About Me
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howdy ho and welcome to my blog!
my name is denali, or lee for short.
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Cosimo Galluzzi
styofa doing anything
almost home
Peter Solarz

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Xuebing Du
RMH
YOU ARE THE REASON
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Sade Olutola

ellievsbear
Not today Justin

Andulka
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祝日 / Permanent Vacation
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

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@denalidear
About Me
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howdy ho and welcome to my blog!
my name is denali, or lee for short.
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Call Me if You Need a Friend
Warnings: addiction, addiction recovery group, a little bit of kindness shown to this man bc he needs it.
a/n: Breaking my two years of silence for this man. Don’t mind me.
—————
The room was quiet apart from the low vibrations of chair legs being pulled across the floor. Twenty or so seats circled up in the center of the community room at the library, a small table of refreshments near by. Next to the water and cookies, a brochure that read “You are More Than Addiction.”
Another small scrape as the woman pulled a final chair into the group, leaving a small gap facing the door. Her attention was directed to him, as the door clicked shut after his entrance. She smiled brightly and welcomed him.
“A-am I early?” He asked hesitantly.
“Earlier enough to get first pick on the cookies.” She beamed at him, watching his eyes as they darted from the cookies back to her. “I don’t think we’ve met before.” She stated, taking a small step towards him and extending her hand. “I’m Y/N.” He willed himself to contain the parts of him he hates as he gave her a small handshake.
“I’m Bob.” He said quickly, taking his hand back and shoving it into his pocket.
“Well it is very nice to meet you, Bob. I am glad you are here today.” She said, a soft and sincere look on her face that almost made Bob believe her.
“Feel free to grab a snack and take a seat. I think we will have a few more folks join us soon.” She gestured again to the small table as he muttered a quiet thanks. She nodded as they both moved, taking a seat near the door and pulling a binder from her bag. She flipped through it quietly as Bob moved to grab a cup of water and sit across from her.
“Where are you from, Bob?”
“Uh, Florida.” He cleared his throat to speak, glancing at her as she looked up to speak with him.
“Ah, very nice. I have family down there. It’s good to visit and get out of the city sometimes.” She smiled. “What brought you to New York?”
“Oh, uh. Work, I guess.” He stated, cringing at the half lie that left his mouth.
“You guess.” She let out a light laugh, one that made his chest hurt. “How long have you been around here?”
“About six months.” He nodded, taking a sip from the cup in his hand to soothe the knot that had formed in his chest.
“That’s great.” She smiled again, his gaze flicked to her lips before finding a home on the floor. “How are you liking it so far?”
“It’s ok.” He said quietly. “Busy.”
“Oh yeah.” She laughed again, and that heavy feeling returned to his chest. “I got lost like six times the first month I lived here.” Her giggles spread to him, letting out a soft chuckle out of his chest. His heart felt a little lighter as they laughed together for a moment.
The time was cut off by the door opening, a gruff looking man walking in confidently.
“Good evening, Ms. Y/L/N.” He spoke. “How was your week?”
“It was great, Mike.” She smiled that same smile at the new man, making Bob sink back into his chair a little before hearing his name in her voice.
“Bob, this is Mike.” She introduced, “Do not feel obligated to answer any of his questions.” She laughed a little as the man sat a few seats down from her. Mike laughed lightly and began asking questions of the two of them as another few people entered the room.
Bob shrank into himself a bit more as the number of people in the circle grew. He stared blankly at the floor before he saw a pair of sneakers enter his gaze, he looked up to see Y/N crossing the room to sit in the chair directly to his left. She smiled at him again, before calling the groups attention and starting the session.
Bob sat quietly through the whole meeting, stealing glances of the woman next to him and the notes written in her binder. The text ranged from questions for the group, mindfulness practices, and even some tips on self-care. In the margins, some notes in what he assumed were her handwriting. He smiled a little as he saw how her ‘L’s looped in the same way as his moms.
