#i Business Park New Capital | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

uncookedfeeler · 3 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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cartanacia · 22 days ago

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Some background on South Korean politics in light of the 12.3 self-coup attempt

At 10:23 PM on 12.3, President Yoon Suk-yeol (Yun Seokyeol) declared martial law. The Korean people and MPs immediately mobilized to stop it. Although a group of special forces stormed the Parliament building and tried to break up legislative activity, 190 MPs made it into the chamber and voted only two hours later to rescind martial law. Soon after that, Yoon agreed to end martial law and the military officially stood down.

This was a bizarre and shocking few hours for everyone in the country and the world, and how Yoon got to the point of making this absurd decision is an interesting story. To tell it, I'll try to explain 1) South Korea's history of military rule, 2) Yoon's prosecutorial and political career, 3) the main opposition Together Democratic Party, and 4) Yoon's presidency. And finally, 5) what the self-coup attempt means for South Korea and the world.

I'll try to be brief as I can, but I'm starting from the assumption that most people know very little about South Korean politics. So, it's a long post.

Military rule

After fascist Japan surrendered at the end of WW2, it handed over power in the occupied Korean peninsula to an indigenous government called the People's Republic of Korea. Unfortunately, the new government was brutally suppressed by the US military in the South and warped into unrecognizable form by the Soviet Union in the North. In the South, the Republic of Korea was established as a US-aligned anticommunist dictatorship. Everything in this summary is extremely simplified, but suffice it to say that the Republic of Korea, or South Korea, more or less remained an anticommunist military dictatorship until 1987.

(One of the less graphic pictures of the Bodo League massacre, where the South Korean police and military killed 200,000 civilians)

Military rule in South Korea was founded on protecting South Korean capitalists, many of which had accumulated their wealth under the Japanese occupation, from the dual threats of leftists in South Korea and North Korean attack. South Korea retained the vast majority of colonial police employed by the occupation government, whose main purpose had been to root out and destroy independence guerillas, and repurposed them to root out and destroy left-wing guerillas (many of which were the same people). This caused an extraordinary level of state violence in early South Korean history. The South Korean prosecution service was similarly used to find and imprison or kill the opposition. Due to their function as part of an authoritarian state, the prosecution service was given broad powers to both investigate and prosecute.

Especially after President Park Chung-hee (Bak Jeonghui) took power (by overthrowing another short-lived democratic government), the South Korean state's purpose became not only to protect capital, but also to direct its expansion. The South Korean state used its control over credit to make companies invest in sectors that it predicted would have great export potential. Once a company established itself in a sector, the state directed it to use the profit it got from exports to invest in another, more capital-intensive sector. Over decades, this strategy led to enormous economic growth for South Korea and a massive rise in living standards. It also caused a few companies in particular to become fantastically wealthy global megacorporations. These are the chaebols (jaebeol), which include Samsung, Hyundai, LG, and others.

By 1987, a series of massive democratic protests and uprisings finally ended the dictatorship. A free election was held, and a general named Noh Tae-woo (No Taeu) was elected president. In the new democratic era, the conservative movement was formed as an alliance of dictatorship figures like Noh, chaebols, small businesses, and white collar workers who wanted to continue the economic policies of the dictatorship. The democratization movement continued as various incarnations of the Democratic Party (South Korean political parties change names and split and merge constantly), made up of unions, civil society activists, and students. Leftists have continued to be a minor force in South Korean politics, but for the purposes of this post I'll mostly set them aside. The main groups we're concerned with are conservatives and democrats, organized into a constantly shifting mush of political parties.

Supreme Prosecutor of the Republic

Before he became president, Yoon Seok-yeol was the Supreme Prosecutor of the prosecution service. To understand the significance of this, we have to take a look at the prosecution service in the democratic era and the political environment that Yoon emerged into.

During the dictatorship, everyone hated the police. So after the dictatorship, South Korea thoroughly reformed and defanged the police. This was a genuine success of the democratization movement. The police were turned from a gang of brutal thugs into an organization that almost never uses guns and is known for getting yelled at and beaten up by random citizens. If you hit a South Korean cop, the cop might be punished for annoying you. (Though the situation is different for ethnic minorities and striking workers.)

On the other hand, the prosecution service was left mostly untouched. While it obviously was no longer used for open political repression, it largely retained its broad investigative powers and personnel.

To put it simply, the prosecution service is an authoritarian holdover inside a democracy. It justifies its powers by being a hammer against the most powerful members of society. In South Korea, it's common for politicians of all parties to have their houses raided or be put in prison. This happens regularly even to former presidents, and even to some of the wealthiest people in the world, the heads of the chaebols. These things are unthinkable in most Western democracies. Whether you think these powers are justified or not, they've led to the prosecution service having far more active influence over politics than prosecutors in most democracies. As far as the prosecutors were concerned, that made them the heroes of this story.

These things came to a head in 2016 with conservative President Park Geun-hye (Bak Geunhye). Due to a series of massive scandals, Park had become extremely unpopular, with her approval rating hovering at 30 percent. What put the nail in the coffin for Park was an investigation by a prosecutor named Yoon Seok-yeol. Yoon exposed bizarre corruption involving President Park, Samsung, and a cult that had been involved with her family since the presidency of her father, Park Chung-hee. This led to massive protests and Park Geun-hye's impeachment.

(2016 Candlelight Protests)

The president who succeeded Park, Moon Jae-in, promoted Yoon within the prosecution service. At his new position, Yoon prosecuted and imprisoned Park, as well as another conservative former president. At this point, he was becoming a major public figure, popular among democrats and hated among conservatives. So President Moon promoted Yoon again, this time to Supreme Prosecutor of the entire service.

And then, Yoon started investigating Moon's own justice minister. This led to a public dispute. Moon's government looked corrupt and hypocritical, and Yoon became more popular than ever. Soon, Yoon resigned his office and entered the conservative presidential primary.

Of course, conservatives welcomed Yoon's entry, and he won the primary and the presidency. But how did they go from hating him for destroying their president to fighting to get him elected? How did Yoon go from prosecuting a corrupt conservative to being one?

The reason for the switch from Park to Yoon lies in their political brands.

Park Geun-hye's brand was built on nostalgia for her authoritarian father. Many older South Koreans associate Park Chung-hee's regime with stability, rational economic management, and anticommunism. At the same time, even most conservative voters hate actual authoritarian behavior. All South Koreans have either lived under military dictatorship or have heard from their family what it was like, and almost nobody is eager to return. Once Park Geun-hye's corruption and inept attempts at election manipulation were revealed, she was finished.

This is why conservatives welcomed Yoon Suk-yeol into their party: they needed him to wash their hands of corruption. He was a rebirth of authoritarian discipline made acceptable by his prosecution of unpopular conservatives. His message was law and order: if we lock up the corrupt, criminals, and communists, the country can be saved from ruin. If we push workers harder (by increasing work hours), economic growth will continue. If we push women harder (by forcing a return to traditional gender roles), the birth rate will return to normal. And, of course, the chaebols should be deregulated and given tax cuts.

Together Democratic Party

Before we pick things back up with Yoon, his main opposition is worth a look. This is the Together Democratic Party, which along with other opposition parties blocked the declaration of martial law and is now pushing for Yoon's impeachment.

We can summarize the Democratic Party's traditional and typical outlook in the figure of President Moon Jae-in (Mun Jaein). This was Park Geun-hye's main rival and the president who promoted Yoon Seok-yeol. He can be considered something like the "Korean Barack Obama". He was liked by democrats and called a dangerous communist by conservatives, but he didn't do all that much in reality other than raising the minimum wage, reducing the workweek, and attempting diplomacy with North Korea. He is now generally liked because things felt normal, he handled the COVID-19 pandemic well, and he didn't make any earth-shattering mistakes. He's the only living president not to be imprisoned after leaving office.

For decades, the Democratic Party was this type of moderate reformist, center-right party. However, in just the past few years, the party has gone through a considerable transformation.

(A 2017 Democratic presidential primary debate, with Lee on the left and Moon on the right.)

The Democratic Party has now unquestionably become the party of a person named Lee Jae-myung (Yi Jaemyeong), who was elected party leader in 2022. He's been called the "Korean Bernie Sanders", and this label is at least somewhat accurate.

Like Bernie Sanders, Lee Jae-myung can be characterized as a radical social democrat. His policies could actually be characterized as more radical than Bernie Sanders'. As the governor of Gyeonggi Province, Lee introduced a youth basic income and experimented with universal basic income. As a national political figure, Lee pushes for what he calls his "Basic Society" policies. These include universal basic income, youth basic income, universal basic housing (by massively expanding public housing), expanding free healthcare coverage to nursing, free meals for seniors, and a four day workweek. In general, Lee criticizes means-tested welfare and advocates for universal programs that guarantee a baseline standard of living by right.

