#bobfic

[bluebluebacchus]

Trick or treat? 🎃👻

Any excuse to share a treat! I’ve fallen back into BoB fandom and having fun writing again… please enjoy some randlemartin

[catb-fics]

https://www.tumblr.com/storiesaboutvan/168581919328/253-for-anonymous-x3

Here’s one of the only Bob-centric fics I could find by this author, unfortunately unless you dig through old fic blogs (which I haven’t done) there really aren’t many fics centred around our beloved Bob 😢

Thank you so much lovely 🥰🥰🥰

Here is the link Bob anon…

For some reason this blog is marked as mature content but it’s not btw

[msmargaretmurry]

🥺🦅

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

i fuckin love a small brave vulberable moment!!! like obviously i love the big feelings moments too, but love the like. tiptoeing forward, offering up a tiny piece of yourself to see if it'll be accepted or if you can get away with it. i'm thinking about, like, the part in tnno when connor and dylan are sitting together watching the rookies play chel, or the moment in the bobfic where lieb rests his head on web's shoulder after their fight. leon has like 50 of these in the ratnovel that go right over matthew's head, lmao. poor guy.

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

i am what i believe the online writing community refers to as a "plantser," so, a little of both! i find it very hard to write if i don't have a general idea of my main story/character arc, and i usually handwrite out a very loose outline to feel out the big plot beats and keep track of any details i don't want to lose. i used to make much more detailed outlines but as my writing skill and process have ~developed my method has come to usually go something like: vibes only for the first chunk, pause and take stock/make a loose outline and a plan for the next chunk, write that, pause and take stock again, review outline, plan the next chunk, rinse and repeat until i find the ending!

[bob-events]

Love Fest 2021 Masterlist

Love Fest is done! The wonderful community has created 18 works, and as a wrapping-up, we’d put them all in one big masterlist together. Below are all the works, prompt by prompt, separated into fic/art/edits, in alphabetical order. Spread the word, spread the love! <3

FIC: 

A Little Distraction by @anthrobrat

Nixon/Welsh; Rated M Prompt: "Oops, we got drunk and gave each other (Dealer's Choice)."

'Cause all I know is we said hello (and your eyes look like coming home) by @vintagelavenderskies

Eugene Roe/Renee LeMaire; Rated G Prompts: Eugene is a barista at the local cafe. Renee is new to the States and frequently visits the cafe. Over time, they become friends and eventually fall for each other.

Detective Luz Is On The Case! by @serasvictoria

Genfic; Rated G Prompt:Someone has stolen the precious few Hershey bars from the supplies. Thankfully, George has seen a detective movie or two (or three, or seven...) so he puts on his best over-the-top detective voice and sets out to solve the mystery. Detective Luz is on the case!

Landing by @ralphspina

LuzRoe; Rated G Prompt: It's D-Day; George and Gene land near each other in Normandy and need to go find their company.

Lupercalia by @howling-harpy

Speirton; Rated G Prompt: Ron is the strictest, scariest, most standoffish boss in Easy, and his coworkers don't know the slightest thing about his personal life. So, naturally, it's the talk of the office when someone finds out that he's bringing a plus one to the company party.

More Than A Team by @mercurygray

Winnix; Rated G Prompt: Whipped cream.

Mornings are for the loved, and the loving, for me and for you. by @mariamegale

Baberoe, Rated E Prompt: A Babe/Gene smut fest. Go crazy. Can have some story to it or pwp.

Only In Dreams by @serasvictoria

Lipton/Talbert, Rated E Prompt: Ever since Floyd saw liptons dick in carentan, he can’t stop thinking about it.

Passing Fancy by Muccamukk

Bucklarkey, Rated E Prompt: Malarkey loses a bet to a female intelligence officer and has to wear her uniform for the day (stockings, garter belts, panties included ;) ), and buck decides he’s about to act up.

Pillow talk by @speirtongirl

Speirton, Rated M Prompt: Speirs and Lipton sleep together for the first time, but what then? Pillowtalk presents a challenge for them both. Perhaps they don't know what to say, perhaps they fear what the other is thinking and whether or not they feel the same, or if they're going to stay the night.

Receiving End of Your Stare by @serasvictoria

Bucklarkey, Rated E Prompt: Malarkey loses a bet to a female intelligence officer and has to wear her uniform for the day (stockings, garter belts, panties included ;) ), and buck decides he’s about to act up.

