TAGS: natasha isn’t as slick as she thinks she is, lesbianism if you squint, this is very early into their story, fluff, natasha inner monologue
A/N: tysm chantall for motivating me lmao I’ve been wanting to write for these two
Natasha’s mentally prepared herself for paddock politics. Between mitigating the hectic scheduling- between interviews, preseason shoots, marketing campaigns, and training, she’d been occupied enough to fully process her reality. Tabloids screeched she’d overcome the gender barrier barring women from Formula One, cementing her status as the best female driver of her time. It’d been playfully ironic, media reporting the remarkable success regardless of gender before specifying its extraordinary nature was due to her gender.
Drivers should just drive, her new coworker, Rogers, had stated. If only it were that simple, she inwardly chuckles.
Her PR manager guided her towards the next project on her itinerary, an interview panel featuring her and the one other driver handpicked from the academy.
Chris Drekkerson.
Despite Romanoff’s calculative nature, Mercedes preferred Drekkerson due to her level headed demeanor- the impulsivity of Romanoff had been deemed ‘too disruptive’ for team politics.
Natasha simply understood that the balance of authority remained fragile. It always had been, particularly in motorsports, especially in Formula One. With the overtly technical nature, many hands coexisted in organized harmony. Undermining the authority of engineers and her team principal threatened the fragile balance established in tradition.
Natasha rolls her shoulders back, the Redbull label flexing at her shoulder blades. She’d still done well regardless, others had insisted.
She observes Chris from her periphery. Their hair is bundled into a bun, a few pieces framing their visage, hands fidgeting on their lap. Of course, both of them understood the true purpose of this partnered interview- aside from the obvious reason of marketing towards a female audience, which they already had- placing them side by side proved effective in allowing others to size them both up.
Some mousy intern hands them both mics, signaling the start of the interview soon, media members chattering amongst themselves in the wake of preseason testing.
“We do have reserved questions for the general driver panel, but as you know we wanted an exclusive feature on the female drivers.” The interviewer gestures to both Drekkerson and Romanoff, a quick introduction given before adding,
“What’s something on your bucket list you’ve accomplished?”
“Making it to the official Formula One grid.” Chris readily answers, smile at the ready. Natasha can’t help but nod in agreement-
“And bungee jumping.”
She immediately halts, to the interviewers amusement.
“Not a fan of heights, Romanoff?”
She shakes her head, her grip tightening on the mic,
“Not particularly, not off cliffs. But I do agree, thankful to be here,” she hums, earning her a nod of approval from someone on her media team. Within the corner of her eye, she notes Chris’ minor shift in surprise. She merely ignores the behavior.
“No idea you were such a daredevil,” the interviewer playfully comments regarding Chris’ latter response. They chuckle, forearms resting on their knees.
“You kinda have to be in this sport. 300 kilometers an hour will do that,” they gesture quickly, relaxing back into their chair.
The interviewer changes cards, reading off the next inquiry in her hand.
“What would you two say is crucial for women entering motorsports?”
Natasha leans forward, anticipatory. Questions of substance rarely arrive, her professional excitement evident if one could read her.
“Do it,” she answers, curt and upfront. “Even if it feels impossible, commit to it. Discipline and motivation go hand in hand.” She hums, not missing the momentary awe of her counterpart who readily contemplates before adding,
“And don’t compromise your femininity to seem more capable,” they relax in their seat before adding, “Femininity isn’t unprofessional, just… unprecedented.”
The interview continues with a few lighthearted jokes exchanged between the two of them, though professional as always with articulate responses. It’s practically routine, simply in an upgraded field. More funding, more spectators, and more challenging counterparts.
“I didn’t know you were that active on Instagram,” Chris hums within the hubbub of people packing cameras and miscellaneous filming equipment.
“What do you mean?” Natasha’s eyebrows furrow, shifting imperceptibly to listen. An air of curiosity occasionally pulsates between the two of them, lingering ever since they’d met in Formula Three. It stands akin to a guarded barrier, rarely crossed but open nonetheless. Natasha doubts there’s much less interesting endeavors than herself, yet she humors it with caution.
“I’ll keep in mind- no cliff jumping for you, per my post,” Chris chuckles, flashing a minute smile before she’s interrupted by a media member of her team.
