#i can't believe i actually finished a series | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pantoneyoongi · 2 years ago

Text

03. the roommate

title ; find room for me cast ; yoongi x you, ft bts, got7 word count ; 4.1k tags ; roommate!au, friends to lovers, it’s finally here!!, this is completely unedited i’m so sorry lol, just a whole lotta fluff tbh

description ; falling in love with your roommate wasn’t part of the fine print when you signed your lease.

masterlist | part one | part two

Every date you go on shifts a different feeling into Yoongi’s chest.

Look - Yoongi’s not great with feelings. He’s not good at dealing with them, not good at facing them, and not altogether that good at naming them, either. He just kinda does whatever seems right and usually things just sort of sort themselves out eventually.

But you’ve been going on dates at least once a week for coming up on two months now, and he’s starting to question the breath he always lets out whenever you come home and shake your head again, telling him it didn’t really go well. It’s probably not a good sign that he seems to like the fact that you can’t succeed on your dates, right?

Not that he really understands why. For a number of things, really. But there’s a limited set of mental questions he’s willing to address, and why he prefers your dates ending in failures isn’t high up on the list.

What he is willing to think about is why your dates fall through in the first place. Who wouldn’t like you? Why wouldn’t they, when you have that adorable laugh and pretty eyes that crinkle in the corners whenever you smile? Don’t they think it’s fascinating that you jump out of your skin at horror movies but they’re still your favorite genre to watch? Isn’t it utterly enchanting to watch you get entirely immersed in any story you tell, eyes sparkling so brightly that Yoongi can’t even look you in the face, but he’d listen to you for hours on end? Who in their right mind is missing out on charming their way into your heart?

He counts himself lucky that nobody has, yet.

He’s just not sure why.

It’s Taehyung’s turn to figure out dinner for your Friday night hang-outs. Normally he gets take-out, but this week he decided he wanted to give cooking a try, which means Yoongi is in the kitchen making sure he doesn’t light anything on fire that isn’t supposed to be on fire.

“Dude,” Taehyung complains, nudging Yoongi. “Are you helping me or are you just standing there?”

Yoongi shakes out of it. He can’t seem to take his eyes off you today, and he doesn’t know what it is that’s making him like this. You just - you look so pretty, even that unamused look you throw at Namjoon whenever he says something lame has Yoongi forgetting what he’s supposed to be doing. When your eyes glance back to him, he quickly averts his gaze, grunting back to Taehyung and pretending to be invested in preparing the vegetables. He’s slicing the mushrooms when he gets distracted by your twinkling laughter again, eyes darting back up to look at you.

A flash of - god, he really needs to learn how to name his emotions. But it’s an unpleasant feeling, something twisting in his chest uncomfortably at the sight of you beaming at Jungkook, playfully invading his space. “Should I just date Kookie?” your voice is in his head, paired with your pensive expression. At the time, he was pretty sure you were joking. But friends become more all the time, don’t they?

“If you’re just gonna stand there staring at Y/N, you may as well swap with Jungkook,” Taehyung nudges him, and for a brief second Yoongi actually considers it. His brain does the quick calculations - you minus Jungkook, add Yoongi… What does he have to do to divide Namjoon out of the picture?

“I’m not - staring.” Yoongi’s choppy sentence is incredibly unconvincing and Taehyung just arches a brow at him. Yoongi stares flatly back. A better man might own up to it but Yoongi is more a stubborn man than anything else.

Taehyung rolls his eyes. He looks like he wants to say something but just heaves a sigh instead, waving him off. “I’m gonna say ‘I told you so’ when you idiots figure it out,” he shuffles off to continue preparing his food. Yoongi frowns.

“Figure what out?”

Silence.

“Figure - wait, Taehyung - figure what -”

“Chop chop, hyung!”

He hates this.

The one thing Yoongi will say he’s newly discovered about you in the process of watching you go on date after date is that you have a much more expansive closet than he thought you did.

It’s giving him a headache, having to force smiles on his face and asking you to do a spin for him every time, so he can compliment you sincerely, just to watch you slip out the door again. Something constricts in his chest every time, seeing you smile softly back whenever he tells you how pretty you look. Your eyes always shy away from his, abashed, giving him this fluttering feeling that drives him nuts when the door closes behind you. His heart pounds in his chest and he always has to inhale deeply as soon as you’re gone, taking back the air that he’d lost holding his breath whenever he looks at you.

The good news is you’re staying in tonight, back in your usual pajamas with the little cats patterned on them, shuffling about the kitchen. Yoongi watches you from the couch, as you go from the cabinet to the fridge and back to the cabinet, collecting what you need to make hot chocolate. Your hair is still wet from a shower, a towel draped over your shoulders to keep the water from seeping into your clothes. You’re kind of glowing, actually, or maybe Yoongi is actually losing his mind.

When you turn around, he rapidly adjusts his vision back to the TV, burying himself deeper into the pink snuggie that is offensively comfortable. It’s literally just a blanket with a hood. And yet. Yoongi can’t stop curling himself into it.

You make your way into the living room, setting down a cup of hot chocolate for him on the table. He blinks at you in surprise, not having expected you to make one for him, too, and you smile at him, making his breath catch. It’s been getting harder and harder to look away from you these days. But it’d be weird if you caught him staring, so he diverts his eyes almost immediately, glancing back at the cocoa.

“Any requests for tonight’s movie?” you ask as you settle onto the couch, grabbing the remote off the table. You lean against the opposite arm of the couch instead of against him, and Yoongi wonders when he got used to feeling the warmth of you beside him and when you stopped doing that.

He shrugs, leaning forward to grab the cup of hot chocolate you’d made for him, just to preoccupy himself. “Anything goes.”

Your eyes glint. “Even if it’s scary?”

His nose scrunches and he sips his drink. “Do you never get tired of being scared shitless?”

“I never get tired of you getting scared shitless.”

“I have never been scared in my life.”

You giggle. “The Conjuring it is.”

Ah. Yoongi understands now why he likes the snuggie so much. It has a hood that he can shove as far down as it can go so as to avoid nightmares for the next three days from watching the insane shit you call an enjoyable movie.

True to your word, you flip to The Conjuring, tossing the remote to inevitably get lost somewhere on the couch. As the movie plays, the two of you jump (and shriek a little) and somehow you’re back at Yoongi’s side, fingers clutching at the snuggie and face buried into it, as close as you can get to him. You may as well be in his lap, the way you’re holding onto him, and Yoongi’s heart is suddenly racing for reasons unrelated to the movie.

He swallows hard, completely distracted. Whatever’s happening on the screen is not even remotely close to being processed in his brain, largely because every single functioning brain cell he has has decidedly thrown itself out the window.

What is wrong with him? His face feels hot and he’s a bit frozen in place, really, and -

He feels your arms slide around his waist, something you’ve never done before. Most of the time you cling to his arm, wrapped tight around his bicep like a koala. But your hands are now curled firm around his side, gripping tight enough to let him know you’re still terrified by the movie you chose.

Slowly, like if he moves too fast this will all dissipate into thin air, he turns to look at you. You’re no longer looking at the screen, face buried into his chest, so he really only sees the top of your head. He’s hyper-aware of every part of you latched onto him, legs thrown over his thighs somehow at some point in the night, and, very hesitantly, his arms shift to hold you.

You still. Now both of you are hyper-aware of the position you’re in, and neither of you are paying attention to the movie anymore. But neither of you move, either, Yoongi because he’s pretty sure there’s no way he can play this off any way but awkwardly if he gets up right now, and you because you’re not entirely sure this is real and happening and it’s impressive how quickly Yoongi can make you forget any date you’ve ever been on with a touch as gentle as the one he has on you right now.

But you have to move, eventually. Eventually, the movie will end, and you won’t have any excuse to stay here anymore. Eventually, you’ll have to go to bed.

There’s any number of reasons you could run through to get up and out of his arms, but none of them are stronger than the desire to stay here, where he’s warm and comfortable and safe. Yoongi’s simply given up on any form of critical thinking, because whatever’s happening might not make sense but it definitely feels nice despite his heart threatening to jump straight out of his chest.

So you both stay. Silent, pretending like you’re still watching the movie even though neither of you jump at the scary parts. You stay so long you somehow both fall asleep, with your head against his chest, and Yoongi curled around you.

“You’re overthinking.”