Walking Wounded by @papersergeant-pencilsoldier

Baberoe; Rated G Prompt: Canon-era; Either Gene or Babe have magic, or both. Maybe magic is known or maybe they need to hide it.

ART:

After The War by @onelungmcclung

Toye/McClung Prompt: The Joe Toye Post-War Happiness Project Joe finds love and happiness after the war, and comes to accept himself better.

Fluffy Comfort Delivery by @lyselkatz​

Randlemartin Prompt: One of them is hurt or homesick or otherwise down, and the other comes up with something improbable to comfort him.

Not your typical Prince Charming by @lyselkatz 

Winnix Prompt: Nix riding a horse and being Dick's cynical but irresistible Prince Charming. (preferably not in an actual fairy tale setting)

Sweet Comfort by @lyselkatz

Gen; Roe and Smokey Prompt: canonverse; do what you like with it. (hmu if this is too vague.)

You Can’t Resist The Pull by @ksansart​

Speirs/Roe Speirs is not the kind to fall for soft-spoken, kind-hearted doctors. Turns out, Gene is just really good at hiding his skeletons. Quite literally.

EDIT: 

After The War by @onelungmcclung

Toye/McClung Prompt: The Joe Toye Post-War Happiness Project Joe finds love and happiness after the war, and comes to accept himself better.

Final words: Being an admin on this event has been such a gift and a treat, and I want to thank every single member of our community who participated with prompts, works, or just your wonderful selves. <3

If you submitted a prompt that didn’t get filled, we highly recommend you submit them to the Loose Lips Sink Ships Prompt Meme! Similarly, if you’re a creator who thought this was/looks fun and are looking for deadline-free prompts and inspiration, absolutely check out LLSS! <3

Of course, if you have submitted a work that hasn’t gotten featured on this list, please message us here or on Discord as soon as possible and we’ll rectify the mistake!

As always,

join us on Discord

if you’re a BoB fan looking for a community <3 

See you at the next event! <3 <3 <3 

[galacticgraffiti]

I AM LOSING IT OVER THE BOBF TRAILER THE DINNER?? THE ROOMS??? THE CHARACTERISATION??) THIS IS VEMAN’ALOR WITHOUT THE PORN

HOLY MOTHER OF ANY GOD THIS

I

Y'ALL

this is it. this is the way i go out

[mariamegale]

Mornings are for the loved, and the loving, for me and for you.

Baberoe, rated E, 4,136 words

Babe thinks this is the most anyone has ever loved another person. It has to be, even though he knows it’s childish, because he refuses to believe anyone has ever loved someone more than he loves Eugene Roe in this moment.

(Aka some pointless, fluffy smut because I can, and because smut was requested)

Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Smut, Dom/sub Undertones, Nipple Piercings, Nipple Play, Mild Kink, very mild, Blowjobs, Morning Sex, Morning Cuddles, Established Relationship

Read it here on ao3!

For the Band of Brothers Love Fest 2021!

Prompt: A Babe/Gene smut fest. Go crazy. Can have some story to it or pwp.

[siren-meets]

sometimes I accidentally write really romantic lines between Luz and Nora, and then I’m like woah hunny, your feelings just ran away with you for a second, reel it in baby

[bobthebobking]

yamcule part 2 babey!!

[kucka-g]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Prisoners (2013) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Bob Taylor (Prisoners)/Reader, Bob Taylor (Prisoners)/You Characters: Bob Taylor (Prisoners), Detective Loki (Prisoners) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, No use of y/n, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping Summary:

You are the investigative assistant to Detective Loki on the abduction case of Anna and Joy. Time to visit the new suspect at his house.

-------------------------------

[kat1132]

...Epilogue - Warbonds

The distant sound of laughter, cut short by the roaring boom of distant explosions, the scent of gunpowder, dark and sharp as it stung her nose and eyes, she braced herself for the incoming roll of ground unstable beneath her feet. Someone was saying something to her, she tried to hear them, blinking the bright light from her eyes.  

 “Evelyn, are you smiling dear?”

Eve Buchanan jolted as another flash went off. Her surroundings shifted violently between the boisterous laughter of the unconcerned partygoers and the screams of her wounded friends, her attention drifting between both scenes and apart of neither.

 “Evie?” a familiar voice said before another flash popped and she was back in Holland, the smell of rotting apples clogging her nose, sickly sweet under the tang of black powder and smothering earth.

 “Hold off on the pictures for just a moment, please?”