What is her problem?
She inquires, though there’s no time for mental gymnastics when she has more training to endure.
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Evren and solstice use their red string of fate to clothesline people btw just so ya know. Or trip people, they’re not picky. Sometimes solstice has to yank it really hard to stop Evren walking into things.
summary: festivals set off something in skz's brain, jeongin drags chan into a closet, desperate to taste him
pairing: jeongchan my beloveds (jeongin x chan)
wc: 731
warnings: smut, jeongin blows chan, & chan's a sexy beast per usual.
a/n: first post chat. i'm still reeling over govball , here's something i started a while ago and decided to finish on a whim today. Anyway not proofread, hope it's good
Wet. That's just about sums up how Jeongin feels after all of that. Performances always feel like a rush, festivals are a different beast. There's fun in the different rules, different vibes, especially being more west. It's clear that festivals set something off in them all.
Felix just, showing it all off like that is one example. Hyunjin with drenched hair and- that's a whole other story. Binnie and his fucking biceps. And Chan, his roommate. His leader. His- well, he wants him to be his. Or for himself to be his? Words don’t really work as they all are backstage, high fiving, deep breathing. Han and Lee Know obviously glaring at eachother and non stop touching. Felix and Changbin have disappeared together, something he intends to ask about later.
So his feet bring him over to that same spiked hair freak, backing them into some room. He doesn’t know if it's a dressing room or not, just hopes it’s isolated enough as he practically tries not to jump his hyung right there. “Fifteen minutes till rain~”
He knows better, he really knows better, they shouldn't be doing this here where anyone could find them, where there's so many staff members who aren't paid by JYP and therefore have everything to gain by turning them in. But it's quiet, a smaller storage room that seems long abandoned this late into the day. They need to leave soon, the storm is no joke and if they want to get back to the hotel safely they should be on their way.
“I'll give you seven minutes before we need to leave,” Jeongin watches as Chan checks his phone, committing the time to memory and he stepping back towards the wall. “What do you want to do baby bread?” He asks.
Jeongin bites the inside of his cheek. 7 measly minutes, but he understands. He can hear the winds already starting to wind up, and everyone else has already left to shelter, and his mind for a moment drifts to stay outside in all of this rushing home. But he doesn’t have enough time to worry as a mock sound of the clock ticking in his mind brings him back.
It’s not enough time to be a gentleman, to wind them both up like he likes to do, but aren’t they already. So he swiftly drops to his knees, and a firmly grips Chans thighs, which has his brain switch off again for a quick second, groping the thick muscle. He finally snaps out of it and yanks down the layers that are separating him from his meal.
Eyes already glistening over as if he's already fucked out. He leans forward to kitten lick at his cock. His voice raspy as he mumbles, “Fuck my throat, hyung.”
The head of Chan's cock slides so easily between his lips. Jeongin's mouth warm and inviting, it causes Chan to throw his head back and groan. Pushing past his pretty lips to rock himself on the younger's tongue. It's a wonderful sensation, Jeongin makes a note to get on his knees more often for this masterpiece of a man. The position makes it so easy for him to fuck his face. Jeongin gags as his tip hits the back of his throat for the first time and he eagerly hollows out his cheeks to bring Chan pleasure.
Then he grabs Chan's thighs a little harder, as he feels Chan shift. The older pulls back to look down at Jeongin's messy face, cock removed from his throat as his hand wraps around it, pumping quickly up and down the shaft as the head stays held between his lips, cushioned against his tongue. Jeongin's not sure why he won't cum down his throat, but he's still not complaining.
Chan groans in pleasure, refusing to close his eyes because he needs to see how well Jeongin takes what he's given. Most of it coats his tongue but as Chan keeps stroking himself some goes off course, landing over his maknae's nose and cheek and chin. He looks beautiful that way, marked up. He's still panting for a second, keeping Jeongin's mouth open and pliant
Finally, Chan leans down towards him and spits into his open mouth, on his tongue. He pulls his thumb out, dragging Jeongin's own saliva over his cheek so he can close his mouth. “Swallow, baby boy."
