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splitpointsolutions · 10 months ago

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Why Monitoring User Experience is Crucial for Application Performance: Insights for a Network Monitoring Company

In the modern world where tight cooperation of different links in the chain is critical, monitoring user experience is not just a luxurious necessity but a must. For any application monitoring company, ensuring optimal performance and user satisfaction is at the core of their offerings.

In this article, the author tries to explain why it is important to monitor the user experience and why is it good for the application performance especially for businesses using cloud-based network monitoring solutions.

Understanding User Experience Monitoring

User experience monitoring is a form of capturing as well as analyzing how the user of an application engages with the product.

Based on its results, it works out several factors such as the time it takes to load the page, its speed, the frequency of errors, or the degree of satisfaction of the users.

This aids organizations in getting insight into problematic events that may occur in real life and addressing them before they reach the customers.

For an application monitoring company, user experience monitoring goes beyond simple performance tracking. It gives a centralized perspective on how an application performs when in various states and how the performance is perceived to be affecting the business.

With Cloud-Based Network monitoring it becomes easy for any user to monitor beyond just tracking. It provides a detailed view of how different conditions make the application behave.

Why User Experience Matters

First Impressions are Key:

The first interaction of a user with an application is crucial for monitoring user experience. If the application fails to load or is slow it leaves a poor first impression. Monitoring user experience makes sure that these issues are resolved, enabling the network monitoring company to maintain a positive image.

Direct Impact on Revenue:

The performance of your application has a direct effect on the business revenue.

If an application demands much time to open or the loading time is relatively high, a business may lose potential customers. The difference of one second in any conversion process can dramatically harm conversion rates and the resulting revenues.

Hence through cloud-based network monitoring, organizations can identify performance problem areas and offer high-caliber applications.

Improved User Retention:

Modern times expect fast and reliable applications. If these expectations are not met, then the bounce and churn rates are going to be high. Although the network monitoring company can continuously assess the quality of its services from the users’ standpoint, the clients’ applications would remain dependable, and therefore users would be retained and satisfied in the long run.

Identifying Hidden Issues:

With conventional approaches, it is possible that an organization might not notice other, less severe but very important factors such as slow page loading or even minute bugs. Monitoring networks on the cloud offers a comprehensive view that enables one to detect such pitfalls, which would otherwise fester and later blow up into considerable disruptions of a desirable positive user experience.

Data-Driven Decision Making:

User Experience Monitoring gives information on user interactions hence decisions may be made on the interfaces/UX design changes, new features, and performance enhancement. This helps a network monitoring company to better match its strategies with the user needs.

Supports Agile and DevOps Practices:

Monitoring of user experience is crucial in today’s tightly-knit development setting, especially when Agile and DevOps approaches are in use. They aid in guaranteeing that frequent launches and frequent software updates will not be a detriment, enabling the teams to retain excellent quality applications.

Role of Cloud-Based Network Monitoring in User Experience

Cloud-based network monitoring offers scalability and flexibility, enabling it to efficiently handle large data volumes and diverse user bases across multiple geographies, ensuring consistent performance even during high-traffic periods.

The use of real-time alerts allows cloud-based monitoring solutions to detect performance anomalies in real-time so that a network monitoring company may prompt remedial action before such issues interfere with client experience.

Further, it offers full coverage of the application and the server response issues, network latency, and third parties it's used in to ensure that issues are easily spotted and fixed to maintain efficiency.

Furthermore, cloud computing can provide an efficient way of monitoring as it does not require huge infrastructure on its own, which plays an advantage to small to mid-sized companies that are involved in network monitoring services business.

Best Practices for Effective User Experience Monitoring

Leverage Real-User Monitoring (RUM):

Real-user monitoring produces real-world user scenarios and generates metrics regarding the availability of users as well as the behavior of applications under varying conditions.

Use Synthetic Monitoring:

Synthetic monitoring mimics actual user presence so that engineers can have an idea of the various glitches present before being reported by the users.

Employ Advanced APM Tools:

Application Performance Monitoring tools give further details of backend problems including slow query to the database or poorly performing APIs.

Cover All Devices and Platforms:

Check that all your monitoring is cross-device and cross-platform to make sure all your clients are being serviced properly.

Integrate with Cloud-Based Monitoring:

Combining user experience monitoring with cloud-based network monitoring offers a complete view of both frontend and backend performance, helping resolve issues holistically.

Conclusion

Maintaining metrics of the applied user experience is an important endeavor in the contemporary environment for guaranteeing the performance of the application and the value it offers the users.

For a network monitoring company, this means the possibility to add user experience monitoring as a value-added service to their portfolio which will result in improved business performance. Utilizing cloud-based network monitoring solutions enables companies to gain real-time insights, resolve issues proactively, and maintain a high level of application performance.

Indeed, it is not only about mitigation of problems but it is about improving the user experience once the proper monitoring practices are employed.

A network monitoring company can therefore create synergy when working towards ensuring that user satisfaction as well as application performance is to ensure that long-lasting relationship with their clients is fostered hence enhancing user retention and ultimately business success in today’s digital world.

#network monitoring #application monitoring #cloud networking #technology #application performance monitoring company #Splitpoint Solutions

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meriablog · 11 months ago

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youtube.com/watch?v=xw9-Wsz_uyU

Leveraging AI and SEO (AI and Innovation Theme)* (youtube.com)

Cloudways seo Leveraging AI and SEO (AI and Innovation Theme)* (youtube.com)

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ms-demeanor · 2 years ago

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So You Need To Buy A Computer But You Don't Know What Specs Are Good These Days

Hi.

This is literally my job.

Lots of people are buying computers for school right now or are replacing computers as their five-year-old college laptop craps out so here's the standard specs you should be looking for in a (windows) computer purchase in August 2023.

PROCESSOR

Intel i5 (no older than 10th Gen)

Ryzen 7

You can get away with a Ryzen 5 but an intel i3 should be an absolute last resort. You want at least an intel i5 or a Ryzen 7 processor. The current generation of intel processors is 13, but anything 10 or newer is perfectly fine. DO NOT get a higher performance line with an older generation; a 13th gen i5 is better than an 8th gen i7. (Unfortunately I don't know enough about ryzens to tell you which generation is the earliest you should get, but staying within 3 generations is a good rule of thumb)

RAM

8GB absolute minimum

If you don't have at least 8GB RAM on a modern computer it's going to be very, very slow. Ideally you want a computer with at least 16GB, and it's a good idea to get a computer that will let you add or swap RAM down the line (nearly all desktops will let you do this, for laptops you need to check the specs for Memory and see how many slots there are and how many slots are available; laptops with soldered RAM cannot have the memory upgraded - this is common in very slim laptops)

STORAGE

256GB SSD

Computers mostly come with SSDs these days; SSDs are faster than HDDs but typically have lower storage for the same price. That being said: SSDs are coming down in price and if you're installing your own drive you can easily upgrade the size for a low cost. Unfortunately that doesn't do anything for you for the initial purchase.

A lot of cheaper laptops will have a 128GB SSD and, because a lot of stuff is stored in the cloud these days, that can be functional. I still recommend getting a bit more storage than that because it's nice if you can store your music and documents and photos on your device instead of on the cloud. You want to be able to access your files even if you don't have internet access.

But don't get a computer with a big HDD instead of getting a computer with a small SSD. The difference in speed is noticeable.

SCREEN (laptop specific)

Personally I find that touchscreens have a negative impact on battery life and are easier to fuck up than standard screens. They are also harder to replace if they get broken. I do not recommend getting a touch screen unless you absolutely have to.

A lot of college students especially tend to look for the biggest laptop screen possible; don't do that. It's a pain in the ass to carry a 17" laptop around campus and with the way that everything is so thin these days it's easier to damage a 17" screen than a 14" screen.

On the other end of that: laptops with 13" screens tend to be very slim devices that are glued shut and impossible to work on or upgrade.

Your best bet (for both functionality and price) is either a 14" or a 15.6" screen. If you absolutely positively need to have a 10-key keyboard on your laptop, get the 15.6". If you need something portable more than you need 10-key, get a 14"

FORM FACTOR (desktop specific)

If you purchase an all-in-one desktop computer I will begin manifesting in your house physically. All-in-ones take away every advantage desktops have in terms of upgradeability and maintenance; they are expensive and difficult to repair and usually not worth the cost of disassembling to upgrade.