 A last flash went off. There was a tight grip on her arm, she was being pulled somewhere. She didn’t recognize the hand, the softness didn’t fit. It wasn’t any of her friends. Her thoughts went to enemy and Eve moved before she thought about it, breaking the hold with a quick movement and putting distance between herself and the threat.

 “Evie, it’s okay,” the person in front of her said.

 It was a woman. Eve felt like she should recognize the woman but the face didn’t belong in Holland.

 “Maybe this was too soon?” said another voice, masculine this time.

 “Edward,” said her mother. Her mother was here. Her mother wasn’t in Holland.

 Eve inhaled sharply, breaking free of the memory. Her eyes darted around the room, feeling a flush of shame as she realized that she’d just panicked in front of a room full of strangers and photographers.

 She looked at the woman she’d pushed away and saw her sister Elizabeth, three months pregnant and looking at Eve like she’d been wounded.

 “Oh, God, ‘Liza,” said Eve horrified despite not fully remembering what she’d done to get away from her sister when she’d clearly just been trying to shake Eve out of the memory. “I’m so sorry.”

 Elizabeth smiled, but Eve saw the fear on her sister’s face. “It’s all right, Evie. We’re fine.”

 Eve nodded and stepped away from her family, from her parents trying to quell the photographers and the inevitable gossip and Elizabeth’s sympathetic gaze. She had to get away. “Excuse me.”

 “Evie wait!” Elizabeth cried.

 Eve didn’t listen. She dashed out as fast as she could move in the formfitting dress her mother had deemed appropriate for this fundraising gala, cleverly disguised as a homecoming celebration that Eve didn’t even want.

 She fled the brightly lit house, through the kitchen, past the flustered catering staff, for the bracing chill of the outdoors. Mipsy, the family’s aging spaniel, pulled herself from her bed by the hearth and followed at Eve’s heels, sensing adventure.

 Eve did not stop, desperate to get away from the stifling atmosphere of the overwhelming house, filled with people who wanted all the grisly details of war without any capacity to understand their horror. She couldn’t explain how she’d felt watching her friends be blown apart. How it had felt to be terrified for her life, scared and disoriented. To go for months on end without basic human needs, like food or water or a way to get clean. Couldn’t understand that each enemy she’d killed had been someone’s son, someone’s brother, someone’s Alex. Their faces haunted her. She felt like a monster, an imposter.

 What right did she have to be here? To have survived when there were far worthier men who’d gone into the ground on foreign soil instead of getting to come home.

 The hoopla in there didn’t help. People were lauding her as a hero, a pioneer of her gender.

Eve felt like a sham.

 Mipsy kept her company as she stared up at the stars and tried not to feel ashamed that she wished she was still out in the forests of Europe, with friends on either side of her, all staring up at the stars and wishing for home.

 How silly was it that all she wanted was to be back there?

 “Evelyn?”

 Eve turned. She had no idea how long she’d been outside, but she was cold now. She rubbed the goose bumps on her arms, trying to chafe warmth back into the frigid appendages and sending up a small prayer to God that she was still out here and not back in Bastogne. The small town in Belgium had not endeared her to the cold whatsoever.

 She blinked, shocked to find her Grandmamma standing behind her. The woman was frailer than when Eve had left for war all those years ago, but no less made of iron. She was holding out a shawl for Eve, one of the bigger ones the elder lady favored.

 Eve couldn’t find the will to move to accept the offering, just watched as her Grandmamma draped it over her shoulders.

 “You’re not happy here, are you, Eve,” Grandmamma Buchanan said. It was not a question. “Is it because of Alex?”

 Now, Eve felt guilty. She missed Alex fiercely, but she’d been missing him for the last four years. It was all too easy to forget that Alex wasn’t still at war, wasn’t just away temporarily, and that instead his ship had gone down in the Pacific months ago. He was never coming home.

 It had been years since she and Alex had been thick as thieves, inseparable in every way. She should miss him more, but if she was being honest, missing Alex hadn’t even crossed her mind.

 It had been Skip Muck and Alex Penkala, there one second, gone the next. Bill Guarnere and Joe Toye, sent home in pieces missing a leg each and bound for a much harder life than either of them deserved. It had been all those replacements she’d lost under her command. It had been her friends she’d thought of, those men who’d become closer to her than brothers, who she’d thought of when she’d been thrown headlong back into the horrors of war, overwhelmed afresh with the terror of looming loss.

