𝜗ৎ

He isn’t big for grand gestures, but he tries, prefering the little things he can do. Like when he slides into your side when you’re walking like it’s natural instinct, or when he brings you a drink without asking, or replacing the string from the bathroom light that you mentioned broke three weeks ago. He probably pulled someone else to fix it.. but that’s beside the point.

He is the “I love my girlfriend” number one, and he’s not quiet on how he feels about you. He’s complimenting you all the time, holding you, staring at you when you start to ramble with the most tender, pupils blown wide look in his eyes. And once he figures it out and realises he really does love you, he’s down bad, like irrevocably. He’d do anything for you, and is borderline sappy, he kind of hates the fact it gets him like that, but at the same time he wouldn’t change it, not if it meant he didn’t have you.

Whether you live together or not, you end up that way either way, crashing at one another’s places, on the couch, in the bed, on the floor, it doesn’t matter. You both just draw to one another that way. But one thing is constant with him, is keeping you safe. Not the ‘over the top’ or controlling kind, but the being cautious and careful. Asking you when you’re going, checking his watch when you’ve been out a little longer than usual, walking you to and from wherever he can.

The camera goes with him everywhere he goes. And that’s no understatement, it’s everywhere. And when he’s not focused and driven on some artsy film project, the subject of most of those recordings, are without any doubt, you. In fact, he has a whole collection stowed safely away that he goes to and plays back often. He’s proud of it as well, even if you call him out or anyone asks, he’s just like, “Yeah, and what about it?” Meanwhile filming ten more. And it’s you doing the most random things too. There’s one with you early in the morning, sunlight barely peeking the windows and the room is covered in that hazy sort of blue. You’re barely even wake before he’s got it in your face and mumbling something to himself. Something about how “you looked so gorgeous I couldn’t not,” his bare chest rising from the sheets while his mussed hair flops on the camera as he turns it around.

There’s also a few more of when you guys are out, some of them on city dates and short evening hikes when you have time to kill. There’s also another one of when you were getting ready once for a night out, nothing fancy, but one enough you were dressing yourself in front of the mirror, fumbling with your gold dangly earrings, and as soon as he saw you, he ran in with it in his hand.

“Bobby put it down..” Your voice prickled through the cameras static, your hand waving out to him just as you came into view.

“In a minute..” But he didn’t. He came up behind you instead, the blinking red bright in the reflection of the mirror as he wrapped his arn around you, chin pressed into your shoulder as the video caught you both.

“Look at my pretty lady..” You swatted him with a blush and laughed, but he didn’t budge, he just pressed a sharp kiss to your neck and smiled back, zooming in slyly onto the reflection of your lips touching, and meeting in a tender kiss.

“Worth it.”

He wears your clothes, even if they don’t fit him, and he does it shamelessly, especially when he hasn’t thrown in the rest of his dirty clothes in the laundry in a while. And he insists they look better than his own anyway, in that teasing, blase sort of way, but really it’s because they smell and remind him of you.

“Bobby.. what are you doing?”

You barely turned the corner to the kitchen before you saw him. In your clothes. Your small, cropped band t more importantly, it barely rose over his belly button and it tightened around his biceps. But he wore it like the most normal thing in the world.

“With what?” He replied with a certain nonchalance, messing with something in the counter.

“That’s mine.”

“Had nothing else to wear.” With a mouthful of toast and he’s already flipping through the magazine in front of him without a care in the world. To add to this even, he steals pretty much everything of yours, though he uses the term “borrowing”. That hair tie you lost? Yeah it’s on his wrist, and basically used as a bracelet. The sand dollars you collected from the beach? He’s got them on his bedside table.

And to reverse this, he likes it when you wear his clothes. When he first spots you with them on, he tries to put an act on, coming across as annoyed, and following you about asking a hundred and one questions and teasing you just to get a reaction. But beneath it all? It drives him crazy. And whenever he can, he’s leaving shirts around the apartment just so that you’ll slip them on.