There are about four standard sizes of desktop PC: All-in-One (the size of a monitor with no other footprint), Tower (Big! probably at least two feet long in two directions), Small Form Factor Tower (Very moderate - about the size of a large shoebox), and Mini/Micro/Tiny (Small! about the size of a small hardcover book).

If you are concerned about space you are much better off getting a MicroPC and a bracket to put it on your monitor than you are getting an all-in-one. This will be about a million percent easier to work on than an all-in-one and this way if your monitor dies your computer is still functional.

Small form factor towers and towers are the easiest to work on and upgrade; if you need a burly graphics card you need to get a full size tower, but for everything else a small form factor tower will be fine. Most of our business sales are SFF towers and MicroPCs, the only time we get something larger is if we have to put a $700 graphics card in it. SFF towers will accept small graphics cards and can handle upgrades to the power supply; MicroPCs can only have the RAM and SSD upgraded and don't have room for any other components or their own internal power supply.

WARRANTY

Most desktops come with either a 1 or 3 year warranty; either of these is fine and if you want to upgrade a 1 year to a 3 year that is also fine. I've generally found that if something is going to do a warranty failure on desktop it's going to do it the first year, so you don't get a hell of a lot of added mileage out of an extended warranty but it doesn't hurt and sometimes pays off to do a 3-year.

Laptops are a different story. Laptops mostly come with a 1-year warranty and what I recommend everyone does for every laptop that will allow it is to upgrade that to the longest warranty you can get with added drop/damage protection. The most common question our customers have about laptops is if we can replace a screen and the answer is usually "yes, but it's going to be expensive." If you're purchasing a low-end laptop, the parts and labor for replacing a screen can easily cost more than half the price of a new laptop. HOWEVER, the way that most screens get broken is by getting dropped. So if you have a warranty with drop protection, you just send that sucker back to the factory and they fix it for you.

So, if it is at all possible, check if the manufacturer of a laptop you're looking at has a warranty option with drop protection. Then, within 30 days (though ideally on the first day you get it) of owning your laptop, go to the manufacturer site, register your serial number, and upgrade the warranty. If you can't afford a 3-year upgrade at once set a reminder for yourself to annually renew. But get that drop protection, especially if you are a college student or if you've got kids.

And never, ever put pens or pencils on your laptop keyboard. I've seen people ruin thousand dollar, brand-new laptops that they can't afford to fix because they closed the screen on a ten cent pencil. Keep liquids away from them too.

LIFESPAN

There's a reasonable chance that any computer you buy today will still be able to turn on and run a program or two in ten years. That does not mean that it is "functional."

At my office we estimate that the functional lifespan of desktops is 5-7 years and the functional lifespan of laptops is 3-5 years. Laptops get more wear and tear than desktops and desktops are easier to upgrade to keep them running. At 5 years for desktops and 3 years for laptops you should look at upgrading the RAM in the device and possibly consider replacing the SSD with a new (possibly larger) model, because SSDs and HDDs don't last forever.

COST

This means that you should think of your computers as an annual investment rather than as a one-time purchase. It is more worthwhile to pay $700 for a laptop that will work well for five years than it is to pay $300 for a laptop that will be outdated and slow in one year (which is what will happen if you get an 8th gen i3 with 8GB RAM). If you are going to get a $300 laptop try to get specs as close as possible to the minimums I've laid out here.

If you have to compromise on these specs, the one that is least fixable is the processor. If you get a laptop with an i3 processor you aren't going to be able to upgrade it even if you can add more RAM or a bigger SSD. If you have to get lower specs in order to afford the device put your money into the processor and make sure that the computer has available slots for upgrade and that neither the RAM nor the SSD is soldered to the motherboard. (one easy way to check this is to search "[computer model] RAM upgrade" on youtube and see if anyone has made a video showing what the inside of the laptop looks like and how much effort it takes to replace parts)

Computers are expensive right now. This is frustrating, because historically consumer computer prices have been on a downward trend but since 2020 that trend has been all over the place. Desktop computers are quite expensive at the moment (August 2023) and decent laptops are extremely variably priced.

If you are looking for a decent, upgradeable laptop that will last you a few years, here are a couple of options that you can purchase in August 2023 that have good prices for their specs:

14" Lenovo - $670 - 11th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, and 512GB SSD

15.6" HP - $540 - 11th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, and 256GB SSD

14" Dell - $710 - 12th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, and 256GB SSD

If you are looking for a decent, affordable desktop that will last you a few years, here are a couple of options that you can purchase in August 2023 that have good prices for their specs:

SFF HP - $620 - 10th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, 1TB SSD

SFF Lenovo - $560 - Ryzen 7 5000 series, 16GB RAM, 512GB SSD

Dell Tower - $800 - 10th-gen i7, 16GB RAM, 512GB SSD

If I were going to buy any of these I'd probably get the HP laptop or the Dell Tower. The HP Laptop is actually a really good price for what it is.

Anyway happy computering.

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ourjobagency · 2 years ago

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In today’s fast-paced digital landscape, the cloud has emerged as a transformative technology that empowers businesses with flexibility, scalability, and cost-effectiveness. Migrating to the cloud is no longer an option but a necessity to stay competitive.

#Cloud migration strategies #Business value optimization #Cloud journey best practices #Cloud adoption benefits #Cost-effective cloud utilization #Cloud-native applications #Cloud scalability #Hybrid cloud solutions #Cloud security measures #Cloud cost management #Cloud performance monitoring #Cloud vendor selection #Cloud infrastructure optimization #Cloud data management #Agile cloud transformation

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thedbahub · 1 year ago

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Mastering Performance Monitoring with T-SQL on Azure Arc SQL

In the ever-evolving landscape of cloud computing, Microsoft’s Azure Arc stands out as a beacon for managing hybrid and multi-cloud environments seamlessly. Among its many features, Azure Arc enabled SQL Server offers a unique opportunity for database administrators and developers to monitor and enhance the performance of their SQL databases, irrespective of where they reside. This article delves…

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#Azure Arc SQL #Azure hybrid cloud #performance monitoring #SQL Server management #T-SQL Code Examples

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revold--blog · 3 months ago

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riboism · 6 months ago

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she's my collar

》 pairing: assistant! k.ys x CEO! fem reader

》 wc: 5.3k

》 plot: For three years, Kang Yeosang was the quiet, obedient assistant to one of the most powerful women in tech—until she fired him with a cold, impersonal email. Drunk and furious, he confronts her at a bar, expecting to see the same ruthless CEO he once feared. Instead, he finds a woman exhausted by control, desperate to let someone else take over. Now, she’s offering him that power. Yeosang has spent years following orders—but can he step up and be the one giving them? And what happens when surrendering control turns into something neither of them can resist?

》 content: babygirl (2024) inspired, office sex, power dynamics, pet names (puppy), humiliation kink, submissive reader, face-fucking, shoe-grinding, cumplay, smut, comedy, this was written around Christmas time so it’s set around that time as well, also set in NYC

》 playlist: she's my collar- gorrilaz and kali uchis, leash- sky ferreira, crack baby- mitski, the perfect girl- mareux, closer- nine inch nails

Yeosang stared at his laptop screen, the faint glow of the monitor illuminating his face while all the color drained from it. His hands trembled slightly on the keyboard, his breathing growing shallow and uneven. Each word on the screen struck him like a dagger. He reread the message as if repetition might change its meaning.

Subject: Employment Termination

Dear Mr. Kang,

We regret to inform you that, due to recent budget cuts and ongoing concerns about your performance, we have made the difficult decision to terminate your employment with ChromaTech.

Please arrange to return all company property, including devices and ID badges, to our office as soon as possible. Alternatively, we can schedule a FedEx pickup from your home.

Your final paycheck will be processed and deposited later this week.

We appreciate your contributions to ChromaTech and wish you the best in your future endeavors.

Regards, HR

The words blurred together as Yeosang's vision clouded, his mind racing to make sense of it all. Performance concerns? He clenched his fists, trying to suppress the surge of humiliation and anger that coursed through him.

This wasn’t just a job to him—it was stability, routine, a cornerstone of the life he’d painstakingly built through hard work and commitment. Now it was gone, reduced to a cold, impersonal email that left no room for explanation, no chance to plead his case.