In a blink, the meeting was over. Half of the group rose from their seats, electing to leave quickly. Others lingered to chat, grab a cookie, or approached Y/N to ask some questions.
His body was glued to the seat, overwhelmed at the dramatic change in volume of the room. Y/N was speaking with another woman, and his jaw tensed as his chest tightened again. He felt a small tap against his heel, seeing that Y/N had pushed her foot to touch his. This small gesture reminded him to breath, filling his lungs with fresh air as most of the room dispersed.
Why he didn’t leave after that, he couldn’t say. But as Y/N bid goodnight to the departing group, she turned to him with a smile.
“What did you think?” She asked quietly, turning to look him in the eye.
“It was good.” He said quietly. She laughed a little at his words.
“I know it’s always weird the first time. But there’s a lot of good that can come from meeting with people who are going through the same stuff you are.” She said.
“You know,” she started, flipping to the front of her binder where she pulled out one of the brochures he has seen by the cookies. “We meet once a week, but we have a group chat where everyone can share how their week is going between sessions.” She continued as she clicked her pen and wrote quickly. She handed the tri-fold to him upside down, and pointed to what she had written.
“Text me if you want to join the chat, or even if you just need to talk.” She stated as Bob read her words on the paper.
‘Call me if you need a friend :)’
“Th-thanks.” He hummed, a smile on his face as he looked up at her.
“Will I see you next week?” She asked as she stood, moving to pack up the table and push back the chairs.
“Yeah, I think so.” He said lightly.
“Good. I look forward to getting to know you better.” She said with a sincerity that made him believe her.
“Have a good week, Bob.” She said as he approached the door to leave.
“You too, Y/N.” As he pushed out the door and stepped onto the street, his chest felt a little lighter and he put the brochure in his pocket for safe keeping, leaving his hand wrapped around the paper.
may or may not have a simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader fix inspired by taylor swift’s ‘i can see you’ in the works. interested?
Sleepy
a/n: oops. forgot i said i was gonna do this whole thing. well here a little fic i wrote a while back and never posted.
summary: wil is so eepy.
word count: 886
warnings: none?
- - -
It had been a long day for him, you knew. Between streaming, working on new music, and how late the two of you had stayed up the night before; he was tired. So when you asked to cuddle and watch a movie, you had put two and two together to start your master plan. You strategically placed yourself underneath him, his head on your collarbone as you ran your fingers through his hair.
“Love I’m going to fall asleep if you keep on playing with my hair.” He warned, adjusting so his arms were tucked well around your torso. He yawned and leaned into you more and you smiled.
“What if I told you that was the point?” You teased, trying to contain your laugh as to not disturb the sleepy boy.
“Then I’d tell you you’d better be comfortable because I won’t be moving once I’m asleep.” He mumbled, now pulling the blanket covering you two further up his shoulders.
“Bring it on, buddy.” You said, turning your attention back to the movie while continuing your ministrations in his hair. Soon enough you felt his weight sink into you, his breath coming out in soft puffs over your neck. He had fallen asleep and your plan was a success.
-----
Wil was a sleepy guy. After the first nap he’d had cuddling with you, he requested more and more. It became a regular occurrence for him to seek you out straight after finishing a stream, only to fall asleep in your arms.
But today, he was determined to prove he didn’t need a nap. You’d dragged him all around London, going to shops and cafes. He played along happily for the first four hours, but after dinner came and went his resolve was sarting to wear thin. He happily carried your tote bag that you’d filled with the goodies you’d acrewed, but he was nearly nodding off as you sat at the station waiting for the next train home.
“Wil.” You tapped his knee, “The announcer said it’d be pulling up soon.”
“Ok.” He nodded, resisting the urge to lean into your shoulder. Soon the train pulled up and you boarded. Wil fought to stay awake as he sunk into the plush of the seat.
“Baby you can sleep on my shoulder.” You said patting his leg to comfort him.