On the other hand, Lee could also be characterized as less radical than his policies would imply. A common criticism, which ironically comes from both conservatives and leftists, is that he doesn't often talk about how to pay for his policies. Conservatives see this as a sign of irresponsible populism and economic illiteracy, while leftists criticize him for not naming the enemy. Unlike Bernie Sanders, Lee doesn't rail against chaebols or inequality or push for taxes on the rich. He also tends to appeal to questionable technology like AI rather than collective action. So although Lee champions some genuinely radical policies, he certainly isn't a socialist.

Lee's public image is also quite different from someone like Bernie Sanders. Lee is generally seen as a figure of questionable morality due to a constant conveyor belt of personal scandals and corruption allegations. He has been accused of, among other things, abusing his staff, having his brother involuntarily committed, illegally sending money to North Korea using an underwear factory, and having connections to organized crime. Lee's personal legal controversies have been the greatest source of instability for him and the Democratic Party since he became its leader.

In fact, Lee was recently convicted of lying while campaigning in one of his trials in November. Due to now having a criminal conviction, he is technically barred from running for office again. However, the conviction could still be overturned on appeal and recent events have really thrown everything up in the air. And even if Lee himself can't run for office, his ideology has taken over the Democratic Party and it's likely that whoever succeeds him will share it.

So, Lee Jae-myung is the nemesis that Yoon Seok-yeol has been fighting for his whole presidency. A criminal versus a prosecutor. Universalism versus austerity. Relief versus discipline.

Yoon Suk-yeol's presidency

Finally, we return to President Yoon. Though even as a prosecutor he was a figure of questionable intelligence, as a politician he's revealed himself to be one of the most inept people in modern history.

Since the beginning of his term, Yoon has been unable to do nearly anything at all domestically. The Democratic Party already had a majority in Parliament at the beginning of his presidency, and so Yoon has been unable to enact literally any part of his legislative agenda. Instead, he was reduced to calling young people lazy, bemoaning the far too short workweek, and wishing he could cut welfare.

In April of 2024, parliamentary elections were held. Lee Jae-myung, Democratic party leader, used the primary process as an opportunity to purge the party of centrists. Despite the Democratic Party's parliamentary candidates being further left than they'd ever been, opposition parties expanded their hold over the Parliament and nearly won a supermajority. After their victory, Lee Jae-myung was reelected as party leader and Basic Society advocates were elected to every seat on the party's supreme council. The Democratic Party emerged more left-wing, more ideologically unified, and more powerful than it ever had been before.

Now that Lee's Basic Society ideology had consolidated its hold on the Democratic Party and the Parliament, the Parliament began trying to pass its agenda in earnest. The Parliament passed bills establishing an experimental UBI, preventing companies from suing workers for striking, and expanding labor protections to subcontractors, among others. Over and over, Yoon vetoed them. Yoon has vetoed 19 bills and pocket-vetoed 4 more, more than every other South Korean president combined.

Both Yoon and the Parliament accused each other of being obstructionists. The problem for Yoon was that the Parliament's policies were popular, while his policies were unpopular. As Yoon issued more and more vetoes, his approval rating only fell.

(A political cartoon by Bak Sunchan depicting Yoon as a lame duck saying "veto")

Without the ability to change domestic policy, Yoon put all of his energy into foreign policy. Due to their history and composition, conservatives want to maintain trading links with other developed countries and developing countries for the chaebols to export to, want to maintain anticommunist alliances with the US and Japan, and are hostile to North Korea. (Participation in this system is what led the South Korean military to commit atrocities in Vietnam.) Democrats are somewhat skeptical of both the US and Japan, and want reconciliation with North Korea. Yoon has been strengthening relations with the US and Japan, sending weapons to Ukraine, and taking a hard line against North Korea.

Although several of these efforts were unpopular, the most significant has probably been Yoon allowing Japan to list the Sado gold mine as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Before Yoon, South Korea had been blocking this because the site failed to mention the thousands of Korean slaves forced to work in the mine during WW2.

So, the two years of Yoon's presidency had so far consisted of Yoon obstructing popular reforms while failing to pass unpopular reforms and engaging in unpopular war crime denialism. He was generally regarded as impotent, laughable, and annoying. And at the same time, allegations of Yoon's own corruption grew louder and louder.

Yoon's wife is accused of taking bribes and meddling in the conservative primary. Yoon's friend, a Marine Corps officer, is accused of negligence that resulted in a young conscript's death. Yoon is accused of using his friends in the prosecution service to interfere with both investigations. As these scandals grew, the Parliament passed bills appointing special prosecutors independent from the prosecution service to investigate them. Many of Yoon's vetoes were of these special prosecutor bills.

Since the parliamentary elections in April, Yoon has been stuck in a vicious cycle. The Parliament passes popular legislation and Yoon vetoes it. Yoon's approval rating falls. The Parliament passes a bill to investigate Yoon and Yoon vetoes it. More information and leaks about Yoon's corruption come out. Yoon's approval rating falls, eventually to 18 percent. Afraid of the public pressure, more conservative MPs distance themselves from Yoon.

It seemed inevitable that eventually, enough conservative MPs would defect to override Yoon's veto and appoint a special prosecutor. A special prosecutor would find evidence of Yoon's corruption. The public would grow only angrier with Yoon. The only road left would be impeachment and imprisonment, just like Park Geun-hye. Yoon bashed his head against the wall, unable to find a way out.

Clearly, somewhere in this pile was the final straw. On 12.3 at 10:23 PM, Yoon Seok-yeol turned on the camera and vomited blood.

So, what does the coup mean?

The declaration of martial law was so bewildering because it felt like it came out of nowhere. But that's not strictly true; the Democratic Party had been warning that Yoon was plotting to declare martial law for months. Most people dismissed this as a conspiracy theory, including myself. It was simply too far-fetched and illogical to contemplate, until it happened.

But the real reason it felt like it came out of nowhere was because, at the same time, it did. Not even Yoon's most devoted supporters were thinking about martial law. Apparently, everyone from the leader of Yoon's party to the Ministry of Defense to his own prime minister was caught totally by surprise. He circulated no conspiracy theories in advance, and not a single news network attempted to justify his actions. He had no cult of personality and no party ready to fall unquestioningly behind him. In short, he acted essentially alone. As soon as people rose up in defiance, he had no choice but to back down.

It's a good sign for South Korean democracy that the people defeated the self-coup attempt so quickly and decisively. But compare the political environment with that of other countries. How normal has authoritarianism become? How many people openly wish for a dictator? How subservient are the cabinet officials and the news networks? How cultlike are the major parties and how acquiescent is the opposition? These conditions make a country much more vulnerable to a ruler with authoritarian instincts. And we should expect authoritarians to act in creative and unprecedented ways.

The self-coup is an explosion of the authoritarian tendencies that have been bubbling under the surface of the conservative movement since the end of military rule. It's a decisive discrediting of Yoon's prosecutorial brand, which had been conservatism's last hope to maintain the people's trust. Yoon's impeachment and imprisonment are all but guaranteed. And the general consensus among both democrats and conservatives now is that Yoon's blunder has killed conservatism in South Korea for at least the next decade.

In fact, the 12.3 declaration of martial law might really have been a successful self-coup. In that the conservatives have removed themselves from power. And the death of the right is a golden opportunity that Korean leftists must seize. If Lee Jae-myung's Democratic Party becomes politically dominant, it must be challenged from the left to properly name the enemy. If the Basic Society policies become normalized, the left should treat them as common sense and demand more. When people become disenchanted with the democrats, the left must be ready as their competitor and obvious alternative, not the right.

Could South Korea see a new era of competition between a socialist left that wants to finally do away with the chaebols, a social democratic center that merely wants UBI, and a nonexistent right?

Maybe. Probably not. But a new world of possibilities has opened up.

#south korea #yoon suk-yeol #politics #news #12.3 #martial law #lee jae-myung #park chung-hee #park geun-hye #korea #moon jae-in #democratic party #authoritarianism #coup #history

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cool-fancier · 2 months ago

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Full Court Heart

Park Chaeyoung(Rosé) x Female reader

Synopsis: When WNBA star battles self-doubt after a brutal injury, her girlfriend, K-pop idol Rosé, surprises her courtside, igniting a love-filled comeback both on and off the court.

Word Count:2.2K

The Barclays Center was alive with the hum of thousands of voices, their collective energy buzzing like static in the air. As you stood in the tunnel, waiting for the team to run out onto the court, you closed your eyes and tried to steady your breathing. It was your first game back after the injury—an injury that had felt like it could end everything you'd worked so hard for. Months of rehab, endless days of doubt, of wondering if you'd ever play the same way again, had led to this moment.

The bright lights, the sound of sneakers on polished hardwood, the unmistakable thrum of anticipation in the stands—it was all familiar, but this time it was different. You weren't just fighting the Lynx today. You were fighting the version of yourself that had been benched for months, who had wondered if you'd lost your edge. This was personal.