Yeosang let his head fall into his hands, the faint whir of the laptop's fan echoing in the room. It all felt surreal to him like he woke up to find the ground had shifted beneath his feet, leaving him dangling over a dark abyss.

He looked over at his digital calendar, every hour clogged up with reminders, appointments, and deadlines for the next month and a half, all completely useless now. For the first time in years, he had no idea what he was supposed to do next.

The rest of the day passed in a hazy blur. Yeosang drifted from room to room in his cramped East Village apartment, his gaze occasionally landing on the precarious stacks of Amazon boxes littering the floor. A pang of regret twisted in his chest. He’d splurged on gifts for his friends, family, and—most indulgently—himself during the holidays, telling himself it was fine to celebrate, that he deserved all the latest new tech and shiny sneakers. Now, staring at his dwindling savings, the extravagance felt like a slap in the face. Great timing.

After scheduling the FedEx pickup and stuffing his work belongings into a battered cardboard box, he tossed it into the corner, out of sight but never out of mind. Every motion felt mechanical, his thoughts distant and dulled. He couldn’t sit in this suffocating silence anymore, couldn’t let the reality of his situation consume him.

Tomorrow was Thursday. No work, no obligations. Now he had all the time in the world and no idea what to do with it.

Fuck it, he thought. If life wanted to kick him while he was down, then he’d kick back, even if it meant getting obliterated in the process. Grabbing his coat, he made a decision. Tonight, he wasn’t going to sit in his misery. He was going to hit the fanciest bar he could find and drink himself into oblivion, maybe even pick up a cute girl to take home. Consequences could wait until tomorrow.

⸻

Yeosang slouched over the bar counter, his cheek nearly pressed against the cool wood, looking more like he was napping than nursing a drink. The Manhattan in his hand felt cold, its amber glow reflecting faintly in his tired eyes. He swirled the liquid absently, his thoughts as muddled as the cocktail before him.

He regretted coming here. Liquor wasn’t his thing—he’d always avoided it, telling himself he needed to stay sharp for work. But the truth was simpler: alcohol made him sleepy. One drink, and he’d be nodding off like some human embodiment of the Sleepytime Bear. There’s no way any girl would want to go home with him like this.

And yet, here he was, sipping on a cocktail he’d never had before tonight, all in the name of free will. He’d picked it for no other reason than its price tag—it was one of the most expensive options on the menu. If he was going to spiral, why not spiral in style? The bitterness of the drink soured his tongue, but he kept sipping, his mind already drifting into that hazy, detached state where everything felt just a little less sharp, a little more bearable. It wasn’t the escape he thought it would be, but for now, it was enough.

Yeosang had served you diligently for almost three years, though to him, it felt more like a decade. When he first got the position as Executive Assistant, he’d been thrilled—not for the prestige or the title, but for the hefty paycheck that came with it. A corporate job was soul-crushing, sure, but at least it paid handsomely for the privilege of grinding you into dust.

For three years, he’d been your shadow. He made your coffee just the way you liked it, meticulously scheduled and rescheduled your endless meetings, and trailed after you as you tore through Midtown in your impossibly dainty heels. Somehow, your So Kate pumps made you walk faster than him, even in his worn-out tennis shoes.

He picked up your dry cleaning, planned your trips down to the minute, and waited bleary-eyed at baggage claim after grueling international flights to haul your overweight suitcases to your hotel room. He booked your dinner reservations at trendy restaurants, juggling waitlists and cancellations like a magician. He prepared your reports and presentation notes, answered your emails, your calls, your texts—every last trivial thing—so the only task left for you was to look polished in your Banana Republic pencil skirt and flash a pretty smile at investors.

To everyone else, you were the epitome of success—the poster child for Women in Tech. An Ivy League graduate at the helm of one of the country’s biggest tech companies, you embodied the impossible standard, all while maintaining a buzzing social life, and an aura of poise that never cracked, no matter how demanding the circumstances. While others juggled, you danced, balancing it all with a grace that seemed almost superhuman. To the outside world, you weren’t just successful—you were aspirational, the kind of woman others admired, envied, and tried to emulate. But to Yeosang, you were a full-time job, a 24/7 whirlwind that consumed everything in its path, leaving him wiped out and drained.

Performance concerns. He knew exactly what that meant.

It had been a few weeks ago, late at night. You were stressed, working overtime in your office, which, of course, meant he had to stay late too. The request wasn’t anything unusual—just your evening coffee: Colombian roast, vanilla creamer, a delicate dusting of cinnamon powder on top. Simple enough.

He’d handed the mug to you with both hands, careful not to spill a drop. Then he lingered, waiting for you to assign something else. But you barely looked up, waving him off with a flick of your fingers. As he turned to leave, his eyes caught your reflection in the glass doors.

That’s when he saw it.

A look of disgust twisted your features as you took a sip, your lips curling ever so slightly in disapproval.

The memory of it hit him like a slap. At first, he hadn’t understood. But back at his desk, it came rushing back, sharp as a pin in his chest. Peppermint mocha.

He’d grabbed the festive creamer that someone had left on the kitchen counter instead of the usual vanilla you liked. It wasn’t intentional—just an absent-minded mistake made after hours of exhaustion. But in your world, there were no small mistakes.

And now, sitting alone at the bar with his life upended, that one moment felt emblematic of everything.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t just the peppermint mocha creamer.

His nerves had always been his downfall, often betraying him in the form of small but noticeable mistakes. A double-booked meeting here, a forgotten reservation there—usually because he was too busy helping you pick out a new pair of Christian Louboutins for your Paris trip, or researching market pricing for an upcoming presentation. There was also that time he missed a few typos in a report you handed to the company heads, which earned him a withering glare in front of the whole boardroom.

But could you really blame him? You treated him like he had six arms, and the ability to teleport with the speed of light when in reality, he was just one man. No matter how hard he worked, it was never enough. If he meticulously completed every task you gave him, you’d point out the smallest flaw. If he preempted your needs, you’d call him presumptuous. Every win felt hollow because you’d always point out what could have been done better. Pleasing you was like chasing a mirage—no matter how close he got, the finish line kept moving farther away.

Still, one thing was certain: the peppermint mocha creamer had been the final straw. A small, almost insignificant mistake in the grand scheme of things, but for you, it had been enough to seal his fate.

Yeosang's ears perked up, his sluggish thoughts snapping into focus at the sound of a familiar voice. He froze, the glass of Manhattan halfway to his lips, as he scanned the dimly lit bar. And then he saw you.

You were tucked into the corner booth, surrounded by a few friends, with a pink cocktail in your hand. The faint hum of laughter carried over the low jazz music, and you looked so relaxed, so carefree. It was as if nothing had happened—as if his world hadn’t just imploded because of you.

A spark of anger flared in his chest, simmering, then growing hotter with each passing second. How could you? How could you throw him away so carelessly and then go out for drinks, laughing and clinking glasses like it was any other night?

The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. He’d done everything for you. Everything. He’d missed his niece’s first recital because you needed him to oversee a last-minute report. He’d skipped Thanksgiving with his family because you insisted on an "urgent" trip to Japan that turned out to be nothing more than a glorified shopping spree. His love life? Nonexistent. How could he have one when you were the only woman in his life, demanding every ounce of his time, energy, and attention?

And now, here you were, sipping cocktails without a care in the world. You didn’t even have the decency to tell him to his face why you let him go. The least you could’ve done was look him in the eye and explain yourself, to acknowledge the years he gave you, the sacrifices he made.

Yeosang clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the glass in his hand. He felt the weight of all those buried resentments rising to the surface, demanding release. For the first time in three years, he wasn’t going to stay silent.

Yeosang drained the last of his Manhattan, the liquid fire burning its way down his throat as if fueling his decision. The warmth spread through his chest, blurring the sharp edges of his hesitation. When he saw your friends stand to leave, laughing as they hugged you goodbye, he seized the moment. The alcohol coursing through his veins muffled his nerves, and the simmering anger propelled him off the barstool.

He approached you with purpose, his heart pounding harder with each step. He’d imagined this confrontation in his head for hours, maybe even years. But when you looked up, your eyes narrowing in confusion, it all dissolved.

“Yeosang?” you said, your tone laced with surprise as you squinted at him. “What are you doing here?”

For a moment, he froze, caught in the trap of your gaze. Then, the words tumbled out before he could stop them, anger surging past his control.

