hungry hyena, this break being one of the rare moments when you let your invasive curiosity take over, you grabbed the mouse of your computer to open the search browser and typed in the name of your company as well as your first name, you had this strong feeling that you knew what was being said about you or your company, public opinion is important and you were also worried about letting your bad reputation tarnish that of your daughter in case of problems at work.

And although you didn't show her much, it was also your ritual to follow your daughter's career. All these years you have been following her journey as an adult in the industry, and it fills you with pride that today your daughter's name still appears at the top of the search rankings.

Her latest Instagram post seems to have set the internet on fire, as you click on the top trending link to see a series of photos of her in the bathroom of your house, her hair flaming red, her make-up perfectly applied to her face and her brown eyes piercing through the mirror. She's wearing a lovely black and white tank top and I'm sure you'll agree that she looks absolutely fucking gorgeous in these photos, the comments are flooding in with praise for her look, despite the occasional haters, but nothing new.

You quickly take out your phone to leave a message for your princess:

"I've just seen your photos, you're as beautiful as ever," while attaching a photo of the article you took with your phone. Once you've sent the message, you go back to your meal and your thoughts take over, you realise that this kind of little intention would have started from the beginning of her career, the simple fact of exchanging with your child and the feeling that comes from it soothes your heart and too bad if you become a clingy dad, you're going to tell her every day.

You're suddenly brought back to reality when your phone displays a notification saying that she's replied to you with a simple :

"Hihi thank you 😛, look at my little present", while a second message appears with a still blurred image, followed by a third in the conversation, Yuna had sent it as sensitive content, so you have to click on it to view it, and you're far from imagining what's revealed before your eyes: the last message served as a description with the words:

"it was just after the shower when i was getting ready to go to the company, my little lemons have turned into cherries, all i need now is your big seed 🍒" the photo is taken from a higher angle where your daughter lifts her top to reveal her small breasts and the many hickey marks still present on her body, Her left breast and nipple are well marked by your mouth, not forgetting that she's not wearing anything, and you can see her little bush underneath, with a comment at the bottom: "To 🍼 my 🧔🏻, He must 🍼 my 😻 first".

At that moment, your cock springs to attention in a flash, it shoots up through your trousers and slams against your belly, any man knows that pain and it's far from pleasant, you loosen your belt to give your raging member a little slack, this little minx knew what to do to excite someone and the hours were going to be long from now on.

The rest of the day goes by slowly, you don't dare take out your phone for fear of getting into an embarrassing situation, you still feel some vibrations in the afternoon, but like a good professional you don't even look, the hours go by until the beginning of the evening, you leave your office and go to the underground car park, you make the effort to look at your phone and all you get are trivial messages, You're a little disappointed because you were secretly hoping for more messages from Yuna, halfway there you find yourself stuck in traffic on the road and you decide to call Yuna to find out how her day went, she answers almost immediately but doesn't answer your question, but you can hear the girls chatting as if she had picked up the phone and put it on a table.

You wonder what kind of phone she uses to get such good quality, the girls' voices are easily recognisable and the sound is as if you were in the room with them.

Yeji: "Ugh, yesterday's shoot was so chaotic! I swear we almost lost our minds trying to get the perfect angle".

Lia: "I know, right? I thought we were going to end up on a blooper reels. Remember when we all turned the wrong way during that one scene?

Ryujin: "Yeah, and Yuna was the only one who actually turned the right way! I guess she has an 'inner compass' or something..."

Yuna: "Hey! I just knew what to do! Plus you stole my concept, remember!"

Yeji: "I mean, you didn't mind talking about it online, you even mentioned your dad again, you're such a daddy girl after all"

Yuna: "Not you too! Can we please not talk about my 'daddy issues' again?"

Chaeryeong: "We can't help it! It's just so weird how you don't even look at all the sexy boys around us, I wonder what you do with all those pictures of him you snatch from the internet".

Lia: “'Even though we know what she's doing, she's acting cold towards him, but in the end it makes you hot, doesn't it? you should at least try dating someone, we've all done it so far and it's like, we're not asking you to sleep with them, just get some dating experience”

Chaeryeong: “Easy Lia-unnie, you're the one taking selfies with your exes' dicks in your mouth aren't you? they never fucked you anyway so keep your advice to yourself”

Chaeryeong:“Yuna, listen, we're not forcing you to do anything, but try to use your youth to meet people, it's weird to see you alone at home all the time.”

Yuna: “Unnie, that's not the problem, I'm just afraid of being rejected and I don't know how to tell him how I feel about him, we haven't been very close since mum left”.

Ryujin: “He's your dad Yuna, of course you love him in your own way, let's just say, just tell him and you'll be free of this burden, then we can go and pick up some hot guys backstage”.

Yeji: “I don't think she likes you getting fucked in the toilets when the newbies show up, same goes for you Chaeryoung, no one's putting any pressure on Yuna, right?”

Lia: “Easy for you to say when you're being fucked by your childhood sweetheart, we're not so lucky to have someone who loves us for something other than our bodies”.

Yuna: "It hurts, doesn't it? Aren't you afraid of getting pregnant?"

Ryujin: "'Are you kidding? Wait, you've never...? not even with the toys you hide in the box under your bed?"

Yuna: ”'OF COURSE NOT".

Yeji: "Stop laughing you bitches, Yuna this ain't that serious, yes it can hurt, you have to be prepared downstairs and remember we take all the pills the company gives us and don't forget we always use condoms, DON'T GIRLS?"

Ryujin: "Don't give us shit about it, they shove it up my arse anyway, you think I'm going to let those sons of bitches touch my pussy? a good load on the face, that's what it's all about'."

Lia: "Same thing, they can fill my arse but my pussy is off limits, I love to smash their cocks and make them scream in pain when they try to pull out'."

Chaeryeong: "Fucking listen to these bitches, apart from sucking cocks when I want to, I only fuck other girls, no risk on my side."

Yeji: "See, we're all careful, protect yourself well and don't forget your pills, they help with your periods too'."

Yuna: “I'm out of pills and I don't have a condom, but it's not like I need one, is it?!!, I'm going home tonight, don't wait for me”.

Ryujin: “Don't take it like that baby, I can give you some if you want”.

Yeji: “Yuna, come back!!! “.

You hear the loud thud of a door slamming and limbs flailing as Yuna leaves.

Yeji: “ 'Well done girls, that was clearly a good time to bring her down and make fun of her and her problems”

Lia: "Sorry unnie, we didn't think she'd take it like that, I'll go and get her'.”

Ryujin: “Stay here, you're making it worse.”

Lia: “Bloody hell, how can someone like that be so ignorant of her own sexuality, do you think she likes girls instead?”

Chaeryeong: “She's got a crush on her dad, are you stupid or what, we don't say anything to avoid the subject, she's just wanted to fuck her dad for a long time, she's got photos of him on her phone, on her wallpaper, a photo of him under her pillow, the poor thing is in desperate need of fatherly love”

Yeji: “ I don't know what happened last night, but since then she's been really nervous about it, let's leave her alone, otherwise she'll go crazy and we don't know what she'll do”.

Yeji: "We'll see about that later, it's almost time. Get ready and I'll go to her, you three go with the managers. We'll go back to the company, Chaery, get her bag and phone. She left it on the table."

Calm returned to the room and before you lost the connection to your daughter's phone, you heard

"Looks like you've got work to do Daddy Shin, sorry for the trouble" and she hangs up.

This is a lot to take in, and apart from the sexual debates between the 4 girls, which did not leave you without a reaction, the hardest thing is still Yuna's problems, which confirm your fears about her feelings, your daughter is not the provocative woman she pretends to be in the message, she is a young woman who still has a lot to learn about her own love and carnal feelings, knowing that your little girl is 'pure and innocent' would make any father smile, but on the other hand, what is the harm in learning about her sexuality? The trauma that has held her back, and for which you are probably responsible, is preventing her from moving forward in her life as a woman.

You'd been thinking all day about how to punish your daughter for her insolence, but the person you'd been talking to didn't exist. With Yuna's true feelings in mind, the next logical step seemed to be to wait for her at home and assume your role as father, as a princess deserves.

When you get home, you look at the clock and realise that she won't be home for another hour or two. That gives you plenty of time to tidy up, do your laundry and take a shower. You've picked up some bad habits living alone, but now that you're sharing your home with someone else, it's time to get the ball rolling again and restore the beauty of your property.

Time flies and you've barely had time to get out of the shower and into your new clothes when you hear the door latch click. You quickly step in front of it to see a redhead running towards you, dropping her bag in the doorway and giving you a big hug.

"Welcome home, darling," you say, stroking her head as you feel her face sink into your chest and a wet feeling hit your chest.

"I'm sorry daddy, I..."

"SHhh, it's all right, I'm here."

The situation is very different from yesterday, Yuna's shell seems to have burst the moment she saw you, you feel the warmth of her body against yours as her arms wrap around you, you say nothing, leaving one of your hands on her head and the other on her back.

"Dad, I... the message... it's not .... I wan...."

"Just breathe, I'm not angry, you know,"

"I just wanted to make you happy, I wanted to show you I'm a big girl, I'm so embarrassed now"

"You don't have to make me happy, it's my job to make YOU happy, and don't bother trying to act big, you're my little princess, that's all".

Just as she seems to have calmed down, you take her face in your hands to wipe away the last of her tears before placing a loving kiss on her forehead, "I love you," you say in a low voice as if to lull her to sleep, "I will never let you down, my only daughter.

Yuna is lulled by your words and you feel the weight of her body fall on your arms, "just rest on the sofa, I'll bring you a snack, you must be tired from your day's work", she accepts without flinching as you prepare something to eat while you wait for dinner, your daughter sits on the sofa, her head resting on a pillow, looking at you, when your eyes meet you exchange a smile without saying a word.

The evening passes smoothly, while your daughter rests and eats, you finally talk about your respective days, leaving your erotic exchanges out of the conversation, she finally gets to know your job, while you finally know what happens off camera, the night is felt and you suggest she take a shower while you prepare dinner, again she accepts without concern.

"Would you like to join me?" she asks shyly.

"Yuna, your legs are shaking, you don't have to push anything, I'm not going anywhere," you reply to her completely unexpected request.

She doesn't even answer and locks herself in the bathroom, slamming the door. You really can't understand what's going on in her head, but there's no time to lose, so you start preparing dinner.

Like last night, the meal is spent in church-like silence, each of us with our own thoughts. Yuna is completely withdrawn and doesn't even look at you, which is quite an awkward situation for you as she seems so close and then suddenly so far away.

You try to break this silence in the desert and ask her if she wants to watch a film, she takes a while to answer and then accepts, saying that she has to change first so that you can start getting everything ready while you wait for her, it's a good start and the film could give you a new topic of conversation to revive the dialogue between the two of you.

While she's still in her room, you call out to her to ask what film she's interested in.

"Ruby Gillman, Teenage Kraken Please, Giselle-unnie told me it's good".

You hear through the house, you recognise your daughter, who has always loved cartoons, once you've found them on Netflix, you adjust the brightness of the lights for a subdued effect, you've prepared a blanket and something to eat.

The minutes tick by and you wonder what Yuna is doing, you don't see much, it takes so long to get into pyjamas, but you tell yourself she's probably on her phone at the same time, which often doesn't help.

You hear her footsteps behind you and when she appears behind you, you see her wearing a simple pink t-shirt, you can easily guess that she's not wearing anything underneath as it hugs her breasts.

Suddenly she's straddling you, saying, "Forget the film, I want you, Daddy," as she pushes her body into yours and lies on top of you in a lotus position.

"Yuna, please, I," you don't finish your sentence as she slaps your face.

"STOPPP REJECTING MEEEEEEEEEE' she screams at the top of her lungs as she bursts into tears over you, 'WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS, I....I....I JUST WANT YOU TO LOVE ME' WH... WHY ARE YOU HURTING ME LIKE THIS?

Your daughter lashes out at you in shock at what's happening in front of you, you grab her arms and she becomes helpless under the difference in strength between the two of you.

"Yun..."

"I just want you..." she says, her face completely ravaged by tears, the face of someone who is deeply hurt and can't take it anymore.

Something breaks inside you, all this time you've assumed she would throw herself at you, just to be like the others, just to receive the love you would have given her anyway, you've hurt her again and again until you made the same mistake you made with your wife.

Your daughter loves you more than anything and you are too blind to see that she doesn't know how else to show it, but this time you will make it right and give yourself to her.

Without further ado, you threw your lips over hers, releasing her wrists from your grip and sliding your hands from her lower abdomen to her breasts hidden under her t-shirt.

"No bra, you little rascal?"

Instinctively she puts her hands on your shoulders and fights your tongue with hers, you attack her nipples with your hand and they are already hard, the attack on her breasts causes Yuna to moan which is absorbed by your kiss, you go down her neck to place your marks while she can finally listen to her pleasure.

"Daddy, your cock, give it to me" she says as she plunges her hand into your shorts and meets your cock through the underpants, you lift her up with the strength of your legs and come to remove your underwear in one go, your cock is now naked between your daughter's thighs and she puts her hands on it.

"Put some saliva before baby," she listens to you religiously, but instead comes and gets the saliva overflowing from her pussy and applies it to your cock.

"Let me use my juices before you use yours," she says as she works your cock up and down, your shaft growing under Yuna's movements and the pleasure is truly enjoyable.

One of your hands digs into her soaking wet panties and you massage her slit with your fingers, your moaning cries joining in as you pleasure each other.

Quickly she gets up from the sofa to kneel in front of you and she begins to lick your cock with delicacy, her tongue starts at the glans and she places kisses on it, then her tongue and lips come together so that she tries to suck your sperm, her lips then go gently down the length of your cock and your cock goes slowly down her throat.

"Yuna, that's good, you're doing great," you say as you put both hands on her head to guide her, you watch as your cock disappears into her mouth as the sensations of her work send shivers down your back, from time to time she pulls out to spit on your shaft before sliding back in,

Yuna learns as she goes and her technique is perfected with each dive, after a while your breaking point comes and you refuse to finish here so you help her pull out and try to save your orgasm for later, her mouth overflowing with saliva and she looks at you with appetite.

"Sorry baby but it's my time to eat you now" you tell her as you take her in your arms and go into your bedroom where you lay her on her back on the edge of the bed, without further ado she attacks her pussy with your mouth and she presses her thighs against your head, Your tongue immediately attacks her slit, which rushes to secrete its juices, which you suck up as you go, her clit is quickly attacked by one of your hands, which takes great care to titillate the little bean, with delicacy you move up and down her slit, from time to time penetrating her entrance with your tongue to prepare the work,

The poor red girl cries out with pleasure as she experiences being devoured by her lover for the first time, she clings to your hair which she pulls when the pleasure is too great, on your side you shift into second gear and penetrate your daughter's pussy with two fingers, you feel like you're piercing a flan because the inside is so soft.

“Daddy don't stop, it's coming” your daughter cries out as she feels your third finger deep inside her, your mouth has turned into a wet wiping system as her pussy floods your mouth, you keep up the rhythm until you feel your daughter leave and in a flash her body goes rigid and her pelvis convulses under the power of the orgasm.

You lift your head and climb onto the bed to kiss your princess with a little “I love you” in her ears,

"Daddy, I want you,” she says, stretching out her arms to ask you to come inside her, “it's time to put that seed inside me,” as she spreads her pussy in front of you.

Worried, you reach over to your bedside table for a condom, but Yuna stops you.

“It's ok daddy, I'm on the pill and it's a safe day, you can pour everything into my secret garden", Yuna's naughty language excites you immensely and your cock hurts so you give in and come to lie on her entrance and gently tap your cock to soak it in her juices,

You sink gently and anxiously into your own daughter, resting your elbows on the mattress so that you can kiss her as you move inside her, every inch of her is painful and she lets you feel it as she scratches your back with her fingernails, you kiss her tenderly as your hips move up to touch her pussy,

Your cock feels the tightness of her vagina as well as the warmth and moisture from your excellent preparation work, the passage through her pussy is made without too much effort and you slide deep inside her like butter, on the other side Yuna seems to take your big cock like a champion and despite the pain she has already wrapped her legs around your waist.

You feel her warm, rapid breathing on your face as you look into her eyes, just inches apart.

"Daddy, I can feel you inside me, my little pussy just ate your big dick."

"Are you alright baby, I won't move until you're ready".

"I want to sit like on the sofa".

You obeyed her orders and gently lifted her up without pulling back to let her sit on you, you put yourself on her buttocks and she was now resting all her weight on you, the change of position made your cock dig even deeper inside her and she felt it well.

