#thank you so moch!

[chloroooew]

Just read the previous ask messages! sorry for not able to reply all so I just say it here : D Thank you all for the sweet words Im so happi to hear people liking my silly stuff I will continue cook more!

[ceo-mochee]

Hppy 9th anniversary to MCSM!!! I don't rlly got much rn so uhhhh

GO MY TNT MANIAC THAT I'M SO UNHEALTHYLY OBSESSED WITH 💥💥💥💥💥💥

(Made him for an art collab hehe)

Plus some other old (Lukxel) sketches I've been hiding too, all from a fanfic I'm currently fighting myself to finish LOOLLL

[jakescakeislateforourdate]

Holding You

Boys in the Boat

The cast from the movie: Joe Rantz, Bobby Moch, Don Hume, George “Shorty” Hunt

Fluffy cuddling sessions with some of the boys

Enjoy this garbage!

Joe Rantz:

He’s such a busy body that it’s hard to get him to slow down for 10 whole seconds. He’s always had to work, it’s the story of his life. So comfort is foreign to him.

The first time he holds you of his own, unassisted accord is during tryouts. He can’t get a good reading on his position and is fretting over the money and schooling. He’s practically tearing out his hair trying to make it all work out. He’s so frazzled that his brain goes numb and he can’t seem to make decision on anything.

He goes for a walk through the library and finds you tucked into a deserted corner. It’s quiet, isolated, and finally a thought pings off the blocked thinking centers of his brain.

How about a hug?

You noticed his labored footsteps approaching and then to him with a smile. And then he’s draping himself over you, letting his arms find the curve in your spine and nestle there. His chin fits perfectly on your shoulder where his cheek can brush past yours.

And then he sighs, leaning more of his weight on you. He’s clearly exhausted. “You alright there, big guy?”

“No.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No, I just…” he closes his eyes and relishes the moment, “just wanna be like this for a bit.”

His rough hands smooth down the back of your sweater. His hair tickles your ear. You can feel the swell of his chest as he takes in deep breathes. He relaxes and straightens up, pulling you against him. His lips meet your temple stay planted there.

This is just what he needed. His brain starts to function again. He takes careful note of how you feel tucked into him, the scent of your hair and sensation of your breath on his jaw.

Eventually he’s back at an equilibrium and pulls away. He presses a kiss to your forehead and fiddles with some strands of your hair, eventually he starts peppering kisses all over your face.

“Thank you,” he says between each peck, “‘feel so much better now.”

Bobby:

Bobby always kept his room unearthly cold, leaving his windows wide open all day and through the night. It’s because he piles blankets on his bed. And also because he spends a lot of time cuddling with you. He’s a devout cuddler and would prefer to never get out of bed. Most days you get up first and leave him to wallow by himself.

So, he hypothesizes that he can make you stay in bed longer if getting out is much less favorable. Therefore, the room must be frigid.

This is how most mornings go. Bobby shifting slightly in your grasp. His wiggling rouses you. A cold clamminess clings to your cheeks and makes you grateful for the heap of blankets over your shoulders. It’s wintertime, and even the blankets would not be able to keep you warm if it wasn’t for the doubled body heat trapped under them.

Bobby is tucked flush against you. He’s touching you from his face tucked into your neck all the way down to your feet which at sandwiched between his.

You shrug the blankets up a little higher, the morning is still so young that you can afford to sleep in a little.

Bobby grunts, squeezing you between his biceps. You kiss his temple and stroke his shoulder blade, fingers skating over the thickened muscles of his back. He’s a little stiff from the extended practice he had yesterday.

“You’ve got to stop leaving your windows open.” The cold nips at your ears.

Bobby grumbles unhappily, “No.” There’s an audible hiss as he sucks in a frustrated breath and wedges himself into that warm crevice between you and the mattress.

As you’re forced on top of him, coldness rushes to the surface of skin the sheets had protected. “Bobby!”

You can feel his lips curling into a smile against your neck. You cling to him, buying right into his wicked little scheme. It doesn’t help that he’s arguably more comfortable than the mattress. He’s all dense muscle and soft skin and warm smiles and sugary words.

“You’re a menace, an absolute terror.” You pout, letting him hug you fully.

“You love it. Don’t even try to lie.”

You mutter and lift your head so you can look into his sleepy eyes.“I don’t know, might love this a lot more if I could sleep without getting frostbite.”

“I’m not closing the windows. Not ever.”

“C’mon can’t we—”

He peels his hands from your sides and cups your face and says real slowly, “no.” Then his sunshiny smile dissolves as his lips greet yours good morning.

Don Hume:

He’s a secret cuddler but this surprises no one. I just get the inkling that he’s such a softie and craves touch and gentle words, even just the slightest morsel of affection.

He tracks you down after work, feet aching and back sore. Long day of classes, long day of practice, and then a full shift of tedious labor. He’s been banking on the memory of you all day long.