“An email? Really?” Yeosang spat, his voice cutting through the low hum of the bar. His eyes were dark with anger, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might snap. “You couldn’t even— didn’t even have the decency to say it to my face? Are you that much of a coward?”

You stiffened, the weight of the bar patrons’ stares pressing down on you. You reached out toward him, your voice was soft but firm. “Hey, let’s calm down—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!“ he roared, his words slurring slightly, his stance wobbly from the alcohol. “Three years! I gave you three years of nonstop devotion, and I don’t even get a proper goodbye? No thank you, no explanation? Do you know how much shit I had to sacrifice for you?”

His voice cracked, his frustration spilling out with every word. “You love parading around with this ‘girlboss,’ fearless woman-in-tech image, but you’re just a scared little girl. Too scared to even look me in the eye and tell me what I did so wrong that you had to hide behind HR to fire me!”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you caught the awkward glances of nearby patrons, their murmured conversations stopping as they pretended not to eavesdrop. You pursed your lips, your patience snapping like a brittle thread. Grabbing his arm roughly, you dragged him out of the bar, ignoring his protests as the cold, snowy air hit both of you like a slap.

“You really wanna do this here?” you hissed, your voice low but sharp, cutting through the quiet of the empty street. “Fine. Let’s do this.”

Yeosang blinked at you, his anger simmering as he swayed on unsteady legs.

“You want to know why you were fired?” You stepped closer, staring him dead in the eye. “You’re a terrible listener. You fuck up my coffee order. You double-book meetings, forgot to confirm reservations, and just last month, you botched the presentation I needed for the board by misspelling half the client names. Do you know how humiliating that was for me?”

Your words hit him like gunshots, but you didn’t stop. “You don’t listen, Yeosang. You never pay attention to detail. I needed someone I could count on, someone who could make my life easier. I’m not asking for much. Instead, I got someone who left me to fix their mistakes half the time!”

Yeosang flinched at your words. But even as they sunk in, indignation burned in his chest. He didn’t believe he deserved this—not for the mistakes you listed, not for everything he had done for you.

He stepped closer, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of defiance and pain. The cold outside nipped at your skin, but the heat of his breath against your face made you hyperaware of the tension between you.

“I listen,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You’re just impossible to please.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but he didn’t let you.

“I double-booked your meeting one time because you refused to confirm your schedule with the finance group until the last minute. I misspelled the names on that report because the stupid intern—your intern—gave me an Excel sheet with half the names wrong. And reservations? You spring that shit on me while I’m busy walking your dog or picking up your overpriced $20 salad. And the coffee? The fucking coffee? Give me a break!”

His voice cracked with frustration, his breath coming faster now. “You act like I’m some incompetent idiot when all I ever did was clean up after your chaos. Do you know what it’s like working for someone who changes their mind every ten minutes, who expects you to read their mind and be three steps ahead all the time? No matter how much I did, no matter how fast or how perfectly, it was never enough for you! You are a soulless, narcissistic, she-devil, and you love making everyone around you miserable because nothing makes you happy!”

You were nose to nose with him now, the closeness electric and unnerving. Yeosang didn’t realize how close he had gotten until he could see every delicate detail of your face. But he didn’t back away. He didn’t want to.

For the first time, he felt taller, stronger, more in control. He wasn’t just the assistant trailing behind you, fetching your coffee and carrying your bags. Right now, you were the one looking up at him, your confidence faltering under the weight of his hard gaze.

Then, something shifted. His anger, which had been a roaring fire just moments ago, flickered and dimmed. His eyes dropped to your lips, noticing how you worried them slightly between your teeth. The cold had turned them soft, flushed red, quivering as though they couldn’t decide what to say next. He felt the heat in his chest start to dissipate.

“All I ever wanted was to please you, but you never gave me a chance” he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost soft. His words hung between you like a fragile thread, and he didn’t know whether to pull it tighter or let it snap.

His gaze met yours again, and for a brief moment, the tension shifted into something vulnerable. He remained where he stood, towering over you, suddenly feeling exposed, but the weight of his words lingered, heavy and unanswerable in the snowy silence.

You couldn’t explain it, but you liked this side of him. It was the first time you’d seen raw emotion in his face—anger, frustration, passion—it was fascinating. For as long as you’d known Yeosang, he had been quiet as a mouse, his replies clipped and deferential: Yes, ma’am. Right away, ma’am. Always composed, always distant, like a shadow that existed only to serve.

But now? Now he looked alive. His dark eyes burned with intensity, his lips still slightly parted from his impassioned outburst. You hated to admit it, but he looked almost…sexy? The sharp line of his jaw, the way his breath puffed in short bursts against the cold, the heat radiating off him even in the freezing air. And his voice—you liked how deep it gets when he’s mad. You liked it enough to disregard the she-devil comment. It almost delighted you. You liked being talked down to. Not enough people had the balls to do so.

“I can give you another chance…” The words slipped from your lips before you even realized you were speaking. Your tone was quieter, almost sultry, betraying the tug of something entirely outside good judgment. You had nothing but the liquor to blame. You tilted your head slightly, holding his gaze, the weight of your offer hanging heavy in the cold air.

“To please me, that is.”

His breath hitched, his eyes widening slightly before narrowing in confusion. The air between you crackled with tension, unspoken implications simmering beneath the surface. For a moment, you both just stood there, the snow falling softly around you, caught in an electric silence neither of you knew how to break.

After a moment of hesitation, Yeosang broke the silence. “Okay.”

⸻

"I'm not sure if I understand," Yeosang said slowly, blinking up at you. "Ma’am." The word left his lips instinctively, like muscle memory, but his voice was hesitant.

You sighed, shifting your weight against the desk, arms crossed. The two of you were alone in your office, the usual hum of the busy workday long gone. The only sound was the soft ticking of the wall clock and the faint buzz of the city outside.

He sat stiffly in your chair, the black leather cool against his back, making him even more uncomfortable. He didn't belong there—you both knew it. But this was an experiment, after all.

You tilted your head, your patience wearing thin. "It’s simple. I’m letting you be the boss today. You just have to tell me what to do, and I’ll do it." Your lips curled slightly. "And don’t call me Ma’am."

Yeosang swallowed, his getting throat dry. Power had never been something he craved. He had spent his life taking orders, following directions, and anticipating needs before they were spoken. Most people in tech burned out quickly, leaving to chase the dream of being in control, of being the one to give orders. That drive had never come to him. It wasn’t in his nature.

And yet, here you were, handing it to him.

His fingers curled against the leather armrests as he searched for something—anything—to say, his mind wading through unfamiliar territory.

"Then what do I call you?" he asked finally, his voice quieter now.

You held his gaze, a small smirk playing at the corner of your lips.

"Anything you want."

Yeosang mulled over your words, his mind scrambling to process what was happening. Call you anything he wanted? Tell you to do whatever he wanted? It was the kind of fantasy teenage boys dreamed about, yet his mind was a complete blank.

You sighed, exasperated by his hesitation. "Can I give you a suggestion?" You asked, stepping closer.

He nodded, swallowing hard, the words still stuck in his throat.

You leaned in slightly, your voice dipping just enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand. "Ask me to get on my knees."

Yeosang's breath hitched. His mind latched onto the words, turning them over, considering. Then, slowly, he nodded in agreement.

You chuckled. "You have to say the words, Mr. Kang."

His ears burned. "Oh, right," he said quickly, his voice a little too high, a little too quick. He cleared his throat. "Get on your knees."

The words felt foreign and awkward, but the way you looked at him made something tighten in his chest.

Mr. Kang.

No one had ever called him that before. It was always Yeo, Yeosang, or, on occasion, the intern—his young face fooling half the office into thinking he was some college kid on summer break. But Mr. Kang…He liked the way it sounded coming from your lips.

He sat frozen, watching as you slowly sank to your knees in front of him, settling neatly between his legs. His breath hitched, his pulse hammering against his skin.

You looked up at him, eyes glinting with something—Desire? Amusement? He couldn’t tell, but whatever it was, it left him breathless.

You waited, patiently, expectantly, your lips slightly parted as if anticipating his next command. You almost looked like an obedient little puppy, so much so that he almost called you pup.