“I’m overthinking,” you agree, staring blankly at the wall right past Namjoon’s head. “But I’m valid.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Can I ask what you’re overthinking?”

“Oh my god,” you crumble instantly, burying your face into your palms, distressed. “Oh my god. Oh my god, Namjoon.”

“That’s very nice,” he says placatingly. “But I’m afraid that tells me literally nothing, Y/N.”

You peer at him from between your fingers. “Namjoon,” you say, heat already creeping up your cheeks at the thought. “I sort of… We sort of…”

He leans forward. “Sort of…?”

You groan, squeezing your eyes shut again and dragging your hands through your hair. His jaw drops.

“Did you sleep with him?”

“No!” you hiss, palms slapping down onto the table. Then you frown. “I mean, yes, but not that kind of sleeping!”

Namjoon squints at you. “Oh. Then what are you overthinking?”

“Namjoon. I fell asleep, like, practically on top of him.”

His brows furrow, confused. “Don’t you two do that all the time?”

You throw him an odd look.

“What? Namjoon, no I do not regularly fall asleep on top of our good friend Min Yoongi!” You emphasize the friend part, in case Namjoon decides he wants to make that particular vital piece of information irrelevant in this conversation.

He waves a hand. “Whatever. But doesn’t he, like, regularly carry you to bed?”

Namjoon’s not wrong. Yoongi does often carry you to your bed when you’ve fallen asleep on the couch. He never brings it up in conversation, and neither do you, but it’s the only reasonable explanation you have after the several instances when the last thing you recall is the TV rather than crawling into bed. You tried to thank him for it once and Yoongi had just shrugged then shuffled away from you without meeting your eyes, so you never brought it up again.

You make a vague noise at Namjoon. “It’s not the same thing.”

“It’s the natural progression,” Namjoon concludes. He nods thoughtfully. “Good. Nice progress.”

You stare at him. “What?”

He looks back at you like he’s startled you’re still in front of him. He smiles, ever so helpfully, and gives you utterly nothing in return.

You sigh.

You’ve been slacking. That’s what this is.

It’s the only explanation you can use to justify why you’ve let yourself keep slipping around Yoongi, succumbing to the warmth of him, kind eyes, gentle smiles. Falling asleep in his lap, in his arms, is a wake-up call. Christ, you’re never gonna get over him like this.

You think it startles Yoongi a little bit because he always looks a little surprised when you say you’re going out for the night. The rate at which you go on dates has increased aggressively now, a desperate bid to find anyone - anyone - that’ll keep you from jeopardizing your friendship with Yoongi.

You try. You really try. You try not to nitpick and find stupid reasons why you shouldn’t see someone for a second date. Sometimes, you even go on a second date anyway, because hey, maybe the second time around, your date will be that much more tolerable.

They never are. None of them send sparks through your system. Some of them are just downright poor dates, but even the ones who are nice, the ones who are trying just as hard as you - you just keep trying to find Yoongi in them and failing.

Matters are made worse when Yoongi for no discernible reason decides to turn up his charm ten thousand notches. You can’t tell if it’s because the more dates you go on, the more you notice how endearing Yoongi is to you, or if Yoongi is just getting bored around the apartment without you in it. You always come home to a plate left to the side for you (“in case you didn’t get to eat a lot,”), or your favorite drink left in the refrigerator for you that he would’ve had to explicitly go out and buy from the store that’s a whole thirty minute train ride out because the one near you doesn’t stock it, or, this time, a little origami crane perched on the breakfast bar near your front door.

“His name is Minnie,” Yoongi says, peering at you from the couch. You pick up Minnie. “Jimin made me name him that.”

“You made it?” you ask, playing with the little wings. It’s made from a classic yellow post-it note, probably from his job. You’d gone to your date straight after work, so you haven’t seen Yoongi since this morning.

“Yeah,” Yoongi says, then pauses. “Well. Jimin taught me how while he was avoiding doing his job again.”

“That explains the name,” you mutter, setting Minnie back on the counter, so you can shrug your coat off and toss it over a chair.

You usually try to get changed as soon as you’re home, but after today’s lackluster date, you just want to sink into the couch and maybe meld into it until you’re one with the couch. The defeat is so deep in your bones, and seeing Yoongi’s adorably mussed hair and cute little crane makes you wonder if you might be better off accepting that you’re never getting over him, a thousand dates be damned.

“Bad date again?” Yoongi shifts in his spot on the couch. He’s slightly angled, shoulders dipping down towards you as he stares ahead at the TV with you. You draw out of your thoughts for a minute to squint at the screen.

“Are you watching Coco?”

Yoongi blinks. “Maybe.”

You try to hide a smile. He huffs.

“There’s nothing wrong with Coco, Y/N.”

You make a vague noise, shrugging your shoulders to tease him. “I didn’t say there was anything wrong with Coco, Yoongi. It’s a lovely movie.”

“It is a lovely movie.”

He’s pouty and you can see it in the corner of your eyes. You slink just the slightest bit closer, shoulders just shy of touching. “If this is what you want to watch on movie night Yoongi, you just gotta say so.”

He crosses his arms, petulant. “I can handle a scary movie.”

Your eyes glitter with amusement when you look at him. “That doesn’t mean we can’t watch Coco sometimes.”

His eyes slide over to you. “But you like scary movies,” he says simply, so plainly, like it’s a given that he should let you have your way whenever you want, even over something as unimportant as what to watch on movie night. You’re so taken aback that your smile slips for just a moment, before you jerk your gaze away from him, facing the TV again.

You both let the movie fill the space for a minute, sitting in silence save for Miguel running around on screen. Then Yoongi bounces his leg twice, elbow nudging lightly into your side. “How was your date?”

You hate that he always asks. Every time, without fail. Sometimes even without words, but regardless, he asks. You know it’s what makes him such a good friend - always listening to you talk about your day, the things going on in your life, even the most mundane of activities that you tell him about, he listens attentively, wanting to know anything you’ll offer up to him.

But every failed date leaves you with shame sinking into your chest, your feelings for Yoongi rooting deeper and deeper, reminding you that maybe you’re never going to let him go.

You let out a dramatic sigh, tilting your head back on the couch and letting all your limbs go slack. “At this point, I’m just gonna ask Namjoon to take me on a date. He’s mostly nice and filthy rich. At least maybe I can con him into paying for another meal for me.”

You expect Yoongi to make some joke about Namjoon always getting conned out of his money, but instead he’s quiet. You stiffen, teeth gnawing on your lower lip, slowly, hesitantly glancing over at him, wondering why he won’t say anything. You release your lip to make another remark playing it off, to fill the space, but then Yoongi is looking intently at you, suddenly shifted and leaning close to you, one arm behind you on the couch and the other next to your knee, to keep balance as he draws close to you.

“What about me?”

You blink, taken aback. “What?”

Yoongi’s tired of you going out on shitty dates, tired of you leaving him home alone while you try and entertain somebody else out there who clearly doesn’t even remotely come close to entertaining you. He hates watching you leave out the door - hates that sometimes you don’t even leave out the door, because you go straight from work. He misses the time spent in between, picking you up from work and walking home with you, having dinner with you, the way you laugh every time he complains about Jimin and Jimin’s anti-work ethic. He misses your stories about Hoseok during your coffee breaks or the pictures you secretly show Yoongi that Jungkook only sends to you because he thinks Namjoon will nag him in the group chat. He hates the jealousy - because that’s precisely what it is - that grips at him whenever he sees you get too close to someone who isn’t him.

“I’ll take you on a date,” the words are out of his mouth before its even properly registered in his head, but Yoongi thinks maybe that’s what he’s been trying to say for months now, with every meal shared and every nudge on the subway in the mornings and jacket offered in the cold and dish washed when you’re tired and movie watched together late into the night.

“I’ll show you what a good date looks like,” he repeats, and you stare blankly at him, unable to tell if he’s joking but he just leans closer, lips quirking in the corner, hesitant but earnest. There’s not an ounce of humor in his eyes, just a little bit of hope as he waits for your answer.

You splutter a little, brain cells clinking together awkwardly in an attempt to put together the pieces Yoongi is laying out in front of you. “Really?” you ask, a little embarrassingly breathless from how close he is to you right now. You try to give him an out, “The bar’s pretty high.”

He tilts his head, serious as ever, keeping his eyes concentrated on you. It makes you dizzy. “I’m pretty confident.”