 She wished they were here now. Any of them. She just wanted to reach out and touch them, make sure they were all right. Their absence made her feel adrift, simultaneously too big and too small for her own skin.

 She felt lost. She felt guilty that she was still here. That she wasn’t thinking on the men who’d given up their lives for her to live now that she had the luxury of doing so.

 “You’re crying, dear,” Grandmamma Buchanan said, capturing Eve’s hand in a gentle embrace, untold strength in her frail hands as she patted the chilly appendage. “It will be all right. With time.”

 Eve accepted the lie without comment. The truth was that she would never forget the men she’d lost. The ache of losing them would never dissipate. It would never be all right.

 She just wanted to get to the point where she could stop feeling guilty for still being alive when so many more deserving men weren’t, prayed that she never stopped feeling grateful for their sacrifice.

 “What can I do to help you, dear?”

 Eve shrugged, wiping away the errant tears she hadn’t even noticed. She was certain nothing would abate the yawning void she felt. “It’s nothing, Grandmamma. I’ll be all right.”

 She straightened her spine.

  -

 And here's war hero, Evelyn Buchanan, looking like the bell of the ball at her family home in Virginia. We caught up with Ms. Buchanan the United State's first female combatant at her "Welcome Home Gala," hosted by Senator Buchanan, who is running for President in next year's election. Buchanan served with the 101st Airborne, known as the Battered Bastard of the terrible siege at Bastogne. But this lady has left the terror of war behind her now. Doesn't she look lovely?

 -

 "Carwood! Phone for you!"

 Carwood Lipton wiped his brow. He'd been trying to fix the boarding house's roof all morning, but he figured now was as good a time as any to take a break. He dusted his hands off on his pants and carefully made his way down the ladder. He didn't quite sigh in relief as he stepped into the cool interior, but it was a near thing. Though the temperature outside wasn't all that hot, being on the roof all day had certainly worked up a sweat.

 He picked up the phone lying on the table, putting it to his ear. "This is Carwood Lipton."

 "Hey, Lip, how you doing?" said drawled a familiar voice in his ear.

 "Bill Guarnere." It had been months since he'd heard the man's voice, but it was as familiar as his own mothers after three years in combat with the man. "I'm doing just fine. How are you doing, boy?"

 "Doing just fine, Lip. Say, you been to the pictures lately?"

 Lipton felt confused. Months out of the army, without hearing a peep out of Wild Bill Guarnere and now the man had called to ask about going to the movies? "Can't say I have, why?"

 "You should think about going soon. Something on the news reel that you should see."

 "You got it, Bill. You and Fran doing alright?"

 "We're fine, Lip. Just fine. It's Ev."

 "What about Ev?"

 "You'll see."

 Guarnere hung up.

 Lipton grabbed his coat off the peg. "Ma!" he hollered, "I'm going out!"

 "What?" Mrs. Lipton asked, her voice floating out of the kitchen.

 Lipton closed the door behind him. It took him a while to get to the movie theater. The fellow dolling out tickets looked at him oddly when he said he wanted one for the very next show, no he didn't care which one it was.

 "If you're sure, mister," said the kid.

 Lip took his ticket and ducked into the theater right then to make sure he caught all of the opening news reels.

 If Guarnere said it was important, well, he certainly had every cause to believe Guarnere knew what he was talking about. He'd see every picture there was if it was about Evelyn Buchanan.

 Lipton settled in to see.

 -

 "See what I mean?"

 Lipton wasn't happy. "I see it."

 "What're we going to do about it?"

 "I think I got her number here somewhere. I'll try giving her a call."

 "All right, Lip. You saw it right? We gotta do something. You gotta get her outta there."

 "I'll do my best, Bill."

 -

 "Buchanan residence."

 "I'm looking for Evelyn Buchanan. Is she there?"

 "May I ask what this is regarding?"

 "This is Carwood Lipton. I served with Eve in the Airborne."

 "One moment, sir."

 -

 "Lip?" said a sweet feminine voice. He hadn't realized how worried he'd missed hearing Evelyn Buchanan's voice, how tense he'd been until his shoulders relaxed for the first time in days. 

 "Hey, Ev, you doing okay?"

 "Yeah, I'm doing well," she lied. 

 "Eve?" he questioned, immediately more concerned than he had been before. 

 She was quiet for a long moment.

 "Why don't you come visit me?" he offered. The idea had just come to him, but it seemed like a brilliant idea now that it was out there.

  "When?" she asked after a minute.

