#this was my first time drawing him but I quite like this doodle :) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lydiimae · 2 months

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The stars, the moon

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

18+ MDI!

Warnings: Talk of drinking, sexist old ideas about women, talk of sex, Anthony being a cutie shhh, oral sex, penetrative sex, dirty talk, body worship (f receiving), heavy praise, lovemaking more than hardcore sex oopsies

A.N: YOU GUYS ARE SO SWEET TO ME ISTG T-T the love on my first two fics is so heartwarming. i'm so very glad you liked them both so much ^-^ Benny and Bridgerton as a whole are both so very important to me so i'm glad i did them both well. anyways my loves, this is an Anthony fic that i hope i can do as well as i did Ben. i was listening to Cosmic Love by Florence and The Machine and it gave me this idea! soooo here is an incredibly fluffy, (and smutty hehe) love filled Ant fic hehe<3 enjoy and thank you again <3 p.s that scene the gif is from sends my mind into a spiral CONSTANTLY my roman empire fr p.p.s I FINALLY GOT DIVIDERS, so now my fics will look a little cleaner i hope hehe >_<

Growing up next to the Bridgertons had been fun and eventful, to say the very least. You were there through every trial and tribulation their family had gone through, and them with yours.

You and your three sisters had always gotten along with the seven siblings. Being the youngest and most... rambunctious of them you had gotten along with Eloise and Benedict the most. They had views of marriage and duty that were similar to yours, and when you were younger you and Benedict would spend hours making doodles on the walls of the gardens at your estate.

Your sisters, who were much more of the traditional women you would often find in the ton, tended to be more akin to the eldest Bridgerton brother and sister. Daphne and Anthony, however kind and loving they both were, were always too strict or, in Daphne's case, too proper for your liking.

You had always thought of Anthony as the moon. He thrived in darkness and was often gone before you even noticed he was there. You never knew why he left balls early, or why you spotted him with that opera singer in the deepest corners of gardens or tucked away in libraries.

Until you grew up, that is. The first time you snuck out of the confines of your room was when you were ten and eight, right after the first ball of your first social season. Benedict had insisted on you sneaking out the window of your bedroom so you could tag along with him to a party a fellow artist was throwing, and you, out of pure curiosity, obliged.

You got there and had your first everything while Benedict was painting, or so he claimed, in another room. You kissed the lord, whose name you cannot remember to this day, and then you went beyond that. Sex. It was wonderful, you decided, and from then on you had much more of it.

Anthony was perceptive, he noticed the change in your behavior and one night even decided to ask Benedict about it. Benedict being Benedict told him everything in his usual carefree manner, not thinking twice about it. Anthony reacted quite strangely however, he just... turned on his heel and walked into his study, locking himself in for hours.

He avoided you at all costs from then on. It was strange, but then again, he was the moon. The moon cannot be out forever.

Anthony had always thought of you as the stars, a happy, mischievous young woman who thrived in the dark. You provided a light to every room you walked into that was too great for anyone to look away from. You were intricate, difficult to read and figure out, and yet you were also so intriguing that every man wanted to do just that.

You were also incredibly mischievous, he knew that from the moment you were born. Being eight years older, and a close family friend, Anthony was one of the first who got to meet you. You had always had that sparkle in your eye, like you were in on this grand plan that no one else was.

When you got older, it only got worse. You were constantly getting in trouble, whether that be drawing on your garden's brick walls with his brother or reading books about math or, fittingly, astronomy. Your father always described you as boyish, to which he would have to agree. You got into fencing when you were ten and two and immediately had a knack for it. When you were six and ten, you snuck off with Benedict and got taught how to hunt.

He was never attracted to your sisters as they were too... boring for his taste. They had interests in things like the latest fashion trends, or hairstyles, and he was sure that none of them had ever glanced at a book. It was quite comforting to know, that because of your foolish ways and thinking, he would never be attracted to you either. Or so he thought.

You were wearing a light blue dress when you entered your first ball, your arm tucked snugly with your father's. Your hair was pinned up more elegantly than he had ever seen it, a few of the still unruly, wavy strands fluttering in the breeze that your white fan made. Stunningly gorgeous in every way, and so ladylike. It was strange.

He had almost assured himself that he would never feel this way towards any woman like you, after all, his list of requirements for the next Viscountess was long and specific, to say the least. Yet there you were, walking towards his family, and he was very much sure he was attracted to you.

So when he noticed the jewelry you started using to hide the dark marks on your neck and the silly excuses you would use to leave balls early, it was worrying. He asked Benedict and his worst fears were made a reality, your innocence was gone. You were loose, in his mind. He could not, no would not, be attracted to a woman without her maidenhead. He refused.

The only way he could avoid that attraction was to avoid you at all costs, which is exactly what he did. He excused himself from every room you walked into, and every conversation. On the rare occasion that you somehow managed to worm yourself into a conversation with him, however, he gave short answers and cold glares.

His heart ached when he noticed your light dim after he left, but then again you were the stars. All stars have to burn out someday.

You found his insistence on completely avoiding you to be quite tiresome, after all, you considered him to be like a brother. An annoying, headstrong, arrogant, prick of a brother but a brother nonetheless.

You look over your shoulder to where he is talking to a young debutante, wishing that he would at least glance over. You would never admit it to yourself, but after his company waned you missed it quite a lot. You could talk to Benedict or Eloise, sure, but there was something about annoying Anthony that made your heart flutter and your cheeks flush.

"Miss L/N, are you listening?" The lord, who you were supposed to be listening to, asks. You quickly turn back to him and part your lips to make an excuse, but quickly think better of it. "No, my lord. I apologize, my mind seems to be running from me tonight." You mutter with a soft smile. He nods in turn before continuing to speak about his latest hunting trip, in which you have absolutely no interest.

You excuse yourself when he is done rambling and make your way toward the Viscount, wanting to finally know the real reason why he has made it his life's mission to avoid you. You wish, so desperately, to see the moon again.

He sees you coming and his heart tightens, you look as beautiful as always. You are wearing dark blue, a gorgeous dress he thinks, and your hair is done up just how he likes it. You have on gold jewelry, which sparkles in the low candlelight with every step you take.

He should talk to you, he really should, and yet he cannot bring himself to. You are not the kind of woman he wishes to make the next Viscountess, not even close to checking off any of the boxes he has on his long list for what a woman should be.

So, instead, he settles for leading the young woman he is speaking with to the dance floor. He passes you without a word but falters momentarily when he catches a whiff of your perfume. Your scent, even.

You had always smelled, however strange it might sound, so comforting. Your family's colors were a light purple, the crest having two bunches of lavender flowers on it. You smelled the part, always having some semblance of lavender to you that wafted through the room whenever you entered. It wasn't strong, no, but it was just enough to get his heart racing. It wasn't just lavender that made it so intoxicating, there was something else there. Something that he could only describe as just... you. He smiles to himself at the many fond memories that come with it.