“No, I’m not tired, I promise.” He said quietly. As miuch as you wanted to believe him, not two minuets later his head was on your shoulder and he was snoring away. You couln’t help but smile.
-----
The band said goodnight to the crowd, passing out the set list and spare picks. The main lights came up as the audience began to leave and the band got off stage. Wil came straight up to you, as was post gig tradition, for a kiss and a very sweaty hug.
“You did great, handsome!” You smiled, holding his face between your hands. As you looked into his eyes, you could see the adrenaline slowly leaving his system as his eyelids began to slouch.
“Thanks darling.” He smiled, leaning in for another kiss. You decided it was time for him to go to bed, leaving the venue in favor of the quiet tour bus. He held your hand tight as you lead him to the bunks in the back, speaking quietly about how he thought the concert had gone. You tucked him in like a little kid, teasing him about being a toddler while he laughed.
“But will you cuddle with me?” He said, grabbing your hand before you could pull away.
“Of course, baby.” You smiled, kicking off your shoes and sliding into bed. Would you regret not changing into PJ’s when you woke up? Probably. But this moment was perfect, and you wouldn’t ever pick a shower over sleeping with your boyfriend.
-----
“Chat, guess who just got home from work?” Wil smiled as he looked at the text you had just sent him, confirming you made it safely to his house. He quickly typed back a response, saying he was on stream but that you should come and visit him. He continued speaking to chat before he heard a small knock on the door.
You creeped into his office, dragging your feet after a long day of work. “Hello, love.” Your boyfriend spun around in his chair and st up to greet you. He lifted his arms to invite you onto his lap and into a hug. “How was work?”
“Good. Just tired.” You mumbled into his neck. “You can keep playing. I’ll just cuddle.” He rubbed your back and turned back around to his screen.
“Chat, my darling has had a long day, so she’s a little tired. I’ll finish this up and then we are gonna go to bed.” He smiled, reaching around your body cuddled up to his chest and began to play again.
He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as your head lulled back and your weight sunk into him. “I think she fell asleep.” He whispered to chat. He looked down at your peaceful face. “Yeah she’s totally out.” He giggled, keeping his voice low.
“That’s my cue to leave, friends. Thanks for tuning in. I’ve got to get my love into bed, poor girl. Good night, everyone.”
Soft
a/n: here to feed your delusions once again. this one could be a two parter if anyone is interested. let me know :)
summary: drunk words are sober thoughts
word count: 1032
warnings: drunk will, mention of girlfriend and drinking, an appropriate amount of angst
- - -
It was hard; being his best friend right now. Every night for the past month or so around 12:30 am you’d get a call. Most of the time he just wanted to talk about his stream, how many viewers he had that night, what he’d done. Other times he asked you to come over. Those were the nights he hadn’t streamed. The ones he reserved to go out with Tommy and you. He’d always cancel plans about an hour before you’d meet - give some lame excuse about how his girlfriend wanted to stay in or he had to edit a video. Those were the calls you were dreading because you knew how you’d find him when you went to visit.
It was 2:49 am, this night. Your phone lit up with a photo of you two in central London you’d taken months ago, before he started dating this girl, but just after he broke up with the last one. Your eyes barely opened to make sure it was a call worth answering, but since it was him, you rolled onto your side and tapped the green button.
“Will, are you alright? It’s late.”
“She left me.” He mumbled, the wine or beer he had certainly been drinking almost seeped through the phone screen. “She left angry and texted me to say we were done.”
“Can I come over?” You were already slipping on shoes. A blurry ‘yes’ came through the speakers and you left your flat. Thankfully he was only around the block, and you kept him talking as you sped to him. “I’m here, come let me in.”
“It’s open. I’m up in the bedroom.” He spoke through the phone, sounding a little more aware than he had only ten minutes ago. It calmed the worry in your gut a bit, but the fact he’d left his doors unlocked while he was inebriated kept the knot in your stomach tight. Once you were inside you hung up the phone and shouted up to him.