 "Whenever," he said, suddenly nervous that she would say no, which was a ridiculous notion, since he'd just asked out of the blue. 

 "...Okay."

[catb-fics]

Just a really short imagine about meeting Bob. Sorry it’s cut a bit short, I was gonna make this a whole story but kinda ran out of inspiration 😔 Maybe I’ll do a short imagine like this for meeting all the guys...

Meeting Bob

Warnings: none / Word Count: 1.4K

"So guys, how does it feel to be back here again, but top of the bill this time?"

You're interviewing Catfish and the Bottlemen for the radio station you work for ahead of their headline slot at Reading festival. You've always been a fan of the band. There's something about the energy they put into their performances and the anthemic lyrics that's so captivating. And to top it all off they seem like genuinely nice people too.

The band are sitting on a sofa in the VIP area and you're sat on a chair angled towards them. As soon as the interview starts you realise you should have thought more about your positioning. Benji's on the far side and you know you'll never be able to reach him with the mic. Then there's Bondy, and Van, with Bob sitting the closest to you. You don't want to be rude leaning over too far so you thrust the mic towards Bob, realising your mistake when a look of total panic crosses his face and he leans back, letting Van take the limelight. Of course Van's in his element. You've interviewed him on his own a few times before and he loves to talk. It's more of a problem trying to get him to shut up once he's started. You laugh inside as you clock Bondy and Bob exchanging a look, Bondy rolling his eyes and Bob grinning back at him. They're obviously used to this.

Van's on one now, and you find yourself zoning out. You've just noticed something. The little dimples that pop on Bob's cheeks when he smiles. The way his blue eyes sparkle under those dark frames he wears. The cute, shy expression he pulls when he's feeling a little uncomfortable. Oh shit... that's probably because you're staring at him.

You wrench your gaze away and back to Van who doesn't appear to have noticed your completely unprofessional lapse in concentration, just in time to hear him mention Bob's drumming skills. Now he's got your full attention. And with the focus now on Bob, you've no choice but to direct your next question at him.

"So Bob, they say drummers hold the whole band together musically. That's a big responsibility, don't you think?"

Bob looks at you coyly, then glances down. "We all have our part to play. And we gig so often that it's kind of like second nature now. It's definitely not all down to me!"

Suddenly without warning, Van reaches over, swiping the mic from Bob. "Ahh come on, don't play it down, your drumming's class mate! Our Sideshow Bob never misses a beat!"

Bob shakes his head with a bashful little smile. God he's adorable.

You conclude the interview with a few more questions aimed at Van and he finishes off with an insight into what festival-goers can expect from their set.

"Proper music that pins you to the back wall, no fireworks or confetti or any of that shit! And yeah... we’re excited to be playing some new songs tonight!”

You thank the lads for their time and try to think up a way to engage Bob in further conversation, but you're struck by sudden shyness. This is ridiculous, you interview famous people for a living for gods sake! There's just something about him that makes you feel like a school-girl with a crush.

You don't notice Van striding back over until he speaks. "So, ya gonna join us for a drink then Y/N?"

You whirl around to face him, noticing Bob behind him with an eager look on his face. "I'd love to but I've got a few more interviews to do before I'm free. Maybe I'll see you guys later though?"

You say your goodbyes, cursing inwardly as you're sure you've missed your chance to spend more time with Bob. You're sure you'll never track the band down in the hustle and bustle of the busy VIP area. So you're shocked when you hear a voice behind you and turn to see Bob standing there.

"Hey... Y/N... I just overhead you saying to Van about being free later after work? I wondered whether... errr... whether you'd...umm... like to meet up?"

You pause, shocked for a moment that he's actually interested in spending time with you, and Bob takes your hesitance as a sign of disinterest. He looks down awkwardly and starts mumbling. "Of course it's fine if you've already got plans..."

"No... no!" You blurt out quickly. "No I don't have plans... and yes I'd love to meet up with you!"

A wide grin immediately fills Bob's face and you reciprocate with your own smile, and you both just stand there grinning at each other for a moment until Bob speaks again.

"Well I guess we should like... exchange numbers then?"

"Oh... errr... yeah sure," you mumble, taking out your phone and entering Bob's number, then calling him to ensure he has yours.

You're just about to say your goodbyes when Bob steps forward, a kind of apologetic look on his face. "Look... I'm sorry about earlier... the interview. I don't know what it is, but I just kinda freeze when I have a microphone in my face! I guess I'm just a little shy."