"Don't move, I want to stay connected to you like this," as she strokes her stomach trying to feel your cock, "keep eating my tits, please.

Just as your cock seems to have bottomed out, you turn your attention to her pair of little red lemons, You really loved her tits, they are not as big as some but in your eyes they are perfect, the texture of them, the feel of them in your hands and the way Yuna reacts every time you nibble on her nipples.

You decide to kiss your daughter and whisper "Shall we?" to which she only nods, you begin to rock your hips as your cock slowly emerges from her pussy and then slowly returns, never fully exiting, you carve your daughter's walls with your cock and Yuna moans with pleasure at the work of your rod.

“♥Hmm....♥Ah....♥Hmm, ah....♥ Daddy, your cock is turning me inside out, every time you push in it feels weird down there, it's a bit painful but also extremely pleasurable, I can feel your big cock pushing my sides apart and knocking on my garden gate, keep it up, I want to feel your cock ravaging me".

You pick up the pace at your partner's request, your cock seems to have done its job well as you are able to withdraw completely before impaling her again with no problem, under the force of your hips Yuna lays her head on your neck and sucks you like a baby, you let go of her breasts to lock your hold on her by circling her waist with your arms, once firmly in place you pound her with all your strength.

“♥Ah....”

“♥Ah.... DADDY”

“♥Ah....

♥Ah.... DA”

For long minutes, you hold her close as your cock slams violently into her pussy. The pleasure comes from the fact that Yuna has her head back, unable to form a sentence. Pleasure has taken over her body. You feel your orgasm building slowly. While your daughter is already on the verge of hers, you feel her legs squeeze you hard as she explodes on your cock and her fluids flow down it. Yet you don't stop your thrusts.

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Stop it"' At her command you stop and discover your daughter's face completely undressed, her hair sticking to her sweaty face and you push aside the lips that hide her eyes to kiss her.

"Let me do it now" she asks as she moves her hips on her own to embrace your sensitive cock, her movements are fast, her pussy devouring you at its own pace and you put your hands on both her buttocks to support her, you give little slaps to her delicate skin and as she fucks herself on her father's cock you feel your orgasm coming and you warn her.

"Yuna, I'm coming"

She gives you the coup de grace when she puts all her weight on her descent and your stiff cock pierces all her pussy until your balls kiss her pussy, inside your cock floods her and for the first time in her life Yuna is at the door of motherhood, her pussy sucks your sperm with efficiency and you withdraw from her.

Yuna is still sitting on your lap, your breaths heavy, your bodies full of sweat and juice, and neither of you can stand the silence as Yuna's cum begins to flow.

"Ah baby, that was amazing. You were amazing!"

"Thanks daddy, do you want some more?"

"I'm sorry darling, I'm not young anymore, my penis is withered."

You can see the disappointment in Yuna's eyes. In your youth, a second round might have been possible, but now your libido is limited to your arousal, and after emptying yourself into her, you no longer feel anything on that level.

"Daddy... Are you going to leave me like this?" says Yuna as she gets down on all fours, points her bottom at you and spreads her pussy with your cum dripping from it.

The sight of your daughter in this position would have turned any man on. You feel like it, but your desire is gone for the moment. You see your daughter wiggling her bottom, begging you to fuck her, and you're powerless to stop her.

"Dad, I'm sorry... I lied, I haven't taken the pill yet, I want a second shot or I won't take it. The longer you wait the more your seeds will fertilise my garden, look how hungry my pussy is, come and make sure you flood my pussy next to save my career."

You're at a loss for words, whether to believe her or not, but one thing's for sure, she knows how to work you because your cock has come back to life and you're going to take malicious pleasure in making her regret having put that doubt in your head.

You grab her hips and penetrate her little pussy, slamming your balls against her arse,

The gentleness of before has been transformed into a wild fuck where only pleasure is king. Your hands are firmly planted on her hips as you pound her with your pelvis, creating waves on her buttocks that will soon feel the onslaught of your hands.

"Daddy, your cock is stirring my insides, your sperm is mixing in my pussy, push hard".

Your daughter is now nothing more than a vulgar hole in your assaults, the seed of doubt she has planted in your mind has completely removed your sanity. If she is indeed unprotected, your first sperm must have done its work in spite of you. When in doubt, you prefer to flood her a second time and make sure she takes her medicine.

Go ahead daddy, make me your property, claim my pussy as your own personal garden, I'll take care of all your fruit,' Yuna's provocations rage in your mind. So you explode into your offspring's pussy again, you stand for a few seconds spasming against your daughter's ass as she collapses onto the bed, then you do the same, completely exhausted.

'Was that true about the pill, baby?

'Yes...' she says shyly. Now that all her libido has left her body, she presses you against her breasts and whispers in your ear: "It's too early to taste my juice, you'll have to give me some more water.

Your daughter is soon off to dreamland, still naked, and the bed is soaked with the fluids of your lovemaking. You make sure you look as tired as possible before you too collapse.

You wake up to a pleasant smell, but also to a body in pain. The bedroom gym session hasn't done your body any good, but your mind is at peace. As you leave your room, you see Yuna in an apron preparing breakfast. Beside her is a pack of contraceptive pills, two of which are already empty. When she sees you, she says:

"Good morning, Dad, you're going to need your strength, remember, you have to stir the soil first before you put your seed in. We're going to have to spend some time on this before you can make my pussy fertile for you."

Later, as you're driving to work, you see an important email from your CEO and a message from Yuna; you'd like to think that the email is more important, but that would be lying to yourself,

The text message is just a selfie of your daughter still in bed next to you with the message 'I've got a body full of marks, the girls are going to realise what we've done, not to mention I've still got your sperm in me 🤭"

Classic Yuna, but you'll have to get used to it. You've made a pact with a demon, but who cares, you're no angel anyway.

As for the email, just looking at the title 'Meeting with JYP & ITZY', it looks like you're finally going to meet one or more members of your daughter's group.

______________________________________________________________

#kpop smut #yuna smut #itzy smut #itzy x reader #yuna x reader

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mostlysignssomeportents · 5 months ago

Text

Google’s new phones can’t stop phoning home

On OCTOBER 23 at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

One of the most brazen lies of Big Tech is that people like commercial surveillance, a fact you can verify for yourself by simply observing how many people end up using products that spy on them. If they didn't like spying, they wouldn't opt into being spied on.

This lie has spread to the law enforcement and national security agencies, who treasure Big Tech's surveillance as an off-the-books trove of warrantless data that no court would ever permit them to gather on their own. Back in 2017, I found myself at SXSW, debating an FBI agent who was defending the Bureau's gigantic facial recognition database, which, he claimed, contained the faces of virtually every American:

https://www.theguardian.com/culture/2017/mar/11/sxsw-facial-recognition-biometrics-surveillance-panel

The agent insisted that the FBI had acquired all those faces through legitimate means, by accessing public sources of people's faces. In other words, we'd all opted in to FBI facial recognition surveillance. "Sure," I said, "to opt out, just don't have a face."

This pathology is endemic to neoliberal thinking, which insists that all our political matters can be reduced to economic ones, specifically, the kind of economic questions that can be mathematically modeled and empirically tested. It would be great if all our thorniest problems could be solved like mathematical equations.

Unfortunately, there are key elements of these systems that can't be reliably quantified and turned into mathematical operators, especially power. The fact that someone did something tells you nothing about whether they chose to do so – to understand whether someone was coerced or made a free choice, you have to consider the power relationships involved.

Conservatives hate this idea. They want to live in a neat world of "revealed preferences," where the fact that you're working in a job where you're regularly exposed to carcinogens, or that you've stayed with a spouse who beats the shit out of you, or that you're homeless, or that you're addicted to Oxy, is a matter of choice. Monopolies exist because we all love the monopolist's product best, not because they've got monopoly power. Jobs that pay starvation wages exist because people want to work full time for so little money that they need food-stamps just to survive. Intervening in any of these situations is "woke paternalism," where the government thinks it knows better than you and intervenes to take away your right to consume unsafe products, get maimed at work, or have your jaw broken by your husband.

Which is why neoliberals insist that politics should be reduced to economics, and that economics should be carried out as if power didn't exist:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/05/farrago/#jeffty-is-five

Nowhere is this stupid trick more visible than in the surveillance fight. For example, Google claims that it tracks your location because you asked it to, by using Google products that make use of your location without clicking an opt out button.

In reality, Google has the power to simply ignore your preferences about location tracking. In 2021, the Arizona Attorney General's privacy case against Google yielded a bunch of internal memos, including memos from Google's senior product manager for location services Jen Chai complaining that she had turned off location tracking in three places and was still being tracked:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/01/you-are-here/#goog

Multiple googlers complained about this: they'd gone through dozens of preference screens, hunting for "don't track my location" checkboxes, and still they found that they were being tracked. These were people who worked under Chai on the location services team. If the head of that team, and her subordinates, couldn't figure out how to opt out of location tracking, what chance did you have?

Despite all this, I've found myself continuing to use stock Google Pixel phones running stock Google Android. There were three reasons for this:

First and most importantly: security. While I worry about Google tracking me, I am as worried (or more) about foreign governments, random hackers, and dedicated attackers gaining access to my phone. Google's appetite for my personal data knows no bounds, but at least the company is serious about patching defects in the Pixel line.

Second: coercion. There are a lot of apps that I need to run – to pay for parking, say, or to access my credit union or control my rooftop solar – that either won't run on jailbroken Android phones or require constant tweaking to keep running.

Finally: time. I already have the equivalent of three full time jobs and struggle every day to complete my essential tasks, including managing complex health issues and being there for my family. The time I take out of my schedule to actively manage a de-Googled Android would come at the expense of either my professional or personal life.

And despite Google's enshittificatory impulses, the Pixels are reliably high-quality, robust phones that get the hell out of the way and let me do my job. The Pixels are Google's flagship electronic products, and the company acts like it.

Until now.

A new report from Cybernews reveals just how much data the next generation Pixel 9 phones collect and transmit to Google, without any user intervention, and in defiance of the owner's express preferences to the contrary:

https://cybernews.com/security/google-pixel-9-phone-beams-data-and-awaits-commands/

The Pixel 9 phones home every 15 minutes, even when it's not in use, sharing "location, email address, phone number, network status, and other telemetry." Additionally, every 40 minutes, the new Pixels transmit "firmware version, whether connected to WiFi or using mobile data, the SIM card Carrier, and the user’s email address." Even further, even if you've never opened Google Photos, the phone contacts Google Photos’ Face Grouping API at regular intervals. Another process periodically contacts Google's Voice Search servers, even if you never use Voice Search, transmitting "the number of times the device was restarted, the time elapsed since powering on, and a list of apps installed on the device, including the sideloaded ones."

All of this is without any consent. Or rather, without any consent beyond the "revealed preference" of just buying a phone from Google ("to opt out, don't have a face").

What's more, the Cybernews report probably undercounts the amount of passive surveillance the Pixel 9 undertakes. To monitor their testbench phone, Cybernews had to root it and install Magisk, a monitoring tool. In order to do that, they had to disable the AI features that Google touts as the centerpiece of Pixel 9. AI is, of course, notoriously data-hungry and privacy invasive, and all the above represents the data collection the Pixel 9 undertakes without any of its AI nonsense.

It just gets worse. The Pixel 9 also routinely connects to a "CloudDPC" server run by Google. Normally, this is a server that an enterprise customer would connect its employees' devices to, allowing the company to push updates to employees' phones without any action on their part. But Google has designed the Pixel 9 so that privately owned phones do the same thing with Google, allowing for zero-click, no-notification software changes on devices that you own.

This is the kind of measure that works well, but fails badly. It assumes that the risk of Pixel owners failing to download a patch outweighs the risk of a Google insider pushing out a malicious update. Why would Google do that? Well, perhaps a rogue employee wants to spy on his ex-girlfriend:

https://www.wired.com/2010/09/google-spy/

Or maybe a Google executive wins an internal power struggle and decrees that Google's products should be made shittier so you need to take more steps to solve your problems, which generates more chances to serve ads:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/24/naming-names/#prabhakar-raghavan

Or maybe Google capitulates to an authoritarian government who orders them to install a malicious update to facilitate a campaign of oppressive spying and control:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dragonfly_(search_engine)

Indeed, merely by installing a feature that can be abused this way, Google encourages bad actors to abuse it. It's a lot harder for a government or an asshole executive to demand a malicious downgrade of a Google product if users have to accept that downgrade before it takes effect. By removing that choice, Google has greased the skids for malicious downgrades, from both internal and external sources.

Google will insist that these anti-features – both the spying and the permissionless updating – are essential, that it's literally impossible to imagine building a phone that doesn't do these things. This is one of Big Tech's stupidest gambits. It's the same ruse that Zuck deploys when he says that it's impossible to chat with a friend or plan a potluck dinner without letting Facebook spy on you. It's Tim Cook's insistence that there's no way to have a safe, easy to use, secure computing environment without giving Apple a veto over what software you can run and who can fix your device – and that this veto must come with a 30% rake from every dollar you spend on your phone.

The thing is, we know it's possible to separate these things, because they used to be separate. Facebook used to sell itself as the privacy-forward alternative to Myspace, where they would never spy on you (not coincidentally, this is also the best period in Facebook's history, from a user perspective):

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3247362

And we know it's possible to make a Pixel that doesn't do all this nonsense because Google makes other Pixel phones that don't do all this nonsense, like the Pixel 8 that's in my pocket as I type these words.

This doesn't stop Big Tech from gaslighting* us and insisting that demanding a Pixel that doesn't phone home four times an hour is like demanding water that isn't wet.

*pronounced "jass-lighting"

Even before I read this report, I was thinking about what I would do when I broke my current phone (I'm a klutz and I travel a lot, so my gadgets break pretty frequently). Google's latest OS updates have already crammed a bunch of AI bullshit into my Pixel 8 (and Google puts the "invoke AI bullshit" button in the spot where the "do something useful" button used to be, meaning I accidentally pull up the AI bullshit screen several times/day).

Assuming no catastrophic phone disasters, I've got a little while before my next phone, but I reckon when it's time to upgrade, I'll be switching to a phone from the @[email protected]. Calyx is an incredible, privacy-focused nonprofit whose founder, Nicholas Merrill, was the first person to successfully resist one of the Patriot Act's "sneek-and-peek" warrants, spending 11 years defending his users' privacy from secret – and, ultimately, unconstitutional – surveillance:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2013/03/depth-judge-illstons-remarkable-order-striking-down-nsl-statute

Merrill and Calyx have tapped into various obscure corners of US wireless spectrum licenses that require major carriers to give ultra-cheap access to nonprofits, allowing them to offer unlimited, surveillance-free, Net Neutrality respecting wireless data packages:

https://memex.craphound.com/2016/09/22/i-have-found-a-secret-tunnel-that-runs-underneath-the-phone-companies-and-emerges-in-paradise/

I've been a very happy Calyx user in years gone by, but ultimately, I slipped into the default of using stock Pixel handsets with Google's Fi service.

But even as I've grown increasingly uncomfortable with the direction of Google's Android and Pixel programs, I've grown increasingly impressed with Calyx's offerings. The company has graduated from selling mobile hotspots with unlimited data SIMs to selling jailbroken, de-Googled Pixel phones that have all the hardware reliability of a Pixel, coupled with an alternative app suite and your choice of a Calyx SIM and/or a Calyx hotspot:

https://calyxinstitute.org/

Every time I see what Calyx is up to, I think, dammit, it's really time to de-Google my phone. With the Pixel 9 descending to new depths of enshittification, that decision just got a lot easier. When my current phone croaks, I'll be talking to Calyx.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/08/water-thats-not-wet/#pixelated

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #google #android #pixel #privacy #pixel 9 #locational privacy #back doors #checkhov's gun #cybernews #gaslighting

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r0-boat · 4 months ago

Text

Asmodeus as the father of your kids

I know canonically Asmodeus can't have kids let's just use our imaginations ✨

SFW! Suggestive! No sex but heavily suggestive because Asmodeus.

Cw: children, pregnancy, birth.

From pregnancy to delivery and after he is the most doting and gentle father. From rubbing your sore feet to helping you with anything you desire. He'll do it with a soft smile in his face and hearts in his eyes because he sees you as the most beautiful creature in all of hell, heaven and Earth.

The Great and feared Demon King of Lust is now wrapped around your little finger. Asmodeus worships the ground you walk on and worships you in other ways ;)

This is the same guy who said he'd clip your toenails for you. You won't be doing anything again once you're pregnant with that man's baby.

