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luvyeni · 2 months

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SECURITY CAMERA ,, 한지성

pairings ‎⸝⸝⸝ perv!jisung x fem!reader wc. 2.1k+

genre. smut

𓄷 includes ... sub jisung, perversions, unprotected sex, oral ( m. receiving ), public sex , overstimulation, idk man jisung is weird , but like so is reader.

request. han jisung smut🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

「 authors note 𖹭 」 not my favorite but i hope you like it.

❪ masterlist! ❫

jisung hated his job as the cashier at the cafe; he didn't like how he had to interact with people all day; the teenagers who order drinks that took 10 minutes to make, the older people complaining to him about princes he has no control in , the small children who don't need coffee in the first place — he hated it, but someone needed to pay his bills.

that was until you walked into the cafe a few months ago , looking for a job which you got; and his life from then on his shifts got ten times better — not only did he get a promotion to manager , which not only gave him a good pay raise , but he got to move to the back where he no longer had to interact with the outside population.

not only that , but you also made his shifts much better, he liked to watch you through the screen, and the way you interacted so sweetly with the customers, even the horrid ones. not to mention you were always so nice to him , even when you were having a bad day, you still would come to the back and have a conversation with him before returning back to the front , where he would watch you some more — and some days if he was lucky, he'd get a peek of your panties when you would bend over to get a cup or to pick up dropped change on the floor.

he still remembered the last time he jerked off in that back room; watching you, he felt so disgusting afterwards , you weren't even doing anything, it was late at night and you were cleaning up the cafe with a coworker and he was going over the books in the back , he so happened to look at the camera , it was a warm day and you wearing a tank top, one that showed off your boobs and a mini skirt that was too short , he could've dress coded you but he didn't get paid enough and he didn't want you to see him as a loser — but if you caught him doing he did you'd probably think he was anyway.

you were just so pretty and he was thinking with his cock; and before he knew it he was palming himself , cumming in his pants , heavily breathing as the post nut clarity hit him. he quickly locked up the back , wishing you and the other worker there a good night as he ran out the door , covering himself , eyes to the ground in shame.

he couldn't look at you for a week; not only did he feel guilty, but because he wanted to do it again; and it wasn't that long until he did it again, and then again— until he no longer felt guilty about doing it , he couldn't stop himself , he needed to do it , not a shift went by where he didn't touch himself watching you through the cameras.

“i don't know, i think he's pretty weird.” your coworker said , it was a 15 minutes to closing , so you were wiping down the tables. “who?” you asked, you were never one to gossip but it was a slow night , not many people buying coffee at 9 pm and you were bored. “jisung.” your other female coworker said. “he stays back there constantly , and when he does come out it's just to grab a coffee and stare at yns boobs , it's creepy.” she said. “what , my boobs?” you questioned. “he's never looked at my boobs.” you said. “has he?”

“of course you'd like the creepy manager.” your male coworker said. “i don't think he's creepy , he's just a bit anti-social, it's quite cute.” you smiled , your friends rolled their eyes. “leave him alone , he's nothing but kind to everyone , he lets you come in even though you obviously haven't passed a drug alcohol test since even before you were the legal age , and you; he spends 30 extra minutes each week to put in your hours because you're too lazy to do it yourself , he even puts in hours that you're late just so you won't take a pay cut.” you defended the boy.

“look at you defending him , what you got a little crush on him?” you scoffed , rolling your eyes. “i don't have to like him to know he's not a bad person , or a creep.” you said , walking away to finish cleaning the tables.

“we're leaving , are you coming or are you gonna wait for your boyfriend?” they stopped as they walked out the door. “shut up.” you rolled your eyes. “i guess that means she's waiting , let's go.” they exited the store , you walked over locking the door.

you began to count the money from the counter , humming the music that was playing from the speakers — then you heard it , your name coming from the back. “huh?” you turned down the speaker , thinking you misheard , but you heard it again , this time much louder. you put the money down , following the noise; until you got to the manager's office. “y-yn.”

you put your ear to the door; he wasn't just saying your name, he was moaning your name. “jisung?” you pushed the door open , your eyes widened at the scene. “yn.” his eyes widened at the shock as you watched the boy desperately try to pull his pants up. “what are you doing?” you asked ,even though you knew what he was doing , you literally caught him with his cock in his hand , you looked at the computer then back to him. “were you watching me while doing that?”

his first thought was to beg for your forgiveness , and that's what he did. “y-yn i'm so sorry , i didn't mean to — you didn't mean to jerk off while watching me , what? wipe tables.” you interrupted , the boy lowered his head. “you felt comfortable doing this , have you done this before?” he didn't say anything but it answered your question. “you have.” you said. “im sorry.”

“that's all you have to say? im sorry.” you scoffed. “i defended you when they called you a creep , turns out you are one.” he felt a pit in his stomach , he felt guilty , he really did , but he was also still really fucking hard. “sh-shit.” he cursed , feeling his cock twitching in unbuttoned slacks. “i really should report you for this.” his eyes widened. “calm down i won't turn you in perv.” you closed the door , behind you.

“i-m not a pervert.” you scoffed. “really? normal people don't jerk off to their coworkers.” he kept his head low even as you approached him. “how long have you been doing this?” he shrugged. “ a-a few weeks after you came,” he admitted. “so instead of asking me out with the chance of maybe fucking me , you watch me through the camera while jerking off?” you smirked. “i would've fucked you, all you had to do was ask.”

you put your hands on the arms of the chair , caging him in , your boobs right in front of his face. “see you can't even look at me now, but you can see my tits can't you , guess they were right about you constantly staring at them.” he bit his lip. “touch them.” he finally looked at you. “wh-what?” he stuttered. “do it.” he brought his hands up to your boobs , squeezing them , you bit your lip containing a moan. “feel good?” he shook his head. “s-soft.”

you stood up , lifting you shirt over your head. “pulling your pants down.” he was frozen. “do it now or i'll call HR on your ass.” he quickly got up , his pants falling to his ankles. “sit.” he obeyed , you got down on your knees , your face directly in front of his cock. “wh-what are you doing?” he asked , not like he wanted to stop you. “doing what you obviously wanted me to do.”

you pulled his cock from his underwear, it stood tall in front of your face , his tip a purplish red from his previous endeavors, leaking with pre cum. “look at you , so hard i guess you didn't get to cum.” you kissed his tip. “no fuck.” he sighed. “d-didn’t get the chance.” he moaned as your mouth closed around his length , slowly making your way down his shaft. “oh fuck your mouth feels so good.”

he felt like he was dreaming; you were supposed to hate him , you were supposed to think he was gross — but here you were gagging on his cock in the same room you caught him in. “oh fuck im cum.” he moaned , gripping the arms of the chair. “pl-please let me cum.”

he whined as you pulled away. “why should i?” you stroked his member , slowly teasing him , he couldn't cum like this. “didn't you cum enough by perving on me for the past few months?” he whimpered. “pl-please let me cum.” he begged. “please i-i’m sorry.” you sped up your movements , he moaned loudly. “you wanna cum? cum all over my tits , since you like them so much?” he nodded. “pl-please I'm gonna cum.” his brain was fuzzy. “fuck im cumming!”

he let out a loud moan as he came , covering your upper body in his seed , as you kept going. “fu-fuck , i came.” he moaned , but you didn't stop. “yn fuck I came.” he let out a huff of air as you let him go. “you came so much.” you brought your fingers with his cum on it to your mouth. “you taste good too.” he groaned , his cock twitching once again. “i want you to fuck me.” you stood up , pulling your panties down your legs , leaving your skirt on. “if you get to use me only fair if I use you?”

you climbed into his lap , his cock now hard again standing tall. “pl-please use me.” you cursed as you lowered yourself on his cock. “fu-fuck.” you sat down on him. “yo-you feel good.” he moaned. “so-so tight.” you began to move your hips , holding his shoulders. “y-yn please go faster.” he moaned. “pl-please.”

“fuck you want me to use you?” you began to bounce on his cock. “treat you like a toy?” he nodded dumbly, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “fuck use me , please use me.” you scoffed. “fucking perv , i bet you thought about this everytime you jerked off back here.” he moaned. “you did , think about me fucking you like this?”

jisung was going crazy; his head was spinning as you were milking him for everything he had. “you're gonna cum?” you pulled him from his daze , there were tears wielding in his eyes from pleasure. “cum for me.” you kissed behind his ear. “be a good boy and cum for me.” that set him off and he came , he threw his head back slamming his hand on the desk next to him as you continued to bounce on his cock.

“y-yn.” he moaned. “yn please i can't cum again.” he was spent, you grabbed his chubby tear stained cheeks. “you can , cum for me again.” he let out a whimper like moan as he came for the third time. “sh-shit i can't go again.” he said. “fuck im gonna cum.” you cursed , as you came , you kissed his needy lips , he chased your lips as you pulled away , making you smile. “cute.”

“well i still thinks he's a little weird.” your coworker said. “regardless if he did ask you out on a date.” you rolled your eyes. “what does he even do back there all day?” you smirked to yourself , before turning back to your coworkers with a serious face. “he does his job , now leave him alone and get back to work.” you ordered , and they shrugged going back to what they were supposed to be doing— you turned around right at the camera , winking.

yeah he was a pervert , but he was your pervert.

©LUVYENI

#kpop x reader #kpop smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #skz hard hours #stray kids hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #skz hard thoughts #skz smut #stray kids fics #han jisung scenarios #han jisung x reader #han jisung imagines #han jisung smut #han jisung hard thoughts #han jisung hard hours

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fangirl-dot-com · 10 months

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Reader Lore - Born to Break Records

So this is a little filler for between now and the next chapter. This chapter might have triggers for death, abusive parents, and brief mentions of bullying. If these make you uncomfortable, then please feel free to skip this chapter. The synopsis is the reader’s life up until her first race win in F2.

Welcome to Reader-Lore

2003

The cry of a baby filled the sterile walls of the delivery room. Pants filled in the quiet moments, but were mostly covered. The wailing baby was placed into the arms of the waiting mother, the father looking down on the two.

“It’s a girl,” the nurse told them, writing something down in a book.

The atmosphere suddenly changed. The once hopeful air was dampened with disappointment. The father sighed loudly, turning his head to look out the window. The mother, who had held her baby tight, loosened her grip. Her nose was now scrunched in borderline disgust.

The nurse, feeling the off energy, offered to take the baby girl. She made some excuse about needing to weigh her and make sure that she was healthy, things that could have waited until after the parents bonded.

The mother was quick to hand her over, waiving her hand as though it wasn’t a big deal. The father had now moved farther away from the hospital bed.