Somehow, he manages to be everywhere you are. It’s like orbit. You two practically come as a 2 for 1 deal once you’re with Bobby. You’re chilling out on the couch, he’s there, you’re lying on the floor to cool from the summer heat, you’re looking at what kind of ice cream to get in the freezer aisle? He’s already there.

He makes mixtapes for you, and will spend hours playing them for you whilst you both get high. No other plans and no one else to bother you, just relaxing in each other’s company, and honestly he couldn’t think of anything better. For Bobby, even being by your side is what makes him happy, even when you don’t want to talk, or you’re both tired, that silence is his favourite. Though he will pull you close, wrapping an arm around your shoulder or playing with your hair, because he can’t help himself.

Arguments never last long because Bobby is physically incapable of staying mad at you, and he can’t go hours with letting it brew, he’s not the person to go to bed angry. He’ll be halfway through a grumpy speech and then notice you look upset and completely lose his train of thought, and he’s apologising you and pulling you to him to work things out once you’ve both cooled off.

He melts at your touch. Sitting in his lap while everyone’s hanging out? Or curling into him when you’re both passed out in bed. Congratulations, you’ve completely ruined his ability to focus on anything else. Bobby also leans into you at any given time, resting his chin on your shoulder, slinging an arm around your waist the belt loop of your jeans when he reaches for you.

Has a lack of personal space, and he knows it. You’re sitting in his spot on the couch, and he just walks in and freezes.

“Move.”

“No.”

“That’s my seat.”

“There’s three whole spaces Bobby.”

And he just stares at you for a second before dropping down anyway, with no regard for the said three seats, instead he sits far too close and his shoulder presses against yours, practically on your lap.

“You could’ve sat literally anywhere.”

“Mhm.”

And he doesn’t move after that, he kind of just smirks to himself and gives you that shit eating grin of a man who is proud of what he’s done, and he has you in his arms again.

This dude is not a morning person, not even remotely.

But if he wakes up before you do, he’ll just lie there, watching the sunlight creep across the room, with your head on his chest and one arm curled tight around your waist. Even though he’s falling back asleep, he tries not to, holds off just a little longer to hold you and take it in. And if you start waking up and try to move?

It’s not happening. His arm tightens immediately, and he nuzzles himself back into your neck, sinking you both further into the sheets.

“Five more minutes.” He mumbles, and it’s safe to say the pair of you are passed out for a long time after that.

You’ll catch him staring and he’ll immediately pretend he wasn’t. He acts confident, and generally, he is around others, but when it comes to you, he somehow forgets how words work. He lives for praise and compliments.. A quiet “you look handsome today” will have him thinking about it for the next week, and lowkey blushing.

He always includes you in the little projects he gets roped into, whether it’s his own or ones organised by college, it usually ends up with the pair of you sitting and watching random b-movies on tape, and criticising them like you’re some sort of cinema prodigies.

“This sucks.”

“It does.”

And yet neither of you bother to turn it off, just curl closer into one another until someone manages to fall asleep.

Bobby is as possessive as he is protective but he doesn’t show it often, unless he honestly needs to. He gets jealous fairly easily, but it’s not out of mistrust, if anything it’s the opposite, it’s others he doesn’t trust. There’s not a time when he hasn’t got an eye on you, and he kind of maps where you are as a habit, so if someone makes a move toward you, or something seems off, he’s quick to put himself between you and danger or whatever is making you uncomfortable. Which is normally why he’s joined at your hip, and most of the time, neither of you need to say anything, but a glance your way, turning to face you to get a good look at you, and a short “you okay?” as he’s pulling you close, just for good measure.

He calls you different nicknames in the same loving tone no matter what it is, “idiot” and “dipshit” have basically become the new “babe” or “baby”, but those two are always his favourites.

Bobby loves all of the domestic stuff and quality time even if it’s chaotic and blind to go wrong. Cooking together in the late nights even though neither of you know what you’re doing, doing the laundry last minute and running around to get it all done, buying a houseplant neither of you know what to do with, that kind of thing. Because everything it should be, it’s yours.

nsfw

Bobby has an obsession with your body, that’s no understatement, in fact just all of you. Every curve and blemish and scar, he is adoring all of you with kisses showing just how much he loved you, worshipping you every time he can. But he’s obsessed with your tits. Grabbing them, holding them, kissing them, sucking on them. He can’t help himself, every time he’s fucking you he has one in his mouth at some point, or pinching them between his fingers.