You duck your head, trying to hide a smile. Your heart is racing in your chest. “You should be,” you mumble. Then, shyer, “You’re the one who set the bar in the first place.”

His eyebrows shoot up, and you raise your eyes to meet his again. “But if you’re gonna offer to take me on a date, can I request one thing?”

“Anything.”

“Can you say it first?”

He huffs out a laugh, cheeks warming. “Say what? That I like you, and I think I’ve probably liked you for awhile now?” His fingers twitch like he wants to shift them elsewhere, maybe rest them on you instead of on the safety of the couch, but even with his fingers a breath away from your knee and your back, you can still feel the electricity sparking. “Or should I just say, stop asking our other friends to take you on a date and just go on one with me, instead?”

That pulls a laugh out of you, which makes his eyes light up, the way they always do when he makes you laugh. You always thought Yoongi just secretly liked to entertain people, but the way he looks at you now, you wonder if maybe he just likes to entertain you.

With your heart fluttering, you try for coy, leaning towards him with a tilt of your head. “Mm. Not quite what I wanted,” you say playfully, even if it’s exactly what you wanted to hear, Yoongi easily wiping away any of your fears that he’s maybe just ‘being a good friend’ or any other ridiculous excuse you can come up with. You grab the pink snuggie that’s off to the side of the couch and tug it over your lap, grin widening when you see his gaze narrow in on it.

“Admit it,” you tease. “You like my snuggie.”

He snorts, head ducking, his hair flopping over his eyes. He glances back up, one eyebrow arched. “I like you.”

His insistence sets off the butterflies in your stomach all over again, but you refuse to back down, not when you so enjoy when Yoongi’s like this, the kind of soft and playful that Yoongi only gets around you. You bite your lip and press the pink fluff towards him. “And my snuggie?”

He bites his cheek, trying to fight a smile. With a roll of his eyes, he says, “...and your snuggie.”

You grin, shrieking slightly when he tackles you, snuggie and all, down onto the couch. He gets his arms wrapped around you, face buried into your neck, and you can feel him smiling against you, both hearts pounding hard enough that you’re not sure if it’s yours or his that’s going so fast. Eventually you end up wound around him, limbs tangled, Yoongi’s face close in a way you didn’t think you’d ever get to see unless by accident.

“I do really like you,” he says quietly, sincere. “I’m… you know. Want to be the only person to take you on dates.”

You smile, fingers curling into his shirt, fiddling with the fabric. Your cheeks feel hot, probably just as pink as his are now. You can’t quite meet his eyes, shy and happy, when you confess, “I really like you too.”

Face buried in his chest, you feel every part of you light up with Yoongi’s warmth, the steady comfort he’s always brought you, consistent, reliable, Yoongi.

There’s no one else who can compare.

bonus

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you say dryly, watching Jungkook pout as he drops twenty bucks into Namjoon’s hands. “Joonie.”

He shrugs, waving the twenty in the air. “I had to get my money back somehow. And you two were so obvious.”

“When?” Jungkook throws his hands out. “How did I miss this?”

“Taehyung didn’t tell you?” you glance towards Jungkook’s roommate. “That’s how Namjoon found out.”

Jungkook looks devastated by the betrayal, tackling Taehyung and rolling around on Namjoon’s floor, narrowly avoiding Yoongi’s spot sprawled on the ground, half-asleep. Yoongi smacks an arm against either Taehyung or Jungkook (it’s hard to tell while they’re squabbling) and the two roll in another direction to fight.

“So does he know about why you downloaded the apps in the first place?” Namjoon questions, as he pockets the $20.

You still, glancing at him. “Not yet…”

Namjoon grins. “Hey, Yoongi-”

“Namjoon, I swear to god-”

#yoongi x you #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi x yn #yoongi #fluff #series: frfm #i can't believe i actually finished it #i hope yall like it tho #it's absolutely unedited so if this is garbage im sorry LOL

63 notes · View notes

thatonecrookedsmile · 2 years ago

Text

You know,i’m something of a “Sonic fan” myself

4 notes · View notes

eepynagi · 5 months ago

Text

i'd rewatch the bear if it was about everyone but carmy i hate that mf so much it's unreal

#also i can't believe there's actual people out there who ship carmen with syd ???#syd is a lesbian!!!!!#/ i finished season 3 like 5 minutes ago and i already want to watch this show all over again #i love it so much!! or maybe it's just because i havent watched a tv series in ages

0 notes

dunmesh · 7 months ago

Text

okay i don't have anything smart to add i just genuinely love that these seemingly trivial jokes are actually an important part of his character. we see it throughout the entire manga, how he pushes aside his own frustration and discomfort to accommodate everyone else's and avoid needless confrontation- another example off the top of my head would be the barometz chapter in which he slowly gets frustrated with izutsumi but still tries his best to talk some sense into her calmly and soundly.

and in contrast, there are very few times he expresses his anger and hurt towards others, and it usually takes a lot for him to finally lose his patience and control.

i mean, even with kabru he tried to be polite despite the circumstances until the guy said the one thing that triggers an immense sense of shame, hurt and rage in laios. and you know, the manga does say it quite clearly early on. when we are introduced to namari and then to shuro, laios acts all friendly and shows his respect and trust in them despite how things ended between them, and everyone else gets frustrated with him for acting so strange- why are you the one who tries so hard to pacify the rest when you should be the angriest?

and they don't understand him. they don't know him well enough to be able to understand, but we as readers get to see during the manga that they aren't wrong to question him- he does, in fact, feel all those ugly emotions. and it's when the winged lion finally confronts him that we see to what extent these feelings he buried so deep go, and suddenly all those funny little moments where he sometimes pretends to be mr nice guy speak volumes about his character. honestly, ryoko kui is a master at using jokes in order to define important character traits and this one doesn't fail to amaze me.

and laios's hatred and rage and deep scars he can't get over aren't shown explicitly during most of these moments i mentioned before, but now you realize there are 26 years of emotional baggage to all of them and they sting. he is angry but he can't say shit, what difference would it make? it won't make his friends choose him instead of themselves when he needed them most, and it won't help his party get any farther. of course, this logic doesn't apply to them- they are absolutely allowed to get angry and it's fine to get mad at him, he can take that.

so after finishing the series it's so clear that he tries his best to avoid clashing with others not just due to the current circumstances and him needing to be a reliable leader but also because he knows that people don't even like him when he tries to show his good sides and hide all the rest, so who the hell would tolerate his rage and despair? who would stay after realizing that he is so deeply flawed he doesn't even like his own being?

but he does get mad. he can't help it, and sometimes it gets out of control and now everyone knows. and it's funny, isn't it? that most of those moments ended up bringing him closer to others. shuro admitting he is envy of him and actually becoming the friend laios thought he was all along, fighting for his sake and waiting for him to come back- believing in him even after he turned into a monster and searching for him the way he couldn't bring himself to do for falin when he learned of what became of her- or kabru being pushed to just let it all out because he couldn't bluff his way out of this one and get to laios any other way, so now they are even. they are both horribly honest with each other and they both choose to stay. a weird way of getting to know each other, but it is what it is.

it's simply... the more laios let himself just be, the deeper his relationships grew. and there's intimacy in being your ugly, weak and furious self around someone and them not leaving you. feeling safe enough to let it be known you are hurt and angry. and he knows that now, too.

#he still has a lot of growth to do but at least he has people he can grow with 😭#dungeon meshi #laios touden

4K notes · View notes

maybankiara · 1 year ago

Text

me casually hitting 80k on phone swap and breaking my current record of the longest piece of my writing on a random friday night

#previous record was 77k #it was forever unfinished as well but phone swap has got 17 chapters to go #i am actually so excited to do this #it will also be finished writing by the end of october and hopefully edited as well but not promising that one #there's 40 chapters that will be needing to be published so i think we're good for content for a while lol #the slow burn is burning #i really can't believe this fic has been 3 years in the making on and off like i actually stuck with something for three years #that seems like an insane thought #and now i want to finish it so i can focus on editing my novel for nanowrimo #running off of the joy of having finished phone swap (hopefully)#the fact that we're almost there...is unbelievable #i am genuinely so proud of myself #d.tag #d.writes #phone swap series

1 note · View note

obsessedwhyyes · 3 months ago

Text

A Sound Hypothesis

Part 1 of The Scientific Method series.