The baby had started to wail once more after being taken from the arms of her mother. Arms that she thought were safe. Arms connected to the body that had cared for her for 9 months. Arms that suddenly did not hold her tight. Arms that willingly gave her away to some stranger.

Once the nurse and frightened infant left the from, the mother and father looked at each other.

“I wanted a boy,” the male murmured.

The female rolled her eyes, “I know. And so did I. But we don’t have a choice anymore.”

“We do. Could always leave her here. A boy would be able to break records. A girl is useless.”

“And be arrested? No thank you.” The mother rolled on her side, arms around her front. The father just huffed.

“Everything we talked about, our future, is now a wasted memory.”

The mother looked at the door with a sliver of hope, although, it was too small for anyone to see it. “Maybe she can do everything that you wanted a boy to do.”

“We can just have another baby,” the father persisted.

“You heard the doctor. It would be too dangerous for me to have another. What’s done is done. You can walk out now if you can’t commit.” The woman went to say something else, but was interrupted by whimpers.

The nurse had walked back in, now with a swaddled baby. Begrudgingly, the mother held her hands out to take the bundle of blankets. She looked down at the brand new baby, but her heart didn’t swell with pride like she read about. Her heart filled with distain, as if the baby were a Christmas present that she didn't want. But this time, she couldn’t return the baby like she’d return a gift at whatever store it was bought from.

The father had taken a few steps closer to the bed, but kept his distance. There wasn’t a bone in his body that actually wanted the child.

“We still need a name for her,” the nurse stated, clicking her pen.

The mother glanced to the father before saying, “Y/n. Her name is Y/n.”

2008 – Five years old

The air was stuffy, filled with the scent of petrol and burnt rubber. The quiet that could have been was broken by the rattles of engines and throttles. You wished for silence.

You wanted nothing to do with this. But, you’d rather get in a kart then flinch at your father’s hand. You had been allowed to wander around the track. The big boys were driving now. And by big boys, you meant 11- and 10-year-olds. They were bigger than you and drove karts that were so much faster than the little one that you had.

You looked around. There was definitely not a shortage of girls hanging around, but none were dressed like you. Most were the older or younger sisters of the drivers. Their pink tops, paired with shorts or skirts, flowed in the wind. None of them were wearing an old itchy race suit that was two sized too big. They were allowed to wear sandals, while you had to endure the tight racing shoes that your dad had definitely yanked on the laces too much. It wasn’t your fault that you hadn’t learn to tie them yet.

You watched their hair bounce in the tall pony tails tied on the tops of their heads. They didn’t need their hair to be wrapped in a bun at the base of their necks so that it could fit into a helmet.

You wished that your mom and dad would allow you to cut it off so that you could be the boy that they wanted. You knew that they didn’t want you, your little mind was able to catch on to things like that.

You understood patterns. Patterns on the track helped you know what areas to avoid. Patters on the kart taught you where to put your feet and hands. Patterns told you that moms and dads should be happy for their children, and not yell at them. Patters revealed that children did not flinch when their parents patted their heads or caressed their cheeks.

The wind blew loud as the kart race came to a close. You knew that you needed to get back quickly to where you parents were waiting, but you wanted to see the winners, wanted to see them taste a victory that you were so desperate for.

You squeezed past the other boys and looked up at the three on the podium. The one on the lowest step wasn’t rememberable. His hair looked the same as others. His height wasn’t tall or small, just in the middle.

But the boys on the other two steps were. The one on the second pedestal had a shaggy hair cut, with bangs that pointed down. You had seen him before, surrounded by his family. A little brother, a big brother, mom and dad, and then a man who looked at the boy with stars in his eyes.

You wished someone looked at you like that.

“And in second place, Charles Leclerc.” So that was his name. Sharl. His eyes were bright green and filled with light and hope. But a sadness still glazed them as he looked up at the boy on the top step.

The boy who towered over the crowd had blond sandy hair. For a winner, he didn’t look happy. His blue eyes didn’t hold the same brightness that the green eyes had.

“And our winner, Max Verstappen!”

That was a nice name. Max. You wanted to look at the boy winner for a few more moments. Engrave his image into your mind. Because, you didn’t know when the next time you’d be able to do this. Your dad would probably ban you from such things, saying something like you didn’t need to look at something you’d never achieve.

But you were hungry.

You were taken out of your watching by the announcement that your own race was going to start soon. And you weren’t in your kart.

You rushed through the crowd, trying to put on your bright pink helmet on. You could put your gloves on while you got into your kart.

By the time you got there, your dad was already looking at you with a disappointed look. Your mother was nowhere to be found.

“Where have you been,” he hissed, hitting your helmet.

“I wanted to see the podiums,” you muttered, getting your gloves on.

Your dad shook his head. “What have I told you about that?”

“That I shouldn’t look at things that I can’t get.”

“Exactly. Now get in your kart.”

You did as he said. You heart was pounding as you taxied the little thing onto the smaller track. You were able to be seen by everyone, your helmet acting as a little flag. It seemed to say “look at me! I’m the only girl trying to be on par with all these boys! Watch me fail!”

But you were determined to prove them all wrong.

By the last lap, you were right behind one more kart. One more pass and you could win. Prove your dad wrong. Prove everyone wrong.

You watched as he broke your pattern. The pattern that would help you win.

He made a mistake, and you welcomed it with glee.

You passed over the finish line with a significant gap behind you and that boy. At the stopping point, you parked your kart and stepped out, exhaling sharply.

You thought that people would cheer and shout, but the silence that you had wished for earlier had come to haunt you.

You won and there was nothing to celebrate.

2015 – Twelve years old

Everyone thought he was crazy. There was no way that he was going to sponsor a 12 year old in karting, a female none the less.

He wasn’t crazy. How could he not want to sponsor you, a consecutive race winner in your league. He constantly watched you drive circles around the boys who would berate you in their free time. He watched as you would let their words roll right off your back. You didn’t let their words get to you.

But, he was your godfather and he had a sense of responsibility for you. He watched as you climbed out of the kart, looking around trying to find a familiar face.

He could see your eyebrows raise through the visor when you caught sight of him.

“LoLo!” you yelled, quickly sprinting over to him. He was ready to catch you, but not expecting the hit with your helmet.

He let out an oof as you knocked him slightly off balance.

“Hey kid! You did good!” He rubbed your helmet as if it were hair. You quickly unbuckled the pink contraption and took it off, hair sticking to your forehead.

You looked around before your shoulders slumped. You kicked a rock as you spoke, “They didn’t come.”

Lorenzo had noticed a lack of your parents as soon as he arrived. He would have come earlier to help you with your kart if he had known that they weren’t here. He looked down at you with sad eyes, and that’s the last thing you wanted.

You always wished for someone to look at you with so much love and affection that it poured out of their soul. But you only ever got looks of hatred and pity.

He rubbed your shoulder, “It’s ok kid. But you wanna know something?” He crouched down to your level, pant legs getting damp with moisture. You nodded your head. “LoLo gets to sponsor you!”

You gasped, eyes tearing. Even though you were twelve, you knew the weight of the situation. Your parents had told you that because you were winning, you were embarrassing them. And because you were embarrassing them, they wouldn’t pay any more years of karting after this one. You wailed when you told Lorenzo the next time you saw him. And he saw your heart break into itty bitty pieces while you did.

When you left, he looked into every possibly way that he could keep you in karting. The only option was to sponsor you.

And sponsor you he did. He emailed, texted, and called multiple companies, trying to get their support. He would get sponsorship to put on your kart so that you could carry the logos proudly. He had your new one sitting in the back of his old truck, but that was a surprise. It was blue with two proud bulls on the very front. He had done it. He found you a sponsor that would keep you going for a couple of years.

His thoughts were interrupted by you actually knocking him over. He knew his sweater was getting damp, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to see you smile for the rest of his life.

You were too busy whispering thank you after thank you for you to notice the weird looks that you were getting. Looks from the boys that you had just beaten. Looks from the parents who didn’t know the worries of paying for karting.

He quickly picked you up and took you back over to get your cart. He helped you load it on the mover and rolled it over to his truck. You wouldn’t be needing this kart that was almost falling apart. You had a new one, and you’d be all right.

You talked the whole way home, animatedly moving your hands around as you described your latest win. Your hands rolled over the other as you showed him how you turned the wheel, barely clipping the front of the kart who wanted to push you off.

Lorenzo only looked at you with pure adoration. A look that you wanted so much, but were too busy to see due to your explanations of your imaginations.

Maybe he was crazy, but he didn’t think so.

2019 – Sixteen years old (F3)

Your eyes were pricked with tears as you read the letter you received in the mail. The big letters of DISOWNMENT flashed in the reflections. They had done it weeks ago, according to the date on the top of the paper. By now, your things were probably thrown away or burned.

You had just finished the F4 category and were making a name for yourself in F3. You couldn’t deal with this now. One of the management people came and knocked on your door, telling you that the race was about to start.

You crumpled the paper up and threw it in the trash. If they didn’t need you, you didn’t need them. That was the lie you continually told yourself. Of course a girl needed her parents. They were the people who were supposed to nurture you and help you.

But they never did that in the first place. At least you didn’t have to constantly buy drug store foundation and concealer and try to explain the black and blue around your eyes after it melted off during the race. No more flinching. No more hiding.

Just no more.

You would call Lorenzo and see if you could stay with him for a bit during the break. You would have to or you wouldn’t have a place to sleep.

Your breath shuddered at the thought.

You told yourself that you knew this was coming. They had cut all contact with you months ago and weren’t spotted when you went home during the last break.

You allowed the tears to fall as you got your helmet on. No one would see the streams as you placed your visor down. You were now hidden away from the weird looks that everyone sent you. No girl had ever made it this far.

Sure as you grew, there were girls in karting. That number seemed to increase in F4. Most of them were from the driver academies. You were still able to participate due to multiple sponsorships that Lorenzo had gotten you.

But with increase, there has to be a decrease. You were currently the only female in F3 and were set to be the only female to make it to F2. Well, that’s what everyone told you. Your stats reflected your need to prove yourself.

Race win after race win helped thrust you through the blockades built by men. They wouldn’t stop you, and you didn’t want to stop. Not now, not ever.

Each race win fueled your hunger in this world. And it only grew and grew.

Your tears were brushed away by the wind brushing through your car. At that moment, you told yourself that you wouldn’t cry over your parents ever again. They didn’t deserve them.

You could cry about other things. Such as passing over the finish line, marking your first win in F3.

You constantly showed the world that you could do it. You wanted to cry again as you listened to your anthem. You wanted to cry when the boys celebrated with each other, leaving you out. You wanted to cry as you walked back to your “motor home,” knowing that it was put up quickly for you.