“I’m just taking off my shoes!” carefully lining them up next to his - where her’s would normally be. You could hear a little shuffling upstairs but nothing that added to your concern. That is until you heard glass hit and shatter on the floor. You almost slipped as you raced up - soft socks and hardwood stairs not a good mix. “Will?”
“I’m ok.” He shouted from his room. “-is just my glass.” He was sprawled across his bed, arm outstretched to reach the table that had an open bottle of wine and now cup-less coaster. At least he cared for his furniture. His hair stuck to his forehead and you could tell he hadn’t gotten up in at least 8 hours, the blankets around him flattened from his long stay in bed.
“You’re not hurt?”
“Physically, no. Emotionally?” He smashed his face further into his pillows instead of answering.
“How much have you had to drink tonight?” You ask, carefully picking up the largest pieces of glass shards that had scattered across the floor. You grimaced at the small spots of red that had spattered on the light walls, making a mental note to clean it up when he was feeling better.
“We were drinking a bit at dinner. Something red that she’d wanted.” He curled his long body into himself as he recounted the evening's events. Wilbur was a sad drunk, but also a chatty one, so his story went on for a few minutes while you finished cleaning the glass. His eyes followed you as you moved about the room and he pulled his head up a bit once his story was finished.
Once the mess was cleaned, or at least the sharp shards put into the trash, you sat yourself by the edge of his bed and leaned your head in close to his. “How can I help you, Will?” You whispered to the man. He shrugged so you offered a few options. “Do you want me to make you something to eat? Maybe while you shower and sober up a bit?”
“I’ll shower but will you just sit outside? I don’t think I wanna be alone right now.” He whispered the last bit. You nodded and helped him up. Once he was sitting on the edge of the bed, you standing in front of him, he wrapped his long arms around your waist and tucked his head into your stomach. Your hand pulled his head in, running your fingers through his hair.
“We’ll get through it. I know we will.” You spoke as he clung to you. “And hey, this means Lovejoy will get some really good songs after this, huh?” You teased as he pulled away. That put a smile on his face as he stood and lumbered to the bathroom. You took your place on the floor near the bathroom door and listened as Will rambled about whatever had happened on his last stream. You could hear the water hitting the floor as he washed his hair. Soon enough he was out and changed, pulling you into another hug.
“Better?” You asked him and he let out a deep breath.
“Yeah. Definitely still drunk though.” He mumbled into your hair. “Will you stay with me?”
“Do you think I have anything better to do at three in the morning?”
“Maybe.” He shrugged and pulled you into the bed with him. Once you got comfy he arranged his long limbs over you, resembling a starfish. A longboard sigh left his lungs as he nuzzled a little into his pillow. You realized at this moment this isn’t what best friends do. Best friends don’t cuddle or wait for the other to get out of the shower. Will’s breath steadied next to you as your mind began to swirl with thoughts as to what could cause that girl to leave such a soft and sweet man.
“It wasn’t ‘cause of me, was it? The argument I mean.” You asked into the dark room, expecting an answer. Instead, you heard a quiet snore and realized that Will had fallen asleep, head tucked into your neck. Guess that conversation will have to happen tomorrow.
anywho i’m doing fabulous
Small Bunk
a/n: it’s not even been a full day and i have at least two more fics to post… anyway
summary: will and you share a bunk on the tour bus and the other band members wish you wouldn’t.
word count: 486
warnings: none :)
- - -
It was a hazard at this point. The hall of the tour bus was small, and the beds even smaller. Whatever spark of inspiration that drove you and Wilbur into the same bed was to be blamed. The two of you shared the bottom bunk right in front of the bathroom, so every trip through the hall came with a warning sign.
Ash was the first to fall victim to the trap the two of you had unintentionally set. Limbs hung from behind the short curtain. A Will foot there, a you arm here. He was just trying to pee while the bus drove up the California coast when he tripped over Will’s foot that stuck out just far enough to pose a threat. Both men winced and apologized before Will’s leg slithered back behind the curtain of the bunk.