He catches the young woman looking at him in confusion and quickly puts on a straight face, continuing to walk her to the dance floor, but not before noticing the look of despondency on your face. His heart aches, but it must be done. He could not let himself fall for you, no matter how much he longed to see the brightness of the stars again.

Your heart breaks when he walks past you with nothing but a faint semblance of a smile, and for whatever reason, you feel yourself tear up. You wonder if you had done something wrong, or said something in a passing conversation that had rubbed him the wrong way. Perhaps even entertained a man he had trouble with. Whatever it was, you did not like the unfamiliar feeling his avoidance brought.

Something that you had always hidden from everyone, including yourself, was your feelings. You felt no need to be a woman who expressed love openly, nor a woman who got teary at the slightest inconvenience. It is why you liked the parties you went to, sex and alcohol were wonderful to drown out feelings that you would rather not feel. Something else you had always hidden or shoved down, was your feelings for Anthony.

He was gorgeous, that much was obvious, what with his grey eyes and his thick brown hair. The things that you didn't like, such as his ignorant views of women, or his want to always be the best, were often drowned out by the fact that the man was extremely loving and protective of those he cared about. Not only that, but he was like you in that he was truly sensitive when he did not try and shove it down. He made you want to sing his praises from every balcony in London, to profess your love in front of all of the ton so everyone could see that he was yours.

You realize you have been standing in the same spot for what has to be at least five minutes now, and that a tear that had escaped in your reminiscing has now made it down your cheek. You quickly walk out to a balcony and lean on the railing, and for once, you allow yourself to cry.

He finds you after his dance with the incredibly boring debutante he decided to occupy himself with. He didn't want to find you, but his feet automatically found themselves to you. As if something deep inside him was naturally drawn to you and your stupid free-spirited nature.

He crowds around your back. "Is everything alright?" He whispers and is completely taken aback when he sees your face. You look up at him with tears rolling down your cheeks. It was surprising to say the very least as he cannot remember the last time he saw you cry. "My God, Y/N, what happened?" He asks, placing a hesitant hand on your shoulder.

"Why do you hate me?" You whisper back, and he is even more surprised than before. Hate? God he could never hate you, sure he avoided you, but he could never truly hate anything about you. No matter how much he tried.

He was just standing there like he had not been avoiding you for the past two months. Like he had not ignored your every attempt to speak with him, like he had not completely shattered your soul. It made you so angry that you could not stop the foolish words slipping past your lips.

"It is as if I have committed a cardinal sin, as if I am some heathen you cannot stand to be around and not a woman you grew up with." You say, taking a deep breath as heartbreak shifts to anger. "It is not fair. I have wracked every corner of my memory trying to figure out what I have done wrong and still, I turn up with nothing. I..." You falter and turn to look up at the stars. "You are so distant. I find myself aching without you, Anthony. Like a piece of my soul has broken off with your disappearance and is with you for eternity." You whisper, closing your eyes briefly before turning back to him.

"I ask you again, why do you hate me? What have I done?" You plead, searching his eyes for any semblance of his old self. His eyes widen in response and he takes one of your hands. "I do not hate you. God Y/N, how could I ever hate you?" He breathes and your heart flutters at the look in his eyes. As if you are the only woman on earth. He has returned back to you. The moon has risen again.

"I... I have tried to hate you, yes, but every time you are near something in me longs to touch you in ways that would make any lady blush. I hate that you make me feel this way, so foolishly in love that I can barely form a coherent thought, that the Viscount I am becomes but a memory, but I could never hate you." He confesses, bringing his hands to your waist.

Your eyes water as he continues. "You are a loose woman, or so I so foolishly tried to make myself believe. I ignorantly put that label upon you so I could have a reason to not profess from every rooftop in London how much I adore you and I can never forgive myself for it." He whispers, wiping the tears that have somehow escaped your eyes without your knowledge. "I will never be able to profess how sorry I am, but I can hope that in time you can forgive me for how foolish I have been." He whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.

"How long?" Is all you can manage to croak out in return to his beautiful confession, resting your hands atop his shoulders as your eyes flutter shut. "Since I was a young man, darling. Far too long I have kept it from you." He whispers back as your heart flutters at the title he has given you. "I have loved you since I was a girl." You whisper back. "So I suppose we are both fools." You grin.

He chuckles at that, his hands rubbing small patterns into the small of your back. "Always the witty one, hm? You are truly as bright and as mischievous as the stars, my love." Your heart hammers in the stars, at the way he calls you his love but even more than that, he thinks you to be the stars. "You and I have similar minds, Ant. I always thought you were like the moon, so serious and so attuned to darkness. Yet, so beautiful." You confess, opening your eyes to look into his own. Your cheeks flush at the sight that lies before you.

He is grinning, as if you had just given him the world. He leans in and presses a sweet kiss to your lips, to which you eagerly return as your eyes close and one of your gloved hands cups his cheeks. He pulls away after a moment. "The moon is nothing without the stars." He whispers, and you smile softly. "I shall ask your father for your hand come tomorrow if you let me." He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your brow.

Your heart flutters and you cup his cheeks. "I would love nothing more than to marry you, Anthony Bridgerton." You whisper and he grins, pressing his lips to yours once more. This kiss is more intense than the first, more confident as he knows that you are now officially his. You wish for nothing more than to melt into him, become his both body and mind for the rest of your days. The thought sends shivers down your spine, making your core heat up at the thought of finally sharing your most intimate self with the man who has plagued your thoughts for years.

As if reading your mind he pulls back, but only just. "Might I invite you back to my bedroom, my star?" He whispers, dipping his head down to press a kiss to your neck. You let out a shaky breath at the feeling and nod eagerly. "Please do." You whisper back and he grins, straightening back up and grabbing your hand before pulling you out to where the carriages are. Not before muttering something to Benedict, who smirks playfully and winks at the two of you in return.

One carriage ride full of open-mouthed kisses and love marks later and you are getting lifted out of the carriage and carried into the Bridgerton estate. You had so many fond memories here, you are elated that you would have the privilege of raising a family in the big estate. The thought of a family with Anthony makes your chest feel tight with emotion and you bury your face in the crook of his neck to calm yourself.

He notices the change of emotion as he carries you through the front door, ignoring the many questioning glances the both of you receive from the servants who still linger in the hallways, and kisses the top of your head. "What is it, darling?" He murmurs in your ear as he walks up the stairs, toward his bedroom.

"I am only being sensitive as I envision our future that I have for so long ached for." You whisper back, pressing a kiss to his neck to assure him that nothing is truly wrong. He groans a bit and smiles down at you as he ducks into his bedroom and places you on the bed. "It shall be a grand one. One filled with happiness and light, I assure you." He hums as he locks the door before climbing over you and peppering your face with kisses, which makes you giggle softly.