Mama/mother/mommy/ma is now your new nickname; He will never stop, even if you ask him to.

He definitely want more kids personally, but honestly 100% he would be okay with whatever number you pick of how many kids you want because he would just be happy to be a father again.

You don't need to do anything because he's already baby-proofed and bought everything. He is screaming with Joy as he brings out the old baby stuff he used to have from the first time he had kids. Yes, it might be a little old.... A couple of centuries, to be exact... But he is sure they are still working. You would not be using century-old baby stuff, But Asmodeus seems insistent; you try coaxing him to shop for the baby... Oh, that Got his attention.

Honestly, from how excited he was, it started to feel like he was the one having the baby and not you. He promises he'll be on his best behavior; absolutely no sexual shenanigans, as you not only go to the human world for shopping but also Tartaros.

"No, Asmodeus, we can't take this all back...*

"Yes, we can. I have the space, And I'm paying for it anyway~"

Your and your baby's health is his TOP priority. Anything that harms or stresses you in any way is considered the scum of the earth, and wants them eradicated this instant in 0.5 seconds.

He wants to do everything when it comes to baby stuff, everything baby showers, gender reveals, every and all baby trend imaginable that he has seen over the years but he has never gotten to do, from picking out a starter Pokémon plushie to trying out baby products on devil social media. Yeah, he's definitely going a little loonie. You might want to calm him down.

He never thought he'd feel this fuzzy feeling in his chest again, watching you cradle your newborn child in your arms. His arms shake, and there is anticipation and nervousness as you hand him his child. He looks at you with a pair of love as he kisses you and whispers, "Thank you."

Asmodeus probably has an entire list of baby names, but at the end of the day, He would ask you what You're going to name the child, and whatever name you pick, he would adore.

His descendants also know, And he desperately wants them to meet their new sibling.

If the kings thought he was annoying before talking about his descendants... OH MY GOD. Tapping his mouth shut won't stop him from talking about his child. He has five drives and two phones with pictures full of his newborn baby, some photos of your pregnancy, and photos of you cuddling and falling asleep with the baby in your arms.

Levi texting you: "Please, why did you make a baby with that insufferable fuck? I can't stand his ass. If he says one more thing about that stupid crotch fruit, I'm making you a widow and becoming the stepfather!"

Mammon spoils his kid with wealth. Asmodeus coddles his kid. No matter how old they grow, they will always be his little baby!

I like to think that there's some daughter or child who would be like the MC of Love Unholyc, where they enjoy spending their time inside playing video games and watching anime. Their last only shows when it's for fictional characters. Pouring all that lust into fan fiction, thirsty furry fan art, or a fictional character they're super obsessed with. But when it comes to the actual act itself, They would start covering their ears and eyes out of embarrassment. They're the person making the super-thirsty JJK edits.

Laughing my ass off imagining the family dynamic is being Saiki K. with his parents

Asmodeus: *tossing vegetables in a pan*

MC: Honey you don't have to be so rough~

Asmodeus: Oh I know you like it rough ;)

Asmo's!Kid: OH MY GOD WHYYY!??

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb asmodeus #whb x reader #whb Asmodeus x reader #whb x mc #wihib #what in “hell” is bad?#I couldn't help it I added one Levi insult Levi's insults are my favorite

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howtofightwrite · 9 months ago

Note

Most traditional boxing instructors will tell you that if the opponent is taller than you, has longer arms than you, or is heavier than you, you're fucked and you need to stay extremely aware and work really hard to compensate for all the advantage he has over you.

In a recent forensic survey, it was determined that most traditional boxing instructors who get into real world altercations die when they're shot in the head.

This is the problem with a lot of these kinds of arguments. No one practices traditional boxing. At least, no one does so publicly. How do I know this? Because traditionally boxers fought in the nude. Yeah, we're not seeing that, are we? Now, maybe they meant bare knuckle boxing, but really no one does that either, these days. Boxing without safety equipment is not a particularly good idea, for fairly obvious reasons.

The only reason the word, “traditional,” is in the ask is to lend their statement unearned credibility. It's an attempt to make their statement sound more authoritative, without offering any evidence to support the statement.

Who said that?

“Traditional people did.”

Okay, but, 'traditionally,' people cleaned shit off their ass with a stick. So, maybe appealing to Hellenic sports isn't the best gauge of how a fight will play out.

Also, I know I just said it, but, who are these authoritative sports guys? Because they're not named. We're simply told, “most,” of them agree. Which starts to sound a lot like “four out of five dentists agree.” Who are these instructors? What do they teach? Why are the currently in prison for indecent exposure? And how much did you pay them to get their uninformed opinion? Salient questions which may need to be answered, if the original question wasn't invalid on its face.

Why do I say it's invalid?

Because boxing isn't fighting.

Boxing is a sport.

Boxing has rules.

Kick your opponent in the groin, or shin, and you're punished.

Step on their foot, push them, and watch them tumble to the ground before you start stomping on them, and you'll be punished.

Throwing your opponent will be punished.

And of course, as mentioned at the top, pulling out a gun and expanding your opponent's mental horizons is extremely frowned upon.

These are all things that can happen in a real fight.

These are all things that do not benefit from increased height or reach.

There is one genuinely accurate statement. In a fight, you do need to be very aware of what's going on around you. Everything else is the product of someone who's been punched in the head repeatedly until the CTEs got them thinking that boxing is analogous to a real fight in any way. (And, statistically, will probably end their career sitting in a jail cell over an aggravated assault charge, because their emotional self-control was completely destroyed by those same head injuries.)

The rules that boxers need to follow are designed to (somewhat) protect the participants. It reduces the dangers of a boxer being killed in the ring. In an observation that I would hope to be self-evident, those rules don't exist in actual combat.

It's also amusing, because the original Asker had to go so far as to single out an ill-defined, “traditional” boxing, because no other martial art they checked gave them the soundbite they wanted.

And, of course, women box. Historically, you could say, “traditionally,” there were even boxing matches between men and women. It wasn't until the 1880s that women were excluded from competitive boxing in the UK. (I'm not sure of the exact date when women were banned from boxing in the US, though that prohibition lasted for less than a century, before the modern return of women to the sport.)

So, either these “traditional instructors” don't know the history of their own sport... which doesn't sound particularly “traditional” to me, or they're full of shit.

My advice to everyone would be, maybe, don't take the advice of a sports coach about how he's secretly an absolute badass in all the delusional fantasies he's cooked up about how he'd like to inflict violence on others because they wouldn't date him.

-Starke

This blog is supported through Patreon. Patrons get access to new posts three days early, and direct access to us through Discord. If you’re already a Patron, thank you. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #how to fight write #starke answers

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from-izzy · 10 months ago

Text

[01:34] | nct na jaemin

Your ceiling fell.

pairing » nct na jaemin x gn!reader (lmk if i missed anything!)

trope/au » established relationship au!, non-idol au!

genre » boyfriend na jaemin who picks you up even though he's tired, summer is annoying to the reader (sorry, i'm really hating summer rn), fluffy fluff with a tinge of angst, clothes stealer reader!, but you never end up using it because you got too tired and fell asleep, i love na jaemin (can you tell?), reader is the little spoon, jaemin is so caring and cute (i'm in love with him), jaemin brushing his hand through your hair

word count, estimated reading time » 2496, ~9 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » jaemin is taller, outside clothes on the bed (i don't do this but it's cute here 😭 forgive me), oh...it's not proofread 😭

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

recently went back to my wips and found bits and pieces that could work together and meshed them together as best as i can 🤣 just whipped up this little thing whilst i was at it hehe

also, not going to be specific but will you believe if i said that this is based on a (my) true story? 🤠 it's been...messy 🤠 to say the least.

thank you for proofreading (when you're supposed to be focusing on school) @cupidjyu !! 💕

Your ceiling fell.

Well...

To be exact, there isn't a hole that lets the spiders and birds able to look down and see the base of your kitchen sink but when the inside surface of the roof fell, so did the insulator that kept the house warm during the frosty winter, and cool in the scorching summer. Because of the unstable roof condition, your whole family was wary of putting the air conditioning system on. The vibration from the machine and the sound waves themselves may be the little push it needs to send other parts of the roof crumbling.

You hate the hot weather so much.

In this period of the summer, when opening the windows was barely an option as it also let the heat through, it has been hard even to do anything remotely productive. With every move of your body, it generates heat and energy, which when mixed with the thirty-five-degree heat, all you want to do is lay on your bed and let the sweat evaporate off your skin with the help of your tower fan. That's how the mornings would go. Sometimes when you're not too tired from the previous day's work, you would go and take shelter in the library, turning confused heads when you would be wearing a jacket as overtime, it became too cold.

The worst thing is that there has been no word from the insurance company or the people who could help to fix the hole in your ceiling. Unfortunately, it did fall during the peak holiday season but at this point, when it’s no longer the festive season, no one in your family understands what’s going on with the back-and-forth messy conversations to fix the issue.

The past three months have been full of frustrating calls to your boyfriend but Jaemin has been picking up your phone call at the second time his ringtone rings, greeting you with that emphasising smile of his as he sees the layer of moisture on your face. At first, you tried to give him the best smile you could, but you eventually broke down after the first month, completely done with changing your clothes every day in every hour. Jaemin, though busy with his own responsibilities, never fails to take you out whenever he can, accompanying you in your aimless night time walks or accompanying you to the library where he would start reading a random book while you snooze on his shoulder.

Today is one of the nights where you can’t handle sleeping in the house, too hot and uncomfortable for your eyes to even think about closing. You guiltily text Jaemin, asking if he’s able to have you over and within a few minutes, the black-haired arrives at your house, air conditioner blasting in his car and a genuine smile greeting you as soon as you step in. He waits outside his car with his oversized shirt and short pants; his usual summer attire. He kisses your frown away as soon as you rush into his arms, dropping your bag of clothes to the floor. His affectionate gaze for you grows, cupping your cheeks in his hands to hush you from the apologies that you would say for going out so late at night even though you insisted that the five-minute walk was fine to do.

“No,” Jaemin juts his lower lip to you adorably. “Not letting you do that!” He presses another quick peck on your lips that makes your cheeks heat up and makes you a stuttering mess. “I’m hungry! Let’s go grab some food first!”

You let out a knowing chuckle, shaking your head at him fondly as you know that just means another movie night that will go on until five am. To Jaemin, this is the best kind of date: the one that is unplanned but is planned at the same time. With the way that you’re literally having the worst summer ever as well, all he wants to do is to make sure that at least when you look back on this summer, you will remember his air conditioner blasting in his room. Bonus, the later you sleep, the more time you’ll have in a cooled, comfortable and private environment.

But you know deep down, that you will always remember his warm, kind heart first out of all.

With hands full of takeout from the nearest fast food to his house, Jaemin talks you through his list of movies that he wants to check out before you both fall asleep. He was so excited that he nearly missed the step up to his room, almost waking up the whole house with how his body would tumble down the staircase otherwise. But oh how much he would if it meant that you wouldn’t be crying on the humid, summer night.

"It's perfect, Jaem."

You comment when Jaemin asks you about the temperature of his room and he gives you a relieved look, smiling in satisfaction to know your thoughts. Jaemin starts to unload the snacks in his arm on his study table, prompting you to do the same. He turns his sleeping laptop on, waiting for his device to start up.

In the meantime, his attention falls on you once more. "You must've been overwhelmed." His arm spreads open, silently asking if you would accept his gesture.

All you gave was a quiet hum and it momentarily worries him before you step to bury your head into his broad chest. You sigh into his perfect body temperature that balances the coolness trapped in the four walls. The corners of Jaemin’s lips rise as he starts shifting his body side to side, giving the hug a little more dynamic and comfort as he starts to sing your favourite tune to your ears. His fingers rake across your hair, not minding the whines and complaints you gave about how your hair is disgusting and oily, even pressing a kiss to your scalp to ease your worries.

Your arms start to find home around his waist and your palm grips the fabric of the shirt even more, feeling eternally thankful for having a loving person in your life. A mutter, “Thank you for all this.” Your voice trails off, eyelids heavy and honestly, quiet snores could leave your lips at any moment now.

“Always, bubs,” he muses back. “Maybe we can skip the movie night today?”

The suggestion pulls your lips into a sour smile but you can’t hide the drowsiness in your system after getting small hours of sleep for the past week. “We have food.” But truly, it’s nothing that food can’t fix.

A raised eyebrow meets you when you slightly pull back to see the reaction on Jaemin’s face. “Food and horror movies.”

The shared favourite genre makes you break out into a genuine smile, excited for the movie marathon cuddled up in his bedsheets and the smell of food as you both expose yourself to the light from the computer until the sun replaces the moon. Jaemin watches you excitedly walk back to the door of his room where your bag slumps over on the wall next to the frame.

“You don’t want to wear mine?” The suggestion is said with a smirk from him and your hands stopping to unzip your bag halfway. “Guess not!”

“No! I do!” You drag the last syllable out and when you turn to face him once more, Jaemin only lets out a teasing smile. “Let me steal!”

Indeed, Jaemin already has everything prepared for you, tilting his chin to his bed where some of his and your favourite hoodies are spread across the duvet. You spot the emerald green one, immediately jumping from your kneeling position on the floor and making the neat pile topple over at your eagerness.

Jaemin feigns fake offence and an exaggerated gasp, “All my hard work!” He weeps to which you just roll your eyes as a response, continuing to take out your shower and night necessities to prepare for the night.

“Alright.” A heavy sigh follows after, “I’m going to sho—”

But before you could take another step towards the bathroom, a pair of arms pulls you backwards, your back colliding with a chest that you know all too well. You can’t see the expression on his face but another thing that you know about Jaemin is when he leans down to press his cheek on yours, humming once more into your embrace, his cheeks are painted with hues of red and pink—his love for you overflowing from the simple back hug gesture.

“What you doing, Nana?” It deepens his blush, melting with how the nickname naturally sounds lovelier coming from you.

“Just go brush your teeth and shower in the morning.” He mumbles against your cheek. “I want to go on this movie marathon with you right now.”

“But you hate it the most when someone lays on your bed without washing up.”

That’s also true. He does hate that a lot.

The idea of outside germs reaching the place where he would be closing his eyes and be in another space for hours never fails to bring a scowl to his face and he always makes sure everyone who visits his space is aware of that fact.

But it’s you—and Jaemin loves you more to overlook that fact for a day.

“I’m planning on changing the sheets anyway.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, “Plus, I literally get grease and pieces of chocolate on there anyways so I think I may need to change my mindset about that rule now…”

The mention of the substances makes you gasp, a similar one to the one he directed at you before. “Na Jaemin!” The playful slap on his arm only makes his hold against your body tighter, sending you both into a fit of laughter.

Amid the chaos you created, Jaemin makes his point clear with the previous topic, throwing himself still clad in his dirty clothes onto his bed and taking you down with him. You yelp at the sudden fall, throwing everything out of your hands to muffle the sound of your mouth, aware of the sleeping couple not too far away from this room.

“Oops! Gotta change it tomorrow, I guess!”

“Na Jaemin, stop! I’m still going to shower anyway!”

So begins the shoving and wiggling for you to escape his strong grip on his bulky arms. You know shortly after running out of breath that it’s a better choice to rest your head on his pectoral, giving up on both the shower and possibly the movie night. The laughter dies down, but never the love that Jaemin shows for you. On the back of your head, you can feel his thumping heartbeat, the rhythm making your eyelids fall naturally.

Jaemin carefully slides you over to the mattress on his side, turning his body to face the girl he loves the most in this world. His eyelashes flutter quietly, quieter than the humming of the white rectangular machine stuck high onto his wall. He doesn’t bother waking you up, content with the tiny snores you let out through the small gap between your lips.

“And to think you were scolding me minutes ago.” Bopping your ice-cold nose with the pad of his pointer finger. “Okay, at this point you’re going to freeze.”

Though exhausted and body screaming to just fall asleep then and there, Jaemin pulls himself back to the edge of the bed, standing and stretching his four limbs. He quickly retreated to the connecting bathroom, picking up your discarded items that he made you toss to avoid his parents from waking up and scolding the young couple in love—though he knows they will just scold him given how much his parents adore everything about you.

Scared that you would soon wake up in the very uncomfortable posture that you have right now, more than half your feet dangling off the bed, Jaemin swiftly completes his night routine, skipping the one that would make his dentist question his habits but he pushed the thought aside for now. As quiet as he could, he makes his way over to your still peaceful figure. His knees sink into the bed, eyes observing you while he holds his breath to avoid any more unnecessary movements than the ones he’s making right now.