Mark was next and the poor man ran into a double whammy. Will’s arm stuck out just before his elbow, and your ankle was pinned underneath his legs. As Mark ventured to the hallway closet for an extra blanket, his knee was caught on both extremities. Will’s arm was bent at an unforgiving angle and you were dragged an inch or two down as Mark fell over your foot. Everyone mumbled apologies and mark couldn't help but smile as he heard you whisper to Wilbur, “are you alright?”
Joe was the last to hit the floor in your little perilous passageway. Both other band members had warned him of the limb ridden space, but he needed to get his phone charger from his bunk. He swore he looked as he passed the two of you. But as he passed, two socked feet appeared from behind the curtain and caught his upper shin, sending him to the ground.
Neither of you would admit it, but Joe said it was a coordinated attack. And while you and will had felt bad about the bruised knees and rug burnt hands, you would share a small laugh about how it was only fair all three of them had met their demise in the tour bus hallway.
Bonus: you and will had gone out for a late night snack, sneaking out of the venue to find the nearest open diner with chocolate milkshakes. You tried to keep quiet as you entered the dark bus, sure that everyone else had already gone to sleep.
You ran your hand carefully against the wall, making sure to slide you’re shoe to there you knew there’d be a small step up. As you made you’re way to your back bunk, your legs were caught on either side by feet.
In slow motion you came crashing to the carpeted floor, your tall boyfriend right behind you. A bang shook the bus as your rear end met the ground and Will came crashing down on top of you. Immediately you laughed as the other band members cheered.
Raspy
a/n: basically, uh, my bestie and i saw a lovejoy concert this week and we've had mutual wilbur brainrot. thankfully, i'm an english major with just enough self confidence to write us some fics. enjoy.
summary: traveling made you sick, and close quarters mean everyones sick too.
word count: 672
warnings: none? fem!reader, a little suggestive, sickness
---
It’s not like you had meant to get sick. Traveling always introduced you to germs, and staying in a tour bus meant close quarters with the rest of the band. Thankfully, you’d all gotten a small break over the weekend of travel and slept a lot as the tour progressed from Washington state to Utah.
You’d almost banned Will from kisses, but that man had the best puppy dog eyes known to man. But now, as the bus rolled into Salt Lake City, he was suffering the consequences of his actions in the form of a mild cold. He had a massive headache, but apart from a little rasp in his throat, his vocal chords weren’t under too much extra stress.
It did take a bit of extra convincing to get Will out of the bunks and into sound check, but a few forehead kisses did the trick as you offered him a few ibuprofen and a bottle of water.
“I feel bad, Will. Maybe kisses should have been banned.” You said quietly, watching the tower of a man crawl out of his bottom bunk. “Absolutely not, love. That’s the whole point of bringing you on tour.” He pulled you into a hug. “Can’t kiss over the phone.” He smooshed his lips into the top of your head, the action barely resembling a kiss.
“Alright, well, don’t let me distract you any longer. You’ve got a whole load of people waiting on you.”
“Yes ma’am.” He saluted as he moved around the bus, getting ready for sound check and the concert that would insue.
---
“Salt Lake City, how are we doing tonight?” Wilbur asked the crowed. The venue was packed, almost more that the other dozen places you’d been on tour so far. And the energy buzzed in the room, the audience screaming their heads off after the first song.
“Salt Lake, I have a favor to ask of you. My beautiful girlfriend, whose hiding off stage-” Will gestured towards you and the crowd screamed. “- got me and Ash sick this weekend. So I am extremely unwell.” The room erupted in laughter and cheering.
“As a side effect of this, my voice is very raspy. It’s great for me because my love thinks it’s sexy, but it’s not so great for singing. So I need you all to fucking scream to these songs.” The room vibrated with the volume of the cheers. You could see his grin from behind the curtains as he carefully began the chords to Model Busses.