He moves his hands to your hair, taking out all of the intricately placed pins so he can see it in the state he loves the most, untamed and unruly, just like you. He runs his hands through your hair once he has it down, pressing kisses down your neck and to your collarbone which he bites. You whine softly at the feeling, but more so at the fact that you know he is going to leave marks. The thought of parading around a ball with his lovebites on your skin makes your cunt dampen and your thighs rub together in an attempt to relieve the ache that settles in your core.

He feels the movements of your body below him and groans as your knee brushes against his clothed cock accidentally, making him harden further than he already has. He continues to suck on the sensitive skin of your neck as his hands move under you. He pulls you up to a sitting position and presses his lips to yours, reveling in the soft noises he draws from you as his hands move to your back to work on the buttons that hold your dress up.

His tongue slides into your mouth and he lets out a groan as he exposes your bare back, the choice you made to forgo any undergarments becoming the smartest one you made all day. He makes quick work of your dress, parting from your lips as he throws it across the room. "Christ." He growls when he sits back and gazes at your naked body.

Your nipples are peaked from both the cold air of the room and the arousal caused by the way he is gazing down at you. The look of pure desire in his eyes makes you flood down your thighs, which he picks up on instantly. He grins, almost a cocky grin, before removing his clothes from the upper half of his body.

He bends down when he is bare-chested and kisses from your collarbone, down to your right breast. He sucks on the soft skin just to the side of your hardened nipple, making your hips cant up and into his, a whine escaping your lips. He chuckles deeply and moves a hand to yours, so you can have something to hang onto, the other moving to hold your hip down.

He pulls up briefly and rests his chin on your chest, gazing up at you adoringly. "You are perfect, Y/N. Every mark, every blemish, every imperfection is so gorgeous. So perfect for me." He murmurs and you flush, squeezing his hand in yours as a silent thank you as you are unsure if you could even form a sentence now. "Mine." He murmurs with a soft smile before returning his attention to your breasts.

He takes your nipple into his mouth and you cry out at the feeling of his tongue swirling around the bud. You squeeze his hand and your back arches up into him, making him groan. He pushes you back down, all while his mouth sucks and swirls at your sensitive nipple, and rubs soothing circles on your hip with his thumb.

After a moment, he moves to your other breast, giving that one just as much attention. You whine as he bites down softly before pulling up and beginning to mark each of your breasts. He lets go of your hip and smears his hand down your thigh, gently parting your legs as he kisses down your stomach.

You gasp as he gives a kiss to your naval and look down just as he flashes a cheeky grin. He continues his trail of kisses right down to your patch of hair, your free hand grasping at the sheets while the other squeezes his. You cry out when he licks a stripe up your slit, his tongue pressing onto your swollen clit.

He takes the sensitive bud into his mouth and swirls his tongue around it slowly, his hand moving back to your hips when you whine and try to grind against him. You roll your head back, pressing it into the pillow. You get a whiff of his scent and it sends a zing of pleasure to your abused clit just as he moves his mouth down to your swollen hole to drink from you like a man starved.

You moan into his pillow, taking the fabric into your mouth and sucking as pleasure ripples through your entire body. He moves his mouth back to your clit as he pushes one of his fingers into your body, groaning at how tight you are. You cry out, the sound still muffled by his pillow, at the feeling of his finger and the vibrations his noises send through your body.

He adds another finger and begins to curl them into your walls, hitting that spongey spot that makes you scream. Your toes curl as he pumps his fingers in and out of your body in tune with the swirling of his tongue against your clit. You finally take your face out of his pillow. "Close... Fuck please please please, Anthony." You babble as you begin to see stars. You come screaming his name, his fingers gripping your hip so hard you're sure you will be marked there too.

He cleans you up with his tongue before returning to your lips and giving you a swift, but sweet, kiss on your lips. He sits up and slowly rids himself of his trousers, his cock standing proud against his stomach. The sight makes you mewl and spread your legs even wider in anticipation of him filling you until his tip meets your womb.

He settles between your legs and takes both of your hands in his, pressing his forehead to yours. "I love you, Y/N." He murmurs. "I love you, Anthony." You return, and his lips are on yours. He slowly pushes his cock into your body, groaning into your mouth as you moan into his. He bottoms out and lets you adjust, kissing down your neck to your shoulder.

You gently push your hips down as a signal that he can move, and he grins against your skin. He begins to slowly rock in and out of your body, groaning at the noises he draws from your cunt. "Faster, Ant. Please." You gust into his hair, squeezing his hands tight in your own.

He does not need to be told twice. He begins to slam into your body, making your toes curl as you scream out. He continues his brutal pace, the sound of body meeting body filling the bedroom. He presses his forehead to yours just as your eyes shut. "Look at me." He whispers, stalling for a moment. "I want to see how good I make you feel. I've waited far too long for you to hide, my love." He breathes, and you open your eyes.

He gives that stupid arrogant smirk before beginning to thrust into you just as hard as before as if he never stopped. Your mouth hangs ajar, your mind too focused on the feeling of his cock to even try and stop the moans that flow freely from your mouth.

He moves a hand down your stomach, his thumb finding your clit and circling to the rhythm of his thrusts. He growls when you clench around his length and moan his name. He tucks his head into the crook of your neck. "Come with me." He whispers, biting down on the skin.

The action sends you over the edge. You come for the second time, screaming his name and he follows soon after, painting your insides with his seed. He works you through your orgasm before pulling out and nuzzling your neck.

After a moment he climbs off of you and saunters to his bathroom, leaving you dazed on the bed. You turn your head and press your face into his pillow once more, letting his scent calm you down. He returns a moment later and laughs warmly at the sight. You blush at the noise and look up at him. "Funny that," He says, gesturing to his pillow as he cleans your thighs with the washcloth he brought out. "I did the same thing today." He grins.

"Mmm. When was that, hm? Did you sneak into my bedroom?" You tease and he grins, shaking his head as he places the washcloth on the bedside and crawls into bed. "No, though I am flattered you would think I would be so bold." He hums, pulling you under the covers with him and taking you into his arms.

You smile softly and bury your face into his neck, closing your eyes. "I did it when I walked past you at the ball. The young woman I was talking to thought I went mad. I had to stop and think of all of the fond memories I have of you." He murmurs as he rests his head atop yours, kissing it softly before closing his eyes as well.

You smile softly at the thought of him stopping mid-step just to think of you. It warms your soul. "I love you." You whisper, slowly nodding off to the sound of his heartbeat.

"And I love you, my star." He whispers before following you into a deep slumber.

The moon truly cannot thrive without the stars.

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leighsartworks216 · 8 months

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You Have A Type, Don't You?