Summary: Inexperienced in the ways of love, you often find yourself labelled an overthinker. But then again, you are a scientist. When your incredibly beautiful travelling companion proposes a night you'll never forget, suddenly you're left wondering, are you really ready for this? Ever the scientist, you propose an experiment, and get more than you bargained for.

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4762 Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader Content: Act 1, smut with plot, inexperienced nerd reader, making out, oral sex (giving and receiving), hand job, cock worship, blowjob and handjob instruction (ie. Astarion teaches you how to pleasure him).

A/N: Can't believe this got to nearly 5k words, good lord. Actual smut comes in half way through, but it's still rather spicy before then. Also, writing handjobs is hard.

The events of the night prior felt like a dream, yet you remembered each moment vividly.

“I’m beginning to like the whole package, honestly,” he had purred, “and you clearly like me too, so I was thinking…”

You looked into his eyes as he gazed confidently, hungrily into yours. There was only him in this moment. Well, him and the quickened pulse of your heart pounding in your ears. You were certain he could hear it.

“We could take an evening to ourselves. Get to know each other a little more intimately.”

But you were struck with a hit of nerves then. You had lived a sheltered life before your abduction. A wizard and a scholar, your pursuits had been in the sciences and that of perfecting your craft, rather than in stolen moments of lust with beautiful strangers. Not to say you hadn’t experienced a few stolen kisses, however. But to give oneself entirely to another - that was a very different, much more intimidating affair. Yet there was no denying the spark that flickered between the two of you as you spent your days and evenings together, and that spark ignited a growing ache within you that lingered each night you retreated to your bedroll.

“I want to, Astarion. Gods, I really want to, but I’m…”

You hesitated and tore your eyes from him; fiddled with your fingers for a moment.

“You’ve never done this before,” he finished, causing you to look up suddenly from your busying hands.

“I had my suspicions. I’d have already bedded you twice over otherwise.”

You could only laugh, not only at the sheer audacity of his remark, but because of course he knew. Gods, he could probably smell the inexperience on you from a mile away.

“It’s your decision, of course. Should you wish to keep things light between us, we’ll end our evenings together as friends. If you decide you want a little more, however–”

He stepped closer to you - close enough to feel his cool breath on your skin and smell the freshness of his cologne.

“I’ll give you a night you’ll never forget.”

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his hand lingering delicately where your neck meets the line of your jaw. He was playing you like a fiddle, and you knew it. But gods, if his tune wasn’t a siren’s song in the night. You wanted nothing more than to dance to it.

And then he kissed you.

Gods, the way he kissed you.

There was need, yes; a hunger not unknown to you even in your limited experience. But it was a hunger wrapped in a velvet blanket of familiarity, as though he had known your lips as long as his own. He was certainly skilled, there was no denying that.

The chill of the night air felt like a splash of cold water to your senses once his lips left yours, and you found yourself mourning the loss of his touch.

“Think about it,” he had said that night, before retreating back to his tent.

–

And here you are, wrapped in your bedroll, thinking about it. Ceaselessly.

About his voice, laced with the sweetest honey, speaking promises of nights wanton and dripping with ecstasy. About his smile, teasing and rakish, and the feel of his lips against yours which you missed like home.

You think about the times you let him feed from you; the gentle way he held you, one hand cradling your head. The soft, pleasured noises that would rumble from his chest as he grazed over the soft flesh of your throat - and sunk his teeth into it. Then, greedy, he would begin to pull you close, your chest flush against his own. Every time he fed, it was as though the gates holding back the flood of every primal vampiric instinct within him were unleashed at the taste of you; the ambrosia that is your life essence which you willingly gift to him. And every time he fed, before you reached the point of no return, you would break him out of his trance - a simple series of taps on his shoulder - and he would release you from his predatorial embrace.

It was in those moments, you would see the look in his eyes: ravenous, pupils blown, boring down into you as you lay there beneath him, vulnerable. Your gazes would linger and gods, how you imagined what it would feel like to be entangled with him; for him to take his pleasure from you.

No, you tell yourself. This has been going so fast. Your time together has been so short in the grand scheme of things yet, with the threat of ceremorphosis looming over you, your time on this mortal plane may be fleeting. One might argue that now is surely the time to experience that which you have not… isn’t it?

But what if this isn’t what you actually want and this aching need within you is simply a manifestation of the stress your increasingly bizarre situation has brought you? It is not unknown for one to develop bouts of hypersexuality in times of stress, or so you have read in books detailing such occurrences.

Suddenly, an idea presents itself. A scientist such as yourself requires a chance to gather all available evidence before coming to a conclusion. A little experimentation, perhaps. Then, you’ll know for certain if your attraction runs deeper than you give your body credit for. Your honed mind will not be governed by a set of primitive bodily urges - you’re better than that. You won’t allow it.

For now, sleep beckons. Tomorrow, you shall put your idea into practice.

–

The next day passes as swiftly as you had hoped. You’re eager to welcome the night. You and your companions had seemingly settled into a predictable routine when it came to your evening endeavours: your fellow wizard and friendly rival, Gale, would slave over the cook pot with the limited items you had procured over your journey, while the Blade of Frontiers himself regaled your group with stories of his adventures, punctuated with commentary from your remaining companions, ranging from crude to complimentary. Food would be eaten and domestic duties fulfilled, after which, everyone would begin their journeys to their bedrolls. Well, everyone bar you and Astarion. As the resident elves, you require far less rest than that of your travelling companions. It was in these moments, where the camp lay dormant and the two of you sit against a fallen log by the campfire, that you had developed something resembling a rapport with Astarion. You have become rather fond of your night time talks.

Tonight, however, you have plans beyond repartee.

You feel emboldened by your plan. Where before, you were thrown into territory unknown, unprepared and anxious, now you have the comfort of scientific method on your side. You know exactly what to say - you’ve thought of every possibility after all.

Sitting side-by-side, you turn to him, determined.

“I was thinking about your little proposition last night.”

“Were you now?” Astarion replies with a smirk on his lips and a gleam in his eyes.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself just yet. I always imagined that the first time I, um…”

“Did the horizontal dance with an esteemed companion? Engaged in amorous congress? Fucked?”

“Had sex,” you quickly correct, halting his attempts to fluster you further. “I always imagined the first time I had sex would be under slightly less unusual circumstances. We’ve been under nothing but stress ever since we got off that damned Nautiloid. I can’t tell if this desire I’m feeling is because I truly want to spend the night with you, or because my body just wants a distraction.”

“Is that such a bad thing? We’ve worms in our brains and danger is lurking around every corner. Our time is short, darling. If I can provide our dear leader a little respite in these tumultuous times; offer up my services in her time of need, that sounds like time well spent, does it not?”

He shuffles closer to you, resting his arm behind you on the log which you both lean against.

“Besides,” he continues, his voice low and close to your ear, “you’ve been so good to me, offering up your neck for me to savour. It’s only fitting that I offer you a little distraction in return.”

“I don’t want to just… use you as a distraction, Astarion. Gods, I offered you my blood because I wanted to help you, not because I expected a favour.”

For a fleeting moment, his expression shifts. And just as quickly, his smirk returns, embodying a practised sultriness that has surely wrapped many a soul around his fingers.

“No,” you continue, “if I have sex, it will be because it’s something I truly want to do; that I’m ready for. Not just a fanciful distraction. I hope you feel the same.”

That expression again, barely noticeable. You can’t quite decipher it.

“So, darling,” he purrs, “what do you suggest?”

“I was wondering if I could kiss you.”

“Ha! Can’t get enough, eh?”

“I just think that, with a little more evidence, I might be able to see if this is something I’m truly ready for; to discern whether this desire is real, or simply a physical response to this gods-awful situation we find ourselves in.”

He laughs, seemingly amused by your reasoning, and your heart flutters at the sound. Unexpected.

“Gods, are you always such an overthinker?”

“I just think it would help me come to a decision.”

“Is that what this is then? Your little experiment?”

“I’m nothing if not a scientist,” you tease back.

“Alright, my dear. Your terms are acceptable. A kiss, for scientific reasons, of course.”

Of course, you say to yourself. That… is what this is, isn’t it? Simple evidence gathering?

You have no time to consider this as Astarion places a finger under your chin, lifting your gaze fully to his, and suddenly, you hear your pulse pounding loudly in your ears once more. Gods, his eyes are beautiful.