But even with the pressure building in your chest, there was something missing. You had been scanning the stands all morning, hoping to spot that one face—Rosie, your girlfriend. Rosé, the voice that had gotten you through the worst nights, her whispered encouragement through the phone when your knee ached, when the thought of getting back on the court seemed impossible. You hadn't seen her in weeks, not since she had flown to Los Angeles to work on her solo album.

It wasn't like she could drop everything to come to New York—she was busy, you both were. But you'd be lying if you said you didn't want her here, even just for a few hours.

"Yo, you good?" Sabrina Ionescu, your teammate and close friend, nudged you with her elbow, snapping you out of your thoughts. You nodded quickly, forcing a small smile.

"Yeah. Just... ready to get back out there."

She eyed you knowingly but didn't push further. "You'll be fine. You've been killing it in practice. Don't overthink it."

You appreciated her words, but there was still a pit of anxiety in your stomach. Not just because of the game, but because of the absence of that one person you wanted most in the stands, cheering for you. Rosie.

— — — — —

The first quarter was brutal. Every time you moved, you could feel the eyes of the crowd on you, the pressure thick in the air. Your knee felt fine, but your instincts were off. You hesitated on passes, overthought your shots, and the Lynx were capitalizing on every mistake. By the time the first quarter ended, you felt like you were drowning in frustration.

You sat on the bench, trying to block out the noise, the voices of the coaches and teammates blurring into background static. You couldn't seem to find your rhythm. The more you tried to settle in, the more out of sync you felt.

Your eyes drifted over the crowd again, scanning faces you didn't recognize, but hoping, irrationally, that maybe... just maybe... Rosie would be there. You knew she wasn't. She had told you she was in L.A. for her album, buried in studio sessions. But you missed her presence, missed the way she could calm you with just a look, a smile.

— — — — —

By halftime, things hadn't gotten any better. The Liberty was down by ten, and you had barely made an impact. You were the star player, the one expected to turn things around, but all you could think about was how much you were letting everyone down. The crowd was roaring, but it felt distant, hollow.

As you headed toward the locker room, Sabrina caught up with you, her eyes glinting with something you couldn't quite place. "Come on, don't look so down. It's your first game back. You're allowed to shake off the rust."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I just... I don't know. I feel off. Like I'm not all here, you know?"

Sabrina smiled knowingly, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes that you barely noticed. "You might be surprised. Just take a breather. Trust us."

Confused, you walked into the locker room, trying to shrug off the weight of the first half. The room was filled with the usual halftime buzz—coaches giving instructions, players catching their breath. But something felt different. There was a strange energy in the air, something you couldn't quite put your finger on.

"Hey," came a soft voice from behind you. The voice you knew better than your own.

You froze, your heart leaping into your throat.

There, standing by the lockers with a wide, almost bashful smile, was Rosie. Rosé, your Rosie. But not just standing there—she was wearing a Liberty jersey, your Liberty jersey. Your last name was emblazoned across her back in bold letters, and beneath it, the number 26, your number, was stitched proudly. The oversized jersey hung loosely on her small frame, but she wore it like it was made for her.

You blinked, still not fully registering that she was actually there, right in front of you. "R-Rosie?" Your voice cracked with disbelief, the breath catching in your throat.

She grinned, stepping toward you, her hand reaching out to touch your arm. "Surprise."

Your body reacted before your brain caught up, your arms pulling her into a tight embrace. The familiar warmth of her body against yours, the soft scent of her perfume—it was all so overwhelming, so perfect. You had been without her for weeks, her voice through a phone screen the only comfort. And now here she was, in New York, in your locker room, wearing your jersey.

You pulled back just enough to look at her, your hands still on her waist, as you whispered, "I thought you were in L.A.? You didn't tell me you were coming."

She shrugged, her smile soft but her eyes sparkling with affection. "I wanted to surprise you. I knew this game was important, your first one back. I couldn't miss it, baby. Not after everything you've been through."

Your heart swelled, the frustration and doubt of the first half melting away in her presence. "You... you have no idea how much I needed this," you admitted quietly, your forehead resting against hers.

Rosie tilted her head slightly, her fingers brushing lightly across your jawline. "I think I do," she whispered, her voice filled with warmth. "You've been through so much, and I'm so proud of you. Just seeing you back out there, doing what you love... it's everything."

You felt tears prick the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too," she said, her thumb brushing your cheek. "But I'm here now. And I'll be out there, watching you kill it in the second half."

You chuckled softly, the weight on your shoulders lifting just a little. "I don't know if I'll be killing it, but I'll do my best."

Rosie gave you a soft, playful push. "You always do your best. And now, you've got a little extra motivation."

You looked down at her jersey, at your name across her back, and smiled. "You look better in my jersey than I do."

She laughed, a bright sound that lit up the dim locker room. "I've been told I make it look good."

Before you could respond, Betnijah Laney and Sabrina walked by, both smirking like they were in on the surprise all along. Betnijah raised an eyebrow. "Guess you got your motivation back, huh?"

Sabrina snickered. "Rosie here planned this all week. Just wait till you see her out there in the stands."

Rosé gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, her eyes sparkling with mischief now too. "I'll be the one yelling the loudest," she said with a wink, before turning and heading out toward the court, her jersey swaying lightly as she disappeared.

You stood there for a moment, still in disbelief, a wide grin spreading across your face. Your mind had been clouded with doubt and frustration, but now it was clear—Rosie had done more than just surprise you. She'd reminded you of why you loved this game, why you fought so hard to come back.

— — — — —

When you stepped back onto the court for the second half, something was different. The weight that had been pressing down on you was gone, replaced by a warmth that seemed to fill every inch of your body. You glanced up at the stands, and there she was—Rosie, standing near the front row, her blonde hair catching the light, her eyes fixed on you. She wore your jersey with pride, her smile wide as she waved, a small gesture that sent a surge of confidence through your veins.

The game resumed, the Lynx pushing hard, but this time you were ready. With every dribble, every pass, every cut, you felt like you were finally back in sync. Your body moved without hesitation, your instincts sharp and sure. You drove to the basket, took the hits, and still managed to land shot after shot.

— — — — —

The minutes ticked down, the scoreboard inching closer to a tie as the game intensified. You were fully locked in now, every movement fueled by a new sense of purpose. The crowd roared as you stole the ball, sprinting down the court in a fast break, adrenaline surging through your veins. With a sharp pass from Sabrina, the ball was in your hands, and you took the shot.

A three-pointer.

The swish of the net seemed to echo through the arena, a moment of perfect clarity. The Liberty fans exploded into cheers, and as you glanced at the stands, you saw Rosie—your Rosie—on her feet, clapping wildly, her face lit up with pride and joy. That image of her, wrapped in your jersey with your name and number across her back, sent a warmth through you that made every painful day of rehab, every night of doubt, feel worth it.

The Lynx tried to push back, but it wasn't enough. The final buzzer sounded, and the scoreboard flashed the victory. The Liberty had won, and you'd been an essential part of that comeback. Your chest heaved with exhaustion, but there was a weightlessness to your steps as you high-fived your teammates, laughter and cheers filling the court.

But your eyes kept drifting to the stands, to Rosie, who was beaming as she watched you.

— — — — —

Back in the locker room, the energy was high, your teammates buzzing with excitement over the hard-fought win. You leaned against the lockers, still catching your breath, your muscles burning with that good kind of fatigue—the kind that came after a win that felt well-earned.

Before long, you felt a familiar presence beside you. You didn't need to look to know it was her.

"Hey, superstar," Rosé's voice was soft, teasing. "Not bad for your first game back."

You turned to face her, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips. "Not bad? I thought I was pretty damn great."

She laughed, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Okay, okay... you were amazing. But I had a feeling you'd show up like that." Her voice dropped lower, her gaze flickering with something more. "I'll admit, though... seeing my name and number out there might have given me a little extra boost."

Rosie smirked and stepped closer, her fingers trailing up your arm, her touch light but electric. "You were incredible, baby. I'm so proud of you." Her voice was a whisper now, her lips just inches from yours, her breath warm against your skin. "And I think you deserve a little reward for all your hard work."

Before you could say anything, she closed the gap between you, her lips pressing against yours in a deep, slow kiss. Everything around you seemed to disappear in that moment—the noise of the locker room, the exhaustion in your limbs—until there was only her. The softness of her lips, the way her body leaned into yours, the taste of her that you'd missed for weeks.

You kissed her back with an intensity you hadn't realized you were holding in, your hands sliding to her waist, pulling her closer, wanting more. She responded with a soft, pleased sigh against your lips, her fingers tangling in the fabric of your jersey as if anchoring herself to you.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes were dark with promise, her voice low and suggestive. "I've got something planned for later," she whispered, her lips brushing your ear. "A little something for you... to celebrate properly."