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Based on this post

I wrote this instead of doing any of the work I need to do! I'm gonna go do that now lol

Warnings: innuendos, minor references to sex, the barest hints of jealousy

Word Count: 1,601

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Your pencil scratched across the paper, drawing Astarion over and over again on a single page. This wasn’t anything surprising; you drew all of your companions. Gale, Wyll, Karlach, Shadowheart, Lae’zel - they all had pages of their own, but it was usually only one drawing. Some had even posed for it. It was just a way to relax, and their faces always lit up when you showed them, even if they tried not to show it.

Everyone needed a break from fighting and exploring day in day out, so you decided one more day here wouldn’t hurt. As such, you’ve spent the better half of the day just drawing. At first it was little doodles of Scratch, but then you realized you hadn’t drawn the vampire spawn yet.

Most of the expressions you captured came from memory. You’d occasionally sneak a glance for quick reference, pretending to stretch or get distracted by some birds. But at some point, he’d disappeared from camp. You just assumed he’d gone off hunting.

That assumption was proved quite wrong when a voice tsked over your shoulder, almost directly in your ear.

Startling away from the sound, you whipped around to see Astarion crouched down. He wore a self-satisfied smirk and settled down into a full sit on the ground.

“It seems someone is infatuated,” he teased. “So who is it? Someone we saved from peril, perhaps?”

Oh. Right. It had completely slipped your mind.

You cleared your throat as your cheeks warmed and smiled. “Y-Yeah, something like that.”

He chuckled. “Come on, darling, there’s nothing to be shy about. Spare none of the juicy details. What’s he like?”

“He’s, well,” you stammer, “he’s interesting.”

He scoffed. “That’s hardly juicy or a detail. Or is he just another pretty face?” He leaned forward, trying to get a better look at your drawings. You wanted to pull them away and hide them, but why? All the others had drawings done of them, and you loved showing it off when they were done. Why was this any different?

“No, he’s a lot more than that,” you admit quietly. You weren’t good at lying - usually Astarion took the lead any time you had to - but maybe if you didn’t tell a complete lie… “He’s funny, charming. His laugh lights up my world. He’s had a rough go of it, but he doesn’t like it to show.”

“He must like you if you know,” he hummed. Your heart leapt into your throat as he pointed to the pin pricks drawn on the neck. “Is he a vampire, too?” He chuckled, but it sounded strained. “You have a type, don’t you?”

You scoffed even as warmth flooded to your cheeks. “No! I do not have a type.”

“No, of course not,” he played along. “Certainly not for creatures of the night who bite into that pretty little neck of yours.” Despite his smile, there was a tension in his eyes. “I don’t mind, dear. I’d be more than happy to scrounge around some nights so you may indulge your new lover.”

You shook your head. “You don’t have to do that, Astarion,” you assured. “He’s not… We’re not together.”

“No?” You shook your head again. He opened his mouth to give you advice or console you, but you cut him off. It was better to end this fantasy now, before it began to hurt too much.

“It doesn’t matter. Besides, you shouldn’t be sneaking around so you can look over my shoulder. I could have been drawing something terrible.”

He laughed. “All the more reason to risk a peek. You’re so good, it would be nice to know you can be tempted.” Then he scowled. “Unless it’s something terribly dull. You deserve much more than missionary.”

If your cheeks weren’t already blazing hot…

“In any case, I was only wondering when you’d draw my portrait. You seemed more than happy to provide the others with a likeness. And…” He looked past you, seemingly far away. “I haven’t seen myself in two centuries. One gets curious, especially when you’re as vain as me.”

If he heard your heart start racing, he didn’t comment on it. Drawing him would make him realize it wasn’t some other vampire crush you were drawing. But, it had been a while since your adventure began, and you’d drawn everyone else. You swallowed down your anxiety. “Yeah! Of course! Did you wanna pose, or anything?”

He blinked and suddenly he was back in the present. A sly smirk covered up whatever emotions could be lingering on his face. “If your little vampire friend doesn’t get too jealous. I would actually like if you could draw me just,” he paused, “smiling. It would be nice to know what everyone else sees. Make sure I’m not off-putting, you know how it is.”

Once he was sitting comfortably, you turned to a fresh page and began drawing. The paper was hidden from his view, but he watched as your hand, wrist, and arm all moved in tandem like a clock’s gears to create an image. Your eyes moved between the sketch and him multiple times. Sometimes you’d glance up and draw for almost a minute. Then other times you kept going back and forth, constantly checking for reference.

Watching you work was fascinating. All your surroundings faded away. Karlach being her usual loud self, Wyll dancing, Gale cooking, Lae’zel sharpening weapons - nothing could turn your attention from him. He almost felt subconscious with the intensity of it. Your eyes studied him, taking in every single feature, and translated it to your journal. What did you see when you looked at him, he wondered. What did the world see? It had been so long, he couldn’t even remember his face. All he knew was he was attractive.

With a final few marks, brushed away to blend them into the rest, you looked down at your masterpiece. You were so caught up in the drawing you forgot why you were hesitant before, but now that Astarion stared at you from two different angles, your anxiety came back full force. There was no way out of this.

“All done, dear?”

You smiled shakily up at him and turned the journal around. His face scrunched up in confusion. When he met your eyes, he was decidedly unamused. “Darling, if you’re going to draw your fleeting fancy, don’t trick me first. I know it’s hard to see past the depraved bloodlust, but we don’t all look alike, you know.”

“No, Astarion, it’s not- I-”

While you fought to find words, Karlach picked up the slack. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she shouted across the camp, “IT’S YOU, FANGS!”

Dread washed over you. You closed your eyes. If a merciful god was going to kill you and rid you of this embarrassment, now would be the time. A bolt of lightning, perhaps. You’d even welcome decapitation.

You risked a glance when you felt your book being tugged carefully from your hands. His eyes were wide, mouth slightly open as he tried to comprehend what the fuck had just happened. Gods, now he was going to leave camp. You buried your face in your hands. He was going to pack everything up and leave before the sun even touched the horizon. And you’d never see him again. Maybe you’d go find Cazador yourself, just to kill the bastard.

“All these drawings… are me? Darling?”

You inhaled deeply and lowered your hands, but you couldn’t bear looking at him. He could stab you with his dagger and you’d apologize to him for it all. Hell, you’d let him drink you dry if it meant leaving this all behind you. “You’re very pretty,” you admitted quietly. “I didn’t know how to ask, and just- You can rip the pages out, burn them, whatever makes you feel better. And if you leave, I won’t blame you or chase after you or-”

“I’m not upset.” Your head never shot up so fast. “Well, a little. You’re not subtle when you stare, you know. I thought you were just uncomfortable being around a vampire, but this…” He turned back to the portrait you’d just finished. “This is really what I look like?”

You swallowed away a small portion of the shame. At least he wasn’t running away. “As best as I can capture you, anyway. Y-You’ve got these sharp eyes, and your hair curls around your ears, and you get little wrinkles around your eyes and mouth when you laugh - and I just like drawing you.”