An arm lifts your upper body, and Jaemin quickly jumps behind you. You did stir a bit in your sleep when Jaemin undoes the noisy metal zipper of your jacket but nonetheless, he succeeded without bringing you back into full consciousness. In his head, he imagines himself doing a little celebratory dance under the shining disco ball, all the fluorescent light on him on the dance floor. Then, the same arm is placed on your upper back once more but now paired with his other arm tucked under the back of your knees. You quickly adjusted to the position, Jaemin raising your body high enough for you to relish in the remnants of his cologne on the crook of his neck.

“I love you, Nana.” You confess to him earnestly. “I love you so much…”

Jaemin stands on one side of the bed, scanning the curves of your face intently as if he has never noticed the small mole on the slope of your nose. He couldn’t fight off the want to steal another kiss from you, bending his neck down to slot his soft ones to hug your plump ones. A satisfied hum is brought out after, Jaemin mirroring your content heart with another lingering press on your forehead.

Soon enough, your body is finally between his bouncy mattress and his weighted polyester. Immediately, your hands roam over to the other side of the bed where Jaemin would usually be, groaning when all you felt was the crinkles of the cotton that is not his shirt.

“Okay, okay. I’m here.” He assures the dissatisfaction painted on your face first by flicking the light switch off and then by wrapping your smaller frame into his own.

The muscles of your whole body relax for the first time in a while at the thought of going to dreamland—maybe it’s the Jaemin effect. A hand makes its way to the curve of your head, fingertips half-buried into your strands. A slight gush of wind can be felt on your nose but you don’t mind the proximity, even continuing to scoot even closer, pleased with the hand on your lower back that pushes you in closer.

“Sleep tight.” His eyes landed on the brown bag across the room and his muted laptop that plays your favourite comfort movie. He lets the movie play, strategically moving his forearm to block the blue light emitted. When he confirms that his shadow falls upon your lids, he places the lightest kiss as a final ‘goodnight’. “I love you.”

So maybe, you don’t hate the hot weather as much as you thought.

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here or removed!): @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿 @sanaxo-o

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inspireartnotwar · 30 days ago

Text

Art. Can. Die.

This is my battle cry in the face of the silent extinguishing of an entire generation of artists by AI.

And you know what? We can't let that happen. It's not about fighting the future, it's about shaping it on our terms. If you think this is worth fighting for, please share this post. Let's make this debate go viral - because we need to take action NOW.

Remember that even in the darkest of times, creativity always finds a way.

To unleash our true potential, we need first to dive deep into our darkest fears.

So let's do this together:

By the end of 2025, most traditional artist jobs will be gone, replaced by a handful of AI-augmented art directors. Right now, around 5 out of 6 concept art jobs are being eliminated, and it's even more brutal for illustrators. This isn't speculation: it's happening right now, in real-time, across studios worldwide.

At this point, dogmatic thinking is our worst enemy. If we want to survive the AI tsunami of 2025, we need to prepare for a brutal cyberpunk reality that isn’t waiting for permission to arrive. This isn't sci-fi or catastrophism. This is a clear-eyed recognition of the exponential impact AI will have on society, hitting a hockey stick inflection point around April-May this year. By July, February will already feel like a decade ago. This also means that we have a narrow window to adapt, to evolve, and to build something new.

Let me make five predictions for the end of 2025 to nail this out:

Every major film company will have its first 100% AI-generated blockbuster in production or on screen.

Next-gen smartphones will run GPT-4o-level reasoning AI locally.

The first full AI game engine will generate infinite, custom-made worlds tailored to individual profiles and desires.

Unique art objects will reach industrial scale: entire production chains will mass-produce one-of-a-kind pieces. Uniqueness will be the new mass market.

Synthetic AI-generated data will exceed the sum total of all epistemic data (true knowledge) created by humanity throughout recorded history. We will be drowning in a sea of artificial ‘truths’.

For us artists, this means a stark choice: adapt to real-world craftsmanship or high-level creative thinking roles, because mid-level art skills will be replaced by cheaper, AI-augmented computing power.

But this is not the end. This is just another challenge to tackle.

Many will say we need legal solutions. They're not wrong, but they're missing the bigger picture: Do you think China, Pakistan, or North Korea will suddenly play nice with Western copyright laws? Will a "legal" dataset somehow magically protect our jobs? And most crucially, what happens when AI becomes just another tool of control?

Here's the thing - boycotting AI feels right, I get it. But it sounds like punks refusing to learn power chords because guitars are electrified by corporations. The systemic shift at stake doesn't care if we stay "pure", it will only change if we hack it.

Now, the empowerment part: artists have always been hackers of narratives.

This is what we do best: we break into the symbolic fabric of the world, weaving meaning from signs, emotions, and ideas. We've always taken tools never meant for art and turned them into instruments of creativity. We've always found ways to carve out meaning in systems designed to erase it.

This isn't just about survival. This is about hacking the future itself.

We, artists, are the pirates of the collective imaginary. It’s time to set sail and raise the black flag.

I don't come with a ready-made solution.

I don't come with a FOR or AGAINST. That would be like being against the wood axe because it can crush skulls.

I come with a battle cry: let’s flood the internet with debate, creative thinking, and unconventional wisdom. Let’s dream impossible futures. Let’s build stories of resilience - where humanity remains free from the technological guardianship of AI or synthetic superintelligence. Let’s hack the very fabric of what is deemed ‘possible’. And let’s do it together.

It is time to fight back.

Let us be the HumaNet.

Let’s show tech enthusiasts, engineers, and investors that we are not just assets, but the neurons of the most powerful superintelligence ever created: the artist community.

Let's outsmart the machine.

Stéphane Wootha Richard

P.S: This isn't just a message to read and forget. This is a memetic payload that needs to spread.

Send this to every artist in your network.

Copy/paste the full text anywhere you can.

Spread it across your social channels.

Start conversations in your creative communities.

No social platform? Great! That's exactly why this needs to spread through every possible channel, official and underground.

Let's flood the datasphere with our collective debate.

#wootha #art #not mine #artists #artist #2025

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seancekitsch · 9 months ago

Note

Vox from Hazbin Hotel x siren! reader?? PLEASEE i love this concept sm-

i think i accidentally created myself an oc, also, if you spot the showgirls reference ill give you a cookie, this is inspired by the general flavor of moulin rouge and showgirls

“What the FUCK?!” you all but screech, throwing your blush frustratedly at your vanity. The small compact hits the cool marble, and immediately the product with the pan shatters, ruined. It was expensive. Fuck.

“I- I don’t know what happened…” Jinni, a succubus, your assistant and opening act, stutters from the door. Scared.

You deflate, rolling your eyes as you calm yourself and stop scaring the girl. You have to remember to stop raging near her. She’s young, too young.

Overlords in the club mean a good tip, mean security, mean you and girls like Jinni make rent safely and have some fun money to toss around as well. You practically fall into your chair, yank a fake eyelash off as you sigh, ready to put on the next pair for your closing number.

“There’s gotta be some reason the voice didn’t work on him,” you say, “I’m gonna find out why.”

“Are you sure thats a good idea?” Jinni asks, her tail curling around one of her legs. You have a soft spot for the girl, you really do. A place like this is gonna tear her apart; or at least, it would if you didn’t immediately take her under your wing. You pat the little chair beside you, and wrap your arms around the girl as soon as she takes the spot.

You both stare at each other’s eyes through the mirror, sweat and make up blurred against your complexions, a reassuring smile spreads across your face.

“I’ll check and see if he has the VIP package, and pull out the damsel in distress act,” you tell the little succubus, now cheek to cheek with her. She smiles at you through the mirror, knowing full well you’re ready to ham it up.

“Thats your best one,” she says, and comes closer to pick up a body glitter for you. Jinni leans on the chair behind you, resting her forearms on your shoulders. You gaze at her while your hand moves with the brush across your face, at this point muscle memory kicks in, flawless. She’s why you still play nice, you think.

“Gonna make sure you don’t have to go back to doggy chow for dinner,” you chide as you finish up your new look, a bit more dewy and innocent looking, as you shake her off and grab a lace robe to walk backstage in. Jinni laughs, and then takes your seat to take off her own make up.

You’ve done this walk thousands of times, the long dimly lit hallway, all of the girls rooms hidden behind flimsy curtains and makeshift doors, signed by girls current and long since past. Your feet feel light below you, though nerves course through your veins. The patrons cheering is almost quieted here, all the quiet white noise that sets you ablaze in excitement and anticipation for another performance.

But before the end of the hall can be reached, a meaty hand comes out to stop you, wrapping around your bicep.

“Outta my way, Flicker, I gotta tell the sound guy to switch my track,” You turn your head away from the stage manager, not willing to take a face full of his calamari breath.

“You ain’t goin’ out there again tonight,” he explains, “Got a private booking with a big spender.”

You sigh, right, just what you needed right now. You wish you could shoot a quick text to Jinni but… your phone is back in your dressing room with her. She’ll have to fair without you until this is over.

“Right now?” you meet his eyes, and you can tell he wanted you in there five minutes ago. Shit. Well, here goes the girls' good tips for the night, you sigh, and turn towards the stairwell that leads you up to the private boxes.

These rooms are gross; there’s no way to sugar coat it. You hate private bookings, much preferring to dance on the floor with any high spending patrons, giving them the girlfriend experience while you have the added safety of being able to slip away. These private rooms don't even have walls, more like private theater boxes so the managers can make sure you're keeping the clients happy. Up here, your talents are much more obvious, much harder to avoid blame.

You wonder what this guy will want. A champagne pour? A strip tease? Or worst of all, a dry hump or an over the pants job? You’d hate for this asshole to fuck up your costume or make up. That shits not cheap down here, and you only hope that after this private booking the overlord in the back of the hall might have loosened up and opened his wallets to one of the other girls or the house.

But it still digs at you, like an old wound you cannot help but pick at… that your voice didn’t work on—

Him.

Its him. You can see through the sheer curtain the overlord in a suit. An old fashioned in his hand as he leans against the railing, the finale of the show tonight kicking into full gear below, all of the patrons like dogs on leashes waiting to be released to dance and party with the girls until dawn once the stage is clear.

“Oh, Sir!” you call to him as you pull back the curtain, your flimsy robe fluttering behind you, “What is a man of your caliber doing in a place like this?”

Maybe you’re laying it on a little thick with the sultry little voice and the innocent act, but that’s what the men pay you for. He turns quickly, as if he didn’t expect you here so soon, but his smile quickly grows, teeth glowing against the low lighting of the private box.

“What do you mean?” HIs voice is smooth as butter, “Is a man of MY caliber not supposed to admire beautiful things? Consider me a patron of the arts.”

You lounge yourself on one of the couches, effortlessly parting the bottom of your robe, kicking your legs up, really giving him a show. The boning of your costume digs into your ribs, but you don’t move. You always win over the higher spenders by laying out the feast for them.

“Is that so?” you ask, a fake demure giggle leaving your lips, “Well then consider me confused, because you didn’t look so happy during my number earlier.”

The glow of his eyes distracted you, both out on stage earlier and now. His gaze intense, his posture rigid.

“Maybe,” he trails off, crossing the little box until he’s in reach. One of his large hands wraps around your ankle, and then carelessly yanks your ankle off the couch to force you sitting upright. Okay, you’re only a little offended. Moreso intrigued by his seemingly complete lack of attraction to you. You drop your robe from one shoulder, baring more skin to entice him. Men are men, after all. He moves to sit at the other end of the couch. Maybe not all is lost, you think, as you pour a glass of champagne from the side table. The girl they threw on stage instead of you is killing this performance from what you can tell, and you know she’ll finish strong by the aerial rig set up and ready to go for her. You sip your glass as he sips his, and lean in closer to him, hoping that a little more proximity to him will help you figure out his deal.

“But maybe I’m more wondering what the fuck someone like you is doing here,” he sneers as he stands, leaving you falling sideways into the space he vacated, nearly spilling your glass.

“I- I beg your pardon?” you splutter, the sultry voice gone for a moment as you check to make sure you didn’t waste a drop of champagne on your robe.

“And stop with the agreeable little whore act, you can talk to me,” he winks at you as he says it, red glowing eye rimmed with teal. You sigh as you brush yourself off from both he physical and metaphorical stumble. Okay, what does he know?

“Someone like me?” you ask, your real voice now dripping through.

“Someone with power, darling,” The overlord says as if it’s obvious, “Someone with a talent like mine.”

He finishes his drink, and tosses the glass over the railing into the patrons gallery below.

“I could use someone with talents like yours,” he says, and your blood runs cold. You know what overlords mean when they say that. Your eyes dart to the curtain, to the hallway. If you shouted, would Flicker hear you? Wait- What are you thinking? He doesn’t give a rats ass about his girls’ safety.

You do the only thing you can, you open your mouth to sing.

“Ah ah ah, nope,” he holds up a finger to silence you before you can begin, “That won’t work.”

You close your mouth, open it, close it again.

“How did you know?”

If he knows, he can tell. If he tells, you lose money. Girls back on the street, you without a plan here.

His scowl turns to a smile, his eyes glowing brighter, circular rimming pulsating within his sclera. A funny tickle passes over you, as if he was blowing on you, gentle and odd. You furrow your brow, and then your jaw drops. You get it now.

“Oh, Sir!” you play it up, ‘agreeable little whore’ voice as he called it back in full force, “I didn’t realize we were so evenly matched!”

“I’m glad the smartest girl in this joint is also the prettiest,” he flirts, walking back over to the couch until he’s leaning on the arm of it.

“How were you thinking of spending the evening mister…?” You stick to script if you trail off, not wanting to ask him outright what he wanted, now that you know what you’re dealing with.

He crackles, static, his glow dimming momentarily.

“Vox, darling. Where are my manners?” he finally introduces himself as he reaches over you for the bottle of champagne in the ice bucket and the other glass. He knows this game too, you realize, as his cologne wafts over you; something rich and woodsy. Attractive and expensive.

“I’d like to offer my patronage, to your little,” he gestures around with the empty flute before pouring it, “artistic endeavors personally.”

That would be nice. A steady patron would mean steady money, steady numbers and acts, a bigger costume budget. His lap doesn't seem like a bad one to be perched on.

“Thats very generous, Mister Vox,” you say, holding out your glass for him to top it off, “But I can’t help but wonder what you want in return?”

His smile changes, less sharp, more real as he moves the neck of the bottle to your glass. He looks you up and down, scrutinizing every detail.

“Your voice,” he goes on to explain, “For some important events, some advertising. I can make you a star, darling.”

It dawns on you that he hasn’t even asked your name, but then again you also weren’t going to give a client your real name. The entire idea is attractive, desirable. The patronage of a handsome powerful man, a legitimate name for yourself in the entertainment industry, security.

You reach upward clink your glass against his, urging him to clink yours back.

“You’ll have to win me over with a dance,” you tease him, your lips curling into a downright vicious smile.