An easy smile, a tilt of his head, and he presses his lips to yours, delicate and familiar. He’s gentle, at first: his lips linger on yours a moment before kissing you again, a tender sensation. As you close your eyes and immerse yourself in the feeling, the world around you quietens. No longer do you hear the crackling of the fire as it dies, the chirps of insects, or the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

At this moment, all you know is him.

You succumb to the coolness of his touch, the smoothness of his skin, the freshness of his scent - sensations so overwhelming that your body responds of its own accord, letting free a soft moan into his mouth.

As though in response, Astarion’s hand lowers from your cheek and trails from your neck, your shoulder, to your waist, as though committing each dip of your body to memory, before pulling you closer to him. Your hands, in return, plant themselves against his chest. His body feels hard and angular against the softness of your own.

As his tongue seeks permission to dance with yours, there is a hunger; a fieriness that threatens to engulf you. The kiss deepens, and you realise with a start that your legs have entangled themselves with his.

Pull yourself together, your mind screams. You’re meant to be in control of your body, not the other way around.

Or so you think, when suddenly, Astarion’s hand moves to your arse - the cheeky sod - and he skillfully, seamlessly rolls you onto his lap, taking advantage of your entangled legs, purposefully positioning you so that you’re straddling him.

Shit.

You gasp. You had forgotten to breathe. He notices and, gods, the smug look on his face. He knows he’s taken you off guard, and worse still…

He knows the effect he’s having on you.

The wall you had carefully constructed between your mind and body begins to collapse, brick by brick. As you kiss, the final fragments fall away, and everything that was once separated threatens to come together in a powerful, unified surge of desire if not for the final threads of your self-restraint.

His body desires this as much as yours, it would seem. As you straddle him, his hands caressing you as they drag up and down your back, you notice a distinct hardness digging into you, oh so close to your core. It takes more willpower than you’ve ever known to not grind into that hardness, seeking the release which you ache for. You are a tautly drawn bow, the tension between your mental focus and physical yearning almost unbearable.

Noticing how stiff you become, Astarion retreats from your lips, tilting his head in playful curiosity.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, darling?”

“I… I…” You barely recognise your own voice as it strains to come out of you.

The bowstring snaps.

You yield.

Your mind and body merge into a mess of lust and desire, and you kiss him hard and greedily. He returns the enthusiasm in kind, releasing a groan into your mouth as he does so. You want this. You want him.

Astarion pulls himself from your lips and turns his attentions to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses where, other nights, he had sunk his fangs. As he does so, you hear his voice, husky in lust.

“You know, if you still need a little more “experimentation,” I have a couple more ideas for you…”

His voice gives you goosebumps.

“... I’m particularly skilled with my tongue, after all.”

You nod.

“Your tent or mine?”

–

As you’re pushed against the bedroll within the privacy of your tent, you’re overwhelmed by a desire to feel every inch of Astarion’s cool, hard body on yours. It was such a primal need, to be enveloped by him; an urge beyond anything you’ve experienced, causing you to wrap your arms greedily behind his neck as you kiss each other, pulling him closer, but never close enough. His hips grind against you slowly, deliberately, granting you a brief, delicious friction which sends shivers up your body and fuels the incredible ache between your legs.

Astarion sits back up on his knees, admiring the mess of you, a smile on his pretty lips. You can only imagine the state you must be in: hair wild, eyes wide and hungry, clothes dishevelled. But your appearance is a distant notion in the back of your mind as Astarion lifts the hem of your skirt and removes your undergarments, sopping wet from your arousal.

You feel vulnerable, exposed to him like this, your desire on full display in front of the very man who you spent nights dreaming about. While his lustful gaze lights a flush of red across your cheeks, it doesn’t cause you to recoil; instead, you find yourself emboldened as he lowers himself between your legs, holding your gaze with eyes hungry and hooded.

He drags his lips up your thighs, leaving kisses so teasing that brings forth the neediest of sounds from your chest. When he reaches your core, he slides a tongue up the slit of you, agonisingly slowly, painfully gently.

Head rolling back, you anticipate the feeling of his tongue within you, but then…

He diverts his attention back to your thighs.

Bastard.

“Astarion..!”

“Eager little pup, aren’t you? Don’t you worry, darling - you’ll get what you desire. Once I have my fun with you, of course.”

He shifts, propping your legs over his shoulders as he grants you an audacious glance and grazes his tongue over you once more, sending a wave of tingles radiating across your body.

You begin to pout at his teasing action, and–

His tongue enters you.

He glides it firmly from your entrance to your clit, lapping you up in one motion, releasing the most wondrous groan, as though the nectar of your arousal is sweeter than any honey.

And so, like a man starved, he devours you, gauging quickly the sensations you prefer, alternating skillfully between firm strokes of his tongue, and the most teasing of flickers across your clit.

Your back arches, and you can do nothing but grasp at the edges of your bedroll as he works at you, leaving you in a state so blissful that you don’t notice the wanton sounds being cried from your lips.

“Easy, love,” he purrs, the loss of his tongue against you causing you to whimper. “As much as I enjoy hearing those delectable sounds of yours, let’s not wake the others, hm?”

You can only cover your mouth with your hands in a feeble attempt to hush yourself as he continues his ministrations. As your eyes meet and the pleasant ache in your core begins to swell into an all-encompassing warmth across your body, you wonder if this is what it feels to be revered as a deity would, your every sensation treated with the kind of awe that only a god might know.

It is when he enters you with his fingers - first one, then two, thrusting in rhythm with his tongue - that the warmth, now an inferno, reaches its peak. It surges through you like a divine crescendo, each wave of your climax a new blessing that floods your senses with a celestial rapture, singing his name like the sweetest hymn.

He caresses your thighs as he brings you down slowly from your high, grounding you.

As you return once again to this mortal plane, the lingering euphoria elicits a fit of giggles from you.

“Well,” Astarion smiles in return, removing himself from the home he has made between your legs, “you certainly seemed to enjoy yourself.”

“I did. I really did. Thank you.”

As you both sit yourselves upright once more, he presses another kiss to your lips. You taste yourself on him.

“I hope our little experiment was very informative for you,” he says with a wink. His words are teasing, but spoken with a gentleness that surprises you.

The truth is, you do have one more idea.

“Can I, um… Can I do the same for you?”

“What?” He says a little too quickly. Noticing this, he brushes his hair back with his hand to a more presentable condition, regains his composure, and continues. “I mean, you don’t have to. To see you squirm under my touch, that’s pleasure enough for me.”

“I want to make you feel good too.”

“You want to?”

That same indecipherable expression. A man with as many notches on his bedpost as he claims must have had some less than favourable conquests every now and then… Perhaps he’s had some bad experiences when receiving too? You suddenly find yourself cursing your lack of experience in these matters. You’re not exactly brimming with social expertise either.

“I probably won’t be the best - not as good as you - but I want to try. I always find that the best way to develop one’s skills is to practise under the guidance of a trusted expert. So… could you teach me how to make you feel good?”

Your gazes linger for a moment as he seems to assess your resolve.

Seemingly satisfied, he smirks, a well-practised aura of sultriness fitting back into place once more. All traces of that mysterious expression dissipate before your eyes.

“Well, darling, if you’re so eager to please me, who am I to stop you?”

You slide up to sit next to him as he begins to unlace his trousers, and suddenly you find yourself unsure of where to look. You’ve a scholar’s knowledge of the physical form; men’s anatomy is no stranger to you from an analytical perspective. And yes, you’ve fantasised about Astarion’s… parts before, as much as you have tried to deceive yourself into believing it was nothing more than a passing, intrusive thought. Yet, now that you’re here, about to perform the most intimate of acts to your beautiful travelling companion for the first time, you become bashful. You can’t quite believe the situation you’ve gotten yourself into tonight.

Yet, as he lowers his trousers and underwear to his thighs, revealing himself to you, all thoughts of bashfulness, of anxiety, cease to be for a moment.

“Hells, Astarion.” You look upon his hardened member with disbelief, measuring its girth against your arm. “How is that going to fit inside me, exactly?”

A slip of the tongue.

He grins, very pleased with himself. “Getting ahead of ourselves, are we?”

… And there returns that familiar flush of heat to your cheeks. Shit.