Yeosang exhaled sharply, gripping the leather armrests as his mind raced. He was supposed to be in control. Supposed to be giving the orders. But right now, sitting in your chair, watching you kneel before him, it felt like he was the one unraveling.

“Take off your shirt.”

He was getting comfortable now. He watched as you unbuttoned your top and discarded it to the side, leaving you only in your lacy black push-up bra. You placed your hands neatly over your lap, patiently awaiting his next request. Yeosang was stunned at how easily and effortlessly you followed his instruction, not showing a single sign of shame as you undressed in front of your junior. He wondered how far he could take it.

“Take that off too.”

You unhooked the back part of your bra and tossed it to the side with your blouse, your hands returning to your lap.

Yeosang let himself relax into your chair, eyes fixed over your soft and bare skin. He bit the skin around his thumb, drinking in your physique. He wanted to touch them, knead them, feel their weight in his hands, but he kept himself restrained. He was growing to like this game and wanted to see what else he could make you do.

He licked his lips, finally settling on his next request. “Come here.”

You scooted closer to him, your eyes now level with his clothed cock.

“Kiss it.”

Without hesitation, you leaned forward, letting your lips trail slow, deliberate kisses along the outline of his growing bulge. You could feel the firmness of his balls from beneath the thick fabric, the desire to see them making your core ache with need. Glancing up through your lashes, you took in the sight of Yeosang already succumbing to the pleasure, his body relaxing into the chair, eyes dark with lust. He was undeniably beautiful, every feature accentuated by the flush of arousal, and the thought of pushing him to the edge, of watching him cum, was a temptation you could hardly resist.

You began palming his cock, feeling it stiffen just under your touch. “Can I please take it out, Mr. Kang?” You asked in an airless and sultry voice which no doubt made Yeosang feel weak.

Yeosang gripped the leather armrests and nodded. “Go on.”

With glee, you unbuttoned his pants and fished out his throbbing cock, his skin feeling warm and tender as you gave it a few lazy strokes. You leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his blushing tip, the sudden touch making him hiss from his seat.

You giggled softly at his reaction, continuing to leave a trail of kisses on the sides of his cock, your hand gripping at the base. He felt so hot and heavy in your hand, and you were growing impatient for a taste.

“Put it in your mouth.”

You eagerly fed him into your mouth, the weight on your tongue already making you dizzy. You salivated around his length, a few dribbles of drool rolling down his shaft. Yeosang could feel himself twitching inside you. The sight of his uptight boss with her mouth so full of his cock made his head spin, all the hesitations and apprehensions he had in the beginning now dissipating while a hunger took over him.

“Now suck it.”

You began sucking at his head, the thickness of his hard cock proving to be a challenge, so much so that you could only really take the tip in your mouth. You grabbed onto the base with both hands, bobbing and slurping him as his breathing grew more unsteady. When you looked back up at him with your big, puppy-dog eyes, you were delighted to see that same Yeosang from earlier—the one with fire in his eyes, with furrowed brows and a sharp tongue, throwing demands and names at you without hesitation. Gone was the quiet, obedient assistant who trailed behind you like a shadow. In his place sat a man who, for the first time, wasn’t afraid to take up space. And you liked it.

“Fuck,” He moaned, “That’s it, that’s a good puppy…take all of me in that dumb little mouth, yeah, just like that.”

You loved hearing him coach you, loved when he called you a dumb little puppy. You could feel your wetness leaking through your stockings, a need aching so strongly between your legs that you had no choice but to grind yourself over Yeosang’s new shoes, your slick wet juices glistening over the rubber soles.

Yeosang was so far gone now, his only purpose left being to chase his high. His hands gripped your strands tightly to hold you in place. Before you knew it, he was thrusting himself into you, his whole length pushing down into your throat with no warning. He set a brutal pace, fucking your mouth with no mercy, reveling in your wet gagging sounds as he makes use of your throat.

“Fuck, I love fucking this little mouth,” He panted, “Good little slut, gonna take my cum? Gonna swallow all my cum down your little throat, huh?”

Tears streamed down your face as he ruthlessly plowed into your mouth. Despite his roughness, your body trembled with need, your hips continuing to grind against his shoes, desperate for release. Your muffled moans vibrate around his shaft, spurring Yeosang on as he chases his pleasure.

Yeosang gripped your hair tightly, thrusting and plunging his hard cock deeper into your eager mouth. For years, he dealt with your nonstop nagging and bitching, and he had to admit it was nice to finally get you to shut up, with a mouth full of his cock no less. “This is what you like, huh? You like being put in your place? Like being a little fuck doll for me?”

He punctuated his words with harsh snaps of his hips. The term fuck doll was enough to send you over the edge. Your hips stilled, your core tightening as you came, your moans muffled by his hard cock. A devilish grin spread across his face as he playfully tapped the tip of his shoe against your swollen clit, the jolt of overstimulation sending shivers cascading through you. He relished in the sight of you laid bare in vulnerability, a stark contrast to the composed persona you typically wore. “Such a mess for me” He sighed, satisfied with your mascara-stained cheeks and reddened, slobbery lips. “So, so pretty…”

You grunted with each thrust, the tight clutch of your throat milking his cock deliciously. You looked up at him with pleading eyes, silently begging for his cum as you took everything he gave you. Your tongue danced along his shaft, massaging the sensitive underside as he fucked your face with wild abandon. You swallowed around him greedily, your throat convulsing along his length as you strived to please him.

With a final hard thrust, Yeosang buried himself deep into your warm mouth and let go, flooding your throat with ropes of his hot cum. His breath hitched, a deep, guttural sound of pleasure escaping him as his seed spilled and trickled from the corners of your lips. With firm hands, he held your head snugly against him, grinding against your face as he emptied himself, savoring the sight of you taking every fervent drop.

Your eyes brimmed with tears as you took him deeper, the bittersweet taste of his seed offering a strange satisfaction on your tongue. As you pulled away with a soft pop, Yeosang gently traced your lips with the tip of his cock, leaving a glistening trail of his pearly essence. You couldn't help but lick your lips in delight, a soft moan escaping you as you savored his flavor.

Yeosang felt like he could cum again from watching you grind your cum-drenched face on his cock. You were so desperate, so depraved, he almost couldn’t believe this was you. The same career-driven CEO he had dutifully served, the woman who made decisions with razor-sharp precision, who commanded everyone’s attention with a snap of her fingers—this was what you secretly craved? To be stripped of control? To be the one taking orders instead of giving them? Who knew that the woman he had once feared, the one who dictated his every move, secretly longed to be a mindless servant, void of responsibility, bound by nothing but the will of someone else?

You gazed up at him adoringly, drinking at the sight of his ruffled hair, his heaving chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. The rawness of him, unfiltered and unrestrained, filled you with a thrill you hadn’t felt in so long.

To serve someone else for once.

To be the one waiting, watching, hoping for approval.

To do so well for someone that it left them utterly speechless.

It was nearly midnight now, and you had a meeting at 7 AM. You should have stopped, should have called it a night, and sent him home. But how could you now? Not when your body was buzzing with anticipation, not when you craved more—more of his voice, more of his praise, more of him.

You wanted to keep going. To do more for him. To hear him call you his good little puppy again.

Slowly, you pushed back onto your heels, your wide, eager eyes locking with his.

“What would you like me to do now, Mr. Kang?”

I would greatly appreciate reblogs with comments and replies. please consider giving feedback if you enjoyed this.

#kang yeosang fanfic #kang yeosang smut #yeosang smut #yeosang fanfic #kang yeosang x reader #yeosang x reader #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #my works: she’s my collar

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rlyehtaxidermist · 8 months ago

Text

December 2-3, 1984

It's been forty years since a Union Carbide chemical plant exposed five hundred thousand people to methyl isocyanate in Bhopal, India. Thousands were killed in the initial event, thousands more died from complications months or years later, and at least a hundred thousand were permanently injured.

The cause of the incident was the introduction of water to a methyl isocyanate storage tank. This caused a runaway reaction, overpressurising the tank from 14 to 280 kPa over the course of two hours, at which point the tank cracked - but even with atmospheric escape of the gas, pressure continued to increase to nearly 400 kPa - at which point the gauge could no longer give an accurate reading.