He talks dirty.. and he does it well. But not just because of what he says, but how he does it.

“That’s my good girl..”

“There you go..”

“Feels so good baby.. so good.”

He’s whiny and breathy when he does it, making sure to hit that spot that has you seeing stars while he mouths at your ear or over your skin, drawing moan after moan from you while he’s muttering filth into your neck. It’s something that throws you both over the edge, and he can’t help but tell you how good you feel when you’re wrapped around him, or how pretty your face looks when you’re about to come.

An eater!! Just like he is with your tits, Bobby is not for it if it’s not about pleasuring you and making you feel good, to him that’s what gets him off too. And when it comes to eating pussy? He loves it, begs for it honestly. He teases you with it, kissing over the flesh of your thighs and looking up darkly at you before he even puts his mouth on you. But when he does, he’s staying there. And he’s happy to, sinking his tongue through your folds, sucking onto your clit while you arch against him and buck into his face, spitting onto your already soaking pussy. He encourages all of it, groaning into you with fingers curled around your legs. And doesn’t let up until you’re already dripping down his chin.

It goes without saying, but he’s bringing out the camera in bed. Especially in a position he has a good view of your face, even likes to role play like that, with you as the star of his movie.. Having you ride him or have you beneath him while you writhe and moan and he can capture that and keep it forever? Count him in. And it’s going to the other collection of tapes he’s got of you both, which is just as full. And they’re all different. One with the camera set up on the nightstand, the room dark and moonlight patterned through the blinds, but you can see your shadows, your face pressed into the mattress, while Bobby takes you from behind, hands cupped at your tits and your hip.

Or another where it has the most perfect view if your face, while he fingers you, curling them deep whirl your eyes roll back your face flushes. Sometimes he just takes his time filming you and showing you off before he even touches you, he just takes you in, running the viewfinder all over your body while he tries, and fails, to hide his aching cock in his jeans.

He is into exhibitionism, the stuff that seems dangerous and dodgy, but to a degree you’re not going to get caught for public indecency. The idea of having you anywhere, mouth on you, hands on you, with the possibility of getting in trouble gets him off, maybe outside of one of his classrooms, or the storage cupboard t work, or around the back of the lot. Being able to muffle your moans into his hand and watch you come undone whilst trying to stay quiet is a different kind of high for him.

Speaking of.. and another given, high sex is a must with Bobby. Especially when both of you are already chilled out, maybe had a few blunts what was lingering touches and kissing turns into you being carried to bed. There’s something so intimate about it, heightened and without any rush, and it gives him all the more time to worship you, which for Bobby, is all he wants to do.

Valarr was desperate for your attention, he had been since he first saw you sat in the gardens, a book on flowers in hand as you studied the petals on the flower in front of you with undivided attention.

Since then, he found you in the gardens everyday, it took him longer than he cared to admit to work up the courage to speak to you. Spending the last few days stood watching as you noted everything there was to know about a each flower. He would watch as your lips formed a small pout, your face the picture of concentration as you wrote, the way your eyes sparked when you studied the flowers.

He had watched you move around the gardens of the keep, surveying each and every flower over the past few weeks, blissfully unaware of the outside world or anyone around you as you worked.

By the time Valarr worked up the courage to speak to you, you had surveyed half the gardens flowers. And Valarr ever eager to please, wanted to impress you, and had ordered rare flowers specifically from Dorne in an effort to impress you.

The bouquet was behind his back, a nervous smile played on his lips as he slowly approached you.

You didn’t look up, too engrossed in your findings to care for the world around you.

He cleared his throat, waiting for you too look at him. You did after a moment, finishing your sentence and placing the flower in your hand in the correct place in the box beside you. You looked up at him, your face blank but not harsh, as you waited for him to speak.