His chuckling lets you know that he has, in fact, noticed your embarrassment.

Seeking to swiftly change the subject to the much more pressing matter at hand, you ask, “can I touch you?”

In wordless agreement, Astarion guides your hand to his cock, which glistens slightly from the beads of precum elicited from the head. As you hold it, his hand remains over yours, coaxing you to move up and down the shaft.

His cock isn’t warm as you would imagine a regular man’s to be, owing to his vampiric nature, but you note its hardness; the way it pulses beneath your touch; the way his foreskin glides over the head so seamlessly. You squeeze him, fascinated.

“Gently, love. Like this.” He demonstrates by applying a light pressure to your hand and twisting ever so slightly as you both reach the tip, then loosening his grip as he slides you back down his length. You repeat the motion, tentatively. Gods, you hope you're doing this right. He made you feel incredible. You want him to feel incredible too. But oh, what if you hurt him, what if you–

“A-ah…”

The softest sigh of pleasure from your companion interrupts your thoughts. It sends wonderful shivers throughout your body. You find yourself eager to coax more of those little sounds from him.

A newfound confidence flares within you, and you gradually increase your pace, up and down and up and down the shaft, squeezing and twisting lightly as your beautiful instructor taught. In a sudden bout of curiosity, you glide your thumb over the head on your way back down and–

“Ah!”

There it is again. That most delicious sound.

“Exactly like that, darling. Exactly like that.”

He removes his hand from yours as you continue to pump him - you are a fast learner, it would seem - and moves it to reach your cheek, turning you to face him. As he leans his forehead against yours, you notice his breathing has become heavier, just ever so slightly. Instinctively, your breathing begins to match his, and you feel an intensity in the air that gives you goosebumps. Then he kisses you, and it is hungry. Ravenous. Greedy. His hand moves from your cheek to the back of your head, gripping your hair lightly, pressing your lips firmly against his.

As you continue to pleasure him, you find yourself becoming greedy too.

You want to taste him.

Between gasps for air, you ask him, “can I use my mouth on you? The way you did for me?”

“Mmhm,” he says into your kiss. It feels almost a shame to remove yourself from his lips, but you have greater plans yet.

You both reposition yourselves. He turns to lie himself back on the bedroll, and you crawl down his body to position yourself between his legs. So close to his cock, you find yourself admiring it, taking in every detail: the thick vein on the underside of the shaft, the way the head throbs a colour darker than the rest, eager for release.

You're overwhelmed with a primal desire - a need - to please, to give.

To worship.

“Gods, it's beautiful,” you think aloud.

“I know,” he remarks confidently in return. You roll your eyes at his arrogance, but in this moment, in your eyes, even you can't deny that his cock is perfection. Your mouth waters at what is to come.

You hold his member delicately, like a jewel most precious, planting kisses up his length. A soft sound escapes from Astarion’s lips and suddenly you are emboldened, determined to gift him with bliss as he had gifted you. To do so, however, you would need a little instruction.

“Tell me how to please you,” you plead, and you feel him twitch at your words.

“You are eager,” he purrs, propping himself up with his hands to gaze down at you. You notice a shiver and a sigh, ever so slight, when you trail a line of wetness from base to tip with your tongue.

“In that case,” he continues, brushing a strand of hair from your face, granting him a better view of you, “lick your lips and hold it at the base. Then I want you to get to know it a little, so to speak. Use your mouth around the head and start slowly - there's no point in rushing in, eh?”

You obey, shaking off the lingering feelings of bashfulness at the directness of his words, and wrap your lips around him. Out of curiosity, you swirl a flattened tongue around the head and gods, his skin is so smooth, still slightly salty from precum. His cock twitches and you hear him gasp above you - he’s especially sensitive there, it would seem.

Where are his other sensitive spots, you wonder.

Time to experiment. You are nothing if not a scientist.

You bob your head and relax your jaw to the best of your abilities, taking in just a little bit more of him each time your mouth glides up and down, keeping your tongue flat against him to flick against the sensitive tip each time you glide back up the length. The sounds he makes - oh, those sounds. His moans are like velvet, a soft, deep timbre that caresses your senses and makes your loins ache once more. Every murmur seeps into your being, igniting your senses and fuelling your need to explore every inch of him. You continue your journey down and down his length, savouring the taste and the texture and–

You gag as his cock touches your throat.

Astarion recomposes himself. “Easy, darling. Use your hand where your mouth can’t reach.”

“Like this?” Your hand pumps the shaft in rhythm with the motions of your mouth and tongue, and Astarion’s head rolls back for a moment.

“Like that,” he exhales heavily, “and suck gently.”

There’s a certain sense of empowerment, unravelling him like this. You relish in every moan that escapes his lips, every twitch and pulse of his cock as you attend to him. The lewd, wet sounds emitted as your hollowed cheeks suck his length. His hand finds its way to your hair, fingers weaving through the strands with a gentle authority, pushing you hard enough to guide you to an ever-quickening rhythm, but gentle enough not to force himself down your throat.

“Use your other hand,” he says between breaths, “hold the balls softly.”

You do as he says, giving them the gentlest of squeezes as you attend to him, and his breaths grow deeper, uneven. You sense the rising tension in him, a tide gathering strength beneath the surface.

He gives one final instruction.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes meet with a stormy intensity and, as you pump up and down with your lips and fingers at a dizzying pace, the intensity seems to surge through him with the force of an ocean swell, powerful and all-encompassing.

With a tremor and a groan so delicious that you find yourself moaning instinctively in response, his cum fills your mouth. Your eyes water, taken by surprise by the force of his release, but you do your best to swallow each wave, releasing him with a wet pop as his climax subsides.

Some moments pass and, in the afterglow, the tent is filled with a comfortable, profound stillness, and only the sounds of heavy breathing - yours and his - as you both return to your senses.

“Did you just..?” He asks, breaking the silence.

“I did,” you reply with a grin, showing him your tongue to reveal that not a drop went to waste.

He laughs warmly, and your heart flutters.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” He kisses you deeply as he sits up, seemingly undeterred by the taste of himself.

“I think I’ve gathered enough evidence to consider your proposition,” you say teasingly.

“Tomorrow night then, darling?”

Bastard.

But yes, you think to yourself. Tomorrow night. You’re ready.

Part 2, An Empirical Study, can be found here!

Masterlist can be found here.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion smut #astarion fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

kindlythevoid · 1 month ago

Text

GUYS I FINALLY POSTED THE CHAPTER THIS MEME IS FOR!!!!

It only took me FOUR MONTHS!!!! YAY!!!!

In honor of Chapter 24:

It's not posted or finished, I'm just having fun with it. <3

Text post version available under cut.

Merlin: I have to leave Camelot for two days. Gaius: ??? Merlin: I need to restock the honey. Gaius: Merlin: It's very far away. Gaius: Merlin: Gaius: We're not out-- Merlin: Very rare honey.

8 notes · View notes

ccl-c · 6 days ago

Text

i procrastinated on this for months and it didn't even take that long to finish lol things got very bad at work this year and i just didn't have the energy but i'm really happy with how it turned out!

(edit: thank you so much to everyone enjoying this piece! i'm so happy there are more people thinking about his prosthetic leg.)

some of my favourite details and long self-indulgent ramble below the cut.

as much as i love the unicorn leg in the show i really wish they gave izzy an actual post-amputation swordfight scene, which probably would imply a more practical prosthesis because honestly that candle scene looks very painful and pretty difficult to adapt in combat. so basically i wanted him to have a prosthesis that could work.

for the poses i mostly just took basic right-handed cavalry sabre movements that would need lots of force and/or mobility from the left leg (actually all of them do otherwise he'd lose stability which is a big no but well i did not consider the basic steps or special ones such as the palestra because they're not very clear to draw. i included a flèche though because i just really, really want to see him do flèches (no more modern competition rules aha!!); i doubt he'd like it since it's very risky but it would be so fucking awesome. imagine him just darting full-speed at the opponent and passing through them sliding the sabre right between their ribs. the sabre isn't a pointy weapon especially since his is quite curved which makes precise piercing trickier (it would be a lot easier with a rapier or an épée; i like to imagine that stede prefers the rapier and makes every opponent who believes rapiers aren't fit for combat reconsider it) but hell that would just look amazing. although looking at it again i probably drew it more like a pass forward …). now thinking about it i should have included a salute because he'd absolutely do that and make everyone do it in unison at the start of training sessions and it's just a cool series of gestures (i haven't gone through the historical documents yet but the salute our historic fencing club do consists of two appels (striking the ground with the forward foot which in izzy's case is the right foot), then raising the sword to the sky, then pulling the guard of the sword near the jaw with the tip pointing upwards, then pointing the sword down forward, usually a bit to the exterior for single-handed swords, and i think that's the french navy's salute if i remember correctly). also i feel like the dagger doesn't really look right ever since i saw the daggers and little swords at the exhibition about knights in nantes … anyway.