After roughly 30 tonnes of gas escaped, employees triggered the plant's alarm system - which was originally designed to alert both workers in the plant and the people in the surrounding city. Company policy mandated that they not alarm the populace about "inconsequential" leakages, so the two alarms had been decoupled by the time of the release. For nearly an hour and a half, the plant's management continued to tell authorities that everything was fine and they had no idea what had happened. Hospital staff had to guess what gas was causing the symptoms. No shelter in place order was given; the public siren remained silent for an hour and a half.

Union Carbide had identified 61 hazards at the Bhopal plant in a 1982 audit, but never followed up on the inspection. Mere months before the incident, UCC discussed the possibility of a methyl isocyanate reaction similar to what occurred in Bhopal at one of their West Virginia plants - however, the report and its predictions were never forwarded to the Bhopal plant, despite the similar design and process.

The Union Carbide Corporation asserts that the incident was caused by sabotage performed by a disgruntled worker. They claim that workers conspired with the Indian government to hide evidence of sabotage in order to blame the company, claiming that the safety systems were sufficient to prevent the incident without human intervention.

On the night of the incident, the tank's monitoring equipment had been malfunctioning for years, reduced to a single manually operated backup. Management had shut off refrigeration of the tank, keeping it at more than 15 degrees Celsius above the recommended temperature. The emergency flare and gas scrubbers had been out of order for months - and even if they had been active, they had insufficient capacity. Deluge guns - a type of pressurised water cannon intended to dissolve escaping gas - lacked enough pressure to even reach the gas cloud.

No motive for the alleged sabotage was suggested.

Warren Anderson, CEO of Union Carbide, refused to answer homicide charges by the Indian government, with the US government denying repeated requests for extradition. He died in 2014, months before the thirtieth anniversary of the disaster in Bhopal.

Union Carbide have divested their stake in their Indian subsidiary UCIL, and refuse to fund any efforts to clean up the abandoned site, insisting that the fault lied with UCIL management and the alleged saboteur. The company paid $470 million dollars to the Indian government - which worked out to a cost of 43 cents per share of the company. Union Carbide's annual earnings were $4.88 per share after the Bhopal settlement.

The 2012 Global Intelligence Files leak revealed that Union Carbide's current owner, Dow Chemical, had employed the surveillance firm Stratfor to monitor activists seeking compensation for the Bhopal disaster.

Dow responded to the email leak that they were "required to take appropriate action to protect their people and safeguard their facilities" - an attitude that seems to have been very lacking in 1984.

#bhopal

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lxndonorris · 12 days ago

Text

flirts and challenges - Isack Hadjar

Y/N x Isack Hadjar Theme: Fluff You're the TikTok admin for the racing bulls and Isack has a thing for you x word count: 1800~ taglist: @game-set-canet @cloud-55 open for requests! :)

The British GP weekend arrived, and with that, many social media activities. As Racing Bulls TikTok admin, you were in charge of coordinating photoshoots, challenges, quizzes—everything that could catch some attention of the fans.

And the shoot had gone better than expected.

Liam and Isack nailed the challenge—something silly about blindfolds, marshmallows, and a lot of giggling—classic TikTok bait. You reviewed the final takes with a few co-workers on the monitor while the boys fooled around behind you, still laughing like kids.

People began to leave, gathering the equipment, the bag of leftover, squished marshmallows, and other supplies while you were packing up the ring light. That's when you heard him approach.

His footsteps were casual but sure, and you didn't have to turn around to know it was him—Isack.

"Hey," he said, voice smooth with that infuriating confidence.

"Hey," you replied, not looking up.

It was always important to you to separate your private life from work, and it went well. People came and went, sometimes flirty, most of the time professional, but it was different with Isack.

He really tried his best to get your attention, even more when he noticed you giving him the cold shoulder—something about the pursuit, perhaps. But to be fair, you didn't tell him no; you let him.

A flirt at work never hurt anybody.

He waited a beat.

"So... how'd I do?"

"Which part?" You asked, keeping it light. "The challenge, or the part where you almost fell over trying to catch a marshmallow?"

He chuckled. "Both, obviously."

You finally glanced up—and instantly regretted it.

The white team shirt clung just enough to his frame, sleeves short and tight enough to show off his biceps, dark curls damp from the heat of the studio lights.

Not fair.

"You'll get your performance review in the edit," you said, turning back to the tripod, hoping the distraction would hide the flush creeping up your neck.

But he didn't move.

Instead, he stepped a little closer.

"Do you always look this serious when you're working?"

"I try to be," you said carefully. "Someone has to."

"I like it," he murmured. "The focus. But I also like when you laugh. You should do that more around me."

You exhaled through your nose, trying to hold your ground.

"Isack..."

"I know," he said, softly now. "Work and private life. You've got your boundaries." He paused, then added with a crooked grin. "But I'm pretty good at crossing finish lines."

You shot him a look, but he just stood there, cocky and magnetic, not even pretending to back down.

Tilting your head, you finally faced him fully.

"Crossing finish lines, huh?" You echoed, arching a brow. "Big words for someone who just lost a marshmallow to Liam."

He gave you that lopsided grin—the one he knows works a little too well.

"That was strategy. Give your opponent something and then strike back when they get too confident."

Isack lifted his arms like he was boxing, pretending to dodge, his expression mockingly serious.

You snorted.

"Right. You're playing us all."

He lowered his arms and gave me a look back, arching a brow now as well. Then, he stepped in closer, just enough that you had to glance up at him.

"In these challenges, yes." He said softly. "You? Never."

Your cheeks were burning, but you tried to play it off.

"I think you had enough to play with today."

You turned back to your bag, and in the corner of your eye, you saw him grinning.

Yeah. He wasn't giving up.

Later in the hotel, your phone rang.

A text from Isack.

"Got an idea for content. Come by the motorhome tomorrow morning?"

You hesitated only for a second before replying.

"Sure, what time?"

Now, standing in front of his motorhome the next morning, you were trying way too hard to convince yourself this was just work.

The paddock was already humming with energy, the scent of rubber and engine oil sharp in the air. But when the door opened, and you saw him—standing casually, half-zipped in his white and blue racing suit, the fireproof undershirt clinging like a second skin—any pretense of professionalism started to dissolve.

He grinned. Of course he did. The boyish, slightly crooked smile.

"You made it," he said, stepping back to let you in. "Wasn't sure if you'd actually come."

"Wasn't sure either," you admitted as you stepped inside.

The door clicked shut behind you.

The motorhome was quiet, the low hum of the AC the only sound. A tablet rested on the small table, and a few water bottles were lined up neatly on the counter. Everything else... felt strangely intimate. Personal.

"So," you said, slipping into your casual tone—clipped, efficient. "What's that brilliant content idea?"

He scratched the back of his neck and gave a little shrug. "Okay, don't laugh. I thought we could do something about pre-race rituals. Like... a mini doc-style thing. Keep it casual. Quick clips. You film me doing weird habits. I pretend I'm not nervous."

"That's... actually not bad," you said, eyebrows raised.

He looked relieved.

"Yeah? I thought maybe—well, it's more interesting than another trending sound."

You smiled and reached for your phone to note it down. But you could feel his eyes on you still.

The air between you changed—not in an obvious way. Not in a sudden, dramatic shift. Just a subtle tilt.

When you looked up, he wasn't pretending anymore.

"You know," he said slowly, "that's not the only reason I asked you to come."

"Oh?" You blinked.

His gaze dropped to the floor for a second. For once, he didn't seem cocky or rehearsed. Just honest. A little vulnerable. The confidence was still there, but it softened.

"I wanted to see you," he said, voice low. "Not just across the garage or behind the camera. Just you. No gear. No headset. No TikTok ideas."

You didn't say anything.

Your heart started beating faster—and not in the way it did when a session went live or when telemetry data pinged unexpectedly.

Isack stepped closer. The edge of his undershirt was damp at his collarbone, the shape of his shoulders too sharp under the fabric. But it was his expression that undid you: open, nervous, hopeful. He looked nothing like the flirt who toyed with you at the track.

He looked like someone who meant it.

"I've liked you since... well, basically since I joined," he continued, his voice quieter now. "I tried to be chill about it, but it's not working well."

You laughed softly, involuntarily, breath catching halfway through.

"You're not exactly subtle."

"No," he agreed, smiling shyly. "But I didn't know if you'd ever feel the same. You're so good at pretending I don't get to you."

That made you pause. Because it was true.

You took a step toward him. Close enough to feel the heat radiating through the tight undershirt. You tilted your head slightly, searching his eyes.