A large blush took over his face as you looked at him. He waited for you to speak, his eyes following yours as you looked at him, your eyes avoiding his, after a moment of no words from him or you, you went back to what you were doing, ignoring his presence entirely, “I no- I I brought these for you,” he presented you the bouquet of flowers, your head perked up at the sight of them, a soft smile on your face as you took them from him, “thank you” you spoke softly, reaching to grab them and adding them to your pile of uncatalogued flowers, eager to note them later.

Valarr waited for a moment rolling onto the heels of his feet as he watched you resume your work, “do you…do you like them?”

“Yes, they are very nice, thank you.” You spoke, not looking up at him.

Valarr blushed, a large smile on his face at your words, “can I join you?”

“Why?” You looked at him, your eyebrow raised, entirely perplexed at his question.

Valarr stuttered, “I…to help you?”

“I don’t need your help,” your words weren’t cruel nor unkind.

“Well I would like to spend time with you, and learn about your interested,” he took a step forward, still smiling softly, though more nervous than before.

“Oh,” you hummed, eyeing him a little, “okay, you can…help,” you said reaching to reorganise your work and allowing him to sit beside you. “You can hold the flowers?” You spoke placing the bouquet he had gifted you in his lap.

The afternoon was spent with him being more of a place holder than anything, with him asking you countless questions and you eagerly answering them. Though you had been shy at first, or at least that’s what he assumed, nervous just like he was but as the afternoon progressed you grew more comfortable working beside him. “Thank you for letting me help you,” he spoke helping you pack up your things.

“Your welcome,” you spoke as you left, your gaze on the floor as you walked back to the keep, Valarr chasing after you as you went.

“Woah slow down,” he laughed, “let me walk you back.” His hand touched your shoulder stopping your steps, “let me help you carry that,” he took your book and flower box, leaving you with just the bouquet he had gifted you.

“I don’t need your help,”

“But I wanted to,” he smiled, following after with a blush still on his face, you didn’t speak again as he walked you back to the keep, only eyeing him carefully as he walked you, listening to what he had to say.

The following days he sat waiting for you on the bench, his own notebook and quill in hand, ready to make notes of his own, though more about you than the flowers.

You were surprised to say the least that he was there, you found his entire appearance yesterday odd. He spent most days in the garden, and you could only assume he had felt sorry for you, had seen you spending days on end with your own company and thought you needed a friend. It was sweet, a kind offer but you had always preferred solitude than others for company.

He appeared every day after that, spending the day in your company, trailing after you like a lost puppy, holding your things, noting everything you said.

Rarely did a day go by where he was persistent in his company, wether inviting you to lunch or trailing after you. He was unrelenting. You had never cared much before for having friends, but Valarr was insistent on it.

“I brought you a gift,” he said one afternoon after he dragged you away from your flowers to have lunch with him. He reached into his pocket presenting a small box to you.

“No flowers?” You asked, pouting slightly, he always gifted you flowers. He laughed at your pout, reaching to open the box and pressing a ring to you. The gem, a ruby sat on a silver band, the gems moulded in a way to look like a flower. “A ring?”

He nodded, “I…I hope it’s not to soon, we have only been courting a few months-“

“Courting?” You spluttered, your eyes snapping to his. “You were courting me?”

He blushed, his hand coming to rub the back of his neck, “I thought I had made it obvious…the gifts the company…I the notebook I kept about you”

“Those notes were about me? And not my flowers?” You asked pouting slightly, “why would you-“ you cut yourself off blushing, “oh you I-“ you stuttered unable to get the words out, as he grabbed the ring and got on his knees.

“I probably should have been more obvious but I- I have been entirely captivated by you since the day I first saw you in the gardens I- I had thought my gifts had made it obvious,”

“Oh I just thought you wanted to be my friend,”

“I would love to be your friend,” he breathed, blushing, “but I would also love it if you would be my wife?”

“Oh” you sighed, looking at the ring, it was beautiful. Perfect even. You had told him your favourite flower and he had somehow commissioned a ring to look exactly like it. “Yes, I will marry you,”

He smiled, sliding the ring onto your finger with unabashed joy. “Can I kiss you?” He asked still kneeling in front of you, his hand holding yours as you admired the ring.