Heat flushed through your body, her words stirring something deep inside you. You tried to keep your breathing steady, but the way she looked at you—like she had all the time in the world, like she couldn't wait to be alone with you—made it hard to think straight.

Rosie gave you a playful smile, stepping back just enough to leave you wanting more. "But for now..." She trailed her fingers down your arm before walking away toward the door, leaving you standing there, watching her with a mix of anticipation and desire. As she reached the door, she glanced back over her shoulder, her voice carrying just loud enough for you to hear. "Later, baby."

And just like that, she was gone, leaving you with a racing heart and a cliffhanger that you couldn't wait to see play out. You leaned back against the locker, grinning to yourself, the promise of what was to come hanging in the air, thick with tension.

You weren't sure what Rosie had planned, but one thing was clear—tonight was going to be unforgettable.

#blackpink x reader #blackpink #blackpink imagines #blackpink scenarios #blackpink x fem #blackpink x you #blackpink fanfiction #blackpink x fem reader #rosé blackpink #blackpink rosé #rosé x fem #rosé x reader #rosé fluff #park chaeyoungxfem #park chaeyoung #roseanne park

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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 years ago

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This is your brain on fraud apologetics

In 1998, two Stanford students published a paper in Computer Networks entitled “The Anatomy of a Large-Scale Hypertextual Web Search Engine,” in which they wrote, “Advertising funded search engines will be inherently biased towards the advertisers and away from the needs of consumers.”

https://research.google/pubs/pub334/

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/2023/02/24/passive-income/#swiss-cheese-security

The co-authors were Lawrence Page and Sergey Brin, and the “large-scale hypertextual web search-engine” they were describing was their new project, which they called “Google.” They were 100% correct — prescient, even!

On Wednesday night, a friend came over to watch some TV with us. We ordered out. We got scammed. We searched for a great local Thai place we like called Kiin and clicked a sponsored link for a Wix site called “Kiinthaila.com.” We should have clicked the third link down (kiinthaiburbank.com).

We got scammed. The Wix site was a lookalike for Kiin Thai, which marked up their prices by 15% and relayed the order to our local, mom-and-pop, one-branch restaurant. The restaurant knew it, too — they called us and told us they were canceling the order, and said we could still come get our food, but we’d have to call Amex to reverse the charge.

As it turned out, the scammers double-billed us for our order. I called Amex, who advised us to call back in a couple days when the charge posted to cancel it — in other words, they were treating it as a regular customer dispute, and not a systemic, widespread fraud (there’s no way this scammer is just doing this for one restaurant).

In the grand scheme of things, this is a minor hassle, but boy, it’s haunting to watch the quarter-century old prophecy of Brin and Page coming true. Search Google for carpenters, plumbers, gas-stations, locksmiths, concert tickets, entry visas, jobs at the US Post Office or (not making this up) tech support for Google products, and the top result will be a paid ad for a scam. Sometimes it’s several of the top ads.

This kind of “intermediation” business is actually revered in business-schools. As Douglas Rushkoff has written, the modern business wisdom reveres “going meta” — not doing anything useful, but rather, creating a chokepoint between people who do useful things and people who want to pay for those things, and squatting there, collecting rent:

https://rushkoff.medium.com/going-meta-d42c6a09225e

It’s the ultimate passive income/rise and grind side-hustle: It wouldn’t surprise me in the least to discover a whole festering nest of creeps on Tiktok talking about how they pay Mechanical Turks to produce these lookalike sites at scale.

This mindset is so pervasive that people running companies with billions in revenue and massive hoards of venture capital run exactly the same scam. During lockdown, companies like Doordash, Grubhub and Uber Eats stood up predatory lookalike websites for local restaurants, without their consent, and played monster-in-the-middle, tricking diners into ordering through them:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/19/we-are-beautiful/#man-in-the-middle

These delivery app companies were playing a classic enshittification game: first they directed surpluses to customers to lock them in (heavily discounting food), then they directed surplus to restaurants (preferential search results, free delivery, low commissions) — then, having locked in both consumers and producers, they harvested the surplus for themselves.

Today, delivery apps charge massive premiums to both eaters and restaurants, load up every order with junk fees, and clone the most successful restaurants out of ghost kitchens — shipping containers in parking lots crammed with low-waged workers cranking out orders for 15 different fake “virtual restaurants”:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/01/autophagic-buckeyes/#subsidized-autophagia

Delivery apps speedran the enshittification cycle, but Google took a slower path to get there. The company has locked in billions of users (e.g. by paying billions to be the default search on Safari and Firefox and using legal bullying to block third party Android device-makers from pre-installing browsers other than Chrome). For years, it’s been leveraging our lock-in to prey on small businesses, getting them to set up Google Business Profiles.

These profiles are supposed to help Google distinguish between real sellers and scammers. But Kiin Thai has a Google Business Profile, and searching for “kiin thai burbank” brings up a “Knowledge Panel” with the correct website address — on a page that is headed with a link to a scam website for the same business. Google, in other words, has everything it needs to flag lookalike sites and confirm them with their registered owners. It would cost Google money to do this — engineer-time to build and maintain the system, content moderator time to manually check flagged listings, and lost ad-revenue from scammers — but letting the scams flourish makes Google money, at the expense of Google users and Google business customers.

Now, Google has an answer for this: they tell merchants who are being impersonated by ad-buying scammers that all they need to do is outbid them for the top ad-spot. This is a common approach — Amazon has a $31b/year “ad business” that’s mostly its own platform sellers bidding against each other to show you fake results for your query. The first five screens of Amazon search results are 50% ads:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/28/enshittification/#relentless-payola

This is “going meta,” so naturally, Meta is doing it too: Facebook and Instagram have announced a $12/month “verification” badge that will let you report impersonation and tweak the algorithm to make it more likely that the posts you make are shown to the people who explicitly asked to see them:

https://www.vox.com/recode/2023/2/21/23609375/meta-verified-twitter-blue-checkmark-badge-instagram-facebook

The corollary of this, of course, is that if you don’t pay, they won’t police your impersonators, and they won’t show your posts to the people who asked to see them. This is pure enshittification — the surplus from users and business customers is harvested for the benefit of the platform owners:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

The idea that merchants should master the platforms as a means of keeping us safe from their impersonators is a hollow joke. For one thing, the rules change all the time, as the platforms endlessly twiddle the knobs that determine what gets shown to whom:

https://doctorow.medium.com/twiddler-1b5c9690cce6

And they refuse to tell anyone what the rules are, because if they told you what the rules were, you’d be able to bypass them. Content moderation is the only infosec domain where “security through obscurity” doesn’t get laughed out of the room:

https://doctorow.medium.com/como-is-infosec-307f87004563

Worse: the one thing the platforms do hunt down and exterminate with extreme prejudice is anything that users or business-customers use to twiddle back — add-ons and plugins and jailbreaks that override their poor choices with better ones:

https://www.theverge.com/2022/9/29/23378541/the-og-app-instagram-clone-pulled-from-app-store

As I was submitting complaints about the fake Kiin scam-site (and Amex’s handling of my fraud call) to the FTC, the California Attorney General, the Consumer Finance Protection Bureau and Wix, I wrote a little Twitter thread about what a gross scam this is:

https://twitter.com/doctorow/status/1628948906657878016

The thread got more than two million reads and got picked up by Hacker News and other sites. While most of the responses evinced solidarity and frustration and recounted similar incidents in other domains, a significant plurality of the replies were scam apologetics — messages from people who wanted to explain why this wasn’t a problem after all.

The most common of these was victim-blaming: “you should have used an adblocker” or “never click the sponsored link.” Of course, I do use an ad-blocker — but this order was placed with a mobile browser, after an absentminded query into the Google search-box permanently placed on the home screen, which opens results in Chrome (where I don’t have an ad-blocker, so I can see material behind an ad-blocker-blocker), not Firefox (which does have an ad-blocker).

Now, I also have a PiHole on my home LAN, which blocks most ads even in a default browser — but earlier this day, I’d been on a public wifi network that was erroneously blocking a website (the always excellent superpunch.net) so I’d turned my wifi off, which meant the connection came over my phone’s 5G connection, bypassing the PiHole:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/28/shut-yer-pi-hole/

“Don’t click a sponsored link” — well, the irony here is that if you habitually use a browser with an ad-blocker, and you backstop it with a PiHole, you never see sponsored links, so it’s easy to miss the tiny “Sponsored” notification beside the search result. That goes double if you’re relaxing with a dinner guest on the sofa and ordering dinner while chatting.

There’s a name for this kind of security failure: the Swiss Cheese Model. We all have multiple defenses (in my case: foreknowledge of Google’s ad-scam problem, an ad-blocker in my browser, LAN-wide ad sinkholing). We also have multiple vulnerabilities (in my case: forgetting I was on 5G, being distracted by conversation, using a mobile device with a permanent insecure search bar on the homescreen, and being so accustomed to ad-blocked results that I got out of the habit of checking whether a result was an ad).