Then, slowly, you leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn't urgent or wild. Just soft, careful. His lips were warm, tentative at first, but then he leaned into it with a breathless sort of relief, one hand finding the curve of your waist as if afraid you'd move.

When you pulled apart, he looked stunned. Happy. A little dazed.

Isack looked at you for just a moment—eyes searching yours, pupils slightly dilated, lips parted like he was trying to memorize the shape of what had just happened.

Then he leaned in again.

This time, it wasn't tentative. It was deeper, fuller. One hand slid around your waist, the other gently resting at the small of your back, anchoring you to him as your lips found each other with more certainty.

Isack tasted like coffee and adrenaline and something uniquely him—something you hadn't realized you'd been craving until that moment.

You reached out, instinctively steadying yourself with a hand against his chest. It was firm, warm beneath the fabric of his undershirt. His heart was racing. Or maybe it was yours.

For a beat, the world fell away—the noise of the paddock, the weight of the job, the invisible line you'd both been dancing around for months. All that existed was the press of his mouth on yours, the hum of tension finally easing into something softer, something real.

When you broke apart again, he let out a quiet breath, almost a soft whisper, one that seemed to carry relief and restraint.

"I didn't want to mess this up," he said quietly, his voice still a little hoarse.

"You haven't," you replied, brushing your fingers gently across the zipper of his suit. "But let's... take it slow. See where it goes."

He nodded, lips curving into a smile that was less cocky now and more content.

"Yeah. Okay. I can do slow."

You took a step back and glanced at the rumpled racing suit hanging half-off his frame. The moment still lingered in the air between you, but now there was something grounding about helping him prepare—returning, at least partly, to the rhythm of the job.

"Come here," you said, tugging lightly at the suit's collar.

He stood still, obedient in a way that made you smile. You zipped the suit up slowly, deliberately—the metallic click of the zipper almost too loud in the quiet space.

As you finished zipping up the suit, your fingers lingered.

Just for a second.

You let them trail lightly down the center of his chest, ghosting over the thick fabric of his racing gear. The material was still cool from the AC, but you could feel the heat of him underneath—steady, solid, close.

Your fingertips barely pressed, not enough to truly touch, just enough to leave a trace of awareness behind.

Isack didn't say anything. But you could feel the way he stilled under your hand. The way his breath caught, ever so slightly.

When you looked up, his eyes were fixed on your fingers, watching them move with the kind of focus he usually reserved for track data or the first few laps of a race.

But this time, he wasn't calculating. He was captivated.

A flush rose slowly across his cheeks, subtle at first, then unmistakable, coloring the tops of his cheekbones. He bit the inside of his lip and tried to suppress a smile but failed.

"You always make me feel that way," he grinned.

You let your hand fall away gently and gave a small, noncommittal shrug.

"Better get used to it." You giggle softly.

Isack looked at you, his lips curving into an even softer smile.

"What?" You blushed faintly.

"I just love hearing you laugh."

Unable to hide your pink cheeks, you nudge him playfully.

"Come on," you suppressed another giggle, "let's get you into the car."

#isack hadjar #isack hadjar x reader #isack hadjar x y/n #isack hadjar imagine #isack hadjar fanfic #isack hadjar fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 imagine

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thef1diary · 1 year ago

Text

Baby Jr | Six

— Truth Unveiled

series masterlist

pairing: carlos x fem!reader

wc: 2.8k

The morning after your heartfelt conversation with Ava dawned, bringing with it a new wave of anxiety. You had spent the night tossing and turning, your mind racing with thoughts of how to tell Carlos about the pregnancy. Ava's reassuring words played on a loop in your head, offering some comfort amidst the chaos.

As you entered the paddock on race day, the buzz of activity and the smell of burning rubber filled the air. The sun was shining brightly, casting long shadows over the bustling scene. You walked briskly, your heart pounding with each step, knowing that Carlos would be occupied with media duties, the actual race, and the post-race debriefing with the team. Usually, you weren’t part of the post-race debrief, but today was different. More team members had been asked to join, emphasizing that every sort of role counted, media included.

You immersed yourself in your tasks, trying to keep a low profile. The garage was a hive of activity, with engineers and mechanics making last-minute adjustments to the car. You focused on your work, the familiar routine helping to calm your nerves. However, the thought of facing Carlos again later loomed over you like a dark cloud.

You exchanged glances with Ava several times throughout the day. Even though neither of you had the chance to stop and chat, her eyes constantly sought yours, silently checking in on you. Each time you caught her gaze, she offered a small, reassuring smile or a slight nod, her way of silently asking if you were holding up okay. It was a subtle but comforting gesture, a reminder that she was there for you, ready to lend her support whenever you needed it. These moments of connection, though brief, helped ground you amid the chaos of the day, giving you a small sense of stability and reassurance.

As the clock ticked closer towards the start of the race, the tension in the paddock heightened. Murmurs were heard in passing as each team solely focused on their two race cars, ensuring that every single part was in place and running smoothly.

You took your usual spot in the garage, watching the race unfold with a mix of excitement and anxiety. The roar of the engines filled the air, mingling with the cheers of the crowd. The sun beat down on the track, casting shimmering heat waves that made everything appear slightly surreal. You kept a close eye on the monitors, tracking every lap, every turn, every pit stop with bated breath. Wearing a pair of headphones, you were able to switch between both driver’s radio chatter, listening in to everything that was being said.

“Box, box, box!” the race engineer's voice crackled through your headphones, signaling one of the drivers to pit.

Working in motorsports, every day was like a new adventure, but nothing could ever top the feeling of race day. You truly felt like a proper spectator of the sport with the added bonus of being able to work behind the scenes with the team, making the experience even more enjoyable.

Carlos drove brilliantly, his skill and determination evident in every maneuver. He fought his way through the pack after an unfortunate position set in qualifying the day before, his car dancing around the corners with precision. When he crossed the finish line in third place, the cheers from the Ferrari garage were deafening. Carlos had secured a podium finish, a testament to his talent and the team’s hard work.

Charles, too, had an impressive race. He finished fourth, just shy of the podium, but his performance was strong and consistent. It was a good day for Ferrari, overall. The atmosphere in the paddock was electric with celebration and relief. Team members exchanged high-fives and hugs, their faces alight with joy.

After the podium celebration and a team photo, you were heading toward the meeting room for the post-race debrief when Carlos approached you, flanked by a few other team members.

“Hey, we’re thinking of grabbing dinner tonight to celebrate. You in?”

You hesitated, searching for an excuse. “Oh, I already have plans with Ava tonight. Rain check?”

Carlos frowned but nodded. “Sure, maybe next time.”

Everyone gathered in the meeting room, a large space filled with monitors and charts displaying the race data. The room was filled with the hum of quiet conversations, the excitement from the day’s success still palpable. As you settled into the debrief, you noticed Carlos tapping away on his phone before holding it under the table. Your phone buzzed, and you glanced down to see his message.

‘You looked amazing today. My number really suited you, why’d you change?’

You frowned in confusion, not understanding what he meant. Another message came through almost immediately.

‘I saw you wearing a shirt with my number on it earlier, did you not notice?’

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. You hadn’t even realized you had been wearing his number. The shirt was one Carlos had left in your hotel room after staying the night, and since he never asked for it back, you packed it and took it home. You ended up wearing it at home often because it was comfortable, but it was the first time you wore it in public, and that too without realizing it. Worst of all, Carlos had noticed.

‘Didn’t want to distract you’ you texted back, deciding against mentioning that you only changed because you spilled coffee on it, otherwise you would’ve worn it the entire day without realizing.

Carlos’ response was almost immediate. ‘Too late for that. You’re distracting me right now.’

You glanced up to see him smirking at you from across the table, his eyes twinkling with mischief. You quickly looked away, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks again.

Throughout the debrief, Carlos continued to text you, his messages a mix of playful banter and subtle compliments.

‘Focus on the debrief, Carlos.’ You texted, hoping to divert his attention towards the meeting.

That didn’t work because it wasn’t long before you received another text from him. ‘How can I, you got me picturing you in my shirt, and nothing but my shirt.’

You felt the blush deepen, grateful that the dim lighting in the room due to the projector hid your reddening cheeks. You tried to focus on the engineer’s analysis of the race, but Carlos’ messages kept pulling your attention.

