#quietbluetune

[avastarred]

thanks for the tag, lovely ! i need to hear about heat waves because my brain has been bob floyd crazy for months xx love soo many of those ideas you have on there !!

hiiii thank you so much 🩷

at the moment the idea for heat waves is reader is in some kind of high flying field like biiiiig career woman, grew up on-base but when she left she literally never looked back.

Comes back home for a summer because she's burnt out and quit her job (trying to figure out how burnt out and how dramatic the job quitting is) and also possibly torpedoed her social life so she truly feels like she has no reason to stay wherever she was before. She has no intention of staying permanently though even though her parents and other older people around her expect her to.

Winds up working at the Hard Deck just so she has something to take her mind off of the absolute shit show that is her life and that's how she meets the Daggers. Very stand-offish when it comes to building relationships bc again: she intends to go back to her life once the summer's over she just wants a break, but try as she might she can't seem to shake Bob and she finds herself growing attached to him and some of the little rituals they're building together and it's all about reader figuring out what she wants and whether she can balance out what she wants with what she needs 🙂‍↕️

[avastarred]

hiii lovely ! so happy you decided to do the wip game <3 i NEED to from ❄️🥁🦅 they all sound so good xx

of course kate thank you so much for tagging me!! (also i will be paying your inbox a visit soon, believe that!)

❄️ SEASONS OF LOVE — bob floyd x reader

"I'm sorry," you apologise for what must be the tenth time in just as many minutes as you watch Bob pore over the assembly manual for your new bed frame. "I swear I was gonna assemble it before you got here." The look he shoots you over the rim of his glasses is pure incredulity. You were, you really were, but between moving apartments and the new responsibilities at your job it was much easier to just take the pain of sleeping on the couch over the mental exercise of decoding the bed's instructions. Besides, it was much more fun to watch Bob do it, brows furrowed in concentration as he slotted pieces together for you with all the ease of someone simply doing a puzzle.

🥁 EVERYONE'S A STAR! — drummer!bob reynolds x reader

Whatever was left of your voice abandons you when his hand comes up to cup your cheek, the pad of his thumb soft as it presses softly into the skin. You just nod and hope he can’t hear the way your heart slams against your chest. His thumb drags lazily over your bottom lip as he pries your mouth open, and then he’s leaning in his lips ghosting over yours as he exhales. The weight of his thumb on your bottom lip unleashes a thick haze in your brain and you only come to when he laughs. “You’re supposed to inhale. Let’s try again,” he smiles, pressing you further into the wall. The only thing more persistent than the beating of your heart is the heavy pulsing between your thighs as he presses his own thigh between your legs.

🦅 BROKEN BIRD — joaquín torres x reader

What's the protocol for when your handsome neighbour who also happened to be the Falcon crash lands on your balcony, wings damaged in a way you couldn't even think of helping him fix? Was Captain America going to kick down your door and serve you an NDA? Neuralyze you like the Men In Black? You're not sure, all you know is that Joaquín had begged you to let him rest here before falling into a fitful sleep on your couch, fresh bruises visible where his shirt lifted. You'd tried to at least get him to the bedroom, but he'd insisted on the couch — something about not being any more of an imposition than he absolutely had to be.