If you think you aren’t vulnerable to scams, you’re wrong — and your confidence in your invulnerability actually increases your risk. This isn’t the first time I’ve been scammed, and it won’t be the last — and every time, it’s been a Swiss Cheese failure, where all the holes in all my defenses lined up for a brief instant and left me vulnerable:

https://locusmag.com/2010/05/cory-doctorow-persistence-pays-parasites/

Other apologetics: “just call the restaurant rather than using its website.” Look, I know the people who say this don’t think I have a time-machine I can use to travel back to the 1980s and retrieve a Yellow Pages, but it’s hard not to snark at them, just the same. Scammers don’t just set up fake websites for your local businesses — they staff them with fake call-centers, too. The same search that takes you to a fake website will also take you to a fake phone number.

Finally, there’s “What do you expect Google to do? They can’t possibly detect this kind of scam.” But they can. Indeed, they are better situated to discover these scams than anyone else, because they have their business profiles, with verified contact information for the merchants being impersonated. When they get an ad that seems to be for the same business but to a different website, they could interrupt the ad process to confirm it with their verified contact info.

Instead, they choose to avoid the expense, and pocket the ad revenue. If a company promises to “to organize the world’s information and make it universally accessible and useful,” I think we have the right to demand these kinds of basic countermeasures:

https://www.google.com/search/howsearchworks/our-approach/

The same goes for Amex: when a merchant is scamming customers, they shouldn’t treat complaints as “chargebacks” — they should treat them as reports of a crime in progress. Amex has the bird’s eye view of their transaction flow and when a customer reports a scam, they can backtrack it to see if the same scammer is doing this with other merchants — but the credit card companies make money by not chasing down fraud:

https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/rosalindadams/mastercard-visa-fraud

Wix also has platform-scale analytics that they could use to detect and interdict this kind of fraud — when a scammer creates a hundred lookalike websites for restaurants and uses Wix’s merchant services to process payments for them, that could trigger human review — but it didn’t.

Where do all of these apologetics come from? Why are people so eager to leap to the defense of scammers and their adtech and fintech enablers? Why is there such an impulse to victim-blame?

I think it’s fear: in their hearts, people — especially techies — know that they, too, are vulnerable to these ripoffs, but they don’t want to admit it. They want to convince themselves that the person who got scammed made an easily avoidable mistake, and that they themselves will never make a similar mistake.

This is doubly true for readerships on tech-heavy forums like Twitter or (especially) Hacker News. These readers know just how many vulnerabilities there are — how many holes are in their Swiss cheese — and they are also overexposed to rise-and-grind/passive income rhetoric.

This produces a powerful cognitive dissonance: “If all the ‘entrepreneurs’ I worship are just laying traps for the unwary, and if I am sometimes unwary, then I’m cheering on the authors of my future enduring misery.” The only way to resolve this dissonance — short of re-evaluating your view of platform capitalism or questioning your own immunity to scams — is to blame the victim.

The median Hacker News reader has to somehow resolve the tension between “just install an adblocker” and “Chrome’s extension sandbox is a dumpster fire and it’s basically impossible to know whether any add-on you install can steal every keystroke and all your other data”:

https://mattfrisbie.substack.com/p/spy-chrome-extension

In my Twitter thread, I called this “the worst of all possible timelines.” Everything we do is mediated by gigantic, surveillant monopolists that spy on us comprehensively from asshole to appetite — but none of them, not a 20th century payment giant nor a 21st century search giant — can bestir itself to use that data to keep us safe from scams.

Next Thu (Mar 2) I'll be in Brussels for Antitrust, Regulation and the Political Economy, along with a who's-who of European and US trustbusters. It's livestreamed, and both in-person and virtual attendance are free:

https://www.brusselsconference.com/registration

On Fri (Mar 3), I'll be in Graz for the Elevate Festival:

https://elevate.at/diskurs/programm/event/e23doctorow/

[Image ID: A modified version of Hieronymus Bosch's painting 'The Conjurer,' which depicts a scam artist playing a shell-game for a group of gawking rubes. The image has been modified so that the scam artist's table has a Google logo and the pea he is triumphantly holding aloft bears the 'Sponsored' wordmark that appears alongside Google search results.]

#pluralistic #victim blaming #fraud #going meta #douglas rushkoff #ad-tech #local search #wix #amex #thai food #business #rent-seeking #entrepreneurship #passive income #chokepoint capitalism #platform lawyers

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seat-safety-switch · 11 months ago

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Real estate is the big industry in Canada. When I say "the" big industry, I mean it. Our top three are basically pulling goop and rocks out of the ground, chopping trees down, and selling houses to each other. What this means is that houses are crazy expensive, being the foundation of our whole economy and all.

Here's the secret about capitalism: it needs fat profits to work. You need to go back to your investors and show some growth every year, or they get mad that you're just making "enough" money and pull the plug. Inevitably, this leads to really bad business decisions usually involving fraud. That's why your local mall imploded; some combination of lies caught up with a series of liars and everyone looked like an asshole. Now it stands empty and unused.

These two things together mean that, in order to support the weight of the entire Canadian economy's expectations of infinite growth, house prices have to keep going up. More profit = more growth = more trying to keep our mind off the inevitable heat death of the universe. And everything worked out great, up until people had to start living in their vans because they could no longer afford to sleep inside the completely unoccupied houses around them. This drove up the price of vans, at which point it became my problem.

As the new prime minister of Canada, I will take our surplus decrepit 1970s motorhomes and revive them. Then, I will do sick donuts in various farmers' fields, municipal parking lots, and sports arenas until some part of the powertrain lets go at high RPM and slip angle. Once this occurs, my lackeys will bury the vehicle up to its wheels in soil and plant some nice sod. I present to you: a new house. We'll solve both walkability and affordability at the same time, and also provide some surplus Mopar 440s and low-cam Chevy V8s for the gearhead psychopaths who voted my party into office in record numbers.

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garbinge · 1 year ago

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Jane Austen and a New York bench

Jess Mariano x F!Reader Warnings: Fluff, light bickering/back and forth. Typical Jess angsty-ness. Summary: After school shenanigans with Jess in NY. Word Count: 1k All Writing Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics A/N: Never wrote for Gilmore Girls before but fun fact is actually one of my favorite shows!! I've watched it at least 10 times through. I am team Jess always and forever. Enjoy this light and fluffy (as fluffy as Jess can be while still being Jess) fic!

“I didn’t take you as a Jane Austen type.” You plopped down on the bench next to Jess.

“I never said I don’t like Jane Austen.” His voice was littered with frustration as he set the book down on his lap.

“True, but I’ve never seen you read anything by her.” You tucked your legs up on the bench so you were now facing Jess, your side now resting against the back of the bench.

“Until now.” He lifted the book up and dipped his head as he shook the book.

“Until now.” You agreed, nodding your head.

“Where you coming from?” Jess asked, adjusting himself so he could look at you, resting his arm along the back of the bench behind your shoulder.

“You know, there’s this establishment, institution some may call, that provide these spaces for learning and education and they’re usually in session from the morning to the afternoon.” You sarcastically explained.

“I must look into this fine establishment you speak of.” Jess responded.

“You know the more you miss the more you’ll have to make up for.” You leveled with your best friend.

“I’m caught up.” Jess’s voice raised in defense even though he still had a slacker attitude that was always impossible for him to lose.

“Yea, thanks to me.” You pulled away to grab books and notes from your bag to hand over to him.

He grabbed them and started filtering through them. “You know, your capital letters are always hard to read, it’s like a drop cap every start of a sentence.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Mariano. If you don’t like my notes, now hear me out," you paused for a few seconds as your eyebrows raised, "maybe you could go to school and take your own.” You faked a shock face like what you said was ground-breaking.

“But then we wouldn’t get to share these moments, that I cherish so deeply, with each other.”

You rolled your eyes and rested your head on Jess’ arm and closed your eyes.

For a moment you both sat there, you were soaking in the relaxation from a long day. Jess was taking the time to stare at you, taking in your features, his hand was beginning to get tangled in the fur of your coat as he lightly rubbed your shoulder.

“You hungry?” Jess asked at more of a whisper than he was speaking before in case you had began to fade to sleep.

“You buying?” You mumbled back to him, eyes still closed.

You felt his breath hit your face as he chuckled from your response. “Sure, hot dog?”

“With everything on it.” You pouted and thought if you wanted anything else. “And a soda, ginger ale–no, coke.”

He let out another laugh. “I’ll get a ginger ale and you get a coke, we’ll share.”

“You’re wasting that brilliant mind not coming to school, Mariano.” You were already off the bench and starting to walk down the busy New York street as you yelled back to him.

Jess was still smiling as he gathered his things quickly before catching up with you.

“Maybe I’m too brilliant for school.”

“I change my mind that statement proves you have no brain cells.” You teased him as you approached the hot dog cart and began ordering.