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #vox hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader

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paracosm-draw · 5 months ago

Text

Promptober Day 8 - More intimate than lovers ☄️

Tags : oblivious Ahsoka, injured Obi-Wan, lots of fluff

~~~

“Get out of the way ! Kriff, move !”

The poor assistant who had the extravagant idea of crossing the corridor with a cart full of medical products - doing her job - at the same time Anakin barges in, gasps loudly and pulls on the handle of her cart with all her strength, avoiding the running Jedi from a hair.

“I'm so sorry, General !” She squeals in horror, but Anakin is already too far away to hear her apologies.

He sprints down the hallway, the soles of his boots skidding and squeaking on the smooth ground at every turn. He's almost out of breath when he storms in the landing hangar, eyes wide as he searches for one specific spaceship.

The Negotiator is parked in the middle of the hangar, the main door already opened on the bridge where clone troopers are offloading some heavy crates.

“Obi-Wan !” Anakin calls, slipping through the crowd while his eyes are scanning the ship’s surroundings for the older Jedi. “Excuse me. Sorry.”

Obi-Wan’s Force signature is very weak, too weak for him to locate him precisely, even when he tries to follow the thin golden thread of their bond.

“Damn it.” He swears when he can’t find him anywhere, panic slowly rising in his chest and curling around his lungs.

He runs to the bridge of the ship, searching for a familiar face, anyone who was on that kriffing mission and could tell him where Obi-Wan is.

“General Skywalker !” Someone calls for him from behind, making him turn around.

He’s relieved to be faced with Cody’s dark buzzcut and moon-shaped scar, someone who’s supposed to know where Obi-Wan is at all times. Someone so loyal Anakin trusts him with Obi-Wan’s life. Someone who knows him too. He doesn’t even need to ask questions, he just tilts his head to the left.

“He’s in the medical bay.”

“Thank you, Cody.” Anakin replies gratefully before running away to the new location.

He crosses the distance in less than five minutes, mumbling apologies every time he pushes someone on his way. Ahsoka is already waiting outside in the corridor, pacing left and right until she hears him coming like a tornado.

She winces and walks to him before he can storm in the emergency room, hands reaching out for him.

“He’s fine.” Is the first thing she says because she knows him so well. “You can't enter.”

Maybe she doesn’t know him that well after all.

“I don't care.”

“I know you don’t.” She rolls her eyes and grabs his arm when he reaches out for the door. “But you have to let the doctors do their job.”

“I need to see him.” Anakin breathes, removing his arm from his padawan’s grip, gently but firmly enough to warn her from not trying to stop him again.

Ahsoka considers him for a while, taking in his laborious breathing that couldn’t be blamed on his running only, his wide and scared eyes and the way his fingers twitched nervously, aggressively picking at the skin around his nails. He could have said he wanted to see Obi-Wan, but he didn't.

It’s a need. She truly realizes then.

“You’ll have to wait a bit.” She still says, gently taking his hand in his own. “I promise it won’t take long.”

“It’s already too long.” Anakin groans, his signature hanging low like a menacing cloud around him in the Force.

“He's okay, Skyguy.” Ahsoka insists, intertwining her fingers with his own to prevent him from damaging his skin even more. “He was still talking when he was admitted. You know he's tough.”

“Maybe.” Anakin mumbles. “I should have been with him.”

“You can’t be with him all the time.” Ahsoka says patiently.

“Why not ?” Anakin huffs, and Ahsoka smiles before she understands it’s a real question.

“Because… Because you’re both really important for the Republic and we need you to lead our men. They can't afford to waste time by sending you both on the same missions every time.”

Anakin doesn’t answer but she can tell by his expression that he’s not satisfied with the explanation. She wonders how he manages to be separated from Obi-Wan so often on a daily basis. Not well apparently, given his current level of anxiety is through the roof.

She opens her mouth to reassure him when the emergency room’s door opens. A tall woman with very light blonde hair pulled tight in a perfect bun walks out with a fold in his hand.

“Ahsoka Tano ?” She asks, and Anakin uses this exact moment to slip through the door. “Eh, wait !”

“Sorry.” Ahsoka winces apologetically at the doctor. “He’s very worried.”

“Visitors are not allowed.” The woman says with pinched lips. “Is he family ?”

“Uh, kind of.” Ahsoka replies.

She thinks for a second about the right term to describe Anakin and Obi-Wan’s relationship and she realizes she has none. They’re closer than a Master and his former Padawan were supposed to be, more than friends, even closer than brothers. She never knew one without the other and she didn't wish to know.

“Kind of ?” The doctor lifts a delicate eyebrow, looking at her with a mix of skepticism and annoyance.

“Yeah, well. You should thank me for still having a door, because Anakin doesn’t bother with that kind of details when it's comes to Obi-Wan.” Ahsoka smiles and bypasses her to enter into the room.

The sight she finds makes her stop on the doorstep with the impression of interrupting something precious she wasn’t meant to see. Anakin is sitting on the edge of the bed where Obi-Wan lies with his forehead pressed against his, gently holding his hands as they whisper quietly to each other.

From where she is she can see that Obi-Wan is smiling, wide and bright in spite of the bandages around his chest and the blood covering one side of his face.

“Family, mh ?” The doctor’s voice resonates quietly beside her, making Ahsoka turn halfway.

“They’re very close.” She retorts, feeling defensive without really knowing why.

“I thought attachment was prohibited amongst Jedi.” The woman still continues but her tone is gentler than earlier, devoid of any judgement. “They look… Intimate.”

Ahsoka blushes at the implication and shakes her head.

“They’re not… It’s not like that. They just care a lot about each other.”

“Sure.” The doctor smiles before leaving her at the door to go check on the other patients of the room.

Ahsoka frowns, confused. She couldn’t find the right words to explain the very special bond between her two masters but it didn’t mean that it was like that woman implied. It couldn’t be. She would have noticed by now. Or whould she ?

She squints at the two Jedi still completely immerged in their own little world, talking to each other like they were all alone. She’s so used to this that she can't see it as anything else than Anakin and Obi-Wan’s normal behaviour toward each other. They’re constantly gravitating in each other’s orbit, looking for each other, touching each other, evolving like they’re in their own private bubble.

It can be annoying sometimes, sure. Especially when one of them comes back injured from a mission and she has to calm down and reassure the other. They might be a little bit obsessed with each other, alright. But it doesn’t hurt anyone, does it ? Caring deeply is not against the Jedi precepts, only unhealthy attachments. And when she looks at them what she sees, burning brighter than any star is-

Unconditional love. She thinks. That’s it. That’s what they have for each other.

Clearing her throat to announce her presence, she walks to them, witnessing the way they turn their head at the same time to look at her. Anakin’s eyes and cheeks are a little wet but he does nothing to hide it from her. She takes it as a precious sign of trust.

“So…?” She smirks when she sits on the other side of the bed. “What is the score this time, Master ?”

Obi-Wan snorts and winces just after, putting a hand on his ribcage.

“Three broken ribs.” He sighs. “Nothing a little rest can’t fix.”

“You forget about the concussion.” Anakin says, rolling his eyes. “And the fact that one of your ribs punctured your lung.”

“Details.” Obi-Wan mumbles. “I’m fine.”

He looks back at Anakin’s skeptical expression, face softening with such tenderness that Ahsoka looks away with a blush.

“I’m fine.”

“You say that each time.” Anakin grumbles. “And each time you come back even more broken.”

“Jealous that I wear scars better than you ?” Obi-Wan teases, making Ahsoka laugh.

“At least you don’t look like a stupid pirate because you fell on the freshener, Master Kenobi.” She sneaks in.

“You little sh-” Anakin starts but he’s stopped by Obi-Wan’s hand on his mouth.

“Language, Padawans !”

Anakin looks at Obi-Wan and does something that makes the older Jedi retrieve his hand quickly while a little blush spreads on his cheeks.

Weirdos.

“Alright, I’m very glad to see that you’re doing fine, Master.” Ahsoka says before getting up. “I’m gonna go finish Skyguy’s report because something tells me he’s not going to move from here before a while.”

Anakin, very maturely, sticks his tongue at her.

“Look how I am rewarded for my generosity.” She complains to Obi-Wan, and the traitor has the audacity to laugh.

But not for long because he's quickly reminded about his broken ribs. Some calls it karma.

“Thank you for coming, little ‘Soka.” The older Jedi smiles softly once he’s done wincing in pain. “And for teaching this one some manners about breaking doors.”

“No problem, Sir.” She smiles, giving them both a little salute. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As soon as she turns around she can feel their bond tighten again between each other in the Force. And if the reflection on the glass door makes it look like they’re sharing a quick, secretive kiss, it’s probably her imagination playing tricks on her.

#if i don't make anakin cry at least once per fic i'm not feeling well #obikinpromptober2024 #obikin prompts #obikin fanfic #obikin #obi wan x anakin #anakin x obi wan #aniobi #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #star wars the clone wars #star wars prequels #star wars fanfiction #star wars #my writing

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colibrie · 23 days ago

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Fang AU DTIYS: Compromise

What's this? Me showing up late with a project that was meant to be short but then got way out of hand and became huge...couldn't be me. This is my submission for the wonderful @trilobitepunch DTIYS. I can't draw beyond stick figures, but trilo is a wonderful artist who deserves to be celebrated, so I decided to write something instead. For full context, I highly recommend checking out the full Fang AU tab on Trilo's page. Having said that, congratulations on your milestone trilobug, lets do this!

"Uh...Raphel?"

"Hey CJ," Raph grunted, reveling in the burn of well worked muscles as he pressed the barbell up and away from his chest. Even with the events and marks of the invasion fading further into the past with each day, he didn't think he'd ever again take for granted the ability to control how he moved his body. Whether through the familiar burn of pushing his limits like a boss or fiddling with the puzzles that he'd been assured would help him regain better depth perception in his damaged eye, all of it was beautiful. All of it was...

"It's Raph, remember? Or Raphie. You're pretty much part of the family now kid and pops the only one who regularly bothers with the ael part."

"Oh! Right, sorry Raphae...Raph..."

"Eh, don't sweat it," Raph rumbled, heart squeezing fondly as he set the barbell on its stand and sat up to give the now rather awkward human his full attention. "Didja need somethin?"

"I was just wondering if you'd seen S-Leo around," Casey Jr asked, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Their future boy was doing a decent job at settling in and moving with the chaos that made up the Hamato family line, likely a benefit from having been raised by alternate and older versions of them. But that familiarity was a doubled edge sword, and ingrained honorifics like "Sensei" and "Master" were slow to fade from the kid’s vocabulary. That went for personal titles too. Raph still had to bite back the urge to laugh when he remembered the fish-eyed stare Donnie had given the first time CJ had slipped up and called him "Uncle Tello". Somethings were just too priceless, and April had been happy to print him a copy from the security stills. While that version of Raph hadn’t been around to raise Casey Jr, the habit of calling him by his full name was one this version of himself was determined to break.

"Raph hasn't seen him," Raph replied, leaning forward to snag his work out towel from its usual spot next to the dumbbell rack. "Have you checked his room."

“Mhm. I also checked the kitchen, the arcade, and the comic nook. There’s no sign of him.”

"Huh. Maybe he's on his skateboard?" Raph pondered as he wiped the towel across his face and neck.

As a family of awesome, world-saving, kick-butt ninjas, it wasn't odd for them to disappear from time to time. No matter how close they were, sometimes space was needed. Mikey would bake, Raph would organize his plushies, Leo would read comics. Donnie had made an art of disappearing from chaotic or boring situations, starting from when they were kids. The soft shell often needed periods of quietly productive tinkering before he could fully join in on the rough and tumble fun preferred by his harder shelled siblings.

What pushed it into the territory of weird, borderline concerning, however, was the lack of heads up. While they currently didn't need permission to leave the lair, the events of the invasion, and more recently the disaster with the GDF lab, had been weighing on all of them. There was a tension in the lair, a near tangible need to see each other, to be close enough to reach out and touch to confirm that, despite everything, they were all still alive. Mikey was alternated between fine and stage five clingy, constantly draped over Raph’s shell, slinging arm around April, or leaning into Casey Jr as he taught the young man how to cook. The twins had been all but glued at hip throughout their recovery. For Raph, it was a constant effort to not give in to paranoia every time he woke up from dreams of pink slime and pleaded apologies, a herculean effort of will to not lunge forward, ninpo ready, whenever one of the twins turned to fast. Heck, even Barry had all but moved in for a while, choosing to engage in his and Splinter’s endless bickering rather than be separated. It had taken a full month before he was fully confident that the serum was working as intended, and another month and a half before the Yokai had been even semi comfortable returning to his apartment.

When they had had to leave, it had never been without a thousand heads up and an iron clad enforcement of the buddy system. So, for Leo to apparently just disappear...

"Have you asked-?"

They both jumped as the front door to their home slammed open, and a loud, irate voice filled the air.

"Alright, where is he?!"

"April?"

Sure enough, the petite form of their adopted older sister was stalking towards them, drenched to the bone and nearly steaming with irritation.

"Whoa, what happened to you Comma...Apirl?" Casey asked, raising his hands and backing up toward Raphs greater bulk as the pissed off eighteen-year-old girl came into swinging range. CJ was a smart kid.

"Donnie was supposed to meet me at the park this afternoon to run some code tests on our tracking system," April growled, wet shoes slapping the concrete as she stomped over to stand by them, water rolling from clothes and hair alike to form a small puddle. "I figured the fresh air, and space would do him some good. And I told him to be on time, cause the weather app said it was supposed to rain at three."

"Wait... are you saying Donnie never showed up?" Casey Jr asked, trepidation clear in his tone as April tried to fruitlessly squeeze the moisture from her hair.

"Uh huh. I'm not trying to turn "soggy" into the next street style," April affirmed, sarcasm thick as she peeled off her sodden backpack and jacket. "Oh, when I get my hands on that boy! I know he's been in hermit mode the last few days, but not even a heads-up text?! He better build me a new laptop if this one kicks the can! I... wait... what's with the look’s boys?"

"You haven't heard from Donnie at all?" Raph pressed, something in his gut sinking as he and Casey Jr looked first at one another, then at April. "No texts, or calls? What about social media posts? Has he made any ta day?"

"No... now that I think about it... it's been kind of quiet on that front too," April replied slowly, her previous scowl rapidly shifting to a concerned frown as she looked at them. "What's going on?"

"I can't find Leo," Casey Jr sighed, one hand running nervously through his hair. "I didn't want to freak everyone out by sounding a code red if he was just chilling somewhere... but if he's missing, and now Donnie's gone radio silent..."

"Crap," April muttered, eyes widening in realization.

"I'll send out the code," Casey Jr said, the kids face and body language shifting into what they'd all come to call his "super soldier" mode. "Raph, find Mikey and send him to the Hidden City. We can't risk them revealing themselves by targeting unsuspecting Yokai. I'll head to Tío's and get him to shut down the portal there. Have Splinter call Draxum, then start sweeping the sewers in-"

"Whoa! Slow down now," April cut in, quickly stepping forward to lay a restraining hand on both boys’ arms. "Let's not overreact yet."

"We've lost the twins April, this ain't an overreaction!" Raph rumbled, hands clenching as anxiety for his brothers burned hot and acidic in his veins. "They'll have a head start, and if they've gone rouge..."

"If they'd gone rouge, we would have heard about it by now," April countered, her touch sympathetic as she squeezed his bicep reassuringly. "It would have been all over the web if two rampaging mutants were murdering people downtown, and Hueso is on high alert for anything that might resemble the virus in the Hidden City. Since we haven't heard either, that means they are probably still safe for now. And if they are having a tough time, the last thing we should do is spook them by overreacting, hear me? "

"Yeah, I hear ya," Raph breathed as Casey jr simultaneously deflated with a muttered "yes ma’am".

"Cool," April confirmed with a nod, huffing as a bedraggled clump of curls flopped across her forehead. "Alright, here's the new plan. I'm going to hunt down a towel and my spare set of clothes. You two are going to calmly find Mikey and Splinter, fill them in, and meet me in Donnie's lab. It looks like we're going to test the new tracking system after all."

"On it, Commander!" Casey Jr replied sharply, snapping into a full on salute before taking off towards the kitchen.

"...Dang," April muttered after a few seconds of shocked silence, "He hasn't done that in over a month..."

"Kids stressed. Not gonna lie, Raph gets the feeling."

"I know big guy," April replied, stepping in to hug him as best she could. "Go get Splints, and then we'll find those dumb-dumbs and give them what for."

"Yeah, Thanks April," Raph replied, arms lifting her in an quick bear hug before moving to find their father. Pizza supreme, they were lucky to have a big sister like April.

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

"So, how does this new system work again? I mean, Donnie said he already had trackers on all of us, so why did he make a new one?" Mikey asked from his spot perched atop Raph’s shell as they all huddled around Donnie's computer, watching Aprils' fingers fly across the keys.

"Think of it less as a new system and more of a super charged expansion pack," April replied as her right thumb spammed the space bar. "Donnie wanted a better way to not just track but get ahead of his and Leo's flair ups. Their new chips are, in theory, supposed to transmit bioinformation like cardiovascular rate, respiratory rate, and core temperature. He wanted to include brain waves and neurological patterns, but we agreed to hold off on brain stuff until the base enhancements are out of beta."