The page flipped over again. The page of expressions, capturing everything you described. When he smiled full and bright his fangs were on full display, accented by the laugh lines on either side of his mouth. And the puncture wounds on his neck…

“Ah, so when I said you had a type…” He chuckled, but it didn’t hold as much warmth as usual.

“Your laugh does light up my world,” you admit. His red eyes were on you in an instant, flickering over your whole face. “Just, for the record.”

He glanced at the drawings once more, contemplative. Then, he held the book back out to you. “I wouldn’t be… opposed to trying this. Whatever this is.”

You reached out to take it, but he pulled it away. “But, no more sneaking glances across camp when you want to draw me. I would be delighted to model for you again, in any pose your sweet heart can concoct.” He held the book out again. “Deal?”

You grabbed onto the book, finally relaxing as you smiled. “Deal.”

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @mjmygd @flsalazar @thedevilssinner @marina-and-the-memes @softempest @rebeccasship @pinkishredlemonade @faeoran

#fanfic #fanfiction #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #baldur's gate tav #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #fluff

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enden-agolor · 4 days

Note

i fucking LOVE the way you draw/write jesse, as someone with a chubby/buff build i kind of struggle with insecurities about my size but the way you draw him makes me feel very good. idk im describing it badly but i wanted to ask if your design for him is more chubby or muscly?

Dude thank you 🥺🩵 You described it very well.

It really depends on which time frame I'm drawing Jesse in actually.

In the beginning, I imagine Jesse is quite scrawny. I mean did you see his work out routine in the beginning? He was was doing sit ups and punching flowers. He was definitely lacking muscle (but had enough to be able to lift Reuben up and down that ladder) and as the first couple episodes progress, he stays scrawny but progressively becomes more scarred up until the Portal Hallway episodes.

The Portal Hallway episodes, it takes place many months after the events of the Witherstorm. Jesse and his friends are going on many more adventures, really honing their skills that they acquired over the past few months. Jesse is much more built now. He's buff and tough with the true heart of a hero. Although, once he and his friends get stuck in the Portal Hall, that's when things take a really devastating turn for him. Feeling hopeless and lost for weeks on end, he begins to feel withdrawn from the positivity he was feeling before he ended up stuck here. Traumatic events keep occuring, and with these events, Jesse is of course drawn to remember and replay the events of Reuben's death in his head. He keeps the most of these feelings to himself because his group is already feeling so disheartened about their current situation that the last thing he'd want for them is to know that he's breaking emotionally, so he ends up taking less care of himself. He starts eating with the idea that he has to stay strong for his friends, but even those moments are rare. Food is scarce depending on what portal they are in, so when he finds food, he'll take anything that will keep his energy and strengths up.

By the end of it all, he's actually put on a significant amount of muscle. But it's kind of like a 'at what cost?' scenario.

Things get a bit better for him between then and Season 2 where he's eating better again and keeping all that muscle, but once Season 2 comes and goes, and with everything that happens in the Sunshine Institute and the Underneath, he loses a lot of weight.

It's only after Season 2, where he stays in BeaconTown and eventually finds a love life with Lukas when he really begins putting on weight once again. He's done with hero work. He's done with going on crazy life threatening adventures. Now he just wants to live life for himself rather than putting others first. Lukas helps him a lot through this, with body positivity and lots of love and affectionate touch, it's all the reassurance Jesse has ever needed to feel okay with being himself again. So he ends up putting on that happy weight that couples typically adopt over time when they're in a healthy relationship. Lukas treats him so, so unbelievably well. Finally Jesse gets to eat food for himself without the idea of needing to keep himself strong and powerful once he's finally retired. He indulges himself in his sweet tooth and loves to eat cookies, cakes, and other baked goods that Lukas will bake or bring home. He also really enjoys the fact that he doesn't have to eat alone anymore. He loves sitting at the table and enjoying a meal with his hubby. And the best part, which is something Jesse was horribly self conscious about, is that Lukas loves and adores his pudge. He is so supportive of Jesse's eating habits, but he doesn't hesitate to sneak veggies and fruits into Jesse's lunch box for work.

So yeah uh Jesse is chubby, buff and loved at the end of it all 😍

Here's some lil doodles of him I have lying around. The first one is pretty old and could probably use a touch up since now I don't see much of a difference, but you get the point ☠️

#mcsm #ask #my art #mcsm jesse #minecraft story mode #mcsm fanart #mcsm radar #jesskas

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mauesartetc · 5 months

Text

A while back I got a comment that demonstrated a misconception as to what the character design process actually entails, and I thought it had real "teachable moment" potential. So let me make this perfectly clear:

Drawing a character is NOT the same as designing one.

Let's say I wanted to draw a guy. No backstory, no defined personality traits or preferences, no details about his current life, just doodling some random, generic guy who popped into my head.

That's just a drawing.

But what if I decided to flesh him out more? What if I wanted his appearance to reflect his lifestyle and inner life as well? Here's where the note-taking comes in.

And now for the visual research:

I thought the bodybuilding angle would provide a fun contrast with this guy's profession. The mental image of a huge, burly dude working on a clock or watch with tiny, precise movements just makes me smile. Perhaps I could give him small, nimble hands that would suit his line of work.

Now that I have a better idea of how Mikhail's face and body will look, it's time to establish a pose.

Of course, I never expected to employ all the personality traits I started out with inside this single pose; those were just a jumping-off point. No one drawing will ever be able to encapsulate every single facet of a character, unless they're extraordinarily flat and generic (see also: random guy I doodled at the start of this post). If I wanted to write a story with this guy, I'd have to figure out how all the traits play off each other and how they'd cause him to react to different situations. There would be a lot more note-taking and development involved, but for the sake of keeping this post (somewhat) brief, let's just focus on visuals for now.

On to color!

I decided to give Mikhail a carnation in his pocket (for its round shape), specifically a red one, which represents deep love and an aching heart. Thus, the flower needed to maintain its red color for the symbolism to come through.

For some reason I initially pictured this guy wearing a pink shirt (perhaps as an offshoot of the "romantic" angle), but I wanted to try some different colors inspired by the 70s catalog pages I found. I ended up really liking the contrast of the cool blue shirt with the warm red pants, and that option made it into my top three as a result. I lined them up next to each other to compare them, and in the end, blue won out over pink. I think it also reflects the "colder", more cerebral, less-emotional parts of his personality well (namely "systematic", "stern", and "callous"- one from each column!). Just goes to show that you shouldn't get too attached to your first draft, as better ideas are just around the corner.

I then lightened the blue of the shirt so it wouldn't compete so much with the rest of the outfit, and wouldn't be quite as loud and "in your face". Mikhail strikes me as a bit of an introvert, so the calmer, quieter blue is a better fit. I added a darker belt and watchband and de-saturated the flower just a bit to make the values feel more balanced, and I think we've got it!

Let's see the final result!