As Jess handed the man a $20 bill, you were beginning to balance the drinks and hot dogs and finding another bench in the same park you were just in.

Jess was close behind you and wafted a paper tray of french fries in your face before plopping down next to you.

“Okay, that earns you TWO braincells.” You spoke with a mouth full of hot dog, covering your mouth with your hand to hide the half chewed food.

“French fries have to earn me at least 4 and the salt pepper combo another 2. So I should be at like 10.” He argued as he unwrapped his hot dog.

“You should be at zero again, you can’t do simple addition.” You teased.

His smile grew and he was grabbing something from behind his back and before you could question anything the plastic cup filled with liquid gold was shining in front of your eyes like the angels from above had presented it to you.

“Melted cheese?” You took a deep breath in shock and happiness all at once.

“Melted cheese.” Jess repeated your question as a statement and held it out further for you to take.

“But you haaaate getting the side order of cheese, you say its a rip off.” You were quick to remove the cap off the plastic container and dip a french fry in it pretty immediately. As you ate the cheese dipped fry you dropped your shoulders in an act to show how great it tasted.

“I’m not oblivious to the greatness of a hot dog cart melted cheese cup, I just think $2.00 for a tiny cup of cheese is ridiculous.” He argued as he was making his way to dip his own fry in the sauce.

“But yet you did it this time.” You were pointing at him with a french fry while your other hand was bringing up your soda to drink, eyes slightly frowning trying to figure him out.

“Because you like it, and I like when you’re happy.” It was a short sentence but for someone like Jess who grunted or rarely spoke about anything emotional in more than two syllables it might has well have been a novelized love letter.

You paused and looked up at him, he had spoken the sentence so nonchalant as he was switching sodas with you, again another action to prove his thoughtfulness.

“Jess, the romantic.” It was a playful comment but there was truth behind it when you spoke it.

He smiled at the comment snd continued to pick through the food that was spread along the bench.

“What can I say it’s all that Jane Austen.”

#Gilmore Girls #Gilmore Girls Fanfic #Jess Mariano #Jess Mariano x Reader #Jess Mariano Fanfic #my writing #garbinge

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newcapitalproperty · 1 year ago

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babybluebanshee · 18 days ago

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Don’t Hug Me, I’m Scared is what happens when two deeply toxic people try and fail to cope with the death of someone they simultaneously loved and viewed as a burden

(within the universe of the show, obviously I don’t mean Joe and Becky. I don’t know their lives)

Meet Roy and Lesley - two young creatives trapped in the drudgery of capitalism. They make each other laugh with songs about dancing files and asides that the boss got where he is because he just wandered into the office and didn’t leave. They want to break away from the world of vending machine coffee and office small talk and create something, something that will make a difference. But making your favorite idea takes two things they don’t have - money and confidence. So, for a while, their dreams stay dreams. And then one day during an office retirement party, they decide sick of waiting. They propose marriage and a business partnership. They’ll make their dream a reality even if it kills them.

At first, things are fine. They create a lovely little program about a duck and a monster man, teaching children about the world through song and laughter. Sometimes Roy wants to cut a few too many corners, is a bit too obsessed with saving money, but he means well. Lesley’s ideas are sometimes a bit too out there - Roy has to remind her a lot that they’re writing for children, it doesn’t have to be that deep - and she doesn’t always take criticism well, but she’s just dedicated to the craft. They always make up no matter how many fights they have. Around the same time they finally have a finished project, ready to be pitched, Lesley announces she’s pregnant.

They’re thrilled to be parents. When David is born, it almost makes them forget how many times the show has been rejected, how many retools they’ve had to do to make their ideas appeal to someone, anyone. Funds are tight, tensions are high, but surely having the sweet, innocent face of a baby will help them calm down. Lesley decides that’s what’s missing in the show - a child character, to ask questions and be guided by his loving adult companions and a constantly changing array of musical teachers. David becomes a character in the show, a representation of every child they’re trying to help teach.

But it quickly becomes clear that there’s something not right about David. He doesn’t smile as much as other babies, doesn’t babble or imitate sounds he hears. When other children are starting to talk, David stays quiet. Leslie explains to her other mum friends that he’s just a great thinker. It takes him a long time to walk, and when he does, he’s very clumsy. Roy laughs it off, saying he’s no prima ballerina himself. The boy will get the hang of it. But symptoms keep piling up - David sometimes rocks back and forth and stares into space. He doesn’t look people in the eye when they speak to him. He moves his hands around in odd ways and repeats words over and over. He covers his ears whenever he and Lesley go to the park because it’s too loud, complains his clothes hurt, food feels weird. He hates being hugged. His parents try to be understanding, but as stressed as they are, something has to give.

Roy gets angrier. He grows to resent his son and all his mystifying quirks. He just knows that the boy is doing it on purpose, and if he would just listen to his father and stop acting so strange, then everything would be fine. Lesley, meanwhile, shuts herself off. She hides away and daydreams about how things are “supposed” to be - her show is supposed to be famous by now. David is supposed to be normal. Her marriage is supposed to be strong. Her life is supposed to be better. And she can’t stand being reminded that none of that is true.

Then the unthinkable happens - David dies. While his mother was hiding in her fantasies and his father was stewing in anger, David wandered out the front door, chasing a bird. An oncoming driver didn’t stop in time.

After the doctor gave them the news, Roy and Lesley got a phone call - their show has finally been picked up. Each iteration of the show is Roy and Lesley refusing to properly process their grief and accept that their negligence lead to David’s death. He’s immortalized in the show forever, but in different ways. He’s no longer a human who lived and felt and was real. He’s a character that Roy and Lesley can make do and be whatever they want.

Roy uses the show to vent his frustrations, to punish David for all he put him through. He polices David’s actions, telling him the right way to create and feel and eat and dream, the way ROY thinks he should. After all, if David had only listened to him, he’d still be alive. As Red and Duck start questioning his decisions, asking him to stop being so aggressive and overstimulating, he eliminates them. The avatar of David is left all alone to face his father’s mounting violence and cruelty. We see Roy’s understanding of how the show was created - he plucked Lesley from obscurity and gave her everything, without him there’d be no show, and Lesley would still be making files dance as their coworkers looked at her in annoyed confusion.

Lesley uses the show as a way to fix things. David is still alive and she can make sure he grows up right - he learns about making friends and driving a car and grown up things like bills and insurance and getting a stable job. All the teachers are gentler, kinder. What she would have been if she could. And everything resets at the end. Even when things become horrifying, even when everyone is lost and scared, even when faced with death, Lesley always has backups. No mistakes this time, she just knows it. And if the avatar of David ever starts asking questions, ever starts wondering what’s beyond this house, where Lesley can keep him safe? She can always distract him, tidy up, and start over. Lesley’s thoughts on the show’s creation is that, if it wasn’t for her, Roy would have been perfectly content to waste his life as an office drone because he didn’t have the courage to break out.

It doesn’t matter which of them is right. All that matters is the show. And no matter what they do, David is still gone. All they have left is this puppet they seem to have very limited control over. It’s clearly taking its toll on them, physically. They’re barely human anymore. No matter how they twist and turn, they’re still just dancing in chains.

I wonder what will happen.

#daily life with blue #don’t hug me i’m scared #dhmis #dhmis roy #dhmis lesley #dhmis yellow guy #dhmis red guy #dhmis duck #Rewatched both series and it got me thinking

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heartvshand · 15 days ago

Text

On the Road Again

Summary:

Agatha is getting the band back together at the request of Billy Maximoff. But before they can hit the road, she and Rio have unfinished business to resolve.

Written for Agatha All Along (AAA) Week Day 2. Band AU.

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On the Road Again

A reunion tour. Who would have thought?

The way she left, I figured we’d never be in the same room again, let alone on tour together. I stared at the email and let out a long exhale. It was from Agatha’s personal email address. And her personal phone number.

From: Agatha Harkness

To: Rio Vidal

Subject: Reunion Tour

Rio,

We’re doing a reunion tour. 10 shows, 10 cities, March through September.

Would love to have you join. Give me a call.

Agatha

It even read like her. I chewed my lip, unsure what to say. Did she really want to see me?

I cleared my throat. It had been ten years since we’d seen each other. Eleven years since the band had broken up.

I closed my eyes. I could see her, sitting in the coffee shop, tracing her finger along the lid of her cup. She was still sad about Nicky dying. She blamed me, despite the hard truth that sometimes, people die, and there’s nothing we can do to stop it.

Opening my eyes, I pulled up her contact card and called her. After all this time, I still loved her. I’d still do whatever she wanted. If she wanted to go on tour, then we’d go on tour.

“Rio.” Her voice was sharp. “I’m surprised you called.”

“Hi, Agatha.” I laughed, already on edge. “I got your email. You want to do a reunion tour?”