‘Seriously, though. You make it hard to concentrate. I can’t stop thinking about you’

You shook your head slightly, finding it unbelievable that he was mentioning such topics during a meeting. ‘Stop it, Carlos. We’re supposed to be working’

He glanced up at you for a moment, finding it amusing that you couldn’t contain your smile despite the messages you sent opposing his words.

‘You know, I miss our late-night talks…and other things’

Your eyes wandered down to the phone in your palm, widening when you read his text. You typed out a message quickly, hoping to end the conversation without getting caught by your superiors. ‘Carlos, this isn’t the time or place.’

‘When then?’

You took a deep breath, deciding to leave that question unanswered, not knowing how to respond.

As the debrief continued, you placed your phone face down on the table, trying to focus on the discussion. Carlos’ gaze never left you, watching like a hawk as you picked up your pen and jotted down notes. The intensity of his stare made it difficult to concentrate, each glance in his direction only heightening your anxiety.

The room buzzed with the low murmur of voices as engineers and team members discussed the race’s finer points. Monitors displayed graphs and data from the day’s performance, adding a layer of visual complexity to the meeting. You found yourself scribbling notes almost mechanically, your mind half on the task and half on Carlos.

Every now and then, your phone would buzz with another message from him, but you forced yourself to ignore it. Each vibration felt like a small electric shock, jolting your concentration. You knew he was trying to get your attention, and it took every ounce of willpower to stay focused on the debrief.

Finally, unable to resist any longer, you picked up your phone and saw his latest message: ‘What are you doing tonight?’

You hesitated for a moment before typing back, ‘You already asked me that. I told you I’ll be with Ava.’

Almost immediately, his response came. ‘I mean after that’

Your heart skipped a beat, understanding the implication. You felt a rush of emotions, conflicted between your desire for him and the secret you were holding.

‘Come on,’ his next message read as he watched your facial expressions while you contemplated your choices. ‘It’s been too long since we’ve celebrated.’

You understood what he meant by celebrations, remembering how the night ended the last time he won a race. A part of you wondered if baby Sainz growing in your womb was the result of that night, or the ones that followed.

The thought of being with him intimately while actively hiding that secret from him almost made you sick to your stomach. You knew you couldn't do that to him, despite how much you clenched your thighs together at the thought of another night spent tangled in the sheets.

You glanced around the room, making sure no one was watching, then quickly typed back, ‘Carlos, it’s not that simple right now’

His reply was swift, ‘It can be. Just say yes.’

You thought back to the night he won, a hint of a smile growing on your face as you thought of another remark and quickly texted him. ‘Besides, you didn’t win today.’

Carlos looked up at you, catching your smile, and grinned. His fingers moved rapidly across his phone screen and you were fortunate that no one around him noticed his lack of attention on the debrief.

‘Podium is still a win. Third place means we can still celebrate, right?’

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a laugh. His persistence was both endearing and infuriating. ‘You’re relentless’ you typed back, feeling the flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

‘Only because you’re worth it’ came his immediate response.

You sighed, knowing he wouldn’t give up easily and you didn’t want him to either. Your mind raced, trying to balance your feelings with the reality of the situation. But at that moment, all you could think about was how much you missed him, how much you missed the way he made you feel.

‘Okay’ you typed back finally. ‘But we need to talk first, Carlos. Seriously.’

He didn’t respond to the text, instead he sought out your gaze, waiting for you to look at him before nodding. Noticing the depth in his eyes, the honesty, you knew the truth had to be revealed tonight.

You placed your phone face down again, trying to focus on the remaining part of the debrief, but your thoughts were now consumed with the upcoming conversation with Carlos. The tension between you two was palpable, and you knew tonight could change everything.

The debrief ended, and you began to gather your things. You noticed Carlos heading your way, a small grin on his face. Just before he was about to reach you, Charles interrupted him, stopping him for a hushed conversation. Since you weren’t far away, you were able to overhear parts of their conversation.

“Is she coming? If she is, Ava will too,” Charles inquired, his voice cutting through the low murmur of conversations.

Carlos shook his head at first, then looked at Charles with a pointed glare. “Why do you want Ava there?”

Charles seemed puzzled, pausing before he shrugged. “Well, they’re both part of the team, so…?”

Carlos shook his head again. “She said she already has plans with Ava, so I guess neither of them are coming.”

“Really? I heard she didn’t have any plans tonight.”

Charles’ behaviour made Carlos roll his eyes before elbowing him in annoyance. “Why did you put me up to it then if you already knew?”

He shrugged again, his expression neutral. “Just wanted to make sure, plus she likes you better than me for some reason.”

Carlos glanced back at you, his confusion deepening. You could feel his eyes on you as you exited the room, knowing that the conversation you had been dreading was going to be unavoidable tonight.

You found a quieter corner in an office within the paddock to work on some last-minute media projects. The celebrations were in full swing elsewhere, but you stayed behind. The room was dimly lit, the only sound being the soft hum of your laptop since most of the team and other personnel were off enjoying the dinner celebration or heading back to their hotels.

You immersed yourself in your work, hoping to distract yourself from the thoughts swirling in your head. The tasks were routine—updating social media posts and editing photos from the race—but they kept your mind occupied. You sipped on a Red Bull, the caffeine helping to keep you focused.

Minutes turned into hours and you were completely immersed by the contents on the screen. Papers were strewn across your desk, and your fingers danced across the keyboard.

The can of Red Bull sat beside you, half-drunk. You had initially popped the tab, but after drinking half of it, you realized you needed to be cautious with your caffeine intake given your situation. It had been sitting on your desk for a while now, and you were hesitant to take another sip.

The door opened but you hadn’t noticed until Carlos gasped theatrically, causing you to look up in surprise. “You traitor!” he exclaimed, pointing at the can. “Siding with the enemy?”

You laughed, the sound a mixture of relief and amusement. “Well, Ferrari doesn’t make energy drinks, Carlos. What else am I supposed to do to stay awake?”

He chuckled, the tension between you two momentarily easing. He walked closer, pulling up a chair beside you. “Good point. But seriously, what are you doing here? I thought you had plans with Ava.”

You looked down, the weight of your lie pressing on you. “I needed to get some work done,” you admitted quietly, your fingers tracing the rim of the Red Bull can. “There’s always something that needs to be finished.”

Carlos’s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied you. “I saw Ava at the dinner. She said you were here working when she left. You seemed pretty adamant about those plans earlier.”

You sighed, feeling the pressure build up. “I didn’t have plans. I just… needed some time to myself, Carlos. To think and work through some things.”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

You shrugged, your eyes avoiding him.

Carlos was silent for a moment, his gaze intense. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? You don’t have to hide.”

You nodded, feeling a lump in your throat, realizing that the conversation you’ve been dreading was going to happen in the paddock of all places. “I know. It’s just… complicated.”

He reached out, placing a hand on yours. “I’m here now. Let’s talk. What’s really going on?”

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. “It’s just… everything feels overwhelming right now. The race, work, us.”

Carlos’s eyes softened. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

You looked up, meeting his gaze. “I’m not avoiding you.”

“Yes, you are,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “Every time I try to talk to you, you find an excuse to be somewhere else.”

“No, I—”

“Yes,” he insisted, cutting you off. “And you’ve never been the type to avoid confrontation. Did I do something that makes you run away every time you see me?”

Carlos noticed your attempts to avoid him, which he openly acknowledged, leaving you momentarily speechless.

"Well, you did something..." you trailed off, since he was technically half of the reason you were in this predicament in the first place.

“Enlighten me,” he said, his tone challenging but not unkind.

“What would change if I tell you?” you asked, feeling your heart race.

“For one, I would have my friend back,” he replied softly.

“Are we friends or are we coworkers who fuck?” You shot back, your tone coming out a little harsher than you expected.

“We were friends first, were we not?” he questioned, his voice dropping to a whisper.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words. “Okay, Carlos. Do you really want to know?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, his eyes locked onto yours.

“It could change your life,” you warned, feeling a mixture of fear and resolve.

“It’s that serious?” he asked, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking away for a moment to blink away the tears pricking the corners of your eyes

“It only makes me want to know more,” he said, his voice gentle but insistent.

You took a deep breath, the words heavy on your tongue. “I’m pregnant, Carlos, and it’s yours.”

——

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