The time you finally let yourself cry was when you were talking with Lorenzo on the phone. Your eyes were tired and dehydrated by the time you quit. Lorenzo was able to calm you down. He told you that he would take care of everything, take care of you.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to see him much though. The F3 calendar was far busier than the F4 one had. And you knew the moment you entered F2, time for relaxation would be far and few between.

But you had Lorenzo to fall back on when the times got hard. You could always count on him.

2020 – Seventeen years old (F2)

It was too soon. Too too soon. It wasn’t fair either. Your tears had not stopped streaming down your face since you arrived. The sterile smell itched your nose, but you needed to be here. For him.

He had gotten paler in the few moments since you had been there. His breath rattled with each inhale and exhale. And each breath brought more tears. You didn’t want to let him go.

“Please LoLo. I can’t do this without you,” you whispered, knowing that he probably would not hear you. The doctors told you that he was far too gone for that, but you liked to believe that he was still listening. “You can’t leave me like everyone has. I can’t be alone. I need you.” You put your face down in the blankets, squeezing his hand.

The nurses stood in the door, with tears of their own. They were watching a child lose the only family that she had left.

You inhaled sharply, wiping your tears away.

“You know I’m going to do it. For you. It’s only ever been you. You’ve been my best friend and I don’t know how I’m going to get through this scary world without you.” You hiccupped. “But, I know that you need to go. And I’m being selfish for keeping you here.”

You stood and kissed his forehead.

“Thank you LoLo, for everything. I love you.”

His chest rose, fell, rose, and fell.

But didn’t rise again. The multiple beeps from the different machines let you know that he was gone. And he wasn’t coming back.

One of the nurses came and rubbed your back as you sobbed, not caring who heard you. Your tears did not stop.

They didn’t stop on the plane to Bahrain. They refused to dry up during the practices as you set record times. They let up as you gave post-practice interviews, saving you from being embarrassed.

You cried as you put your helmet on. Stickers had been placed on it the night before with Lorenzo’s name and dates of birth and death to commemorate his legacy that would continue through you.

You knew this race was important. You heard that multiple F1 drivers were there to watch. And you’d give them a spectacle, before hiding away to burry your dead godfather. You hoped that the blond kid with blue eyes that had grown up by now was there. He didn’t need to know that you looked up to him. You just hoped that he’d be there. And possibly the green eyed Justin Bieber look-a-like as well, you had followed him too.

You had managed to score a P5 starting on the grid and you knew it would be tough to fight for the front. But you had a feeling that you’d be just fine.

And just fine you were.

You all hauled your F2 car over that finish line, finishing with a gap of 10 seconds. Your crew was screaming in your ear through the radio and congratulations were being thrown everywhere. You pulled into the number 1 spot and climbed onto the nose. You put your finger on the big numbers on the nose of your car, kissed the finger that touched it, and raised it, pointing at the sky. You had changed your driver number to the permanent 89 this season, and for the rest of your career.

One time, Lorenzo had showed you pictures of when he used to kart. The big 89 was visible through the old photographs. He had trophies upon trophies, but was never picked up by anyone. You told him that if he had raced these days, he’d be able to skip everything and would be put into an F1 car immediately. He had just laughed and told you to do it for him.

So that’s what you were doing. After you commemoration, you scrambled down the car and jumped into the crews waiting arms. These days, you did not flinch when they hit your helmet. You knew that these were celebrations for racers and you were thankful to partake. Two boys followed you up and went before you. You didn’t remember their names, only the Australian accent and the odd American accent. But they would remember your name.

You carried your flag high as you walked onto the stage. The anthem sounded much sweeter this time around. The trophy felt a little heavier this time though. You looked up to see those blue eyes that you saw many years ago. Max said a quick congratulations before you raised it as though to almost offer it to the open sky. This time, you let the tears go. You quicky wiped them away and picked up the giant bottle of champagne. You hauled it over your shoulder and sprayed the others, absolutely drenching them.

This time, they did it to you as well.

You knew you made it.

I’ll do it for you, LoLo.

December 2024 – Twenty-one years old

Christian Horner sat in the folding chair, as he did year after year. A camera was right in front of him, with an interviewer to the side.

“Please state your name for the camera.” He rolled his eyes.

“My name is Christian Horner, and I am the Team Principal of the Oracle Red Bull Racing Formula 1 Team.”

“Let’s talk about your driver, Y/n L/n.”

The screen cuts to the pace of your car, passing multiple others in one clean sweep.

“She’s one of the best talents I’ve seen in a while.”

A scene of you holding a trophy, high in the sky.

“What is one thing that you admire about your driver. She has said a lot about you.” Christian smiled. Of course you had. You told him that you saw him as the dad you never had.

“Almost everything she touches, she turns it to gold.”

The scene changes to your first win. The crowds of red cheered your name. Something you didn’t think was possible. You had taken that win from their favorites and you were being praised for it. Slow-motion splashes of champagne hit you from either side as you wiped your face.

The scene returns, but Max is in Christian’s spot.

“She’s different. She’s the epitome of what a rookie should be. I’m just thankful that she’s my teammate and not working against me.”

The screen fades to two Red Bull cars with an Aston Martin in between them.

“Y/n, Max is currently behind the Aston. Gap to you is 1.237 seconds,” Mitch’s voice is heard off screen through the radio.

“Tell Maxie that it’s time to do the old switcharoo!”

Your car suddenly slowed down just enough on the turn, and the crowd cheered as Max’s car went wide, putting him before you. You quickly got in his slip stream and the two of you sped off, leaving the green car in the dust.

Another driver, with green eyes, is now in the seat, answering the same question.

Charles looked up in thought while blowing some air out his lips. “She’s fearless. You normally don’t see that anywhere. Sure, everyone gets scared if they have an impact, especially as big as the one she had, but not her.”

The camera cuts to the violent scene of your first DNF. Your car flipped, you were trapped. People’s faces were adorned with tears including Christian, no one had been able to contact you. Yet, the focus is now on you, wiggling out from beneath the wreckage. You, in spite of it all, raised your fist as though you were celebrating a first win.

The scene cuts to an Australian with a straight smile. He looks semi-uncomfortable in the seat.

“It looked like you and L/n had a tussle in the beginning. Is that true?”

Oscar shook his head. “There was never a tussle. We both made mistakes, but that’s racing. Wheels touch all the time: it doesn’t mean that we have the urge to take each other out.”

The interviewer continued, “But she did take you out.”

The screen fades to a clip of two cars dangerously close together, one orange and one navy.

David Croft’s voice could be heard, “And there goes the Red Bull of Y/n L/n and the McLaren of Oscar Piastri! They are close together around that corner and they aren’t backing down. Are they going to make contact! And they do! Off the track they go, debris is everywhere. And I don’t think they are going to be able to continue.”

You knew that you should not have “never backed down never what-ed.” But Oscar was going for it and so were you. And you felt terrible. You quickly used the halo to climb out. Looking over, Oscar was doing the same thing.

The camera followed you as you made your way through the swarming stewards. You just knew that you needed to check on the Aussie.

The crowds could hear David speak again, “Oh no. Looks like L/n is mad. Does Red Bull have a thing for drivers with anger issues?”

Oscar looked up and saw you storming towards him, batting away the stewards hands. He stiffened, ready for anything. But what he didn’t expect was a giant hug. He could feel you shaking and he quickly put his hands around you.

“I’m ok.”

The screen flashes back to Oscar.

He huffed, “She did. But the moment she got out of the car, she came to check on me. She batted away the stewards who were desperate to make sure that she was fine, since she took the brunt of the hit. If that doesn’t convince you that Y/n is a great friend and better driver, then I don’t know what will.” The Aussie looked livid.

The scene cuts to now a new face, your manager.

The interviewer asks, “What is something that people might not know about Y/n.” Vito put his hand to his chin. You had already given him the permission to talk about what might be discussed.

He inhaled, “She’s strong. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well.”

“Can you give us an example?”

“The kid was disowned in 2019, right before her F3 debut. And you know what she did? She put that F3 car in the P1 spot. She never showed it though. She held her head high, and was squeezing into her place, that was waiting for her, in this sport.”

A quick flash of 16 year old you, holding your first F3 trophy, was shown on screen.

Vito kept talking as the scene changed to you walking around your motor home, greeting everyone who was there. They knew what had happened, and comforted you with words and hugs. You were thankful for them.

“She also lost her godfather Lorenzo in January 2020. It was heartbreaking to hear her over the phone. Her debut in F2 was the next day. I told her that she didn’t have to, but she insisted that she needed to race, to win.”

The camera followed 17 year old you, helmet on and visor down, as you walked to your F2 car, shining with your new number.

“In less than 24 hours, she was back in the car.”

Your car sped down the straight, over the finish line.

“And she won.”

The scene shifted to 23 year old Max Verstappen handing you the big F2 trophy. Tears could be seen in your eyes as you took the cup and thanked him.

“Did you know?”

Max looked at her in bewilderment. “I didn’t. And you would have never guessed it. Y/n has her heart on her sleeve, everywhere she goes, except when she races.”

A quick cut now shows Christian back in the seat.

“The last driver I saw with that mental strength was Charles Leclerc. He previously lost his godfather, and then lost his father. A few days later he won his race. Y/n lost the only family she had in less than a year.” Christian laughed. “These rookies are built different. You’d think they were made for the earlier days of racing, with how much they put into it. But Y/n, I don’t know. Her aura commands attention.”

The scenes now shown are from multiple races.

The camera followed you as you walked through the crowded paddock, trying to get back to hospitality. You thought that it would be different, that you’d have to squeeze through to get by. But with each step you took, the people parted like water.

You flashed a smile at many fans who seemed awestruck to be in your presence.

A new driver is now in the seat.

“She’s almost like Charles, in a sense,” Lando said. “The two of them,” he looked around, “I don’t know. It’s hard to describe.”

“Can you try?” Lando shot her a cheeky grin. “They are basically the F1 royalty. Any driver has a ‘celebrity image’ and people are excited to see us outside. They ask to take pictures, but they also do things against us.”

The scene cuts to multiple instances of booing and pushing drivers.

“And yet, Charles and Y/n bend them to their will almost. They listen to them. The King and Queen of Formula 1.”

A video of you, Lando, Max, and Charles speaking before the Monaco Grand Prix plays.

“Ah, Max. Did I tell you that we have to address them as your highness now?”

Max looked up from his phone and followed Lando’s finger that was pointed at Charles and you, deep in conversation.

“No? Why?” Lando walked over and showed him the edit and comments on his phone.