She grumbled something and then cleared her throat. “Management wants us to do it. They’ve got some new young gun in charge. He’s insisting we should capitalize on the surge of popularity we’re having with the kids.”

Nodding, I imagined her slightly irritated but triumphant expression. “I wondered if they’d do this. I’ve been hearing our old stuff on the radio a lot lately.”

Agatha scoffed. “They also want us to do a new album.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Yes. It’s some kid named Billy Maxipad. He’s an idiot.”

Rolling off the bed, I laughed. “Oh, come on, his name is not Maxipad.”

I could hear the smile in her voice when she finally replied. “Fine. It’s Maximoff. Maxipad is just my special little name for him.”

I flicked through the clothes in my closet, already planning what I’d pack and what I wouldn’t. What she’d like and what she wouldn’t. How many suitcases would I need?

“Rio?” Her voice was softer, like old times.

“Hm?” I was afraid to say too much and break the spell, afraid for her to harden again.

“When do you think you’ll be here?” Agatha Harkness sounded nervous.

I paused before answering, still afraid I’d scare her back into her shell if I spoke. I tried to figure out what the right answer would be. I ran my tongue over my teeth, feeling each one.

I cleared my throat. “I’ll pack and look at flights today. When do we hit the road?”

“First stop is March 28th—we’ll start in New York and hit some major cities along the way back to L.A.” Agatha’s voice was all business again. “We’ll start in L.A. for press, then we’ll take a plane to New York for the show, and then, the buses will take us from there.”

“Very cool.” I kicked myself for picking the wrong answer. “Do they have hotels for us already? In L.A. I mean?”

Agatha was quiet. “I was hoping you might want to stay with me. But yes, they have hotels booked.”

“I’d love to stay with you.” I wasn’t sure how to say the right thing. “I’ve missed you.”

She exhaled. “I’ve missed you, too.”

Landing at an airport outside of Los Angeles forty-eight hours later, Agatha picked me up without any fanfare.

We threw my luggage in the trunk of her SUV and then buckled into the front seats and for a moment, it felt like we were normal people who might still love each other instead of famous singers on the brink of a reunion tour with a deep scar spanning the distance between us.

The radio started up when the car did. I turned it down just a little as she maneuvered out of the parking spot.

“Hi.” I unzipped my small, cross-body bag and pulled out a small, fake flower. “I got you this. It’s not real, so it won’t die or need water or anything. Very low maintenance.”

Agatha eyed me, then the fake flower. She laughed quietly, taking it. “Charming.”

With a shrug, I looked out the tinted window. “You like it.”

Palm trees and people zipped by us. I fidgeted with the button for rolling up and down the window but didn’t press it. We were quiet, letting the radio fill the space instead of conversation.

“I don’t know if you’ve been to this new place.” Agatha’s voice brought me back from staring out the window. We’d just turned into a gated neighborhood.

I looked over to her.

She pointed out the windshield. “The one at the end here, that’s mine.”

Looking to where she pointed, I nodded. “Cool. I think you’re right. I haven’t been here.”

Once we were inside her home and my suitcases were tucked away in the guest bedroom closest to her room, the canyon of a decade sat between us without music to fill the gaps. We stood in her kitchen, drinking water and searching for topics to talk about without talking about Nicky, our break up, or the band’s break up.

She finally let out a long, frustrated sigh. “Let’s just get it over with. Hash it out now before we meet up with everyone else, before we get on the road and fuck it all up out there in front of people.”

My shoulders fell; I nodded. I knew she was right, but I’d just arrived, and I had hoped for some sort of normalcy before diving into the hard shit.

After a long drink of water, I said, “All right, Agatha. Where do you want to start?”

She blew out a breath and shrugged. “I miss Nicky every day.”

Shutting my eyes, I nodded. “I do, too.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was a strangled whisper.

My eyes snapped open; words caught in my throat.

“I wanted to call you every single day. But. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.” Her eyes were wet. She blinked several times, gaze dropping to the ground. She shook her head. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she looked back up.

Agatha was not someone to apologize. My heart raced; my head spun. I fumbled with the bar stool at the island I was leaning against.

Sliding into the chair, I gripped the marble countertop in front of me, focusing on the cool, smoothness of it instead of Agatha’s words and what they meant.

I failed to say anything before she continued.

“I know it’s not your fault.” Her words were shaky, and her wet eyes were boring into mine. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“And it wasn’t yours.” I licked my lips, gripping the counter, afraid to break eye contact.

“I don’t hate you.” Her voice cracked. The tears ran down her cheeks.

“I don’t hate you either.” I swallowed.

We watched each other.

Agatha’s phone buzzed. Our eyes moved to it and then back to each other.

“Are you seeing anyone?” She silenced her phone when it started buzzing with a phone call.

I shook my head; my heart raced.

She made her way around the island and closed the distance between us. I spun around on the stool and faced her; she stood in front of me. I hopped off the stool. She pulled me in for a hug.

My arms wrapped around her; I buried my face in her neck. Her hand cradled the back of my head. Tension left my body until the buzzing returned.

Her phone buzzed again. And again. And again. “Damn it, Billy.” She pulled away and walked back to her phone. “He’s extremely excited that you’re here early and staying with me.”

My eyes widened. “Oh?”

Agatha rolled her eyes and answered the phone. “What?”

There was chatter on the other end; she held up a hand and moved it in a way that mimed talking.

“Yep, she’s here.” She leaned against the counter and sighed. “No. We were in the middle of an extremely important conversation.”

Billy said something else I couldn’t hear.

She rolled her eyes and glanced at me. “Yes. Don’t lecture me. Bye.”

She hung up and walked back over to me.

“What did he want?” I glanced at her phone.

“Wanted to make sure you got here in one piece, that we hadn’t killed each other, you know, all that.” She waved the question away. “Listen, everyone else is arriving next week. Jen, Alice, Lilia. I don’t want to fight with you on the road. And, in general, I don’t want to be at odds with you.”

My chest tightened, realizing quickly what she was getting at. “They still don’t know what happened with Nicky.”

“No. They don’t.” She dropped her gaze to the floor.

Frowning, I watched her tap her fingers against her thigh. I exhaled. “You didn’t stay in touch with them, did you?”

She shook her head. “Nope. I did not.”

“Did they reach out about the rumors?” I chewed on my cheek. None of them had called me, but they’d always liked Agatha more.

She shrugged. “Yeah.”

We were quiet for a moment.

“He just got sick and died,” I said.

She nodded.

“Those headlines were all trash.” The tabloids flashed across my mind: ‘Agatha Harkness let her son overdose on heroin!’ ‘Was Agatha’s addiction the downfall of her own son?’

My frown deepened. “Agatha. You didn’t let them believe those things, did you?”

She shrugged again.

“Our son,” I said, clenching my jaw. “He did not die from an overdose, and you aren’t even addicted to drugs! He got sick and died, Agatha.”

“I know that!” Her eyes were hard when she looked at me. “But nobody else gets to know me. Or Nicky. The public doesn’t get to have him.”

I blinked several times. “Our bandmates weren’t the public. You could have told them the rumors weren’t true.”

“You and I were very private about Nicky and the cancer. I didn’t want anyone to know. I still don’t.” She took a sharp inhale and wiped her eyes.

“Not even our friends?” I paced in front of her.

“No, because you never know who they might tell. Everyone trusts someone with secrets,” she said.

I stopped and tilted my head. “Oh, come on. That’s a little paranoid.”

“Everyone has someone they tell secrets to. And one of those will leak it to the wrong person. I don’t want Nicky’s face everywhere all the time for the rest of my life paired with to see the headlines about him being so brave, or the articles about his cancer, all of it.” Her voice cracked; she buried her face in her hands. Her body shook with sobs.

I pulled her in, holding her. “Okay, that…I can understand.”

She held on to me, burying her face in my neck. I stroked her hair and took deep, even breaths. It felt good to hold her, to talk to someone about this.

She sniffed and wiped her eyes and untangled herself from my arms. When she spoke, she had a renewed frustration in her voice. “I’m so angry that you let me leave.”

My brow furrowed. “What was I supposed to do? Hold you hostage? Force you to stay and pretend to love me?”

She snarled. “You could have fought for me.”

“Agatha, do you remember that entire last year together? We quit the band, because I was fighting for you.” I clenched and unclenched my fists. “We stayed in that cottage in the middle of nowhere, where all I did was try to fix it. For an entire year!”

Her face, twisted up with anger, softened again. She crumpled in front of me, curling up, squatting, gripping her stomach. She took ragged breaths, and then the sobbing resumed.

I wasn’t sure if I should even try to touch her. I stayed put, waiting for her to switch gears, finding new resolve to be angry with me.

She sank on to the ground and held her fist against her chest. My heart hurt watching her. I couldn’t take it anymore.

I slowly approached her. Meeting her on the ground, I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and held on to her again.