"I don't care if they make it all the way through omega. Absolutely no "brain stuff"". Splinter cut in sharply, tail lashing back and forth in an agitated way that had Raph instinctively scooting them back and out of said appendages strike range.

"MmmhmyeahtotalyANYWAY," April quickly agreed, though Mikey watched as a swift click of the mouse swooped several files into a file labeled "Unfolding Genius".

"Point in being is that with this, I can both track the twins and monitor their bio signs for indicators that something has triggered them into a hunt. I had it set up for the trials we were going to run today, but as soon as I disengage that protocol, we'll be able to find both in no time."

"What were you testing today?" Mikey asked, leaning forward to watch as wave after wave of purple binary code rolled across the screen.

"Just some technical stuff, attunement to baselines. Nothing very interesting," April replied nonchalantly.

"Uh, how were you going to get a baseline without-" Casey jr started to ask skeptically, only for the computer to cut in with an obnoxiously loud sound of triumph.

"We got our boys!" April cheered.

"Where are they? Are they hurt? " Raph asked, nearly knocking Mikey from his perch as when the big guy lunged in towards the screen.

"It says they're at... the old lair?"

"Donatello said the area was unstable. Why would they go there?" Splinter asked.

"Who cares? We gotta go get 'em before they move," Raph replied, and Mikey quickly adjusted his grip as the gentle giant lumbered to his feet.

"I don't have access to the full biometric spectrum yet, but their heart rates suggest they are calm and stationary for now. Mikey, are you getting anything on the mystic end of things?" April asked, wheels screeching against the labs concrete floor as she pushed away from the desk and reached for her bat.

"Not really?" Mikey hedged, lips puckering as he turned his attention inward to poke at their collectively connected ninpo. Their family tapestry was whole once move, thank pizza, blue and purple once more interlocked with red, orange, green, silver-gray, and aquamarine. Yet...

"They're still here, but they're...looser than they should be. Duller. Like they're missing some of their pizazz."

"Then let’s go pizazz things up!" Raph barked, making warmth bloom in Mikey's bones as the big guy turned and stalked out of the lab. Though his biggest brother still had moments where he defaulted back to treating Mikey like a baby, Raph always took his opinion on mystic things seriously.

"Dad, you and April and Casey Jr stay-"

"Hey now!"

"I can help!"

"You guys stay here and prep the lair and the med bay," Raph pushed on, deep voice rumbling across the protests. "They may not need it, but it can't hurt to be prepared."

"We'll call you once we've got them," Mikey promised, tossing his remaining a family his warmest smile as he and Raph headed for the door.

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

The path to the old lair was painfully familiar, walls and tunnels covered with Mikey's once flawlessly colorful art, now shot with deep cracks and cavernous crevices that still stood as silent testament to the Shredders ferocity. Seeing it, even years later, made something deep in Raph’s heart burn with the urge to either cry or hit something.

They didn't come back here often. The four of them had never discussed it out loud, but the consensus hung like a shroud, a silent accord they'd all secretly signed in their hearts the day they'd scavenged the last of their possessions from the rubble. This place, even for all the happy memories they'd shared with it, was where they had both gained and lost their grandmother. Where home had been forever marred by devastation too painful to be near. The old subway station had been unfamiliar, rough and raw with new potential, but it was their future and all four had leaned into gathering, shaping, and modifying it with every conceivable comfort and curiosity to make that future their new home.

So why would the twins have come here? Had something happened? Were the bio-what-zits wrong? Why hadn't they come to Raph for help? They had promised they'd would, in those family talks with Dr. Feelings (and a rougher session or two with Dr. Delicate Touch). Both Donnie and Leo had sworn to be honest, to tell them if the krangy parts of them were taking over again. Maybe they'd...

"-ph...aph...RAPHAEL!"

"Gah!"

Raph nearly jumped a foot into the air as his baby brother’s shout was accompanied by dexterous fingers prodding at a soft, ticklish spot at the juncture of his neck and shell.

"Aaaaaye! Mikey, what the shell was that for?!" he hissed, jaw flexing as he twisted his head to glare at his passenger.

""I've been calling your name for like the last five minutes!" Mikey scowled in reply, dark eyes returning the heat as they scanned his face. "You missed the turn off for the side door.”

"Oh...Raphs bad," he mumbled, turning away to pretend to look around and "reorient" himself before turning to head back the way they'd come. It was a stupid thing to do. Even half blown to smithereens he still knew these tunnels like the back of his hand, and so did Mikey.

"Soooooooooo...want to talk about it?"

"What "it"?"

"The "it" that's turning your Raph chasm into a Raph crater," Mikey pressed, leaning in closer. "You aren't subtle Raphie. Come on, spit it out."

"Nuthin. I'm jus worried bout the twins," Raph replied, grimacing at how weak and defensive the excuse sounded.

"They haven't moved at all in the last fifteen minutes. Aprils been sending me updates every few minutes to confirm it," Mikey pushed. "What else is rolling around in there?"

"Raph...doesn't like that they went off on their own. I mean, doesn't that bother you too? After all those talks and lectures. After that near miss with April! They oughta know better than to just up and disappear on us!"

"I mean, yeah, you're not wrong. They should have told us they were going out...But they probably wanted their own space, and none of us have been really good at giving them that as of late."

"It's for their own good! They know that! They agreed to it!" Raph growled, agitation growing in his gut as he turned left and stomped down another cross tunnel.

"That's probably why it's taken them this long to pull a Houdini. They've put up with a lot. Draxums checkups, restricted surface time... heck Raphie, we're like, super-limited-edition-mint-condition-lucky that they just went to the old lair instead of the other side of the city."

"So, what do you want us to do Mikey? Cut'em loose in the Hidden City and hope to pizza supreme that they don't lose their cool and maim a whole bunch of Yokai?! Let'em go out with a "have fun, try not to kill any humans on the way home?!"

"I want my family back to normal Raph! I want to be their brother again, not their jailer!"

"And you think I don't?!"

"I think you-"

The happy jingle of Aprils ring tone cut through their budding argument, bouncing and rebounding off the concrete and rebar. Raph turned his head away as Mikey fumbled for his phone, the muscles in his jaw rhythmically clenching as he chewed over what to do or say next.

Deep down, he knew Mikey had a point. The twins couldn't spend their lives locked up at home. And if he was honest, neither could he. As close as their family was, and as reassuring as it was to have them near, the frustration of being continuously chained to one another was a steadily rising tide under the surface of forced calm. Donnie wanted to go out to the junkyard. Leo wanted to bother Hueso. Raph...Raph really missed hanging out with Casey, the nights were the two of them would meet up to spar and end up gushing for hours about the latest wrestling match and which moves they wanted to try out for themselves. The decision to limit both the information about what happened to a few and limit the family's contact with outsiders who weren't Casey Jr or April had made a lot of sense months ago, but...

"Alright, yeah. We're almost there. Tell Barry to hold off for now, we'll call if we need a portal," Mikey said, pulling Raph’s attention away from his thoughts and back to the dimly lit reality of the tunnel. "Uh huh...yep...I'll text you the level once we get to them, promise. Gotta go Apes. Love."

"Everything good?" Raph asked as Mikey ended the call.

"Yeah. She said she did some techno-thingamagiggy with the trackers and got a better signal. Both icons are in Donnie's old room."

"Oh..."

"Dad also called Barry but told him to stay on standby. And Barry agreed, so we have backup!"

"Cool big man..."

"And...um...I'm sorry-"

"Raphs sorry-"

They blinked at each other for a moment, before bursting out in soft peals of laughter that bounced down the path, warming the space around them.

"J-jinx!" Mikey wheezed, "you owe me garlic knots!"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll tell Hueso ta add'em next time we go...An we'll go soon."

"Soon?"

"Mhm. You're right big guy. We can't live locked up forever, and Raph's sorry for bein a jerk about it."

"You're not a jerk Raphie. You've been doing a lot to keep us safe. I'm sorry if I made it seem like I don't appreciate that."

"Already forgiven. Now, let’s go get our bozos back."

The original entrance to their old home had remained staunchly buried under tons of rubble, but the side entrance that had once served as the garage was still blessedly accessible to Raph's bulk. Water dripped from the ceiling, a softly rolling symphony of drip, plip, plop that beckoned them further in. It was not hard to find and follow evidence of the twin’s passage. Footprints, two sets, disturbed the thick layer of dust on the ground, and pieces of rubble had clearly been moved to widen the path.

Their bedrooms had suffered various degrees of damage from both the fire and falling rubble, and while his lab had been utterly destroyed, Donnie's bedroom had somehow maintained the most structural integrity. The hollow maw of the open door loomed as they approached, what little metal Donnie hadn't stripped when they moved ragged and rusting, hanging like broken teeth that warned against casual approach. Raph felt Mikey shrink back into his shell slightly as he crouched to peer past the door jam.

The twins were scrunched against the far wall, curled around one another on whatever was left of Donatello's bed. Donnie lay with his head in Leo's lap, long legs tucked to his chest. His goggles sat askew on his head, knocked off center by the hands were loosely pressed over his tympanum. Leo sat slumped against the wall; body curved protectively around his other half. The wicked claws of one hand drummed random patterns across the purple titanium of the battle shell Donnie wore while the other hand toyed with the tails of his mask. Soft hisses and churrs filled the air around them, words replaced by more instinctual vocalizations broken every now and then by a higher whistle or a deeper hum. Neither looked up at or acknowledge Raph and Mikey's intrusion.

Raph opened his mouth to call his brothers, but a quick tap on the shoulder redirected his attention to the other brother sitting on his shoulder, and the phone screen that was promptly pushed towards his face.

"They feel weird, lik thy rn't all there. Don't want to startle thm in here." Mikey had hastily written.

Raph quickly ducked back, tucking them against the outer wall before pulling out his own phone.

"R they full gone?"

"No, just loose. Think they're slippin in an out of it mentally."

"Any ideas? Raphs open."

"Operation BF-Prime?”

"Wow. Pullin out the big guns. Raph likes."

";D"

Raph stifled the urge to chuckle as his thumbs flew across the screen of his phone.

"Alright. Text Apes and CJ the plan, then head back the way we came. We're luring them out to the Atrium."

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

It was easier to breathe here in the dark. The dark protected them, far away from the smells and the sounds and the eyes that always watched, always saw. It concealed their weakness, hid away the urge to lunge and claw and...

tap, tap, tippity-tapity tiptiptiptip…

He hissed weakly as the tapping broke through the buzz of their thoughs, tightening his hands as though smothering the ability to hear could smother the thoughts that raced round and round and round inside his head, wobbling nauseously between he, me, they, we, him, us at what felt like breakneck speeds.

A reassuring purr rumbled from their...from Leo's throat in reply.

That was Leo. His twin. One of four brothers. He was Donatello. A genius. A scientist. He loved fashion and dancing and Atomic Lass, and Leo loved the dramatic twists in soap operas and winning and basketball. He had to remember that. Had to organize and amend and enforce it on the thrashing, howling thing in his skull that though in plurals and endlessly chased and craved connection... to be together...together…

Taptaptaptap-CRASH.

They were on their feet in an instant, claws unsheathed, and teeth bared as they warily looked around. The shadows had not changed, but new smells had entered the safe zone. Familiar, so familiar. Family.

Togetherbite...

Nono...no....nobite…

They hissed in displeasure as they stumbled from their den, disapproval and discord swirling in their heads as they followed the path, and the scents, towards the open space in the center.

Those who belonged together...togetherneeded...theyneeded...Bite? No. Nobite. Promised. Promisedwho? Significantpromise? Yes! Promised...

Something sprang from the shadows, arms the size of trees pinning their arms down before hauling them back and in, lifting their feet clear off the floor.

"Mikey now!"

They screamed as fire exploded in their synapsis, thrashing and snarling as bright marigold and blazing red crashed into that thing in their skull, slamming it down with a devastating suplex before binding it in smoldering gold chains. The colors peeled the thing back, pushing it down, down, down and out of their precious space. His space, his mind...

"Donnie!"

"Mikey?"

The orange flames did not burn this time, permitting only the gentlest heat as they flew back to joyfully whirl around him. His little brother, happiness and sunshine and power incarnate. Their family's true north, constant and sure. He reached for that light, hazy purple seeking relief and finding it offered with open arms. Filaments of marigold wove a gossamer net, pulling him in and up until his head broke the metaphorical surface.

"...be home in five. How they lookin?"

"I got through to Donnie, but he's kinda woozy. I'll work on getting through to Leo next!"

"I sure hope April is ready for us, because we are comin in hot!"

His body was hanging from something, limp legs swaying weakly as whatever held him moved forward in a run. His hands pawed mechanically at something firm and leathery, finding insufficient purchase against whatever held him still. To his right something akin to a lawnmower dying could be heard, high pitched keens sliding down to incoherent rumbles that might, if one were to be extraordinarily generous with the definition, be classified as words.

"Got him! Lee, can you understand me? Blink once for yes, and twice for no!"

Leo...

"GerOooooofffff," Leo moaned, voice guttural as it warbled on the edge of a growl.

His blue-clad brother was tucked under Raphs other arm, hands weakly plucking and scratching at their older brother's forearm in much the same way he had. Slitted pupils glared at their brethren, their...his fangs on full display, a silent warning, and ultimately a hollow one.

Donnie could see it in the light that gleamed from behind those predators’ eyes, feel it distantly echoing from that thing in his skull that was still pinned down by red and orange energies. Leo was awake and rapidly regaining control over their-his, for the love of shell, his-mental faculties. He wouldn't be a threat to the family. If only Donnie could feel so confident of his own self-control. The world still felt...watery for lack of a better word, like it was contained in the cup Mikey used to clean his brushes. Colors and lights bled, melting down in big looping swirls as his mind fought to preserve the tentatively won separation of turtle and monster. The thing wailed, tugging desperately at the barren threads of his thoughts and powers, trying to pull him back in and down. It needed him. It was him. It was...lonely? Scared? Angry? Confused?

"Almost there Lee," Mikey's assurance pulled his attention back, the familiar sight and scents of their new home drifting into view. "Don't worry, Aprils got operation BF-prime ready to roll, so we'll have you feeling better in no time!"

Operation BF Prime... he knew what that was. He helped design it. With April. It had been his way to apologize, as funny enough, Hallmark didn't make a "sorry my freaky genetic makeup and unpredictable virus-based mutations made me hunt you down and almost kill you" card. So instead, he'd spent hours with her, first on the phone and then in person, coming up with safety procedures that covered the serious, the strange, and even some that were downright whacky. They had talked about what happened, and eventually even laughed. She'd promised that they'd fix things to...toge...

"Special delivery!" Raph called, charging through the front door without slowing down.

"Main area. April’s getting the last piece."

Casey Jr's scent hit his nose hard, and a strangled hiss slipped through his teeth before he could stop it.

"Easy Dee. Hold your breath for a minute."

He did as he was told, desperately squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to force himself to think about the code. BF-Prime. BF-Prime. Prime. Part of the Alpha series. Top protocol, used for their "bad days" as April put it. B, not A. Not something they'd need Draxum for.

BF stood for...

He squawked as Raph’s arm suddenly disappeared. Limb’s flailing, he dropped into a nest of...pillows? Yes. Feathery soft, well-worn pillows and felty blankets that smelled of the family's detergent.

Oh right... BF stood for blanket fort.

He churred as instinct had him burrowing down, swiftly burying himself in the ocean of softness as Leo hit the pile with an undignified yelp. Gentle fingers tugged off his goggles, smoothing down the creases in his mask before slipping his noise canceling headphones into place. Something big, heavy, and luxuriously silky covered them both, trapping Leo against his back as divinely weighted warmth infused his tight-strung muscles.

Voices, blessedly muted by the protective cone of his headphones, rumbled overhead. Like the burble of water through the pipes, there but easy to ignore. Less easy to ignore were the fingers that worked their way beneath the blankets and pillows to pry at the safety latches on his battle shell. He growled, mouth opening to snap at the intruder only to be met with something cold and semi-hard being pressed between his teeth. He instinctively bit down, and his mouth was quickly flooded by the refreshingly bland taste of cucumber.

"I know, I know," someone soothed, silky fur tickling the edge of his jaw as that someone adjusted the layers around him. "Bear with us Purple, you and Blue will be more comfortable if they take it off now."

He whined, fangs shredding pleasantly through the cucumber as the latches at his shoulders and hips flipped open. He dipped his head to chase that familiar touch as the weight of his armor was taken away, leaving the softest parts of him open and vulnerable.

"It’s alright, my clever purple. You can rest now; your papa is here."

Weight settled in around him, above and below, side to side, careful not to crowd, but close enough that he could feel their warmth. Leo shifted, rotating until he was laying fully across Donnie’s back, a reassuring pressure protecting his soft shell.