You grin widely at Bob. "You can't be that shy! You're up there performing night after night in front of tens of thousands of people!"

His smile grows, revealing those dimples again. "Well it's different when I'm on stage. I'm sitting there behind my drum kit. And besides... I'm sure no one's looking at me. Everyone's looking at Van of course!"

You chuckle at this, shaking your head. "Oh well, I can assure you that's definitely not the case!" Then you feel a slight warmth in your cheeks as you realise this sounds like you're openly admitting you're checking him out when you watch a show.

You both laugh nervously, then you say your goodbyes, making your way over to the destination for your next interview.

* * * * *

It's early evening by the time you finish up, and you eagerly call Bob, disappointment sinking in your gut as the call rings out and goes to voicemail. It's no surprise really. You're sure he's found someone more interesting to take up his time since you've been gone so long. You try and console yourself with the knowledge that you'll still be able to see the band perform later. You think back to the last show you went to and how mesmerised you were watching Bob expertly pounding out the beat, the exertion clear on his face, his curls flying around haphazardly as he got lost in the music.

Your ringtone snaps you out of your daydream and excitement shoots through you when you see Bob's name displayed on the phone screen. You arrange to meet at a nearby bar so wander over to buy a couple of beers. Bob appears within minutes, a little red-faced and slightly out of breath like he's ran all the way.

"I was beginning to think you'd forgotten to call me!" He says.

"How could I forget to do that!" You reply, knocking into him gently.

You look down and notice the expensive looking camera he's wearing round his neck and he sees you looking. He holds it out. "I carry this everywhere with me. You never know when you're gonna find a beautiful moment to capture."

As if on cue, a group of young drunken lads barge past clutching cans of lager, stripped to the waist and covered in mud.

"I don't think you're gonna find many beautiful moments round here!" You laugh.

You look down as you giggle, then when you look back up you're taken aback as you see Bob with the camera raised, pointing it straight at you. You put up a hand to cover your face, but it's too late. You've already heard the shutter click.

"Oh my god, don't take one of me!" You exclaim, self-consciously running a hand through your hair which feels knotty and wild. "I must look such a mess!"

Bob shakes his head, smiling, and he fixes you with his beautiful blue eyes as he speaks, recycling your earlier line. "Oh, I can assure you that's definitely not the case... I was just thinking how pretty you looked actually.”

"Oh... err... thank you...”

You're both grinning at each other again, an exchange without words, a little spark of something passing between you that holds the promise of something more. Then Bob reaches for your hand, pulling you into the crowds.

THE END 💕

[thrillingdetectivetales]

BoB Fic Exchange Signal Boost!

I don’t know if everyone in the Tumblrsphere saw this and can’t remember if I already shared or not—though I signed up like immediately when I found out about it. There’s a Midwinter Holiday Fic Exchange going on over at the Band of Brothers fandom community DDSherman! Looks like sign-ups are open until tomorrow so go, y’all, go! Get on that good good holiday BoBfic!

[storytimecatb]

Say aye if you love Bob! :D

Got a bobfic coming soon.. super cute.. a little steamy here and there. (Not smutty)

Thank the good lord for that gorgeous man.

[mariamegale]

What is the point of my life, if it's not happening with you?

Baberoe, rated T, 7,569 words

Babe just doesn’t understand how the fuck this happened, how he went from living his actual best life to being an overgrown baby staying with his parents after smothering the best person in his life so badly that Eugene feels like he has to leave the fucking state to get away from it.

The whole life he’s built himself, destroyed and done because Babe fell in love with him and wouldn’t let him fucking leave without turning it into a fucking disaster.

Eugene had said “c’mere” and Babe took it like an invitation of permanence, attached himself to this man with everything he had without caring about whether or not Eugene would appreciate having to haul around an extra 150 pounds all the time.

“I can’t,” he’d said, and Jesus Christ, no wonder about that. No wonder he couldn’t, no wonder he had no fucking clue about what to do, working himself to death to get away from Babe and his fucking moodiness only to get punished with the silent treatment like a child.

Babe puts his hands on the back of his neck, pressing his head down, screwing his face up in anger that he won’t stop crying, because he has no fucking right to be crying. Not here, not like this, not with Eugene on the other side of the door.

The last work, part 12, in my series Call me Sweetheart, please?