The caption read “Y/n L/n and Charles Leclerc are F1 royalty and we need to address them as such.” The video that played started with a clip of Charles in Monaco, with the grid and Monegasque royalty behind him. He looked so majestic. It switched over to you in your home country, with a crowd around your pedestal. You hadn’t even won yet, and they looked at you as though you hung the moon. You stretched out your arms and the crowd roared.

Max looked back at the two, who were ignorantly blissed. Max looked up at Lando.

“You’re right.”

The camera is back to Charles.

His eyes were wide with eyebrows raised, “Lando really said that.” He smirked. Shuffling up to good posture he said, “I’m fine with that. Y/n has always been different, but in a good way. She knows what the people wants, but also doesn’t get caught up in all the PR. She’s herself.”

A clip of you with fans plays. Your smile was mirrored with theirs. Everyone wanted to see you, hug you, feel you. And the waves that were emanating from you only made the crowd happier.

Now, the seat is occupied by none other than Sir Lewis Hamilton.

“What do I think about Y/n?” he questions back to himself. “I know that she is one of the best rookies to ever come across in the world of Formula 1. I’ve had the opportunity to share podiums with so many drivers, but her? There’s something different.”

The scene flashes to a podium shared with you, Lewis, and Max. Lewis had been able to take the win, leaving you on the third step. You had almost had the win, but a late safety car ruined it. Lewis looked over at you, expecting a disappointed face. But all he saw was a smile that rivaled the sun.

“She never seems to be disappointed with anything. Even if she was to qualify in last place, she would still smile.” Lewis laughed. “And I think everyone loves her more than they realize.”

A small clip of you and a bulldog flashes across the screen. Roscoe was licking all over your face.

“Roscoe, stop!” But you were laughing, and the dog thought that he should continue. Lewis found the two of you in the middle of the floor in the Mercedes hospitality. A blanket was draped around your shoulders.

“And what are you doing here kid?” Lewis put his hands on his sides.

You shrugged. “Toto told me I could hang out here. Max is having one of those ‘adult meetings’ that Christian says my ears shouldn’t hear. I think they forget that I’m 21 now.”

Lewis just laughed, thinking of how Toto must have let you in and had given you a blanket as well. He just ruffled your hair and sat on the ground with you.

The scene changes one more time. You are now in the seat.

The interviewer asks, “Please state your name and your occupation.”

You smiled, “My name is Y/n L/n and I am a Formula 1 racer who drives for the Oracle Red Bull Racing Formula 1 Team. I also DJ,” you shot finger guns at the camera and clicked you mouth, “Thanks Lando.”

“How was your first season in Formula 1. You obviously showed the world of what you could do.”

You nodded before continuing, “The season went better than I expected. To place third in the driver’s championship as a rookie? Unheard of.” You smirked. “Until now.”

The person behind the camera continued, “You were only 10 points away from Charles Leclerc. How does that make you feel?”

You cocked your head. “It feels wonderful. Charles had a really good season.” You leaned in as though to tell a secret. “If anything, don’t tell Charles or Max I said this, but Max and I would rather lose to Charles than anyone else.”

“And why is that?”

You deadpanned. “Well Charles is Lightning McQueen incarnate and Max’s emotional support rival. Who else would we want?” People laughed in the background.

“Now that you know you could win a championship…”

You cut her off, “Oh I’ve always known I could win a championship. But I also know that I was born to break records. And right now, I’m on a path to help Max break the 7 streak.”

“Ah yes, sorry. What would you do after winning a championship.” You hadn’t seen Max slip in.

“I think I’d pull a Nico Rosenburg. Ya know? Retire while I’m ahead.”

“You would not do that!” Max said behind the camera and you looked straight at him.

“Yes I would.”

“No you wouldn’t. Because you said you were born to break records. Well Kid, if I make a record championship, you need to be the one to break it.”

Oh my gosh, I loved how this chapter turned out. And it is officially the longest chapter I have written so far – 6,077 words. Right now, I have to write the chapter for the last race of F2 and you readers have to pretend that it lands on a weekend that the F1 drivers can attend.

Also! I am pleased to announce that the first few chapters of a new series will be out shortly! It is called “Besties for the Resties” and it’s how you got close with many of the drivers. Not all of them will have their own chapter and not all the drivers are being written about. So please be aware that this will not be going over 10 chapters!

Thank you to all my readers and Happy Thanksgiving!

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne @leilanixx @angsthology @digitalizeduniqueness @topguncultleader @landosgirlxoxo @gods-menace @itsjustkhaos @thefandomswhre @alwaysboredsworld @vellicora @bintuabbas @sam-is-lost @empress-kimiko @assholeinatrenchcoat @kagatinkita @glitterquadricorn @zyonsay @tsukishimawhore @treehouse-mouse @ashy-kit @agent-curt-mega @julesbabey @lydialawrence @stopeatread @claudia5912 @nichmeddar @blueberry64857959 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @leptitlu @alessioayla @badassturtle13 @kaaale @wcnorris @cool-ultra-nerd @hockeyboysarehot @agent-curt-mega @myxticmoon @cmleitora @sam-is-lost

#charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x driver!reader #max verstappen x reader #platonic grid x reader #arthur leclerc x reader #formula 1 x you #carlos sainz x reader #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #logan sargeant x reader #alex albon x reader #george russell x reader #lewis hamilton x reader

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csuitebitches · 2 years

Text

On Being Well Spoken

I recently received a request about posting something regarding being well spoken.

Something you need to realise is that you’re not going to become well-spoken overnight. You need to practice on people. You need to SPEAK.

I used to stutter so badly that I could barely speak a whole sentence.

Flash forward a few years. I pitched my start up in front of a crowd, I joined Model United Nations in high school and college, I’ve been invited to speak on my entrepreneurial experience by some top universities in my country. It’s taken a lot to get here. And I’m still not where I want to be.

1. Apps to track progress and help you get better at public speaking

An app that you can use: “Speeko.”

I used to use this, it is beginner friendly and you can improve your public speaking skills as well.

2. Use topic generators

Go online and look up a topic generator. Generate a random topic, video yourself speaking on that topic. Don’t give yourself time to prepare anything - read the topic and start speaking. Set a time limit - you’ll realise that speaking for even 2 minutes can be quite difficult at times.

Not only does this make you realise that you may have limited language skills, but it will also make you realise exactly where you’re falling behind. Note down things in a journal.

- is grammar the issue?

- Lack of vocabulary?

- Too many filler sounds?

- Knowledge gap?

This is also a great idea if you’re at an intermediate level of learning a language/ polishing a language. Do this everyday and maintain a diary on your improvement.

3. Reading out loud

Select a news article or any article. Read out loud, slowly and steadily. Pronounce every syllable calmly.

A two minute read should take 5 minutes to read out loud. That’s how slow you should go. Not more than 4-5 words per breath.

Your tongue needs to get used to different syllables and sounds. Practice will help.

4. Talk in real life

Talk to anyone and everyone whenever you can.

Ask your barista how their day is going.

Ask your work or university security if they’ve had a good day and if they ate today.

Chat with your taxi driver about their life. I always start with asking them if they are from the city we’re travelling in. Even if you’re from that city, act like a tourist. Where are the best eateries? The conversation eventually goes to personal questions. How many children do they have, and what do they do? What do they like about the city?

You’ll learn the art of small talk only through practice. No book or guide can actually prepare you. You have to practice, practice and practice.

5. Diaphragm breathing

Diaphragm breathing is very important. Look up some YouTube videos for reference. You essentially breathe from your tummy (stomach goes in and out; not chest going up and down). This is a great calming exercise too.

6. Stuttering tongue/ jaw exercise videos

These are great because they really do prep your jaw and tongue well. The videos could include tongue stretches, placing your tongue on your palette correctly, etc. Search on YouTube.

7. Body posture

You really need to work on your posture too. Sit up straight. Back, STRAIGHT. Chin up, shoulders relaxed. Something as simple as posture can change your level of confidence.

8. Pranayama

A yoga exercise for breathing. You can find a guided video on YouTube for sure.

9. Vocabulary

Invest your time in expanding your vocabulary. There’s enough apps and games that can help you with that, if you aren’t fond of reading. A sign of being well spoken is having great vocabulary.

Start by looking up the synonyms of everyday words.

“I’m upset”

- how many different words can you find for upset?

“I had a crazy day today”

- one can easily use “hectic”, “chaotic” “lively” instead

10. Idioms

Idioms, phrases, sayings - look up common idioms in your language of choice. Aim to use at least 3 new idioms on 3 separate occasions in a week while you speak. You need to understand when and where you can use the idioms in your vocabulary.

11. Knowing when to switch

You can’t talk like a 50 year old heiress to a 10 year old child; you need to get down to their level.

If someone is clearly not a native speaker and is struggling to put words together, don’t use difficult words around them.

If you’re meeting with someone high profile, refrain from using slang.

The best speakers know when to switch their level of language.

You can’t use one singular type of speaking with everyone. You need to understand that there is a time and place for everything - and you’ll be able to switch like a pro only when you actually speak and start gaining experience.

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 6 months

Text

Take Care of You [10]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 5.7k

Mood board and borders by @saradika

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It’s why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn’t look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn’t be so hard. Would it?

[A/N: 🤡. I came back to life to immediately die off again i'm so sorry. here take this next part and all my love. speaking of my love, i already closed beta readers on tiktok but for anyone on here, if you wanna see why i've been so MIA, shoot me a message with your email if you wanna beta read my original work (i do ask that you do a questionnaire afterwards but that's just to help me out). But, imagine a scifi/fantasy where the book 'Six of Crows' meets 'The Last of Us', and I have good sources that y'all like TLOU👀]

[A/N pt.2: I did not edit this to the degree I should have and there is no tag list at the bottom i am so so so so sorry].

10: THE EVIDENCE IS PRETTY DAMNING

The ceiling wasn’t right.

That was your first, foggy thought when your eyes opened. Rather than the bumpy, plaster speckles collecting dust it was smooth and off white. You slowly sat up with a groan, head spinning and mouth dry, and you blinked three times before your situation dawned on you. This was not your bed, not your house. Fuck. You set your hands on the bed to lean back then winced. With a hiss, you pulled your hand up and saw the bandaged injury from last night.

You cradled the hand with your other and turned to hang your legs over the edge of the bed. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a note on the nightstand. You leaned over. There was a full water bottle and a bottle of tylenol resting on top of a piece of paper. On the paper, in scratchy, nearly illegible, writing was, ‘Come downstairs when you’re ready. Feel free to use the shower and change if you want. ⏤Joel’. You dragged your fingers to trace the words.

With a shaky breath, you grabbed the water bottle and took a couple pills in hopes to nurse the aches and pains you felt. You stared at the words again. Last night, Joel admitted to being married to Sarah’s mom and you had responded by passing the fuck out. You had tried to argue, demand more information, but your body fought against your curiosity. All the drinks you had prior and the fading adrenaline from the fight probably hadn’t helped.