He sighed as cheerful tangerine tugged at the edges of his consciousness, wearily relinquishing his hold on wakefulness as he turned inward, following his little brother’s lead. The supernova that was his family's collective ninpo burst into life, rippling bands of color rich enough to put the aurora borealis to shame eagerly reaching out to draw him closer. Silver-gray, summer green, and vibrant aquamarine joined red and orange in holding back the thing, quieting its incessant howling until it was barely a whisper. He sagged in exhausted relief, swiftly followed by washed out blue as their family bundled them up and held them close.

"You dumb-dumbs," Red buzzed, worry and affection pulling them into its protection. "You scared the shell outa us."

"Sorry Raphie," Leo's blue slurred, sticking close to Donnie's purple even as Casey Jr's aquamarine stubbornly wedged himself in on his other side. "Didn't mean to."

"Why did you leave?" April asked, green sidling in, silently nudging him in gentle recognition when he buzzed in apology.

"Now is not the time for questions" Their father declared, silver-grey stretching to surround them all. "You boys need to rest and regain your balance, we'll talk when you wake up." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he woke, pulled from the loving tangle of his family’s network by his body's irritating biological needs. His mouth was dry and tasted of stale cucumber, eyelids itchy and gummy as he tried to blink sleep away from his eyes. His headphones had been knocked off at some point, leaving his tympanum free to begin picking out pieces from the low conversation flowing around him.

"So, who is going to..."

"Hueso said about an hour. Probably accounting for Leo time. So-"

"Dad's going-"

"-been down for a while. Should we wake them?"

"Donnie? Doooooonie. You awake?"

"No," he huffed, shoving his head further into the cradle of his arms when the voices cheered.

"Awake and talking! Good going Dee!"

"I am neither. It's a figment of your imagination."

"Uh huh. Come on big baby, sit up. I've got some flavorless juice here with your name on it."

Warm hands pulled at him, ignoring his grumbles of protest as he was propped upright. A straw slipped between his lips silenced him, but the intrusion swiftly forgiven when his preferred beverage washed the staleness from his tongue and throat.

"There you go. Feel better?"

"Mmmm," he hummed, hand rising to take the cup as he gave up pretense and blinked his eyes open.

He was propped against Raph's plastron at the center of a frankly massive blanket fort. What appeared to be every cushion, pillow, blanket and quilt that the family owned had been piled into the living room, couches and chairs rearranged to provide a stable framework. April knelt to his left, dressed in the spare clothes that she kept in his lab. She seemed to hear his silent question, giving him an exaggerated grimace before replying.

"SOMEONE forgot to meet me at the park, and I got soaked on the walk here."

"Sweet Marie Curie, that was today?!" he gasped, his stomach twisting unpleasantly when April nodded. "I am so sorry April."

"It's alright man. I'm guessing you've been kind of out of it lately."

"Eh, not much more than any other day," Leo chimed in sleepily, and a quick glance to his right found his twin propped up against Raph's legs, firmly sandwiched between Mikey and Casey Jr.

He tried to frown, but like the drowsy smile he got in reply, it lacked any of the real power it should have held. Not when he honestly felt like he could easily fall back asleep if he blinked for too long. His mind was so blessedly silent, the thing muted by the collective weight of his family ninpo, and he was only prevented from drifting by a finger softly poking his cheek.

"Nuh uh, eyes open D. You can go back to sleep after you've eaten something," Mikey nudged, unrepentant as he forced Donnie to open his eyes once more. "Dad is on his way to pick up our favorites from Run of the Mill now. You don't want to miss that!"

"And, while we wait, you two can finally tell us what in the world made you two think disappearing like that was a good idea," Raph groused.

"Oh, yeah...that," Leo replied, voice carefully light and nonchalant as Donnie cringed. "It was really all a big misunderstanding. Dee had an idea, and we wanted to test it out first before we brought it to you guys. Must have lost track of time."

"Leo, you two were basically at alpha level coherence. That's a bit more than "losing track of time"," Mikey countered, his face dressed in earnest concern that border lined on distress, and Donnie felt vindicated when even Leo flinched away from it. "We were really worried about you."

"I'm sorry Mikey. We didn't mean for it to end up like that, I promise," Leo repeated, pulling Mikey in closer for a one-armed hug.

"What were you trying to test?" Casey Jr asked.

"Something, something, big-brained nerd stuff?" Leo replied with a wave of his hand. The attempted deflection fell flat amongst the cushions as all other eyes turned to stare at Donnie.

"I... was testing to see if it were possible for me to "reprogram" the mutations caused by the lingering Krang influence," Donnie answered stiffly, ducking his head as the atmosphere within the fort went tight with tension.

"You what now?!"

"Donnie!"

"And you didn't think we needed to know that?!"

"That's impossible!"

"No, it’s not!" he snapped, neck muscles cramping as he jerked his chin up to glare at the last person to speak, Casey Jr. "Let us recall that I was the one temporarily bonded to the technodrome, and thus I have a far better understanding in regard to its functions than any of you! It was as technological as it was biological. It had functions and subroutines, and it processed information as data. Even if this thing isn't a full technodrome, it still processes information the same way and it is integrated with my ninpo. The same ninpo that lets me replicate any technology I can comprehend?! If I can study this thing, if I can understand its functions, then I should be able to use my ninpo to rewrite them!"

"If it were possible to rewrite krang matter, Uncle Tello would have-"

"That version of me didn't know what I know. I can do things he never even dreamed of."

"Ooookay, let's put that bit aside for now," April cut in quickly as Casey Jr's face darkened. "What were you specifically testing?"

"Nothing complicated," Donnie shrugged, trying his best to ignore the way Raphs unhappy objection vibrated through his leathery carapace. "I was trying to establish what kind of interface the thing requires to send and receive commands."

"And you couldn't have done that here?" Raph prodded.

"No," Donnie replied, shoulders rising as his tone unintentionally turned irritated and snappish.

"Why?" Mikey pressed.

"Because you are all-"

"-distracting," Leo cut in smoothly, one foot nudging Donnie's thigh under the blanket in a clear signal to shut up.

"Oh..."

"It's nothing personal Mikey," Leo soothed, "it's just with everything happening in the lair, it gets loud, and that makes it kind of hard for Donbon to concentrate."

Even after sixteen years, the ease with which Leo pulled together plausible explanations from strands of truth and slivers of fact astounded Donnie.

"That still doesn't explain why you didn't come to us with the idea first," Raph chided, tenacious as a dog with a bone. "Raph isn’t kidding when I say you scared the shell out of us. We nearly called Draxum to find you two!"

"Because you would have listened to us anyway."

The words were bitter on his tongue, and he dragged in another sip of flavorless juice in the awkward silence that followed.

"What do you mean? Of course we would have listened!" Casey Jr protested.

"No, you wouldn't," Donnie shook his head hard, sitting up as he curled his knees up to his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the fingers on Leo's free hand begin to subtly flutter.

"Yes, we would have Dee," April rebutted. "We would have worked with you, just like you and I have been working on the new protocols."

"Any time the thing in my head comes up in conversation, you all shut us down!" Donnie snapped, fingers flexing and flicking as hot irritation filled his chest. "You ask a million questions about what it feels like, what triggers it, how Draxums’ medication does or doesn't affect it, but you don't ask me what I think about it, or what we want to do about it. You act like we'll go rabid if someone sneezes too loud! I can't even be in my own lab without someone watching me. If we'd told you my idea, you would have treated us like invalids, shut it down, and forbidden me to even try!"

"Donatello, that is not fair. We're just trying to-"

"Hang on," Mikey cut in, tone firm as he raised one scarred hand, "Donnie is asking to be heard here, so let's give him the floor and hear him out without interruptions. Go ahead D,"

"It's...I..." Donnie fumbled under the attention, fingers now frantically plucking at handfuls of the blanket as he strained to form some kind of coherent thought from the twisted mess inside of him.

This wasn't right. This wasn't how he wanted to approach things. He needed time to organize his preliminary data, and make a PowerPoint complete with charts and tables. Something visual, and respectable. Something that would make his family understand. Something to tame and order and hold back these gross emotions that stuck to his lungs like tar and gathered along his lashes like pine pitch, burning and stinging and making it hard to breathe or blink. He just wanted...

"We get you guys love us, and we get that you want to keep us safe, but we need you to back off," Leo spoke up, gracefully shifting attention to himself. Donnie shivered in relief, leaning over with silent gratitude when Leo stretched out to tangle their legs together.

"We need you to treat us like us," his twin continued, shoulders thrown back as a spark of leadership entered his eyes and voice, "like Donnie and Leo, not patient x. We need you to include us in the conversations, not hide them behind closed doors when you think we're not paying attention. You see it protecting us, but all it does is make us feel isomalated."

"Isolated," Donnie corrected, hiding a slight smile of affection in the crook of his elbow when Leo nudged him playfully with his ankle.

"What he said," Leo joked, flashing Donnie a smile and a wink before turning back to the others.

"Raph...didn't mean to make you guys feel like that," the giant of their family replied uncomfortably, one hand rubbing at the edge of the scar that stretched over his eye. "We just didn't want you to have to think about it."

"That ship sailed a while ago for both of us Raphie," Leo replied, a hint of sad frustration sneaking in between the syllables as he spoke. "You heard what Drax said, there is no fixing this, only managing it. This thing is with Donnie and me every second of every day. I wake up fighting the urge to bite something. I walk around the lair, and sometimes I have to stop to sort out which are things I'm seeing and feeling, and what things are from Dontron. Sometimes I dream about hunting and...and that's our lives now. We can't go back, and we can't ignore it. We have to figure out how to live with it on our terms."

"Is that why you went to our old place? So, you could face it on your "own terms"?" Mikey asked, his usual sunny face solum as Leo shrugged.

"Maybe a little," the red eared slider allowed, raising one hand palm down before tilting it side to side in a so-so gesture. "We also wanted to have some proof of concept before we got everyone's hopes up, and the lair being so crowded does make it hard to concentrate. We figured the old lair was isolated enough that no one would be in danger if we experimented with the thing, but close enough that we could be back before you guys noticed."

The blanket fort was silent for several minutes, and each second felt like it was drilling into Donnie's brain, winding his muscles into tense springs as he waited for his sibling’s judgement to fall. He could feel the same tension coiling inside Leo, and from the way his fingers were fluttering Donnie had little doubt that if his twin still had his katanas he would have already teleported out of the room.

It was their big sister who finally broke the silence.

"I'm sorry you guys."

"It's fine Apes,"

"No, it's not," she shook her head, one hand landing on Donnie's shoulder as she reached out to Leo with the other. "You guys shouldn't have to feel like you need to hide things from us in order to have a say, and you shouldn't feel ostracized in your own care either. We did that, and I'm sorry for my part in it."

A chorus of "Me too," "Our bad," and "I'm sorry guys", closely followed her statement.

"Aww, you saps," Leo teased, but the smile he gave as Mikey and Casey Jr pinned him a hug was his genuine smile, big and warm and a little crooked.

"We'll do better. Raph promises," Raphel added, and Donnie allowed himself to be swept into his big brother’s arms with only a minor theatrical groan.

"Yes, yes, acknowledgements and apologies given and received all around. Now please loosen your grip. I don't currently have the proper equipment to withstand a full force Raph hug."

"Yep, that's our Donnie! Sensitive as a soaked cat."

"I beg your considerable pardon! I-"

"-am gonna quit stalling and tell us the results of test you guys ran. Come on, I'm dying to know! " April redirected the conversation with teasing poke to his ribs.

"Sadly, the results were less than conclusive," Donnie reluctantly admitted, resuming his slumped posture against Raph’s plastron once he was released from the hug. "It does seem to have some form of OS, but one that doesn't respond to scripts like java, python, or R."

"Did you really think it would?"

"It was possible," Donnie shrugged, new energy sparking through his thoughts as excitement for his ideas blossomed. "It is part of me after all, so theoretically it could have altered itself to fit my cognitive process the same way it altered itself to my biology. And it has, only it hasn't altered to fit my way of thinking, but rather to fit my ninpo!"

"Wait, you think in code?" Mikey interrupted.

"Sometimes. It saves time."

"How does that even-"

"Shhhhhhhhhhhh, don't question the nerd logic," Leo counseled as he casually covered Mikey's mouth. "Just roll with it. It's way easier, trust me."

"Are the interruptions done?" Donnie sniffed primly, holding down a smirk by sheer will as his blue and orange dumb-dumbs nodded in tandem.

"Right, as I was saying, I was able to ascertain that the thing is adapted to receive signals from ninpo, which is likely why it can be effectively suppressed for short periods of time by our collective network. We are likely overloading its command center."

"Okay, it takes commands from ninpo. Can that help with you guys going all hissy and bitey on us?"

"Theoretically? The issue is that while it might be responsive to ninpo, there seems to be an additional code needed in order to deliver and process commands. Some combination I have yet to determine. It also seems that the thing is very sensitive regarding the specifics of the delivery method."

"I'll say," Leo chimed in, "that thing is more sensitive than a diva on a bad day."

"Something you'd know nuthin about, right Lee?" Raph teased, sending the whole fort into riotous laughter as Leo gasped with playfully theatrical afront.

"Hey now, don't come crying to me for secrets when you start getting dry scales and crow’s feet while my skin is still dewy soft and gorgeous!" Leo jabbed back, batting his eyes as their big brother roared with laughter.

"Okay, okay, focus guys!" April giggled, leaning over Donnie to swat at Leo's knee. "Finish telling the story."

"Not a whole lot left to tell," Leo shrugged, covertly glancing at Donnie as the others reigned in their mirth. Something pulsed between them, a bundle of wordless intent and questions that Donnie could not parse but understood all the same. The nod he gave was minuscule, barely a dip of his chin, but Leo seemed to read it all the same.

"The thing got all riled when Donnie tried to feed it his nerd script. I think it tried to eat us again, but I kept a grip on things while DonDon here played scientist. It worked pretty good for a while, but I guess it kind of crept up on us without us realizing and won out when you guys startled us. Which, on that note, good call going with the main room for the ambush."

"That was Raph! I was the one who initiated operation BF-Prime" Mikey chimed in, beaming when Leo playfully rubbed his knuckles across the top of Mikey's head.

"Whoa, the big brain over here is coming for my job!" Leo praised.

"So, you were able to keep control, even as Donnie was messing with the thing?" Casey Jr asked, a thoughtful look crossing his face as he looked between Leo and Donnie.

"It appears so," Donnie nodded, the tips of his fangs needling the skin of his lower lip as he searched for the correct descriptive words. "It was like...like being in an ocean. As long as Leo stayed at the surface, I could dive under and still find my way back up."

"If that’s true then...maybe we could use that as the basis for some new protocols."

"Oh?" Donnie replied warily, barely resisting the urge to pull away as the attention zeroed in on Casey Jr. "What kind of protocols did you have in mind?"

"One's that let us help you guys’ figure this out, on your terms," Casey Jr assured, shifting away from Leo slightly to better face the group. "We were wrong to shut you guys out, but we also can't risk what might happen to you guys if we don't proceed with some caution. So, as a compromise, what if we set up a new system, using parts of your old home as a central testing ground. If we outfit it with security features, then you and Leo could have a stable place to both get space from us and to test out your control of the thing. The security could link to your computer here, and one of us could monitor it and be prepared to respond if something goes sideways."

"If we get the new tracking system working, we could even be collecting other lines of data that could be used for comparison later!" April chimed in, excitement growing in her voice.

"And if something did go wrong, we could be there in no time!" Mikey added, nodding enthusiastically.

"Hmmmm...doesn't sound like a terrible idea," Leo slowly nodded, another indescribable pulse pressing against the back on Donnie's mind as he too slowly nodded.

"Indeed... though I have some thoughts. Like, how you would get in to assist us should we need it. Baring the side entrance, most of the old lair is too unstable to provide an additional access point."

"Simple, we'll portal in," Casey Jr replied.

"Wait...you mean I get my katanas back?!" Leo perked up.

"You both said you were able to stay anchored while Donnie poked the krang hound," Casey Jr nodded, fingers drumming back and forth across his knee as he spoke. "Your portals, in combination with the proposed alert system, should mean we'll be able to reach you in time to prevent the situation from devolving to alpha levels. What do you both think?"

"I could definitely handle the security measures so long as we keep it to portions of the atrium, and perhaps my prior abode," Donnie hummed, his mind already whirling through possible schematics and upgrades. "It would necessitate a trip to the junkyard."

"Okay. How about the day after tomorrow? Raph can help you carry back whatever ya need."

"Now that I have portal privileges back, we can drop supplies directly to the old lair and still have time to go to Hueso's!" Leo boasted, the joy from the return of his weapons turning the atmosphere of the fort tangibly sweet as they all continued to throw out ideas and suggestions for what Donnie quickly dubbed the "Theta" protocols. The conversation rolled on, slowly morphing from serious planning to outrageous boasts mixed with increasingly hairbrained proposals and double dares. The soft walls of the fort cocooned them in the warmth of and joy of their laughter, blocking out the world and its many problems for at least one night. Nothing, not even biology altering aliens, could pull them apart. "Heeeello?! Is anyone hungry or will I have to eat these pizzas by myself?"