She looked up; our breathing mingled. I imagined her lips on mine and swallowed. Then, our lips were pressed together. She was kissing me, grabbing my face. I pulled her up and guided her to the couch, kissing, hands exploring whatever they could reach.

Her fingers threaded through my hair.

I slipped my hands up her shirt. I broke the kiss. “Is this okay?”

“Yes, now shut up and kiss me.” She pressed her body against mine.

My hands slid upward, dancing across the bottom of her bra.

She moaned softly. “Your hands are so soft.”

I smiled against her lips, kissing her then trailing kisses down her neck. “Mind if I start undressing you?”

“Only if I can do the same to you,” she said. Her hands slid out of my hair and found their way to my pants.

“Be my guest.” I laughed, lifting my hips so she could pull the pants down.

I unclipped her bra and pulled her shirt off. Once she was done removing my pants, she tossed her bra across the room, then she tossed my shirt and bra in the same direction. She hurriedly removed her own pants and then stood there, chest heaving. We stared at each other, taking in one another’s bodies. A decade had gone by since we’d seen each other naked. I bit my lip and pulled her to me.

“Here’s your shirt.” She tossed me my t-shirt.

“Here you go.” I walked up to her, with her bra in hand. “Turn around, I can help.”

She laughed and took the bra from me. “Stop it.”

“What?” I quirked up an eyebrow.

She shook her head. “You know what.”

I pretended to think about it for a moment before shaking my head. “Nope. I don’t know what.”

“Stop being so…cute.” She eyed me. “Unless you want to take this to the bed.”

“Considering we just lost about four hours to having sex on the couch, I’m guessing we don’t have another four hours to lose, so we probably should keep it in our pants.” I winked. “Maybe later?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, we’ll see.”

I laughed before my smile slowly faded and reality sank back in. “Agatha. You know we should figure out...things, not just fuck it out.”

“I know.” She sighed. “I don’t want to think or talk about it yet.”

I suppressed a sigh, pressing my lips together tightly and forcing the air out of my nose in an even way. “Okay.”

She whipped around to face me. “Rio, what do you want?”

My eyes widened; I backed up, tilting my head. “I’m fine with talking about it later.”

She looked confused for a moment before her expression smoothed out. “Oh, no, I know. I meant…what do you want?”

She gestured between us. “What do you want this to be?”

I stared at her for a moment, weighing whether I wanted to be that vulnerable. I dropped my gaze to the ground then found the ceiling. Anywhere but her.

“Agatha, I want to be with you. I’ve wanted that the whole time. That hasn’t changed.” I kept my eyes focused on the window behind her, watching birds flitting by outside.

She exhaled and smoothed out her clothes. “I want that, too.”

I looked at her. “Really?”

“Yes.” Her voice was tight. “If you’d give me a chance.”

“Of course.” I reached for her hand. “Want to be my girlfriend?”

She rolled her eyes, but a smile played on her lips. “Yes.”

I leaned in and kissed her softly.

“If the ladies ask, please don’t tell them about Nicky.” Her voice was a strangled whisper. She looked at me with a desperation in her eyes. “Please.”

Shutting my eyes, I nodded. “As you wish, Agatha.”

Opening my eyes, I watched her try to give me a smile briefly before blinking several times and letting out a big exhale. She turned away from me. “We’re meeting Billy for dinner. We should get ready.”

Sitting in the restaurant, Agatha fiddled with my hand; her eyes scanned for Billy.

I draped my arm around the back of her chair and leaned back a little.

She shifted in her seat.

“You nervous, sweetheart?” I raised an eyebrow.

“A bit, yeah. This wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind as our first official night back together.” She ran her hand through her hair.

“Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?” I smirked and tilted my head.

“A quiet dinner, more sex. I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Not a business dinner.”

“We were always really good at mixing business with pleasure. Maybe we can have a business dinner and cap the night off with some more sex,” I said, nodding in the direction of the door. “Billy’s here.”

She looked from me to the front of the restaurant.

“Are we hiding this?” I motioned between us.

“No.” Agatha’s brow furrowed; she shook her head. “No, never.”

I nodded.

“I’d never hide you, Rio,” she said, softly.

I smiled before turning my attention to Billy, who was quickly approaching.

“Hey, Agatha! So good to meet you, Rio!” He leaned down for a hug, which I obliged.

“Same to you, Billy.” I wondered if he knew about Agatha’s special nickname for him or not. He took the seat across from us. “What have you two been up to with your first day reunited?”

Agatha cleared her throat and made a few faces. “Oh, um, you know. We talked everything out. We, yeah, we got back together.”

Billy eyed us, then looking at me, he said, “Is that so?”

“Can confirm.” I smiled. The image of Agatha coming undone with me between her legs filled my mind.

He clapped, smiling wide. “Wonderful! Congrats!”

With food in front of us, I took my hand from hers and focused on eating and whatever Billy had called us here to go over.

“Rio, I wanted to make sure the interview questions were all appropriate. Are there any topics you don’t want to be asked about?” Billy wiped his mouth.

“Nicky.” I took a sip of water. “My personal life in general. Stay focused on the music.”

He nodded, taking notes on his phone. “Okay. I’ll do my best. You know how reporters are.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. They’ll get some weird answers if they ask me anything I don’t want to answer.”

Agatha snorted. “I’m sure the whole band will help deflect for each other.”

Billy pointed at her and nodded. “Yes. Definitely.”

I focused on the bite of food in my mouth. After swallowing, I took another drink. “How many interviews will there be before we hit the road?”

Billy rattled off a list of names I recognized as magazines, but I stopped listening after the third one.

“So. A lot.” I sighed, nodding. “Sounds about right.”

“It’ll be a variety of magazines, podcasts, online video channels,” he said, continuing.

Agatha and I exchanged a glance.

“That’s enough, Billy. We get it.” Agatha rolled her eyes and finished the last of her food.

“Everyone else arrives next week. For convenience, we want you two staying at the hotel with them. It’s going to make transport a lot easier. Do you want one room or two?” Billy took a long drink from his water, finishing it off.

We looked at each other. Agatha spoke first. “Two rooms with an adjoining door? Or one room? What do you think?”

“I’m comfortable with either. Let’s do one room since there’s a big chance that we’ll be sharing one most of the time anyway. Might as well save some money, right, Billy?” I looked from her to him and back at her.

“Love that thinking, Rio.” He nodded. “Agatha, one room for you two, then?”

She nodded, trying to hide a smile. “Yep, that works.”

Watching her hide that smile gave me a rush. I smiled at her and mouthed, “I love you,” to her while Billy kept asking his questions.

She winked.

We stared at each other, and I missed anything else Billy had to say.

Agatha fluttered around her home all morning, packing, unpacking, and repacking things and muttering to herself and sometimes to me about what she should and shouldn’t bring. I lazed on the bed, watching her. My bags were already good to go.

“Have you talked to Lilia, Jen, or Alice?” I practiced twirling the drumstick between my fingers. It fell and almost hit me in the face. I picked it up and tried again, trying to shake off the rust.

Agatha paused and stared at me, registering what I was doing. “We haven’t been rehearsing day in and day out. Oh my god, what were they thinking? We should have started practicing months ago.”

“We’re musicians. I’m sure it’s like riding a bike.” I thought about the familiar beats and rhythms and way to play our music. “It’s not like we all quit music after we broke up. We all have had our own careers.”

She nodded and went back to running around. “Right. Right. Of course. But we should still practice together.”

“And we will. I’m sure we’ll have time for that.” I yawned and dodged the drumstick as it almost fell on my face again. “You could call Billy and check.”

“Can you do that, please? I’m still packing.” Agatha wandered out of earshot.

I set the stick down on the bed and grabbed my phone off the bedside table. I tapped on Billy’s name and waited for him to answer.

He answered after two rings. “Rio? Is everything okay?”

“Hey, yeah. Agatha’s busy packing, but she wanted to make sure we’re going to have time to practice and play together before we perform on stage together, right?”

“Oh, yes. Practices will start as soon as everyone else arrives.” Billy paused abruptly, and I waited, giving him a chance to say whatever he was trying to before I hung up. He didn’t speak.

“Okay, cool. I guess that’s all. See you soon. Oh, also when do we need to be at the hotel?”

“A car is coming to pick you two up in two hours. Their flights should all be arriving soon, so they won’t be far behind you.”

I groped around with my free hand until my fingers wrapped around the drumstick. I tapped the stick against my thigh. “Cool. See you soon.”

“Agatha?” I rolled off the bed and headed into the hallway.

“Kitchen!”

I frowned. “What do you need in the kitchen?”

“I don’t know. I’m double checking.” She laughed and I heard a few loud noises and hurried to see if she needed help.

____

This was supposed to be a one shot. But there might be more later. I had to stop here for today, but I wanted to still post. Thank you for reading.

#agatha all along #agatha x rio #rio x agatha #band au #aaa week #agatha harkness #rio vidal #billy maximoff

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