You rose from the bed with a groan and crossed to use the bathroom adjoined to Joel’s bedroom. When you flicked the lights on, you took the first movement to glance around the space. The walls were beige with white tile floors. On one side was a large jacuzzi style tub next to an expansive walk in shower. On the other was ample counter space and drawers with matching him and her sinks. In the back was the small room where the toilet sat and beyond that a walk in closet. The space was lived in. A dirty clothes basket off to the side half full, toiletries on the counter and on the shelves in the shower, you spotted a pair of glasses you had never seen Joel wear resting by the sink on the right side of the counter. That must be the one Joel used most. A toothbrush sat by it and you noticed water by the rim like he hadn’t wiped up when finished.

Also on the counter were a stack of clothes, you stepped toward it and saw it was a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants that must have belonged to him. On top of it was a brand new toothbrush. Your gaze lifted to look at yourself in the mirror and you flinched. You looked a mess⏤ your hair, your clothes, everything. You rubbed at your face with a sigh and slipped into a morning time routine despite the unfamiliar setting.

Celina.

The name rang in your head over and over and over again. It didn’t matter that you had been only half with it last night. You remembered that clearly. As you cleaned up, your headache began to improve and by time you left the bathroom you at least felt human again. A new anger bubbled just under your skin. You couldn’t quite yet put your anger into words, but you knew it was there. After washing up, you traded the clothes you wore to the bar for the ones Joel left you. The shirt was worn out, like it was aged, and navy in color. It read ‘Miller’s Contracting’ with a number on it for contact. It reminded you of the kind of shirt a small company would make and not a multi-million dollar one. You tightened the waistband of Joel’s sweatpants. They were at least joggers so you didn’t have to worry about tripping over yourself.

You crossed the upstairs, open space to the stairs. Faintly, you heard the sound of someone moving around downstairs. A brief wave of nervousness had you hesitating at the top of the stairs, but it slipped away back to anger. It seemed that was where your heart was making camp this morning.

Slowly, you descended the stairs. The wooden floors under your feet didn’t creak or make noise as you padded into the living room first. A few couches were situated in front of a wall that held a large flat screen TV and a fireplace. The back wall was made of glass, a window and door all in one that revealed the back patio where a small pool and deck were, and the space beside it was the kitchen. Just as open as the rest of Joel’s house. The cabinets were made of dark wood with matching countertops and at the center was a large island with chairs.

On the island counter looked like to-go boxes of food. You stared at them a moment longer, but a door hidden just out of view on the wall in the kitchen opened. Joel stepped into the kitchen nonchalantly until he spotted you and did a double take. He froze and stared. The two of you were actually similarly dressed. He had on a t-shirt that looked tight on his broad shoulders and a pair of sweatpants that hung low on his hips. Joel looked exhausted.

“Hey.” He said softly. “Mornin’, sug⏤” Joel stopped himself, it looked like he choked on his words, but he locked his jaw and changed direction. “Mornin’. How did you sleep?” You gave a small shrug and a tight lipped smile. “Right. How’s your…” Joel lifted his own hand. “Your hand?”

You lifted it up to stare down at it. The bandages had been pulled away when you washed up this morning. It didn’t look so bad. “It’s fine. Thanks for the⏤ the tylenol. And the toothbrush. And the,” You motioned to the clothes hanging off your frame, “You know.”

“Can I?” Joel nodded toward you.

“I said, it’s fine, Joel.”

“I…” He sighed and the look in his eyes was agonizing. “I know you’re pissed at me. Understandably so. But, please let me…”

You walked over to sit down at one of the tall chairs at the island counter and set your hand on the marble top. Joel mumbled a quiet ‘thank you’ and disappeared for a quick second. He was back with a small first aid kit again. You twisted your lips when you felt his warm hand cautiously take yours. It was quiet as he reapplied a bit of medicine to the hand before wrapping it up again.

“You don’t…” Joel started then cleared his throat. You never would have used the word anxious to describe the Joel you had gotten to know thus far, but nervous energy seemed to radiate off him. The tension in his shoulders looked painful to keep hold of. “I had breakfast delivered. Some stuff I know you like.” Joel pulled his hand away from yours. “But you don’t have to stay if you don’t wanna.”

“No. I want to.” You replied. Joel looked briefly hopeful. “I want to talk about this. I want⏤ to know. I want answers.”

“Right. Of course.” Joel nodded quickly. “I owe you at least that.” You nodded in agreement. Joel straightened from where he stood and ran a hand over his chest and shoulder with a quiet cough. “Can I make you something to drink? Coffee, tea, juice?”

You gave a small nod, mumbling a response, and watched as Joel put it all together. He poured himself a cup of coffee after serving you. Rather than take the seat beside you, he stood on the other side of the island counter across from you.

“You mentioned the girl from Vegas last night briefly, but how did you know…”

“Yo-yo told me you had a sugar baby before me. That you married her.”

“I did have a sugar baby before you, yes.” Joel sighed.

“Why did you lie to me?” You demanded.

Joel shook his head, “I never lied to you. I just⏤ I never told you, and you never asked.”

“Really?” You scoffed. “That’s what you wanna hang your hat on here? Semantics?” Joel hung his head then shook it a bit. “I didn’t want to believe her, but yesterday Nima texted someone she knows. A private investigator⏤”

Joel’s eyes widened, “You hired a private investigator??”

“I didn’t hire anybody! Nima just texted them and they confirmed⏤”

“You went to a PI before just asking me?” Joel replied sharply. You leaned back in your seat⏤ in shock at his audacity. He must have noticed how you felt because he held up a hand. “I just mean, that’s a huge invasion of privacy and all you had to do was call me⏤”

You pushed out of your seat and turned to leave. Joel called out after you before following. He grabbed your hand to tug you to a stop and you glared at him over your shoulder. You snapped, “If you’re just going to stand there and be defensive then there’s no reason for me to be here, Joel.” You pulled your hand out of his grip and spun to face him. “I understand that getting in contact with a fucking PI was a crazy move, but yesterday I felt a little crazy.” You scoffed. “I felt like an idiot. I felt like a naive, desperate idiot who got played. So, yeah, I let Nima text her cousin’s cousin’s cousin to find an answer because the thought of standing in front of you and asking⏤”

The rest of your words got caught in your throat. You didn’t want to get emotional in front of Joel. More than anything you wanted to keep your cool and be collected. Just in case he did break your heart, you could walk away with at least some of your dignity intact. Joel took a step closer. Thankfully, he didn’t try to touch you, but he did lift his hands slightly in surrender.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m sorry.” He said. “I’m being defensive. Hell, I'm being an ass.” You locked your jaw and let your eyes focus on something over his shoulder. Unable to stare into those deep, dark eyes. “This is… This isn’t an easy subject for me to talk about and I⏤ I panicked. I want you to hear me out. I want you to know the truth.” He shifted in his stance so your gaze was forced to meet his. The longing there made you suck in a sharp breath. “Please. Give me another chance to explain this. I’ll do better.”

You rubbed the back of your neck with your non-injured hand and gave a small nod.

“Thank you. Thank you.” Joel repeated himself. He took a step back but kept his shoulders facing you as if he thought you were a flight risk. Joel motioned to his couch. “Do you wanna sit? I’ll grab our drinks.” You sighed and meandered over to sit down on one end of his leather couch. Joel didn’t move back into the kitchen until after you were seated. He came back with both of your drinks and handed you your own before sitting on the other side of the couch. One cushion of space between the two of you.

You took a sip, trying to gather your thoughts, before nodding once. “I want to know about your wife first. Celina, you said? I want to know about her.”

“Yeah.” Joel swallowed thickly. “Do you remember anything I mentioned about Sarah’s mom before?”

“I didn’t know her name.” You replied. “You said the two of you had dated for, like, three months?” Joel nodded. “She got pregnant, and you worked it out. Things were fine, but two weeks after Sarah was born she left. You never said the two of you got married though.”

“Because we didn’t.” Joel replied softly. “I asked. Proposed to her when we found out she was pregnant with Sarah, and she said no.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but he wasn’t meeting your gaze anymore. Joel stared down at the coffee mug in his hands. “I loved her. She was my first real love, actually. I knew our situation wasn’t ideal, but… I wanted it to work. I saw a future with her.” Joel ran his thumb back and forth on the edge of his mug’s rim where it reached. He chuckled, “When Sarah was born… Those two weeks? It was⏤ It was good. But, uh, then she left.” Joel shrugged in a way that attempted nonchalance but did not meet the mark. “Her leaving hurt for a lot of reasons. For one, in no way was I prepared to take care of a newborn.”

You set your drink on the coffee table before leaning back. Joel stayed silent, his jaw clenching and unclenching, and you recognized the look of someone getting stuck in their own memories. You spoke up, “What happened then? When did you get married?”

“Celina is…” Joel began. He rubbed his jawline. “I spent a lot of time being furious with her⏤ hating her. Not just for leaving me behind, but for leaving Sarah. Sarah deserved better.” He shook his head. “But she… she came to me, needing help, and I⏤ I couldn’t say no. Not to her. And not because I still had any sort of feelings for her, but because no matter how angry I was at her she gave me Sarah.” A vulnerable softness filled his features and he finally lifted his head to meet your gaze fully. “Without Celina, I wouldn’t have Sarah.”

You could understand that. You knew that his daughters meant absolutely everything to Joel. More so, despite all the shit going on between the two of you right now, despite Joel arguing otherwise, you knew he was a good man. You had a very hard time picturing him saying no to anyone who came to him for help.

“When did she come to you? And why? What problem is solved with marriage?”

“Three years ago. Just about.” Joel mumbled. “It’s… She was sick. Cancer. The only feasible treatment was going to bankrupt her because her insurance refused to cover the cost. Celina came back wanting to see Sarah. Get to know her before she died.” Your eyes widened in surprise at both the news and the confusion that came with trying to connect the dots. “I told her that was up to Sarah⏤ she was old enough to make that decision for herself and I was gonna support her with whatever she chose.”

You nodded slowly, “Okay…”

“Sarah decided she did want to meet her mom. And I…” Joel paused. He set his coffee mug down on the coffee table as well and laced his fingers together. He was fidgeting. Another nervous tick of his. Joel could never seem to keep his hands still when he was caught in his own mind. It was like his hands so desperately wanted to fix what stressed him out⏤ even if it wasn’t a physical problem they could fix. “I⏤ I couldn’t stop thinking… remembering…”

Joel squeezed his eyes shut, and the palpable pain had you shifting closer. It dawned on you. Words clicking in your mind. You set a hand on his forearm and gave it a small squeeze, “Your mom.” Joel had told you, ages ago, that he had lost his own mother to cancer. “You lost her. I remember you telling me.”