Y'all, I was not expecting this process to make me emotional, but there's something special about fully realizing a little guy you've spent hours working on. All of a sudden you look at him and go, "Oh my god, there he is. That's him." This man wasn't even a twinkle in my eye a couple weeks ago and now I'd protect him with my life.

And the thing is, the only reason I'm calling this design "done" for now is that I basically just brought it into existence to make a point. But if this dude were attached to a larger story, he'd be nowhere near finished. I'd have to make a ton more iterations and go a lot more in depth with my research than I did (especially with the Armenian cultural stuff). Overall, though, I hope this quick project properly highlighted the difference between a single drawing and a more fleshed-out character.

Later!

#character design #art tips #art advice #art help #concept art #long post

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sysig · 2 months

Photo

Someone’s looking out for you ♥ (Patreon)

#Doodles #SCII #Helix #ZEX #Crackship #Wally West this time! :D #Their flirting is the cutest <3 <3 #But first! ZEX's uniform!!!!! JKFLdhsafjdf <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 #I've always liked his uniform - he looks beautiful in it it's quite fun to draw it's pretty it's flowy - very good piece of clothing do like #How something as simple as missing it for a week makes such a huge impact <3 Hhghh gods the way he describes getting it back ♥♪♫#I've never appreciated the Feeling of his uniform on his body before now and hhh what a difference it makes!#Genuinely like a tactile understanding to complement the emotional <3 Feeling and feelings! It's so lovely! Ahh <3 #It goes back to being a question mark over everything once he starts to really think through the implications but for A Moment #And he gets to snuggle a human the same night :D Everything going so well!#Wally's so funny lol he's got ZEX making The most obvious come ons he possibly can flirting his little alien heart out #And he's just like ''But do you actually want to? Do you /really/ want to??'' Haha ♪#It's very sweet honestly! Very attentive and careful <3 I'm always appreciative of anyone who treats ZEX well ♥#But no he definitely Does Not mean pretty much anything platonically lol #What was it how did I describe him in my notes and haven't been able to stop laughing about lol -#Ah yes - Wally doesn't need to worry because ZEX is a ''hedonistic pleasurebeast'' lol #I also like how Wally is the first(? if I remember correctly) of ZEX's Type starting to develop haha ♪#Sure he likes all humans but if he happens to lean one way more than another hehehe ♫#I'm doubly fascinated by his self-awareness (and lack thereof) around submissiveness - he's very sensitive as a human!#He's still quite aggressive but also easily overwhelmed ♪ It's a very interesting combo to me :3c #And any further insight into his proclivities delights me hehe <3 #Heart eyes ZEX >>>>>> ♥♪♫#And a few silly little doodles as well :D The first one's just a random chibi lol he's cute! ♪#The second is of him trying a Starburst hehe he's so cute <3 I was so curious as to how he'd react to candy/sugar so lovely to see!#And thus far he hasn't had any alcohol - good Max has had enough - but I got my favourite Catawba so tipsy doodle it is lol #All the cutests <3 <3

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lttl3babybug · 3 months

Note

Are you okay with people 18+ interacting? Do you do Hazbin Hotel requests

If so can you do headcanons or a fic about Alastor with a little who accidentally summoned him to Earth

@babiegurlmuffin

I am a-okay with people 18+ interacting as long as they’re here for complete sfw reasons and have a sfw account as I am still a minor myself! Thank you for asking sweetheart :3

Of course I can write that for you! You’re my first hazbin request! (Even tho I posted a stimboard before this, this has been sat in my request box for like 2 weeks now) How exciting!! Hope you like this!!

Crayon scribbles

Your day had been terrible to put it lightly, too loud, too bright, too much. So when you could retreat home to your little space god were you ecstatic, the calming hues of your room immediately setting your mind at ease. Between the pacifier between your lips and your comfiest outfit on you were ready for a relaxing night.

It was all going so smoothly, laying on the floor while an old Disney cartoon played on your laptop and cuddled up to an old deer plush. Red crayon in hand, happily doodling away until it started to burn, dropping it out of instinct. “Huh…” you mumble, maybe it was hand cramp. Attempting to pick it up again, once again you heard the singe of the paper as if touched your skin. This time it was accompanied by the loud static of ah old radio and a bright red light coming from your paper. Scrambling away, plushie in hand you watched as a figure formed at the centre of the light. Then it all stopped. And he was there.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance! I am Alastor, the radio demon, although I assume you knew that since you summoned me! Now how may I be of assistance?”

The large smile plastered across his face wasn’t helping the immense fear you felt, tears burning in your eyes as he held his hand out for you to shake, “Why are you here?” Your voice came out small and weak, cowering away from the self proclaimed ‘Radio Demon’ standing in the middle of your bedroom.

He bent down to meet your gaze, scanning your scared expression. “You don’t…know who I am?” he asked with a confused laugh. The radio filter over his voice wavering momentarily, you shook your head clutching the deer close to you. “Well, that makes things a lot more complicated doesn’t it?” He stood upright once again, pulling you with him.

“Whatever is going on here?” Alastor raised an eyebrow and prodded a few of your drawings and stuffies with his cane, a confused expression written across his face as he did so. He eyed up the pacifier in your mouth and hummed lightly, “aren’t you a little too old for that?” He mused, a smirk on his face. You shook your head, “No…no sir, I don’t think so”. You sounded so scared, so confused. It was almost getting to him. Almost. The picture of innocence stood before him, having accidentally summoned him with simple crayon scribbles. Well he couldn’t not play along! Tilting your chin up with his index finger and examining your features, “how old are you my dear?”

Such an innocent question, such a complex answer. “…4” you’d mumble past the pacifier, then it clicked in him. He’d seen this before in a few of his acquaintances at the hotel, “Why of course! How could I be so silly to think you were anything but I little fawn, well aren’t you just darling” he’d changed his demeanour quite rapidly. Pinching your cheek and straightening out your outfit so it sat right. This was new…and strange, but it felt right. Watching him fuss over you while he led you towards your bed, sitting down on it and patting the spot beside him and not knowing why, you sat next to him.

“My my, someone’s had quite the big day haven’t they?” He hummed, turning to to face him, “and what’s this one’s name?” He asked politely pointing towards your stuffed deer, “…’s called Lena” you mumbled from behind your pacifier. He hummed in content before looking around and spotting your laptop on the floor, “Hm, I see your a fan of those noisy screens.” A sense of distaste in his voice, you watched as he closed the laptop screen with his cane and pushed it to the side. “You’ll be having none of that while I’m here little one, just good old fashioned radio” Alastor proudly declared, standing up and tapping his cane on the floor.