---
Post-concert Will was your favorite Will, not that you love him any less normally. But after every gig he just buzzed with adrenaline when he got off stage. Tonight was no different. As soon as he got off stage he scooped you up in a hug and smashed his lips on yours. You indulged him for a moment, holding him tight despite the shirt clinging to his body with sweat. As soon as he pulled away, you spoke.
“You, mister, did not play my song!” You berated him as you helped him pull of the denim jacket he insisted on wearing. He laughed quietly, voice rougher han before he went on stage. “You promised you’d do it’s all futile acoustic tonight!”
“And you, my love, are being mean to a sick man.”
“Sick as a consequence of his own actions. Only one of us here can’t keep his lips to himself.” You fluffed his sweaty stuck hair off of his forehead before pulling him into a kiss.
“Seems like a mutual problem to me, my dear.” He tried to pull you into another hug, the sweat on his skin cooling. You quickly pushed your hand to his chest.
“Oh buddy, if anything else is happening between us tonight, you’re gonna need to shower first.”
“Well I thought you loved me, sweat and all.”
“I only love boys who play my favorite song at their concert. Like they promised.”
“That’s low, love. Really low.”
“Yeah, we’ll talk about it when you don’t stink.”
BEGGING for lipstick from the prompt list with Steve. I’ve been binging all of your blurbs and then read that prompt and died thinking about it.
you're so sweet, thank you. ♥ honestly i was hoping someone would pick this prompt cause it was my favorite | steve + fake dating ♥
[LIPSTICK; Brushing lipstick off their cheek after the other/someone kisses them. ]
—
You find Steve sitting on a sun lounger beside the pool, watching the water thoughtfully. Probably bored out of his mind, you think, feeling a little guilty.
He doesn't hear you approaching. The sun lounger is big enough for you to sit next to him, though there's only a tiny gap between your bare thigh and his.
"Sorry," you say, handing him one of the two glasses you brought with you and offering an apologetic smile.
Steve stares suspiciously at the red liquid, frowning at the small bright yellow umbrella decorating the glass. "For what?" he asks. His tone is soft, his expression even softer when his eyes meet yours.
"For dragging you to the world's most boring party."
"Oh, you should see my parents' parties," he beams, fiddling with the small umbrella absentmindedly. "Those were three times worse than this. And at least I have you here."
He lightly bumps your shoulder with his and you try to keep the smile on your face from looking too silly, too needy. You don't think you succeed. The solution is lowering your head and pretending to be interested in the drink in your hand — which, by the way, you don't even know what it's called, let alone what it's made of.
And Steve looks too pretty in the dim moonlight.
"And you didn't drag me here, I volunteered," he adds when you don't say anything, taking a careful sip of his own drink. "But what is this? Jesus," he frowns at the glass as if it has offended him deeply.
Then, Steve laughs.
As always, his laugh is contagious. A giggle escapes you in no time. "I have no idea. Some fancy drink May is making for everyone."
Steve braves another sip, then decidedly puts the glass down on the ground next to your legs…your legs, which he's now looking intently at. It's subtle but definitely there, a gaze that lingers a second too long before he's straightening up and clearing his throat, once again the picture of a great, respectful friend. It happened, you tell yourself. And yet, your mind desperately tries to convince you that you're reading too much into this, into him, into this relationship.
You take a big sip of your drink. It's far from being your favorite, but it's also not bad. A little sweet, a little strong. You're not sure whether you're hoping it boosts your courage or completely erases it along with all of your thoughts about the boy beside you. It doesn't seem to be working either way.
you and i — s. harrington
pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader
word count: 6.6k
synopsis: you’re in love with your best friend, steve. steve is in love with you. you would think it’s simple, right? well, according to steve, you would be wrong.
warnings: im shit at summaries, pining, best friends to lovers, mutual feelings which makes this more idiots to lovers, mentions of underage drinking and smoking, mentions of st*ncy, season 3 tings, nancy and robin are good friends, bit of angst, bit of fluff, canon violence, blood, injuries, mentions of vomit, cursing?, lmk if I missed any!
a/n: this fic is completely inspired by the events that lead up to my first relationship. yes, I’m completely projecting to deal with my own experiences and heartbreak, but don’t you worry, this has a much happier ending than my relationship did. also the title is from the one direction song as it was the “our song” of said relationship. pls don’t let this one flop that would be embarrassing. gif isn’t mine.