the prosthesis is loosely based on those 16th-century moveable leg prostheses by ambroise paré (on a side note, he made hand prostheses too and i think it's a good reference for spanish jackie's hand), douglas bly's above-knee prosthesis in the 19th century and modern running prosthetic legs (for the need of explosive force typically in lunges) as well as historic fencing and buhurt (full-armour medieval combat) gears. although i'm horrible at physics and have forgotten what little ergonomics i learned at university so it probably won't work in reality lol.

the text is in french simply because i learned fencing in french and didn't want to make mistakes in the vocabulary. the small words from left to right top to bottom are: motion (movement?), knee (front), knee (back), ankle & foot, locked, flèche (as in fencing; the word itself means “arrow”), unlocked (middle french spelling because i like it), lunge, en garde position in tierce (i somehow can't find any fixed way to say this in english; it's just the basic stance with the third hand position). the text on the left is probably quite awkward honestly but i can't not put it there because it's fun lol it reads “leg and foot prosthesis designed for first mate hands, by doctor roach with the assistance of frenchie, realised (built? made? constructed? manufactured?) by black pete and wee john feeney and the entirety of the crew of the revenge under co-captains stede bonnet and edward teach, illustrated by lucius spriggs”. so yes any mistake in there is theirs and not mine lmao (no). the font is very loosely based on my memory of jean jannon's regular and italic typefaces. i adore his italics; it's the prettiest, most delicate italics i've ever seen.

i still have other drawing ideas for ofmd but i'm also into a lot of other things now … i'll probably get to them a few months later.

#ofmd #izzy hands #ccl c

392 notes · View notes

disneyprincemuke · 1 year ago

Text

not a gamer * fem!driver

lando manages to convince her to start streaming on twitch with him, leading her to influence others to join her

pairings: max verstappen x fem!driver, lando norris x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver

warnings: butt load of stupidity

notes: initially, i was gonna write a fic solely about max because he was talking about fornite the other day... but i thought how funny would it be if it were to be with some of the guys so here i am

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

"hello, everyone," she smiles, reaching forward to adjust the camera as she squints her eyes. "is this a good angle? let me know if it's flattering, okay? i can't not look good on twitch."

lando has managed to convince her to join him for a stream on twitch, insisting that she should start an account as well. she initially refused, claiming that she's not that well-liked to start an account and have a loyal following. even adding on the fact that she's not even a good gamer to begin with.

but lando said that it doesn't matter, and proved her wrong by setting up a poll on his previous stream just to get her to make an account. which, the effort was very endearing.

"you always look good," she squints, turning away the right where her other monitor sits. she scrunches her nose and turns to the camera to stare into it. "logan, how did you even know i was streaming tonight?"

she rolls her eyes when his reply rolls in, claiming that he follows her twitter where she announced it. "it's time for you to go out and do something else besides stalking me, logan," she scoffs jokingly with the roll of her eyes.

"okay, so this is my first twitch stream!" she beams, sitting up straighter as she grabs her mouse. "i'm just waiting for lando to finish setting up, so i'm afraid you guys are stuck with me alone for a couple of minutes. let's get to know each other, i might be doing this pretty often this winter break just to have a bit of a hobby.

"i wanna know what you guys want to see from me."

a comment immediately rolls in.

user1: i wanna see you play fortnite with lando and max

she grins sheepishly, dropping her head. "guys, i'm not much of a gamer. never have been so this is actually my first time-ish touching games in a long while. my longest experience was playing roblox with my younger brother when we were younger."

user2: how about oscar or logan playing some games?

she presses her lips together, thinking of ways she could be able to convince her best friends to join her for some online games. when, neither of them has really dabbled much in the hobby. "i'm sure logan will be pretty keen to try, but i'm not so sure about oscar. i'll try to convince him, though he's back in australia for the majority of the break, unfortunately. the timezone difference is absolutely insane."

logansargeant: guys, ask her what her hobbies are

"logan, get off my chat!"

logansargeant: im gonna expose you on twitter for cyberbullying

logansargeant: #endcyberbullying2023

user3: #justice4logan

user4: #justice4logan

user5: u should talk about taylor swift

“oh, my god! i should!” she squeals. “we should host a listen party when she releases reputation! how good was the 1989 vault tracks?”

user6: omg ur so right

user7: iion slaps

user8: slut! is my favourite i think

“1989 had the best vault tracks,” she nods, lips pressed together. “my favourite is ‘now that we don’t talk’ because i like calling my mom.”

blythe.yln: where is lando!!!

“guys, i don’t know. he texted me 5 minutes ago saying he was setting up his pc,” she grins into the camera. “hopefully he’s here soon.”

dalton.yln: i miss oscar

oscahpastry: i miss u too

“you’ve got phones, yeah?” she grins, “use it instead of flooding my chat.”

user1: yeah guys, some of us are trying to get her attention

user9: u guys get that enough

user10: leave some for us pls

user11: yeah y so selfish

she scoffs. "right, guys? can you believe these people?"

the discord sound makes her jump, lando's voice filling up her headphones. "yo, i'm sorry! i was looking for my keyboard."

"where'd you find it, lando?"

"under the bed. apparently, that's where i kept it the last time i streamed," lando laughs. "okay, let's start off with a little horror game? it's called phasmophobia."

"a scary game?" she looks at the camera. "why would i willingly play that?"

"lando, i'm gonna kill you!" she screeches, eyes closing as the creepy sounds from the game boost in her headphones. she peeks through her eye, watching the two hands on her screen before the screen goes foggy.

lando's laughter replaces the eerie sounds of the game, making her roll her eyes. "i told you to hide and close the door!”

“i didn’t know where the stupid door even was!” she screams back, slamming the table. “lando, i don’t wanna play this game anymore!”

“but it’s so fun!”

“lando!”

logansargeant: that was funny

logansargeant: lemme join u some time

user11: omg

user11: half the grid’s gonna be on twitch?

“yeah, i’m so nice, right?” she jokes. “i’m letting them explore different career options. influencer era or something, i believe.”

oscahpastry: i only created an account to annoy her :/

seb.v5: same

user12: no shot thats actually sebastian vettel

maxverstappen1: so we are all just here waiting for an invite from these two???

logansargeant: theyre gatekeeping the stream from us :(

maxverstappen1: i wanna play fortnite

seb.v5: wait i know that game

maxverstappen1: let me join or i’ll report your account

“that’s not very nice, max,” she frowns. she looks away for a second. “lando, max says he’ll report my account if we don’t invite him to play fortnite.”

“oh, let him report you. just make another account, mate!” lando laughs. “ask him to join us phasmophobia! it’s so fun seeing you scream.”

she turns to the camera with a lopsided grin. “chat, tell lando you don’t wanna see me scream in phasmo anymore please. i’m sick of this game, i’ve got no idea what i’m doing, and i haven’t guessed the ghost correctly this entire time.”

logansargeant: keep playing phasmophobia u pussy

oscahpastry: yeah pussy

user5: its v entertaining icl

maxverstappen1: but phasmophobia costs money

“costs money?” she repeats, confusion on her face. “max? do you need financial aid?”

user10: isnt max a millionaire??????

user13: bro is complaining about a game that barely costs anything while getting paid millions a year 💀

oscahpastry: that’s wild ngl

maxverstappen1: wow i just got cyberbullied.

maxverstappen1: i’ll go get it now damn.

she sighs. “guess we’re continuing with this stupid game.”

“lando, where am i going?” max shouts, her character watching max’s go around in circles, flickering the flashlight on and off. “what am i even supposed to do?”

teaching one person how to play a complicated game like phasmophobia is easy. teaching two, however, is absolutely absurd. lando doesn’t know how much more of this he can take.