Read it here on AO3!

a/n: i.......... we’re done. I hope this feels like a good ending. i think I said everything I can think of on ao3, but I just wanna thank everyone who’s been here and supported me through this beast. it means the fucking world to me. I love you all <3

[siren-meets]

Babe Heffron x OC - The Busy and the Tired

Summary: After telling a white lie to a beautiful girl, Babe Heffron does his homework and discovers why home isn’t what it used to be, and how he can learn to live on anyway. Babe Heffron/OC. One-shot.

Rating: General Audiences

(Also posted to my Ao3 and FFN, both linked in my profile!)

“There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy and the tired.” 

― F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

In later years, Babe Heffron would tell people that he walked right up to Liz the moment he saw her and struck up a conversation -- that he’d been inexplicably drawn to her. The second part was true enough, but he didn’t actually work up the nerve to talk to her until the third time he saw her. 

Because fate was kind, Liz was a lover of routine and the type to frequent the same place at the same time just about every day. This was partly why he had zeroed in on her. Something about the way she sat on the same bench, unwrapped the same sandwich, and opened up her book at the same time every day was a draw -- a comfort, even -- and he’d resolved on that first day that it was a good routine, and that he would continue to take his lunch break at the same park, at the same time.

On that third instance (henceforth to be recorded as “the first instance,” remember), he walked right up to her. She didn’t look up from the book on her lap right away, and he stood for an uncomfortable moment, deciding if he still had time to turn back. Just when he began to move, determined to save face and try again later, she noticed his shoes in her peripheral vision and looked up. 

“Oh, hello.” Her voice was bright and soft, and exactly as he’d imagined it might be. Because she’d looked up just as he was moving away, there was an awkward moment where he couldn’t decide whether to keep his momentum and keep walking or stop and lean into the discomfort. The little, reassuring smile she gave after greeting him made the decision for him, and he stayed, bouncing on his heels with a nervous energy instead.

“Hi,” He began, shoving his free hand into his pocket to keep it from fidgeting, “I don’t mean to bother you or anything, but...” He was already about 2 miles off the rails from what he’d planned to say. “I saw you reading, and I was just...wondering what you’re reading.” 

"Oh, of course!" She said, putting her thumb down to keep her place and flipping the book closed so that he could see the cover. He tilted his head and leaned forward a bit to get a better look. 

“Oh yeah, The Great Gatsby,” He said, eyebrows rising in recognition as he pulled the hand from his pocket and pointed at it. “A good one.”

He hadn’t said he’d read it, exactly, but the implication was there, and her eyes lit up. She glanced down at the paper bag in his hand and straightened.

“Are you on lunch right now?” She asked, gesturing to the spot on the bench next to her. Babe didn’t need to be given a verbal invitation as he sat down on the wooden bench, mindful to leave a proper amount of space so he didn’t seem like a creep.

“Yeah, I am. I’m Babe Heffron,” He said, holding out a hand. She shook it.

“Hi, Babe. Liz Barnes,” She returned. The tiniest bit of color settled on her cheeks as she said his name, and Babe resisted the urge to chuckle when he noticed it. 

“So, uh, you’re on your lunch break, too?” He asked, unwrapping his sandwich to keep his hands busy.

“Yeah, I work over at a law firm in that building across the street,” She explained, pointing. Babe followed her finger and nodded.

“Oh, I’ve been in that office park before,” He said, taking a bite of his sandwich. He went to say something else, but then realized he shouldn’t talk to her with his mouth full, so he held up a finger instead. Liz laughed -- the sound was light and reminded him of bells. Babe swallowed. “What do you do there?”

“I’m a file clerk,” she answered, taking a bite of her own sandwich. He watched her pick up her napkin and dab it against her lips when she was done taking the bite. It was something he’d noticed about her from afar, when he’d been too nervous to approach. She wiped her mouth after practically every bite. It was an interesting ritual and had made him wonder if she was uptight -- he hadn’t been expecting this warm of a reception and was practically shaking with excitement from it. “What about you?”

“I work over at Publicker’s,” he said, sucking some mayo off one of his fingers. “The whiskey distillery?”

“Right! Right.” She replied, nodding vigorously. “How long have you been there?” 

“Not long,” Babe answered. He paused a moment, and then “I just got back from Europe about a month ago.”

He didn’t need to say more for her to understand, and she nodded again.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” 

Not that must have been so hard. Not tell me all about it. Not I’m so sorry you went through that. Just a simple, bright I’m glad you’re here.

And Babe found that he wanted to be here. Right here, in this exact spot, forever.