“Yes.” Joel unlaced his own fingers so he could settle one hand on top of yours⏤ still resting on his forearm. The tip of his thumb dragged back and forth against the knuckle of your index finger. Tracing the shape of it. “It wasn’t… It wasn’t the exact same, I know that, but… Sarah technically had already lost her once.”

“Joel…”

“I offered to pay. Pay for the treatment in full.” Joel’s thumb stilled to squeeze your hand once. “I’d cover all the costs, but⏤ but Celina refused. Said she didn’t want,” Joel scoffed with a humorless laugh, “Didn’t want to be a ‘charity case’. Said she didn’t come back for my money, or for me to fix the problem, she came back for Sarah.” Joel shook his head. “We argued in circles for God knows how long. We finally settled on this. If we got married, she’d have my insurance instead of her own. My insurance would cover most of the treatments and she’d pay what it didn’t.”

You understood that. It matched up with what you knew about Joel. “How is she? Now?”

“In remission. Since seven months ago, she’s been in remission.” A small smile flickered on his features. “She lives in Waco. Wanted to be closer to Sarah. One of the only reasons I could stomach all of us coming to LA while Sarah stayed in Texas for college. I knew she’d at least have her there in case of emergencies.”

Your face scrunched in question, “Then why… Why are you still married?”

“I don’t have a reason. Not a real one. Not beyond me just being lazy.” Joel said firmly. He held your hand tight, keeping it pinned to his arm, like it was a lifeline. “Up until now, it didn’t matter to me. It made no difference. That’s it. I swear to you, sugar.” The nickname fell out of his mouth like second nature. “And I’m working on changing that already. You can ask Tommy or⏤ or hell I’ll give you Celina’s number or our lawyer’s number. We started the official divorce paperwork the day you and I got back from Vegas. It was the first call I made after dropping you off at your place.”

You did believe him. As Joel held your gaze, all you could see in those soulful eyes was a deep desperation. An ache seeking the comfort that would come with reassurance. “I believe you.” You said softly and his eyes closed in relief. His entire body sagged as the tension seeped out of it. You really did believe him, and of all the ways this could’ve gone wrong technically you supposed this was the best case scenario. However, learning this made you realize what aspect of this bothered you more than most. You slid your hand out from under his. “Why… Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I was… I was going to. After.”

“Why though? Why after?” You shook your head. “Why didn’t you trust me with this?” Joel’s face fell again. “I know we haven’t known one another for long, but…” You bit back your words before you admitted to the naive truth that you felt some sort of connection to him. That being with him was as easy as breathing and you foolishly let yourself get carried away. “I don’t…”

Joel quickly scooted closer, a hand held up in surrender, “Had nothing to do with⏤ with me not… I do trust you. I do.” Joel shook his head. “Me not mentioning this had nothing to do with you. It was me.” His words reminded you of Vegas. This excuse was sounding familiar and the more you heard it the harder it was to believe. He hung his head and winced. “I need to tell you about⏤ about Erina.”

“That’s…” You began. “Is that your sugar baby?

“Yeah.” Joel nodded. “But it was more complicated than that.”

“So, I’m gathering.” You mumbled. The words of frustration left your lips before you could filter them. In this situation, you felt you had every right to be upset and bitter, but the look of pained guilt that filled Joel’s features made every cell in your body vibrate with regret. It felt like you had just kicked a puppy, and those sad, brown eyes were heart wrenching. “Sorry.”

Joel shook his head quickly. “No. Don’t. You don’t need to be sorry. I do.”

“You’re talking to me⏤ answering my questions.” You replied with a small shrug. “The least I can do is not be petty.” You twisted your lips. “So? Tell me about her.”

“She wasn’t my sugar baby to begin with.” Joel started softly. He turned his head to keep his gaze on the mug sitting on the coffee table, and you found the story easier to stomach without those powerful eyes focused on you. “My company got hired for a job. It was a big one, which is why it came across my desk. Some summer project. A finance guy wanted his vacation house completely renovated in Malibu. I decided to take a more hands on position for the entire thing. Stayed on site to work.” It wasn’t a shock to hear. You were plenty aware that Joel spent most of his work time on site if he could. Joel only donned a tie for the board room when Tess wrestled him into it. “The guy who hired us wasn’t there, but his wife was. At least, I thought it was his wife.”

“But it wasn’t.”

Joel gave out a sad chuckle, “No. She wasn’t. Erina was… lively and energetic. She was fun, and I… It had been a long time since I experienced that kind of light hearted fun. Plus, the client, when he did come around, was such an asshole to her and I⏤” Joel sighed. “She left him midway through the project, but we didn’t get involved with one another until after it was over. When it started, it was great. The honeymoon phase was…” His voice trailed off as a small, sad smile crossed his face. You found your stomach churn in jealousy at him talking about this other woman. It was damn near nonsensical, but the emotion rose up regardless. “The issues started a while in. I realized that we saw the relationship differently. I thought… I thought what we had was real, and she only saw me as her new sugar daddy.”

For a while, we just went on. I didn’t think the difference in how we viewed things would matter. Stupid, I know, but… I thought I was happy.” Joel mumbled the last bit. He lifted a hand to rub at his jawline. “As you’ve probably figured out, I’m not⏤ I’m not good at this. Relationships and…” He tensed. “Some people are just better off alone, but I’ve been too hard headed to accept that.”

“Joel.” You interrupted the flow of his story at his claim. You didn’t believe that and you especially refused to believe it about Joel. “That’s not⏤”

“Things were still working until I…” Joel shook his head. “I told her about Celina. Tried to explain the situation to her, but when she told me to get divorced and I couldn’t⏤ that’s when it all started to crumble. I didn’t actually end the relationship until after I found out she was seeing a few other guys.” You opened your mouth the speak, the beginnings of a sentence you didn’t know how to end slipping from your tongue, but Joel suddenly turned in his seat to face you and the look in his eyes silenced any attempt at speech. He hesitantly reached out and let his hand settle on top of yours. When you didn’t pull away, he squeezed his grip tighter. “You and Erina are not the same. It wasn’t until after we stopped seeing one another that I realized how terrible our relationship had been. So please, please, don’t think I’m comparing you to her because I’m not. I know how she reacted is not some⏤ some default and you wouldn’t necessarily react the same, but… but every time I considered telling you about Celina, all I could imagine was you leaving. And I, selfishly, stopped myself from admitting the truth to you because I didn’t want to ruin this the way I ruin everything else.”

You murmured his name. Early on, you recognized Joel had trust issues, but you had never realized it stretched this far. Joel didn’t trust even himself. It broke your heart that he thought so poorly of himself. No matter how upset you were at the man you knew deep down he was a good. His mistake had hurt you, but it hadn’t been born of malice. You saw that now. Fear and self doubt had brought the two of you to this crossroads.

“Joel, that isn’t true.” You said softly. “You don’t ruin everything.”

“The evidence is pretty damning.” Joel chuckled sadly. You opened your mouth to argue, but he shook his head quickly and held out a hand to stop you. “That’s not the point of… I should’ve told you. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. I should’ve told you, been up front about it all, and I’m sorry.” Joel sighed. “I’m sorry, sugar.”

He had answered a number of your questions and with the truth came the relief of knowing. Plus, the answer technically hadn’t been your worst case scenario. God knew your brain was plenty capable of thinking up some nightmare-ish situations. So in comparison, it would be worse. Still, there was an itch that hadn’t quite yet been scratched.

“Why… Why seek out a new sugar baby?” You asked. His experience with Erina had obviously been less than ideal so why try again? You shook your head, “Why me?”

“Those are two very different questions.”

“How do you figure that?”

“I …” Joel began hesitantly. You could see his thoughts jumbling in his mind as he struggled to string one along. Conversations like this were hardly considered Joel’s comfort zone so you did appreciate that he was trying. That went a long way as well. “Erina came back into my life not so long ago.” You felt your stomach drop and your heart clench painfully. The emotional response was so physical that it nearly made you sick. Joel must have noticed because he quickly reached out and settled a hand on your shoulder. “No. Not like that. She means nothing to me. She came to me wanting to get back together, harassing me about it, but I’ve made it crystal clear to her and everyone around us that I have no interest in restarting something with her. Especially now.”

“Okay…”

“The idea was…” Joel winced sheepishly. “The idea was to hire a sugar baby as a way to show her that I was serious. We were done and I was moving on.” It was ridiculous enough that from anyone’s else mouth you wouldn’t have believed them, but they had been said in Joel’s sincerity. “I know how that sounds.”

“Not good. It sounds not good.”

“I know. Everyone told me it was a bad idea. Tess, Sarah, Ellie.” You found it interesting that his daughters knew about their father’s love life to that degree. It spoke to how close they were and his stance on honesty. Joel chuckled. “Actually, the only person who agreed with me on the plan was Tommy, but I suppose that should’ve been a sign to give it up.” Your lips twitched up mildly in amusement. “But, deep down I knew it would hurt Erina, and I… I wanted to be petty.”

You shrugged, “And I’m apart of this… how? To annoy Erina?”

“No.” Joel said firmly, almost roughly. “Absolutely not. Remember the day you bought me that coffee? I said I had been meeting with some other, um, women?” You nodded and let him continue. “By time I made it to the that coffee shop, I had already half decided to give up the idea. It was obviously going poorly. I was literally just looking for someone I wouldn’t mind spending time with and I couldn’t even do that. But you were… God, meeting you felt like a breath of fresh air.” He messily ran a hand through his hair while his other continued to fidget. “You stayed on my mind and when I spotted you again…”

“I…” You tried to find the right words. The ones he would want to hear. It felt odd to give forgiveness for a misunderstanding, but you knew that’s what he was seeking. Validation. “I forgive you.”

The relief on Joel’s face was staggering and when he held a hand out to you, you knew exactly what he was asking for. You closed the space and let him pull you into a hug. His warm, large hands enveloped you as he craddled the back of your head to hold you as closely to him as you could. You wrapped your own arms around him and lazily dragged your thumb up and down where it rested.

You did forgive him for this. That was the truth and you meant it with your whole heart, but this entire experience was eye opening. You had fallen for Joel so dangerously fast. It made you realize that if this had been a different scenario, one of the nightmare-ish ones you imagined, it would’ve destroyed you. With the speed you were moving in, you would’ve hit the ground at a million miles per hour and shattered. You forgave Joel, but you needed to figure out a way to better guard your heart.

“I’m sorry for reaching out to a PI.”