That horrible scratchy static returned until he bonked it once again, it started playing a calming melody. He ruffled your hair and laid you down in your bed, tucking you in under your fleece blankets the music soothed you. It helped you forget your worries of today, helped you forget how scary everything was moments ago when he’d just appeared in your room. Now here he was, humming you a soft tune and sending you off to sleep. “Rest well little fawn. You know where to find me if needed…”

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dira333 · 2 months

Text

Your name on my skin - Shinsou x Reader

A/N: What your soulmate writes appears on your skin - requested by @bookishgalaxies

It happens during Homeroom.

One second he’s trying not to fall asleep as Aizawa drones on about the importance of good defense - his metal leg clicking every time he moves around - the next his arm tickles like a horde of ants is dancing on it.

He scratches it, but the tickling doesn’t stop.

Annoyed, Shinsou pulls the sleeve up, only to reel black at the sight. There, on the pale skin of his arm, appears black ink, one letter after the other as if a ghost is writing it.

He’s not an idiot. He knows what that means.

Well, he doesn’t really know what that means, because where other people’s soulmates write a “Hello?” or introduce themselves by name, his soulmate’s first message is… E = σ / ε = (F/A)?

Shinsou blinks down at his arm. It’s only the comforting sound of Aizawa’s voice that drones on that keeps him grounded.

Behind him, someone clears his throat.

“Hitoshi,” a voice whispers. When he turns around, Izuku is blinking up at him with wide green eyes. He looks both worried and delighted simultaneously, which is a common enough occurrence.

“Can I see?” Izuku asks and Shinsou blinks to the front where Aizawa has taken a seat, eyes most definitely closed for a quick nap.

“Sure,” he tips his chair back and offers his arm. In a matter of seconds, multiple eyes are on him.

He’s not the first person this has happened to. Sato’s got a cute soulmate in first grade who blushes every time they come across each other in the hallways. Her first message on his arm was a doodle of his name with a heart around it.

Fumikage refuses to give out any information about his soulmate but regularly shows off the artwork they’ve created on their skin. Elaborate drawings or silly little doodles mark his skin each day.

And then there’s Bakugo, who’s started wearing long sleeves, barking at everyone who asks if he wants to shed a layer.

It doesn’t take long for his arms to be absolutely littered with formulas. At least he thinks they’re supposed to be formulas. T = F x r x sin(θ) and P (1 + r/n)(nt) - P, F = m x a and p = eoA(T⁴ - Tc⁴). Izuku has managed to identify quite a few, rambling on about what they mean but Shinsou’s mind can’t follow, too busy trying to wrap itself around the fact that he’s got a soulmate.

There’s less than a minute left, the coming break looming over him - they’re all going to ask him about it, crowd his table like they did last week with Denki - as he uncaps a pen and scribbles in some of the few spaces left untouched.

“Hello, please use a notebook, I’m running out of skin.”

The sensation stops immediately. His skin starts stinging right above his wrist and when the ink there starts to bleed he realizes. They must have tried to rub it off, saliva probably included.

He writes another line.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Shinsou knows, as he’s writing it, that he will get shit for that nonchalant tone. And he’s right.

But it’s not Mina, or Momo, or even Jirou who convinces him that he needs to adopt a different tone when talking to his soulmate. It’s Bakugo.

Bakugo’s arms are littered with poetry.

The other boy pulls his shirt back on so fast that Shinsou can’t make out much. But he’s seen enough. In every other verse, there are little hearts dotting the i’s. The poems are written in two distinctly different types of handwriting, one of them he’s familiar with.

“So you’re writing poetry?” Shinsou asks, because why shouldn’t he?

Bakugo dragged him into his room for a reason and he’s pretty sure he knows what it is.

After all, Shinsou’s Soulmate has been quiet, not a single drop of ink appearing on his skin ever since.

“They’re just as scared as we are,” Bakugo huffs, unusually quiet and unable to make eye contact. “You should keep that in mind.”

He doesn’t say any more, pushes him out of his room with a glare that speaks volumes, but Shinsou’s always prided himself in being quick on the uptake.

If the Bakugo Katsuki can learn to write poetry for someone else, he could probably start with an apology.

p = eoA(T⁴ - Tc⁴) is written neatly on the inside of his right arm.

Shinsou uncaps a pen with his teeth and drags it over the other arm, the still untouched skin. He’d been thinking about this for weeks now, maybe even longer if he’s being honest with himself.

The year is coming to an end. He’s got a job lined up after graduation and even though they haven’t been able to properly secure an apartment yet, he knows he’s going to share a flat with Denki for a while, maybe even Sero if they can find one big enough.

He knows what his future is going to be like, with or without you and he even knows who you are, because he’s too curious and too good at solving riddles for his own good.

Shinsou halts, pen hovering over his skin.

He knows that you like him. You’ve told him so, multiple times.

But it’s different to like someone on the other end of a cosmic connection, not knowing what they look like or knowing their reputation.

The bullying might have stopped, but the scars have not yet faded.

Somewhere in the hallway a door falls closed, the sound loud enough to make him flinch.

The cold wetness of ink tells him that he moved too suddenly. Now there’s a smear of ink across his arm and he sighs. Well… he might as well commit to it, now that he started.

“I like you too,” he writes, in the direct way you said you liked about him, “And my name is Shinsou Hitoshi. I’m in your year but in Class 3A.”

His skin prickles, but there’s no immediate response.

He’s learned your schedule, more by following the notes you leave on your - and therefore his skin, and you should be free right now.

Every second that ticks by is torture. But he stares down at his skin and waits.

He’s not sure how long it takes you to answer. He’s too scared to look up from his skin and miss it to check his watch.

Someone knocks softly on his door.

“I’m busy,” he calls out, fully expecting Midoriya.

“How busy?” You ask back.

His chair clatters to the ground as he rushes over.

You’re smiling at him when the door opens, a little out of breath maybe, fingers digging into the fabric of your uniform, fiddling with the hem of your blazer.

“Hi,” your smile turns mischievous. “Do you wanna go out?”

“With me?” He asks, like an idiot. But it’s hard to think with your eyes twinkling up at him like that. You might be related to Aoyama.

“Who else?” You ask and stretch your hand out.

Shinsou can see his name on your skin. Yeah, he thinks, who else?

My Kofi if you want to tip me

#my writing #Shinsou x reader #Shinsou Hitoshi #Shinsou fluff #mha fluff #mha x reader #mha #shinsou imagine #hitoshi shinsou

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xstarsmvxz · 11 months

Text

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 ✩

pairings ➜ hobie brown x kind!reader

warnings ➜ fluff, opposites attract, pet names, gn!reader, uses of weed, not proofread! i don’t really know what else?

word count ➜ 1.5k

M speaks! ➜ if you see the name “Asher” mentioned, it’s because that’s my cats name and I love her sm, she’s also so tiny cause she’s still a kitten so keep that in mind <3

➜ When Hobie first met you he honestly thought you were annoying.

➜ Your bright, optimistic attitude really got to him for some reason he didn’t know the answer to.