______________________________

So, naturally, he returned the next day. Liz, same as yesterday, greeted him with a kind smile and moved her bag to let him know that it was okay for him to sit. They ate in companionable silence for the first few minutes, mostly because Babe didn’t want to stop her from reading, if that’s what she wanted to do. Soon enough, though, she chose to abandon the book for conversation.

“So, what else do you like to do besides reading, Babe?” She asked, bookmarking her page. Babe dropped his sandwich away from his mouth and swallowed, thinking about it. When he was overseas, he had thought constantly about all the stuff he wanted to do when he got back to the states. Once he did get back, though, when all was said and done, he couldn’t remember any of it. None of it seemed to matter so much anymore. It was like this: next to his house, there had always been this colorful, vibrant mural that he loved since childhood. Well, while he was gone, they’d painted over it and made it black. That was how he felt -- blank. A dull shadow of what was once there. What had he enjoyed doing before the war? Whatever it was, he must not enjoy it that much anymore, to not even remember it. 

“I like baseball,” He answered, finally, “There’s nothin’ like watching the Phillies play.” 

Liz smiled warmly and opened her mouth to reply, but he cut her off.

“What part are you at?” He asked. Confusion formed on Liz’s brow, and he gestured to the book in her lap. “How far are you?”

“Oh,” she said, picking it up. “Tom just found out about the affair.”

“Oh, yeah,” Babe replied, “That Tom’s a real creep, huh? How about when he broke that girl’s nose?”  

Liz’s eyebrows rose the slightest bit, but that was her only tell. She was surprised. Babe couldn’t decide if he was proud of the reaction, or offended that she hadn’t actually believed him. But then he remembered that he had lied, and let the pride win out. He’d literally run to Foster’s Books after he got off work the night before to get a copy of The Great Gatsby before they closed. He hadn’t gotten nearly as far as he’d hoped to last night (it’d been a while since he’d read a book all the way through), and his coworkers had ribbed him relentlessly all day after they caught him sneaking it out during his downtime moments at the distillery today. He hadn’t gotten as far as she was, but he felt confident he’d read enough to have a conversation.

“Yes, he’s driving me crazy,” She agreed, recovering quickly, “He’s a horrible hypocrite, if you ask me.”

“Gatsby’s just as bad, really.” Babe said, leaning back and spreading an arm across the back of the bench. 

“Why do you say that?” She asked, her full attention on him now.

“The guy comes back from the war, and he thinks he’s just gonna make a lot of money, marry the girl of his dreams, and never have problems again? Trust me, it ain’t like that. You come back to the states and you realize --” He stopped and bit the inside of his cheek, reconsidering what he was about to share.

“Realize what?”

“It’s not what it was. That’s all. It’s not what it was before you left.”

They were quiet for a long moment, as Liz thought about what he said, watching him carefully. “Maybe it is what it was, and you’re just able to see it better for what it is. I mean, that’s what the book’s about, right? Complicating the idea of The American Dream?”

Babe had no idea. He would need to finish it tonight -- he glanced down at her bookmark and saw that she was almost finished with it. It would be a long night.

“He should’ve come back with an open mind, instead of expecting everything to be a certain way. Seen what life had to offer him, you know?” Babe said, thinking aloud.

“I agree,” Liz replied.

“It is pretty great how hard he’s trying with Daisy, though.” He added, changing the subject. Liz raised an eyebrow.

“Is it?” 

“Well, yeah. Throwing elaborate parties, trying to fit in with the elite and all that. He’s gotta do what he’s gotta do.” 

The corners of Liz’s lips upturned a tiny bit.

“I don’t think he’s gotta do that.”

____________________________________

When Babe showed up the next day, he hoped that the bags under his eyes wouldn’t betray the fact that he’d just managed to finish The Great Gatsby the night before. He felt a swell of satisfaction when he approached the bench and saw that Liz was no longer carrying the book either -- she’d finished it, too.

Just like the day before, he sat down next to her, and they ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. Just as he was finally sorting out what questions he wanted to ask her about the book, she broke the silence.

“So how did you like the ending?” She asked, a knowing smile pulling at her lips. Babe sat up a bit straighter, shifting uncomfortably. He’d been made. She didn’t appear to be upset, but he watched her warily.

“It was sad,” Was all he said.

“It was.” 

Silence fell on them again, and they went back to their lunches. After a few moments, Babe bit the bullet.

“So...you wanna go to a baseball game some time?”

Liz smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”

[bobthebobking]

just dipping my toes into yamcule hehe