“No. Don’t be.” Joel pulled back and the hand at the back of your head dragged forward to cup the side of your face. He sighed, “You were right. I should’ve handled this better, but I… I do appreciate you saying so.” The two of you sat in a moment of silence and for the first time since you met him that silence felt awkward. Joel must have felt it as well based on the clearing of his throat and fidgeting. “So… Are we— Are we okay?”

You nodded, “I think so.” The tension left Joel’s shoulders and you quickly stood. “I should… I should go.”

“You’re off today though, aren’t you?” Joel stood as well.

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Stay. Please.” Joel motioned back to the kitchen. “Have breakfast. I called Tommy and he’s gonna bring over your stuff.” Your eyes widened in surprise and he shrugged. “Tommy is gonna bring over your friend who has your stuff I should say.”

You hesitated, nervous after this heart to heart, but Joel held out a hand to you. Equally a peace offering and lifeline. You just weren’t sure if it was a lifeline for you or him. You set your hand in his and he gave it a small squeeze. The smile on his face was soft and open. Two words you knew not many people were able to claim as a description with him.

Joel led you back toward the kitchen and when you turned to try and go back for your mug he stopped you. He settled you on one of the bar stools, hands lingering on your hips briefly, before going back to the living room for both your mugs.

“You know, when I pictured you spending the night here this wasn’t quite how I thought it’d go.” Joel chuckled and grabbed a plate. You leaned on the counter and waited since you knew that plate he was making was meant for you. It took a second for his words to dawn on you. Joel pictures you spending the night in his home with him? Your face and neck warmed at the thought. It wasn’t like you hadn’t had those kinds of ideas, but hearing it from him still made your heart flutter. Even with the disaster miscommunication still lingering in your rear view mirror. “Here. Lemme know if you want anything else.” Joel set the plate in front of you and handed you a fork. After making his own plate, he pulled the barstool beside you closer and sat down. He sat sideways to face you and his knee pressed against your stool. “We could, uh, we could have a day in.”

“Hm?” You took a bite of your food.

“We’re both in pajamas and neither of us have work.”

“You don’t have work?” You asked in surprise.

Joel shook his head. “I already called Tess and told her I wasn’t coming in today. Told her I was feeling sick.”

“Did she actually believe you?” You smirked.

“No.” Joel chuckled. “She didn’t. But she also didn’t call me out on my shit, so…”

He gave you a charming smile, obviously trying to lighten the mood, and you found you appreciated it. Things weren't perfect, but for the sake of what had been you were willing to try.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #sugar daddy!joel miller x reader #sugardaddy!joel miller #i forgot what tags i used to use #oh lord #uh #reader insert #joel miller

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peachsukii · 6 months

Text

₊✩‧₊⇢ right person, wrong time?

『 ෆ k.bakugo x fem!reader 』

Bakugo’s loved you since high school. You always pushed him to work hard, never took his shit without giving it back tenfold, and was a pillar of support through some of the toughest times in his life. Even so, he’s convinced himself you’d never feel the same, that he has no shot with you.

Why?

Because you’re quirkless.

You’re part of the 20% without one, and he told himself he can’t get in your way of your life. Bakugo can’t stand the thought of being the reason why you don’t chase after your own dreams. He knows you too well - you’d put your happiness aside to support him the second he asked. You’d put your life on hold if it meant for him to succeed as a pro hero.

But he can’t do that. You’re the one thing he can’t seem to bring himself to be selfish about.

So Bakugo sits idly by, for years, as your best friend. The one you’d do anything for, no matter the time or place. He watches you date shitty guys and picks up the pieces they leave you in. Buys you your favorite foods when you have a bad day, surprises you with “just thinking of you” gifts, and drops whatever he’s doing the second you need him.

He’s attempted dating, desperately tried to get you out of his heart and make room for someone else - he fails each time. Miserably.

So tonight, that all changes.

You’re attending the annual Hero Gala together tonight, just like you have for the last four years. Bakugo always asks you to be his plus one as it keeps people away from him and he gets to spend time with you…rather, gets to see you dressed to the nines and have you on his arm all night long. It’s the one day a year he gets to pretend you’re his.

You’ve recently gotten a huge promotion in your line of work and he’s broken the top 10 of the hero charts - what better time than now to shoot his shot? He’s waited long enough, run through every excuse in the book why not to tell you how he feels.

The night winds down and the two of you get back into his car, sitting in silence for the ride home. That’s not uncommon for you two, but Bakugo’s reading too much into it tonight. It makes his hands tremble on the wheel, white knuckling the pleather from nerves. Once he pulls up to your apartment complex, he turns the car off and gets out to open your door for you.

To his surprise, you invite him in.

“I have a surprise for you!”

Bakugo’s whole body is tense at this point. What could you have for him?

“Here, open it.” You hand him a small box wrapped in orange paper. “It’s not much and a little cheesy, but congratulations on breaking the top 10!”

He opens the package to find a golden bracelet in a box with the inscription “plus ultra, dynamight!” on the underside of it.

“Ya didn’t have to get me shit, but thank you. I love it.”

He hugs you immediately, scooping you into a loving embrace and relishing in the excuse to have skin contact with you.

“I, uh, actually have somethin’ for you, too.” His voice waivers while he fiddles with his jacket pocket. You raise an eyebrow while waiting for him to present…whatever it is he had.

Bakugo pulls out a small box of his own, handing over the velvet jewelry case. You gingerly take it from his palm and can’t help but notice he’s shaking like a leaf.

“Are you okay, Kat? You’re shaking.”

“Just…open it.”

And you do - revealing a beautiful rose gold locket inside. It’s in the shape of a heart, dainty yet big enough to fit a minuscule picture. Before you open it, he stops you by gently touching your hand. He’s trying to hold eye contact with you, but keeps darting between your gaze and the ceiling.

“I’m sorry if this seems outta nowhere, but it’s been eatin’ me alive for years. And if it’s too much, we can forget it ever happened.”

You tilt your head at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?��

Oh. The locket.

Time crawls to a halt as you pry open the locket, peering into the small enclosure to see two things - a picture of the two of you on the left and a small handwritten phrase on the right.

‘I love you. -Kats’

The silence in the apartment is deafening. Bakugo’s vibrating out of his skin while awaiting a semblance of a response to his confession. You’re normally easy to read, but in the moment, he’s struggling to observe how you could be feeling. It’s driving him fucking insane. He starts to feel regret, embarrassment settling in his bones as he bites his lip.

He just ruined everything. The precious friendship you two had - gone. He knew that locket was a stupid idea.

Bakugo’s preparing himself for your rejection. The tears are building and the lump in his throat solidifies. He attempts to keep himself together as he begins to croak out an apology.

“Look, I shoulda—”

“Say it.”

Bewilderment is an understatement as he recoils at your demand. He blinks the stray tears away, all the breath he had being stolen away by your words. He swallows thickly, never thinking he’d get this far in the conversation. He was fully prepared to high tail it outta there, not…stay.

“Wha—”

“Tell me you love me.”

This can’t be real.

Bakugo’s body moves on its own, closing the gap between you two in under the dim light of your entry way. He cradles your jaw, thumbing over the apple of your cheek and studying your eyes as he takes a deep breath. This is the moment he’s been waiting for - the one he’s been yearning over. The opportunity to tell you exactly how he feels, how much you mean to him.

Four words is all he needs.

“I fucking love you.”

You can’t help but laugh, maybe a little too loudly as Bakugo’s cheeks turn strawberry in color.

“It’s about damn time. I love you too.”

His heart pounds, his legs feel like jello, his muscles stiffen. And yet, he powers through it all.

Your lips meet for the first time - the kiss is soft, sweet, careful.

When you part, his vision blurs a bit, overwhelmed by the emotions swelling in his chest. His lips are slightly parted behind heavy breaths, taking in the moment he was so graciously given.

“I didn’t wanna get in your way.”

You laugh. “Then don’t be in my way, come with me.”

God, he was such an idiot. A lovesick fool blinded by his own infatuation to see that his best friend loved him, too.

You hand the locket to Bakugo and spin around while holding up your hair. He tenderly places the chain around your neck and secures the clasp, letting the metal fall to your collarbone.

“I’m all yours, Katsuki.”

You always have been.

#katsuki bakugo #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugou fluff #katsuki bakugou #bakugo x y/n #bakugou x y/n #katsuki x reader #bakugo drabble #bakugo imagine #☆.rei writes

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headspace-hotel · 1 year

Text

so many of us haven't seen it

we don't encounter it, we can't imagine it, we can't get out of the tomb of apathy because we haven't seen the wonders just beyond their line of sight

I talk about this all the time, but it's because I think about it all the time

There are likely thousands of plants native to the area you live in, and chances are you have never even seen most of them, in your entire life.

Not even rare orchids that only bloom at midnight on a blood moon or some shit—regular flowers. Weeds. They have been systematically eliminated from every single place you ever set foot in, and you have to have a special hobby or line of work to ever even rest your eyes upon the flowers that used to bloom for no one on every hill, or in every valley, or beside every stream

There are a few hundred birds that live where I live. I have never seen most of them before. I have never seen a Kentucky Warbler, and I have lived in Kentucky for what...twenty years?

I have never seen a rosy maple moth. When I saw one on the internet, I didn't even think it was real.

I've become a deeply weird person over the past couple years. Tasting even a little bit of the Wonders changes you. I wouldn't have thought blue bees were real, or the fantastically rainbow-colored dogbane beetles.

I have seen the world beyond the wasteland, and that glimpse makes you crazy.

You or I may have never seen a truly mature tree. A fraction of a percent of the old growth forest of the Eastern USA remains. Once there were tulip poplars over 6 feet in diameter and sycamores well over 10 feet in diameter. Only a few remain, in secret locations. Imagine walking through a forest where the tree trunks are over 3-4 feet wide.

The forest where I work is 100 years old. That's a baby forest.

Knowing that, being aware of that, it's maddening.

Central Kentucky has disproportionately few endemic plants. Almost none. Central Kentucky was the first area west of the Appalachians settled by European colonizers. The Bluegrass was once described as having the most peculiar plant life anywhere in the East, but now, there are no species known that are unique to that area.

Colonization destroyed the canebrakes. (Did you know that we had vast forests of bamboo full of carnivorous plants?) The bamboo is barely hanging on. It destroyed the sycamores so enormous you could use the hollow center of one as a stable for animals. It introduced invasive grasses to feed cattle and horses. It destroyed the rich lush topsoil. Most of the ancient oaks were cut down or died when housing developments were built on top of their roots.

What happened to the endemic species, never recorded in books of herbs, never sketched by a European naturalist.

Either gone forever...or hiding in a sinkhole on a backroad somewhere, not even yet discovered.