So I didn’t get a chance to draw pride stuff for my characters as I’ve been on mandatory bed rest for almost two weeks due to horrible leg burns and not really been able to draw much this month because early onset carpel tunnel is just a blast to deal with. But! I refuse to be deterred from celebrating pride in some way so here’s some CANON queer lore for my characters that will be relevant in the final of the book! (In bullet points of course)
* My character Solstice is nonbinary and is always referred to by completely gender neutral terms, they use they/them pronouns
* the deity of sorts is referred to by it/its pronouns
* solstice/Evren are a completely asexual older married couple (as in sex repulsed asexual) this is very important to me
* All Fae use they/them it/its as well as a variety of neopronouns depending on the fae
* fae and halflings can reproduce completely asexually if they so choose
* my main character (Volkov) is romantically leaning towards other men
* there will be a heavily implied to be lesbian werewolf at some point in the story
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So I’ve been thinking back to research I did on d&d style monsters back when I almost had the chance to play it (sadly the chance was lost and I mourn it daily) and I need the knowledge of the people. Can anyone tell me info on the ‘false hydra’ how it works and everything about it as well as any other creatures from d&d, mythology, or even your own brains that hold some similarities to it? I’ve been having some thoughts about stuff and I need all the help I can get as I refuse to ask ai and google is currently betraying me.
(Probably won’t be overly relevant, I’m just trying to gather ideas)
just realized that i can use stuff from any time period and put it together in the most eldritch and dystopian ways that my heart could ever desire because im writing fiction. this project just got a lot more fun >:)
A/N: i had lover you should’ve come over on loop while writing this. pls send Trigun reqs into my ask box. bonus points if it’s livio. sorry this is so short and I hope I wrote the dynamic well and not too one sided T<T comment if u wanna be on a taglist
-you’re not theirs to begin with. when you both meet, you’re a friend of Nico’s- someone fleeting, far braver than them and out of their social league
-when they’d first mentioned the concept, nico found it ridiculous-“my friends are yours- you know that? they won’t bite. except meryl.”
-you’re in their general chem lab, goggles secured a tad too tightly, hands hovering over the beakers eagerly. they’re pretty sure your lab partner was an acquaintance, but you converse so easily.
-when you hear from nico that liv got sick, you offer to text your notes. that’s the first time you get their number, per nico’s referral of course
-the two of you had communicated maybe a time or two beforehand, but among your other friends, they imagined it as a menial task- something minute in your social calendar
-“sorry if my handwriting was messy,” you chuckle, gesturing to the seat beside them, “can i sit here? I can help you decipher anything if you need help.”
-they nod, of course they do- it’s you. their entire body is taut, and while they don’t find chem particularly intriguing, you can’t help but notice their rudimentary but neat diagrams. you comment on it once, and they’re practically buzzing with joy the entire day
-you both make a habit of sitting together in class. then you decide to study for the midterm together, hunkering down together in the library
-they memorize your coffee order- your usual and the one you want when it’ll be a long night. always iced.
-they finally start to assimilate into the friend group more with both you and nico insisting. you meet for lunch in the dining hall, you hangout with the group in nico’s dorm
-you text them one on one, especially when the group is present
if it gets too overwhelming, lmk
we can head somewhere else- i think they’re showing movies in my hall’s common area
-it’s late one night; you don’t register the time when you send liv a reel on your fyp as you’re doomscrolling
L: why r u awake??
-your brows furrow as you type a reply
why are U awake
hypocrite over here
L: my roommate put uh
L: sock on the door. held hostage in common area rn
eugh. sounds fun
L: yeah, having a blast
L: how are you?
honestly
at a party
and i got ditched by my date
L: oh
LMAO yeah but wtv
i hope ur roommate lets u back in soon
L: where are you?
zazie’s
why?
-livio’s never been the brave one. not like nico, who could look death in the eye and spit in its teeth. but they’d be brave for you- because what fool would abandon you?
-so when they book it across campus, frantically looking for you in a crowded room, it’s because you give them courage. you didn’t remove a coward’s fear- merely diminished it. you could peel back all the layers of livio, and they would let you. they would allow you to witness them in their rawest form- for you had patience when they’d struggle to articulate, understanding when they became overwhelmed, and excitement over their accomplishments. and they would die to return the favor.