“lando, there’s something written in the book!” she cheers, crouching her character down. she leans into her monitor as she tries to make out what it says. “bitch, it says run!”

she quickly gets up and walks out. “don’t have to tell me twice.”

“run where?” max shouts, his character still running in circles. “(y/n), where are you? escort me out.”

“guys, just stay inside the house and help me out!” lando whines, his character flickering the flashlight at max’s. “turn around, max. i’m here with you.”

“i’m going to the van.”

“no, you’re not! come here and camp the ghost with us!”

“absolutely not! i’m so scared shitless!”

“we should’ve just played fortnite, you know.”

“guys, please! you just have to hold the equipment for me.”

“oh, my god! oh, my god! the front door is locked!” she screams. “the front door is locked!”

logansargeant: lol dsurv

oscahpastry: not so tough now (y/n)

user8: LMFAO THAT GHOST IS HUNTIN

user14: dude the chaos is insane

user15: i need her to stream everyday actually

user16: she’s gonna be an influencer i can feel it in my bones

user17: u guys should try valorant

oscahpastry: i’d join if they play valorant

user4: omg thats crazy

user18: i kinda want to see it

user19: max playing valorant? the rage that man would feel

“lando, i’m dead again!” she screeches, slamming her mouse down into her desk. “we should’ve just played fortnite.”

logansargeant: ur issues with the door are hilarious

user4: i’ll be thinking about your inability to hide in a room for days

oscahpastry: evidence that u wouldnt survive a horror movie at all

seb.v5: maybe you should stick to sitting there and looking pretty

user20: OMG SEB CALLED HER PRETTYYYYY

user21: are we all so shocked?

user22: yeah, he looks at that girl like she aligns the stars in the sky on a race weekend

user23: him during her podium celebration cured my depression (real)

logansargeant: girl why r u just stalking lando as a ghost

“lando,” she whispers. “i saw the ghost in the corner for the room.”

“what?” max asks, voice trembling slightly. “what corner?”

“that corner.”

“what corner?”

“there. i’m pointing at it.”

“i can’t see you, stupid. you’re dead.”

“then that’s too bad.”

“i figured what type of ghost it is!” lando cheers. “follow me, max. let’s get out of this stupid house and play your stupid fortnite or something.”

“oh, how lovely! i saw (y/n)’s chat… something about valorant,” max mutters, following lando through the dark house. “i’ve seen that on tiktok and it looks kinda- lando, why’d you close the door?”

“i told you i saw the ghost lurking more than usual,” she mutters.

“i don’t even know what that means!” max shouts.

“i didn’t close the door, mate!” lando laughs. “go and hide in a room, max!”

“where? i don’t know where to go!” max screams, frantically running around in hopes of finding solace somewhere.

her character follows behind the entity in the game, clearly running around to find max. “oh, she’s coming for you, max! she’s angry!”

“i don’t know where to go!” max screams, his character running by the entryway in confusion. “lando, where do i go?”

“max, she’s coming! go in the closet!”

“what closet? oh, okay! i see it!”

“close the door, max!”

“what door- oh! okay!”

“did he live?”

“i think so. the ghost is lurking outside max’s door,” she grins into the camera, watching the entity walk back and forth outside the room max is in.

“don’t come out yet.”

“not even a chance, mate.”

“okay, she’s gone,” she sighs. “i’m gonna log out and create an account on fortnite.”

“we’re not gonna play valorant?”

“okay, chat, we’re waiting for oscar to finish the tutorial,” she smiles. “we should be in our first game in a couple of minutes.”

user24: bro ur tutorial was horrendous

user25: i love watching people be bad at valorant

user26: shes so real for that though

user27: she’d play sage for sure

seb.v5: i can’t believe you got oscar to join you

user28: and logan 🤨

user17: outrageous that i’ve been begging the grid to join lando’s streams and here she comes casually getting them to play silly games

user3: real

user28: everyone say thank you (y/n)

blythe.yln: i can’t believe u didnt ask me to join u

blythe.yln: i’m the best at valorant

blythe.yln: i’m better than dalton

user29: YES BLYTHE SPEAK YOUR TRUTH

“so, what do i do again, dalton?” lando asks softly. “what’s the ‘e’ button do?”

“puts up a wall,” the younger kid says. “and then it heals you too, but damages other people. even your teammates.”

“who’s this eminem looking bro?” max asks, giggling slightly. “frank ocean, i saw on tiktok.”

user30: my roman empire is blythe being a pro valorant player but this is the first time her sister is trying the game

“well, i’m sorry for doing other things than playing valorant,” she jokes with a smile. “but, yes, guys! blythe plays valorant for a living which is exactly why we didn’t invite her to play.”

user31: blythe is a pro val player!!?!?!?

user31: since when??

blythe.yln: yeah guys follow my twitch, i’ll treat u better

“i’m going to ban you from my chat if you keep marketing, blythe,” she frowns, though a smile creeping up on her face. “where is dalton?”

blythe.yln: dalton is my valorant spawn… i taught him what he knows

user31: dalton to go pro in a couple years?

user32: omg that’s crazy

user1: the yln’s are gonna take over the valorant scene

user6: blythe getting a redbull gaming clutch would be to die for

“mate, dalton, what’s this girl in the yellow jacket do? she looks stylish,” oscar asks.

“she’s got a turret and grenades,” dalton answers simply.

“alright, how do i get her?”

“you gotta play the game.”

“oh, what? that’s so unfair.”

“yeah, i’m sure that sucks that you’ve got to play the game, oscar,” she says. “where is logan?”

“i’m sorry,” the sigh in logan’s sentence making her laugh. “i got stuck.”

“how?” oscar asks with a laugh. “they literally tell you what to do.”

“i couldn’t find the buttons they were asking me to press,” logan mumbles with a hint of disappointment.

“are you actually intellectually hindered, mate?” she cries with a laugh, covering her eyes. “do you not frequent a laptop?”

“not really, no.”

“it shows,” oscar adds on.

blythe.yln: he’s gonna be shit

user5: so real i can alr see it

user11: dude they’re gonna be screaming at each other soon

“let’s do a quick test game,” dalton mutters as logan’s in-game name pops up on the screen. “just a short game.”

“with real people?” lando asks in a small voice. “that can trash talk me?”

“just trash talk them back, mate,” max answers. “easy.”

“just find their ip address and hit them,” logan suggests. “that’s easier.”

“what?”

“don’t pretend like you wouldn’t do it too, (y/n)!” logan whines. “come on, let’s start!”

“how do i defuse the spike?” max screams, looking at the ground as he runs around. “where even is it?”

“your left,” dalton says. “keep walking.”

blythe is now sat next to her older sister, leg propped up in her seat as she watches the screen.

“okay, okay, go to the right and look right here,” blythe mutters, pointing at the screen. “and then aim right here,” she adjusts her sister’s mouse, “when you see somebody, shoot.”

“that’s not fair. (y/n)’s literally got a pro helping her with the game,” oscar complains.

“you’re dead. literally doesn’t matter if someone’s helping you or not,” logan states. “we suck, man.”

“okay, i figured out how to defuse the bomb,” max says softly. “what now?”

“learn to play better,” blythe says loud enough for the microphone to pick up her voice. “i’ll teach you guys.”

“thank you for tuning into my stream,” she grins with a clap. “i appreciate all of the support and teaching me how to play the games. and roasting me.”

logansargeant: bro we suck

seb.v5: should stick to racing and leave gaming to blythe and dalton

“i read each and every comment you guys sent in the chat and they’re all very endearing. except yours, seb,” she stares into the camera with a stern expression, “yours were just outright unnecessary and kinda mean.”

oscahpastry: start a podcast next

maxverstappen1: i wanna be first guest

user16: please stream regularly!!

user10: make oscar play lethal company or i’ll cry

oscahpastry: stop giving her ideas

user21: when r u streaming again

“i will try to stream in a couple of days, after my shoots and marketing stuff with the team,” she grins. “thank you for watching me scream for 4 hours. catch you guys soon. stay kind and stay safe.”

user2: i’ll miss you 🫶🏼

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife @vellicora @leilanixx @meadhgbcavanagh @2bormaybenot @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @love4lando @sadg3 @bborra @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun

#max verstappen x reader #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #logan sargeant x reader #fem!driver #female driver #f1 fem!driver #f1 female driver #vettel reincarnate #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke vr #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 grid x reader

1K notes · View notes