So much has been lost for eternity. So much still could be lost.

Some days it's hard not to wail and scream. There are herbicides in your drinking water. When you spread honey on toast, you likely also spread neonicotinoid pesticides, which testing has confirmed to be present in something like 45% of honey. In many areas, insects are immersed in the presence of chemicals designed to kill them in every drop of water, every leaf, every square inch of soil.

When games, animations, and illustrations envision the outdoors, they cover the ground with a short, uniform carpet of green, because that is what we see, no matter where we go: turfgrass cut by a lawn mower. Where I live, there are no natural environments that resemble this, remotely. The closest thing we have to turf-forming grass is our wealth of native sedges, most of which are rare or endangered.

I talked to a man who had devoted his life to studying the American bamboo, Arundinaria gigantea, and he had never seen a canebrake larger than 200x500 feet. Canebrakes once covered ten million acres, and now the bamboo exists in short, straggly clumps instead of dense bamboo forests up to 40 feet tall.

I want to cry and scream. The grief will tear me to pieces. I live in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, surrounded by people who can't even grieve, because they have been so completely severed from everything that was lost that they don't even know it was real.

It hurts. It hurts, and we have to live with it. It hurts, and the grief is all-consuming.

There is the agony, and there are the Wonders. Both are true at the same time. It is because nothing around us is standing still; everything in nature is always moving, iterating, becoming. Something is pulling and nudging at our species, urging us to move, to iterate, to become.

So much has been lost. Even more is not lost.

The trees, the bamboo, the sedges, the Kentucky warblers and rosy maple moths.

They are not lost. We are lost.

This is the hard part. The grief is hard, but this is somehow harder for us. We are lost, and it is time to come home.

Not to a physical place, but to a way of living: interconnected, mutualistic, interdependent. Symbiosis. In the forest, no one is separate from anyone else, everyone is linked and dependent on the community. Trees help each other, they support each other, they protect and shelter and feed one another and all living things, and together they are a forest. I don't really consider myself religious, but I have to reserve something in my head for how it felt to realize what Forest was.

When I noticed the little plants popping up in the sidewalk cracks and gravel paths, the tough weeds holding on in the lawns and pavement, something in my brain began to change dramatically and permanently.

They're still here. The trees. Even in the pavement and lawns. The dandelions have come, adapting rapidly, helping the bees hold on. The wildflower seeds are still sprouting in this depleted ground. Waiting for us to recognize them. Life is everywhere. The Forest is everywhere. It felt like they were waiting. We're here. We have not abandoned you. We are resilience, persistence, survival, adaptation. This is not death. This is Chaos. Come home. Come home. Come home.

I saved little plants from the roadside and tended them in plastic cups. I didn't think it would work. I don't know why I tried. I was acting as something bigger than only myself, responding to a call that moves throughout all of nature. But they survived, and growing and tending to my little plants and trees, I—understood.

I don't know if I believe in God, but I believe in Something, whatever it was that seemed to whisper like a secret: Welcome home, Caretaker.

And honestly, truth shone through then from relics of religion I hadn't touched in ages; God put Adam in a garden, not a suburb, a mall, or a Walmart. This is who you are. Not a Consumer, but a Caretaker.

And when the threat of the Flood loomed, God told Noah to start building a fucking boat.

In ecology, the plants we know as "weeds" are pioneer species: the first species to return to an area after a natural disaster or mass extinction. They survive in the harshest conditions, and prepare the land for regeneration. This is who you must become.

Look to the Dandelion—in just a few hundred years on this continent, Dandelion has risen to the highest calling of a Weed: first survive where the others can't, and then help the others survive. If the human species is to survive, you must be a weed species. You must adapt relentlessly, resist eradication, and protect and nurture other life forms by your very nature. You must be tough as nails, and make the world a gentler place through your survival.

Have you heard the saying that grief is love with no place to go?

That's the hard part.

We must grieve, but it is not yet time to grieve. It is time to love.

#plants #native plant gardening #weeds #we are a weed species #gardening #wonders of the world #nature

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kingkatsuki · 1 year

Text

— late

This was completely inspired by a conversation I had with my friend about her kids.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Warnings: girl dad!Bakugou, established relationship, not proof-read as always.

Word Count: 1.1k.

Juggling family as a Pro-Hero in the top 10 is never easy. No matter what you do to ensure your plans go smoothly, crime doesn’t sleep— especially not when it’s your daughters fifth birthday.

“I hate you!” Is the last thing Bakugou hears before his daughters bedroom door is slammed shut, the silence after is deafening as you watch the colour drain from your husbands face.

His chest still heaving from the speed in which he rushed home, dirt and grime stain his skin as he stands dejected in the middle of the living room. Boots that are usually abandoned at the door trudge filth through your home as Bakugou stands statuesque in place.

“Baby,” You hum, reaching around his frame to bring him closer to you as you rest your chin on his chest to stare up at him, “You know she doesn’t mean that—”

“Course she does,” He rasps, “She said she fuckin’ hates me.”

You can tell from the slight lilt to his gruff voice that your big, strong husband is on the verge of tears. Bringing his arm up to rub at his blackened eyes with the ball of his hand, smearing the eyeliner along his cheekbones.

Bakugou was used to being hated, from the public to the media and the Hero Commission. It was usually something he could brush off with ease, laughing off angry emails or poorly written articles. But it was a different kind of hurt when the words had come from his own daughter.

“She’s hurting right now,” You soothe, tightening your grip on him as his Adam’s apple bobs, “She was just excited for you to be at the party, but she understands—”

Bakugou had booked this day off a year in advance, it was always the first thing he looked at on the calendar, even before your birthday. It was his daughters special day, and he was determined for it to be perfect. Fully embracing whatever theme she’d decided on for her celebrations— this year had been a Barbie theme that had left your home embellished in vibrant pink and glitter that would probably stay embedded into your plush carpets until her next birthday.

He’d spent the previous night carefully wrapping a custom Barbie doll in pretty pink paper as you prepared the house for her party. Bakugou had even picked out an entire hero outfit that was an on brand Barbie pink, instead of his usual colours that he was planning on surprising his daughter with.

But even with all these plans in place, and even arranging backup from his dutiful sidekicks at the agency— the life of a Pro-Hero is never easy. And just as Bakugou was preparing to change into his outfit for his daughters party, he was called into work. An emergency that superseded anyone working at his agency today, as the Hero Commission requested his presence in the field.

It’s not the first time it’s happened, and Bakugou knows it won’t be the last. Even a last minute phone call to Deku to take the lead wasn’t enough to save his day, as the Commission ended up calling both heroes to the scene.

Hours later, he was explosive and inconsolable. Telling the authorities to fuck the crime scene reports and statements as he shoved an unwitting reporter out of his face as their camera crashed to the floor, certain his PR team would be in his inbox about that incident first thing tomorrow morning. But he was completely uninterested in humouring any of them today, not when he could’ve been at home with his family.

Coming in through the front door as he finally realised just how late it was when the house was completely empty besides you and his daughter.

“I should’ve been here, she needed me—”

“The city still needs Dynamight,” You murmured, “What was the situation?”

“Bad,” He grumbled, “Shithead derailed a train in the city, had a group of school kids on it. One almost— the look in his eyes when he was fallin’.“

He trailed off, scrunching his nose as he thought back to the scene. You felt his arms wrap around your shoulders as he clung to you, leaning into your warmth as he tried to calm his racing heart.

“But he didn’t, right?”

He shook his head as you smiled, breathing in the scent of smoke and ash from his quirk as soot covered his body.

“Because Dynamight is a hero.”

“But not to my own daughter.”

“You’ll always be her hero, baby.” You soothe as he leans down to bury his face in the curve of your neck, deeply inhaling the scent of you.

“I’m a terrible dad,” His breath tickles your neck as you pull back to frown at him.

“Don’t you dare say that,” You scrunch your nose in irritation, “You’re the best dad, Kats.”

“If I was, I woulda been here for her.” He scoffs.

“You’re out there keeping us safe, keeping other kids safe. Making sure they get to go home to their dads too.” You cradle his face in your palms to press a soft kiss to his chapped lips.

The sound of little feet coming down the stairs breaks him away from you as you turn to see your daughter, still dressed in her full party outfit, standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“Hey, is that my little princess?” Bakugou rasps as she comes towards you both, crouching down to her height and adjusting the pink tiara that sits on top of her head.

“Barbie princess.” She whispers, holding a piece of pink paper out to him as he takes it.

“Barbie princess.” He corrects himself, moving his attention to the words words etched onto the page as he unfolds it.

‘I’m sorry I wouldn’t trade you for any other daddy in the world.’

A smile spreads across your face at the cute sentence as you feel the muscles in Bakugou’s back immediately relax, reaching down to lift your daughter up to hold her to his chest as her small arms immediately circle his neck.

“I’m sorry I missed your party, sweetheart,” He rasps, smoothing her wild hair down.

“I’m sorry too,” She sniffs, “I don’t hate you, daddy.”

Bakugou’s lips curl into a soft smile as he leans forward to press a kiss onto her cheek.

“I love you, princess.” He whispers, nuzzling her cheek with his nose.

“Love you too, daddy.” She smiles.

“But you know you can’t trade me anyway, right?” He frowns, pulling back to meet her gaze, “I’m your daddy and I always will be.”

#bakugou x reader #soft bakugou

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redclercs · 1 year

Text

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

ix. i'm so sick of running as fast as i can

— the one where they painted you out to be bad (so it's okay that you're mad).

warnings: fair warning you're going to be pissed, foul language, this one has more media between text and it's a little long. 2.3k words (+articles and a very long youtube thing!!)

currently playing: it's time to go by taylor swift!

masterlist ✢ next

By Alana Blake

YOU read it here first, friends. #YNCHARLES is still going strong even after the mess y/n found herself in during the Spanish Grand Prix weekend.

Rumor had it that after y/n's declarations where she said 'it was not serious' and 'she was just having fun', the Monegasque heartthrob dumped her immediately. This was fueled by the fact that we didn't see any pictures of them together during such weekend.

But sources have come to the rescue, letting us all know they're not broken up! "They talk every day for hours," our source said, "Both are still trying to keep it fun but more lowkey after everyone found out about the cheating."

RELATED: Victoria Presley's top five beauty hacks.

You would think that after a partner refers to you as a 'toy', dumping them is the best course of action, but apparently that doesn't apply to Mr. Leclerc who has "nothing but good things to say about y/n".

"He's excited to see her in New York before the Canada Grand Prix, they have it all planned out since she has her apartment back." The source added.

One thing is for sure, if we see y/n at the next Grand Prix, that's the big confirmation that they are together, since they blew their Elix cover by forcing them to end the contract.