➜ You were way too kind for your own good, you always have a big smile gracing your face and you were constantly offering help to anybody who seemed like they needed it, even if they were a complete stranger!

➜ However, that kindness and happiness is what drew him in.

➜ He vividly remembers the day he realised you weren’t as bad as he thought.

You and hobie sat on either side of a soft grey sofa, waiting for Miguel to come back from wherever he rushed off to. Gwen and Pavitr sat on the sofa across from you guys, having their own conversation. You awkwardly played with the tips of your beat-up red and white converse, waiting for the courage to strike up a conversation. You softly clear your throat, “sooo.. where do you think he’s gone?” You hesitantly ask hobie. He doesn’t even glance your way when he replies in his thick accent, “dunno.”

You stare as he flicks a black ink pen in circles with his fingers. “That’s pretty cool, how do you do that?” You lean a little closer to him, trying to get a better look at how he’s doing it. He stares at you for a second, wondering why you’re all so interested in what he’s doing now. He slowly scoots himself a bit closer to you, feeling the slightest bit of warmth radiating from your body is a new type of comfort to him. “Like this..” He places the pen in between your thumb and index finger before he begins to slowly guide your fingers step by step. Your a bit stiff at first but once you memorise the movements you try it on your own. You start off slow but once you gradually get faster you drop the pen onto the floor. Muttering a small “oops” you lean down to pick it up and try again. Hobie slightly smirks as he watches you begin to spin the pen again.

After about seventeen tries you finally got it, spinning the pen skilfully in your hand you look up. “Hobie, Hobie look! Im doing it, oh my gosh!” You begin to get over excited, causing you to drop the pen again. Hobie let’s out a small laugh, leaning down to grab it from the floor. “Good job.” He praises as he begins to spin the pen in his own hand. “Thank you, Hobie..” You go back to fiddling with the tips of your shoes until an idea pops into your mind. “Hey, wanna draw on my shoes, they’re already pretty much ruined so it wouldn’t really matter.” He stops spinning the pen, taking the lid off of it and nodding his head. “Sure, why not.” He begins to draw small doodles on your shoes, such as small webs, spiders and pretty patterns. How ironic. You think to yourself as he draws a web with a spider hanging from it on the white part of your shoe.

Hobie smiles as you let out a small laugh, wondering what’s going through your mind. He continues to draw on your shoe as he thinks to himself. Your really not as annoying as he thought you were, you’re actually quite humble and soft. He begins to think about the friendship that potentially just bloomed between the two of you.

➜ Now let’s skip to when the two of you started dating.

➜ At first you were both kind of awkward. The two of you had only been friends for a couple months before you found yourself kissing him in your bedroom.

➜ you guys didn’t really go on dates, instead the two of you would normally just spend time together in your bedroom, watching movies or just having conversations about whatever comes to mind.

➜ he doesn’t really like “couple” things, but that doesn’t stop him from getting you small gifts whenever he can.

➜ some days he comes knocking at your apartment door, a bouquet of your favourite flowers in his hand.

➜ other days he will come to your house with smaller gifts like food or jewellery.

You sit on your bed, lying on your stomach with your feet in the air whilst you read a book that you borrowed from the library. Your cat sits next to you, purring in its sleep. Your head shoots up when you hear a loud knock coming from your apartment door. You place your book down next to your cat and walk out of your room, heading towards the door. Once you open the door, you come face to face with your boyfriend Hobie, who is holding a small bouquet of pretty flowers in his hand. You shyly smile, “Hi..” you greet. “Hey doll.” He extends his arm, placing the flowers into your ring adorned hand, all the rings he got you. “Hobie, they’re so pretty…” you stare at the flowers, touching one of the petals with your finger tips. “I love them! Thank you Hobes!” You give your boyfriend a bone crushing hug before running to your kitchen to fill a vase with water. You place the vase full of flowers in the middle of your small wooden circle table next to your couch.

You sit down with a sigh and beckon Hobie over. He sits next to you, placing his arm around your shoulders as you lean into his side. Just on queue, your grey cat Asher walks in, her fluffy tail swishing it the air as she jumps onto the sofa in between you and Hobie. You let out an airy laugh as you pet your attention seeking cat. “Who’s a pretty girl?” You ask your cat as if she can understand you, scratching her chin as she lets out soft purrs. It’s not long before you fall asleep, leaving Hobie to pet the ball of fluff sitting in his lap.

➜ once you guys get more comfortable with each other, the two of you are never seen without the other.

➜ Gwen literally thinks that you guys are meant to be in one body.

“You guys are literally always together, we might as well morph you both into one body!” Gwen says as she stares at the both of you sitting on the soft chair across from her, you sit on Hobies lap bridal style, leaning your head onto his comfy chest while he strokes your upper arm.

➜ At this point you tell Gwen everything about yours and Hobies relationship.

➜ She absolutely freaked out when she found out he was your first everything.

➜ And when I say first everything, I really do mean everything.

➜ he was your first kiss, first boyfriend and first person you ever slept with.

➜ He was always so patient and gentle with you, never forcing you into anything you didn’t want to do.

➜ In his eyes, you were so fragile and innocent. He was almost afraid to break you.

➜ One day, you begged him to let you smoke weed on the roof with him.

➜ You even had to get on your knees and beg before he finally agreed.

You sat next to Hobie, wearing one of his black jackets as you watch him roll a joint for you to share, he brings the joint to his lips before inhaling then exhaling the smoke into the cold night. He passes the joint to you, asking if you watched how he did it. “Yeah, yeah I did..” He watches as you slowly bring the joint to your own lips, inhaling the smallest amount before exhaling with a small cough. He laughs as he watches your eyes water a bit before you pass the joint back to him. “Didn’t like it?” He questions, taking another hit. “It wasn’t that bad, I just need to get used to it.”

➜ After that night you regularly found yourself sitting on that same roof, either smoking a bong or joint. Unlike Hobie, you liked bongs more, finding them easier to use.

➜ Though, the first time you used Hobies newly bought bong you choked, you were already high before hand so you and Hobie found it absolutely hilarious.

➜ The both of you fell into a laughing fit, holding onto your stomachs from the pain caused by laughing so much.

You lied on your back, holding onto your aching stomach as you uncontrollably laughed. “Hobes, help.. it feels like I’m growing abs!” At this point, tears were coming from both of your guys eyes.

➜ I imagine that at first he wasn’t really big on pda, he still isn’t but now that you guys have known each other for longer he’s a little more comfortable with it.

➜ The most public affection your probably going to get is a small peck on your lips.

➜ But his favourite thing to do is hold your hand, it brings him comfort and happiness knowing that you’re right beside him.

➜ Nicknames that he gives you consist of; love, my love, sweet, sweet stuff, babe and his personal favourite, sunshine.

➜ Overall your relationship is perfect for the both of you, neither of you could possibly want anything more or less.

➜ You were both unconditionally in love and nothing could ever change that.

masterlist

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