You weren’t quite sure when you feelings for Steve Harrington transitioned from platonic to romantic.
It seemed like one minute he was as your best friend–an unlikely one, but after all you’d seen together in the last year, your best friend nonetheless–and the next he was consuming your every waking thought.
At first you assumed the timing couldn’t have been better, his relationship with Nancy having just ended. Until you realized just how heartbroken he was, and the fact that Nancy was also one of your best friends. How would it look for you to swoop in right after her and Steve broke up?
Anyways…
it needs to be said.
It’s all fun and games until you have a relapse in your fanfiction addiction
thinking about the way Eddie scrunch his nose when he's angry
#what i wouldn’t give for this man to just fucking punch me
bau!reader coming to work and finding a sticky note with puns about coffee (or any other topic of your choice) not knowing its from hotch. every time he watches from his office just to see her giggle (hope this is okay; if its too long you can edit it)
You’re brew-ti-ful.
That’s what was written on the sticky note attached to a coffee cup, which was waiting especially for you that morning.
You looked around you, trying to figure out who left it for you, but no one looked suspicious.
Taking a sip from your coffee though, you realized that it was your exact order. The person who left it for you, knew exactly how you liked your coffee. Which meant that this person was someone who knew you. And most importantly someone you knew.
You heartbeat started to race at the thought of who you wanted that mystery person to be. But the rational part of your brain made sure to remind you that the man you were secretly - and madly - in love with, would be the last person in the world to leave a cute pun about coffee on a sticky note for you.
𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐭𝐰𝐨, 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 | 𝐛.𝐟.
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: man, i love bob floyd. i had an anon request for anything with bob being head over heels, and i accidentally took that and RAN! this got away from me so quickly bc the bob love/thirst clearly took over. requests are still open, but make sure you check the rules on my about page before sending one in! i am not so good with highly specific requests, but a character and trope/genre is always welcome! love y’all x ♥︎ liv
𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐬: bob floyd, fluff that abruptly changes direction and heads into spice without warning (sorrynotsorry), classic “one-sided” pining trope, 6k words
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: very suggestive content (no minor interaction!), brief emo bob, phoenix is a boss-ass bitch and i love her, etc.
Every day, you did four small Things guaranteed to more quickly bring about the demise of Lt. Robert Floyd. The torture was insufferable, the agony extreme. He was so whipped that he sometimes worried he was following you around by floating like a cartoon character walking past a particularly delicious pie. And you had no earthly idea.
To begin with, Thing One: in the morning, you would walk into the cafeteria at Top Gun five minutes before breakfast stopped being served and training began and place your hands on his shoulders, squeezing gently and saying, “Gooood morning, Bob! Are we ready to fly and try our best today?” Bob would choke on whatever he was currently eating and attempt to fight out a sentence in response, but you would already be gone, joining the queue for food. He would watch you stand in line, laughing at everything everyone said and beaming sunshine.
You were so sweet, he could have stared at you for the entire morning, which he generally did. Sometimes he would snap to in the middle of a lecture and realize that he hadn’t absorbed a single word, too busy wondering what type of flowers you liked best, and would shift nervously in his seat, side-eyeing Phoenix’s notes to see what sort of life-saving information he had been missing out on.
One morning, the only thing written on the page of his beaten leather notebook when Bob left class was “Probably lilies. Violets maybe?”
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i want to say i'd be a rooster girl irl. but this bob guy is husband material.