Well, maybe not nothing.

"Pizza!"

Their fathers voice led to a stampede as the aromatic scent of cheesy, grease goodness filled the air. They all scrambled to find and exit, dirty tactics and old tricks liberally employed as each member of the family raced to be first in the kitchen.

"I call first go!"

"Keep your mitts off my meat lovers!"

"Hawaiian all the way baby!"

"It doesn't matter how many times you say it Nardo, pineapple on pizza is still an affront to decency!"

"Oh yeah? How about you decent deez-"

"Boy, do not even finish that sentence!"

Their father was waiting for them, already tucking into a slice as they all scrambled to grab their plates and divy up the spoils.

"Mmmmmmm is there anything better than the boneman's pies?" Leo moaned as he sank his teeth into a perfectly gooey slice.

"It's no hot soup, but I suppose it will do," Their pops teasingly grumbled, ears swiveling to lay flat as his words garnered rather loud protests.

#angst fairy writes #rottmnt #trilo fang au #trilosartstrikesagain #trilodtiys #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt raph #rottmnt april #rottmnt casey jr #mentions of draxum but he is not really here.#Remember kids #communication is important #long post

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ltash · 4 months ago

Text

The Bodyguard pt-1

Part 2 & 3 link in the end.

SimonGhostRileyxfemalereader

The boardroom was sleek, modern, and imposing, with dark wood panelling and a sprawling glass table. Sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting sharp shadows across the faces of the people who had slowly filed in, each flashing rehearsed smiles in your direction. You leaned back in your chair, absentmindedly chewing on the end of a sleek silver pen, your eyes sharp, taking in every movement, every fake expression.

Five guards stood silently behind you, their presence a subtle but unmistakable reminder of your authority. You were untouchable here, or at least, that's what you needed them to believe. As the CEO and heiress of Aventis Pharmaceuticals, a company built on generational influence, you knew there were black sheep lurking within your empire. You could feel it in the way certain board members avoided your gaze, shifting uncomfortably under your silent scrutiny.

"Let's get started," you said, your voice calm but unyielding as you set the pen down, giving each person a measured look. "I need the details on the latest antinarcotic project we're working on."

There was a pause before the head of R&D, Dr. Marcus Lewin cleared his throat. He looked pale, though you couldn't tell if it was the lighting or nerves. "Ah... of course, Miss Aventis," he began, shuffling some papers before him. "We're in the third phase of clinical trials now. The formula has shown promising results, minimal side effects, with a faster recovery rate compared to the last version."

You raised an eyebrow, watching him squirm slightly. "Minimal side effects?" you repeated. "We're aiming for a groundbreaking product, Dr. Lewin. I expect 'minimal' to be an understatement."

"Yes, of course," he stammered, nodding vigorously. "I, uh, apologize. We're working on further improvements. There's also some data regarding efficacy rates in the latest testing group. I can forward the specifics to you."

You leaned forward slightly, your gaze hardening. "Forward them to me? Dr. Lewin, I'd prefer a comprehensive update now from you. Or are there... issues you'd rather not discuss here?"

A few other board members shifted uncomfortably, casting sidelong glances at one another. But Dr. Lewin managed a stiff smile. "No issues, Miss Aventis. We've been gathering the results carefully. We're confident we can meet the expected deadline and provide a full report for you to review."

You nodded slowly, letting the silence stretch. "Good. I expect nothing less. And, just to be clear," you said, glancing around the table at the assembled members, "I don't tolerate surprises. If there are any... discrepancies, now is the time to disclose them. Otherwise, I expect total transparency."

A hush fell over the room.

Your gaze shifted to Martin Hayes, the company's CFO, a man known for his sharp financial acumen and, at times, slippery ethics. He sat across the table, his fingers tapping nervously against his folder. He offered a tight, polite smile as he looked up to meet your eyes.

"And about our deal with that company?" you asked, your voice cool, with just a hint of impatience.

Martin cleared his throat, adjusting his tie. "Yes, of course, Miss Aventis. The partnership with Arcadia Biotech is progressing as planned. We've secured favourable terms for both manufacturing and distribution, ensuring a significant reduction in costs while increasing production capabilities."

You tilted your head, studying him. "And Arcadia is still unaware of our... competitive projects?"

He hesitated, just for a fraction of a second, but you didn't miss it. "They're completely in the dark," he assured quickly. "We've kept all sensitive projects under strict confidentiality clauses. As far as Arcadia is concerned, they're our exclusive partners in the development and distribution of the existing narcotic treatments."

You tapped your fingers against the table. "Good. I'd like a written assurance from you that our proprietary research won't leak. If Arcadia or any other competitor even hints at knowing about our new product, I'll know who to turn to, won't I, Martin?"

The colour drained slightly from his face. "Absolutely, Miss Aventis. You have my word; I'll have our legal team draft an ironclad document."

"See that you do." You leaned back, giving him a faint smile as if to relieve the tension just slightly. "And remember, gentlemen and ladies," you added, letting your gaze roam around the table, "we're here to lead the industry-not to compete in petty games. I expect only the highest standards of loyalty and discretion."

A murmur of agreement filled the room, the board members nodding.

You leaned forward, placing both hands on the table, and fixed each board member with a piercing stare. The boardroom fell silent, the tension thick in the air.

"Also, remember this," you said, your voice low but unwavering. "I am more than capable of running my father's company. Each of you is here because you're shareholders, yes, but let's not mistake that for immunity."

A flicker of uncertainty crossed a few faces, and you didn't miss a beat.

"If I find out that anyone here has tampered with our formulas, compromised our products, or made any attempt to sabotage the reputation of Aventis Pharma..." You let the threat hang in the air for a moment, letting them feel the weight of your words. "Then you'll all be sinking with me. I won't hesitate to bring down every last one of you along with this company if it comes to that."

Martin Hayes shifted uncomfortably, his collar suddenly seeming a little too tight. Dr. Lewin was looking down at his notes, his jaw clenched, while a few others exchanged uneasy glances.

"Now," you continued, sitting back but keeping your gaze sharp, "let's ensure that it never comes to that. We are all on the same side, or we should be. Our success is your success. I expect complete loyalty to the vision my father built and entrusted me to lead."

You let the silence settle, watching them absorb your message. Finally, you smiled, but it was a smile of steel. "Any questions?"

No one spoke up, and you nodded in satisfaction. The boardroom felt smaller, suddenly less crowded with ambition and more attuned to your authority.

The boardroom cleared, and with a curt nod, you dismissed the meeting. Rising from your seat, you walked out with purposeful strides, your five bodyguards falling in line behind you, each scanning the area, their presence, an unspoken wall of security. You exited the building and moved toward the parking lot, where the air was still and quiet, almost eerily so.

Your eyes drifted to a Hummer parked discreetly in the far corner. It felt out of place, like a shadow that didn't belong. You slipped into your sleek sports car, the engine purring to life, but an uneasy feeling gnawed at you. Suddenly, figures emerged from the darkness, men with sharp eyes and cold expressions, each one wielding M14 rifles. Diego Garcia's assassins. The Hummer door stayed shut, but you caught a glimpse of Garcia himself watching from within, his gaze locked on you.

Before you could react, a hail of bullets erupted. Your heart thundered as your bodyguards sprang into action, returning fire, but the assassins moved with ruthless precision. In moments, one by one, your guards went down, each man fighting until his last breath but hopelessly outnumbered. You watched in horror, paralyzed as they fell, each life extinguished in seconds. You barely registered your own scream, choked by terror and fury, as the sounds of gunfire faded, leaving only silence and blood.

Your hands fumbled, trying to unlock the doors, but they were stuck, trapping you in the vehicle like a helpless bystander in a nightmare. You felt your pulse race as the shadows closed in, and then Diego was there, standing right outside your window, his face illuminated in the dim parking lot light. He smiled, a dark, twisted smile that sent chills through you.

"Mine," he whispered through the glass, his voice laced with malice and satisfaction.

A wave of dizziness overtook you, and everything spun. His words echoed in your mind as your vision blurred. Helpless and horrified, you slipped into unconsciousness, the last image seared into your memory: Diego's face, and that sinister smile that promised nothing but darkness.

A week had passed since the attack, but the memory of it still haunted you, flickering at the edge of your thoughts as you sat on the plush velvet sofa in your expansive drawing room. Sunlight poured through the towering windows, casting a warm glow over the gleaming marble floors and the breathtaking view of the Los Angeles skyline stretched beyond, grounding you in the opulence of your mansion. The faint hum of a helicopter faded as it settled on the rooftop, carrying with it your new bodyguard: Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley, a man whose reputation preceded him.

The sound of heavy boots echoed through the hallways, each step precise and deliberate, growing closer until the double doors swung open. You rose from the sofa, instinctively straightening your posture as the figure of Ghost entered the room, his presence consuming it instantly. He was massive, towering over you at 6'4", his muscular frame stretching the fabric of his black t-shirt, every inch of him exuding strength and danger. His broad chest and shoulders were carved with the kind of power that comes only from a life on the battlefield, and his thick, muscular thighs tested the seams of his black cargo pants. A holstered firearm rested against his leg, a stark reminder of the deadly world you were stepping into.

But it was his eyes that struck you the hardest. Deep brown and unwavering, they locked onto yours with an intensity that felt almost physical, as if they could see straight through every secret you held. A skull-patterned bandana covered most of his face, concealing his expression, but his gaze was enough, it was fierce, calculating, and unyielding. His buzz-cut hair, a dirty blonde, caught a hint of sunlight, and a jagged scar traced down his left temple, the brutal souvenir of battles fought and survived.

The contrast between the two of you felt almost surreal, his raw, masculine power against your delicate, fragile beauty. At just five feet tall, your frame seemed almost dainty by comparison, a striking contrast of elegance and strength. The soft material of your dress hugged your figure, emphasizing the curve of your waist and your petite, curvy form, while your brown, doe-like eyes met his with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

"This is Ghost, ma'am," he nodded, his voice low, gravelly, resonant. The sound of it sent a shiver down your spine, filling the room as thoroughly as his presence did.

You hesitated, caught off guard by his intensity, before extending your hand. "Lieutenant Riley," you greeted, your voice steady even as you took in every detail of the man before you. "I've heard a lot about you."

He accepted your hand, his grip firm and respectful, but his eyes stayed sharp and assessing, as if already calculating every risk, every angle of protection.

"Welcome to my mansion. How was your journey?" you asked, settling yourself elegantly on the velvet couch, your posture flawless.

"The journey was fine, ma'am," he replied, his deep voice rumbling through the room. He took a step closer, crossing his arms, his gaze intense and assessing. "The view from the landing pad is quite something, too."

You felt his eyes linger, moving over you, taking in the details of your petite frame and the way your bodycon dress clung to your curves. He tried to keep his focus professional, but it was hard not to notice the finer details.

"Tea, coffee, or whiskey?" you offered.

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Whiskey," he replied without hesitation, his gaze still fixed on you.

With a small nod, you rose from the sofa and moved to the bar across the room, reaching for the bottle of Kentucky bourbon. His eyes tracked your every movement, lingering on the bare skin between the thin straps of your dress. The dress hugged your form perfectly, and though he kept his face stoic, his attention remained unwavering as you poured the amber liquid into a glass.

You turned, holding the glass in your hand, and extended it to him. He stepped forward, his calloused fingers wrapping around the glass, brushing lightly against yours. The brief contact sent a jolt up your arm, but his face revealed nothing, not a hint of reaction. He lifted the glass to his lips, taking a slow, measured sip, all the while keeping his gaze steady on you.

You leaned back onto the plush sofa, crossing your legs elegantly, watching as he brought the glass of bourbon to his lips, taking a slow sip without breaking eye contact. The slight tension in the room was palpable, each of you sizing up the other, feeling out the boundaries of this unfamiliar relationship.

"So," you murmured, a faint hint of curiosity in your tone, "you wear the skull mask, Ghost..."

His eyes narrowed slightly above the edge of his mask, a flicker of irritation passing through them. He lowered the glass, studying you in silence for a moment before he replied, his tone even. "It's part of the job," he said. "Helps me keep things... impersonal. No one gets to see my face."

You tilted your head, not breaking his gaze. "Not even me?" you asked softly, a subtle challenge in your voice. "Not even the person you're here to protect?"

There was a beat of silence, his eyes dark and unreadable behind the mask. For a moment, you thought he might look away or ignore the question altogether. But then he spoke, his tone a shade more guarded. "Protection is about distance, ma'am. Masks help with that. It's not personal, just how I keep a clear line between my duty and... everything else."

You took a slow breath, absorbing his words. "Clear lines, huh?" You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand as you studied him, his formidable frame, his stoic face, the shadows that clung to him. "Is that what works best for you, Lieutenant? No attachments, no faces, just the mission?"

He held your gaze, unflinching. "It's what's kept me alive." His answer was calm, unwavering, as though he'd thought it through many times before.

You nodded, acknowledging the harsh reality he lived by. "Well, I suppose I can respect that," you replied, your voice soft but thoughtful. "But you should know, Ghost, this won't be a typical mission. There are things at play here that... don't fit within clear lines."

He didn't respond, but his intense gaze on you seemed to deepen, like he was silently bracing himself for the unknown. Finally, he gave a slight nod, the barest hint of understanding in his eyes.

"Understood," he said, his tone low and resolute. And in that moment, you realized that, for all the distance he wanted to maintain, his presence, steady and unyielding, was exactly what you needed.

"Diego Garcia," you said, your voice quiet but resolute. "The Santiago Cartel."

Ghost's expression darkened. The name carried weight, a reputation steeped in violence. "Diego Garcia," he repeated, his tone grim. "Powerful, ruthless, no ordinary drug lord."

"He's bigger than Valeria Garza. More dangerous than El Sin Nombre."

Ghost's gaze was sharp, intense. "I know. Santiago Cartel is one of the deadliest in Mexico, and Garcia's the head of the snake."

"He's after me," you admitted, feeling the weight of the words as they left your lips.

Ghost's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"My company produces anti-narcotics," you explained. "We sell the cure. He sells the poison."

Recognition flickered in his eyes. "You're cutting into his profits," he said, understanding dawning. "You make him look weak."

"We're about to launch a new antidote," you continued. "One that blocks the effects of drugs like cocaine, fentanyl. It's still in testing, but it'll be on the market soon."

He nodded slowly, processing it. "The cartel won't let that happen. They'll do whatever it takes to stop you."

You felt a shiver at his words but pushed on. "He's already killed for it. My bodyguards... I watched them die, right in front of me."

A muscle tightened in Ghost's jaw. "He killed them in front of you," he said, his voice low, edged with anger. "Bastard doesn't play by any rules."

"He sent his men. They were armed with M14 rifles. My men didn't stand a chance."

His expression grew grim. "M14s. No wonder your guards didn't make it."

"Laswell suggested you," you continued, watching him closely. "She said if anyone could handle Garcia, it'd be you."

He met your gaze, a flicker of confidence in his eyes. "She's not wrong. I've dealt with men like him before." His voice was calm, unshaken. "And I'll take him down.

"Let me show you around," you said, motioning for him to follow.

Ghost nodded. "Lead the way."

The mansion was sleek and modern, blending luxury with privacy. As you walked through the marble driveway, you passed the tall, solid wooden door into the living room, its polished granite floors gleaming in the light. To the left, a door opened to the swimming pool area, surrounded by greenery. Above, a glass skywalk connected the house, offering a view of the water below.

A spiral staircase led to the second floor where your master bedroom and its luxurious bathroom were located, complete with a Jacuzzi and a high-tech shower. The back lawn opened up to the underground parking area.

As you walked, Ghost took in everything with a sharp, calculating gaze. The mansion wasn't just a home, it was a fortress. Every detail, from the barbed wire to the strategic location, was a reminder of the protection it offered.

"Like what you see?" you asked, watching his reaction.

Ghost's expression was unreadable, but his voice was steady. "It's secure," he said, eyes flicking over the property. "More than most would need."

"It's still smaller than other mansions here," you countered.

"Smaller, yes. But more secure," he said. "Most billionaires settle for an alarm system. You went further."

"The reason I don't go bigger is security," you replied. "I know Diego could breach it, but it's L.A. He'd think twice."

Ghost nodded. "Smart. L.A.'s dangerous, but Garcia would hesitate."

"Good. Let him be intimidated. Makes my job easier."

He shifted his attention back to you. "What about inside? Armed guards?"

"Outside," you said. "The perimeter's covered."

He raised an eyebrow. "Inside?"

"You..." you trailed off, letting him fill in the rest.

Part 2

Part 3

Pic credit: VhenanVirabelasan

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