His feet grow cold, the newspapers stuffed in the bottoms of his worn out boots not insulating the ragged leather. All he can think about is how much his body hurts and how he would just like to drape himself over you and listen to you talk and finally feel better.

You’re lounging on a sofa in an empty common room when he finally stumbles upon you. You peek over the top of your book and see his lumbering figure, hands stuffed deep into his coat pockets and shoulders hunched. The tired has seeped from his stiff gate up into the lines of his face.

“Hey, Donny,” you set the book aside and lean onto the armrest, “long day?”

He hums. The distance between him and the couch seems increasingly difficult to cover. But he’s determined to make it there and he does. He squishes you into the couch cushions, hands still crammed in his pockets. He releases a big sigh. Your heartbeat drums steady in his ear; your fingers comb through his hair, tangled from a windy practice.

Eventually, he works up the energy to abandon his pockets and snake his arms around you. Don revels in the newfound ability to breathe easy. He soaks up the calmness like a sponge. His brain goes numb and all he can think about is the sensation of your fingers in his hair.

He’s always hungry for these moments. Life is hard on him but there are times when it’s kind and you are one of them. Your fingers brush over his nape and he shudders. And then yours massaging his tense shoulders. He grunts as you work at the knots. You want to tell him to take it easy but you know he never will. His conscience worries him into overworking himself. It doesn’t help that he’s been living this way for so long and is now hardwired that way. You know it won’t matter what you say, he’s too driven. So all you can do is take care of him after.

You can feel him melting into you like ice cream on a hot summer day. The fatigue is kicking in. After a while you leave his shoulders be and settle one hand on his lower back and the other on the crown of his head. His hair is gossamer soft and he smells heavily of wood shavings. You wonder what job he’s picked up now.

He’s tucked himself up under your chin, arms still wrapped around you. “Can I sleep?”

“You want to sleep here?”

“Mmm…”

You sigh, he’s nodding off a soon you won’t be able to get him up. “How about we get you cleaned up and you can stay in my room.”

“Really?” He shifts so you’re now cheek to cheek.

“Really.” You rub his sides, encouraging him to get up. “C’mon. It won’t take too long.”

“Can we…. Can we sleep…together?”

You quirk a brow teasingly which makes him blush.

“I didn’t mean like that.” His eyes match his pouty lips.

“We can sleep whichever way you meant.”

He slowly clambers off, “Not funny.” He mutters, allowing you to drag him by the arm up to your room.

By the time you’re both crawling into bed, his eyelids are drooping and he’s almost knocked out before he can lay his head down. He pulls you onto his chest and takes his turn of playing with your hair. But before long his hand stills and he huffs in his sleep. You eventually drift off too, cradling in his arms.

George “Shorty” Hunt:

He will cocoon you in a baking hot swath of muscled arms and fluffy blankets. It’s positively sweltering. You worry about sweating to death, passing away of heat stroke but Shorty doesn’t fret over such things.

He’s such a hugger, always touching you really. As much as he enjoys all the attention he gets from the girlies he prefers to hang off your arm like a one-of-a-kind handbag. He doesn’t mind being an accessory as long as he’s yours.

Naturally, George loves cuddling. He was born to be a big spoon. It’s just so easy to curve around you and squeeze you tight. You fall asleep like that most nights. His cheek rubbing against yours as he settles in.

“Have a good day?” He asks, lashes fluttering on your temple.

His hand is rubbing your shoulder, relaxing the muscles, “yeah,” you murmur.

“Tell me about it.”

You grown, “Nothing exciting happened.”

“Tell me the mundane, then.”

He loves hearing about every little thing you do. He’s longs to be involved in absolutely everything but he’s got so much to do in a day that he has to settle for this. Maybe that’s why he clutches you so tight, like you’ll slip through his fingers. He just wants to make up for being busy and not spending each second with you.

As you talk to him, George’s hand leaves your shoulder and rubs down your side. He thumbs at your hip and pokes your ribs. “Do I get to hear about yours?” You squirm as he tickles you.

“Went to class, then I had to row an unholy distance with Moch screaming bloody murder at me. Little prick.” Your laughter fills his ears. Shorty loves Bobby but only outside the boat. “Didn’t know such a small guy could be so loud and lewd.”

There’s hardly room for his chest to expand as he breathes so you feel every flex of his muscles. At this point he’s mostly on top of you. You feel the soft curve of his lip on your jaw whenever he speaks. He’s so warm and smells so good. You both slowly talk each other to sleep, nodding off some time after he finishes complaining about Ulbrikson’s lectures.

He’s awake only a short while after you fall asleep. He can finally feel the tension easing out of his upper body. He’s comfortable and sleepy and the weight of you against him is, perhaps, the most peaceful he will ever feel.

Dear Reader

This is my first piece for The Boys in the Boat. If you want, feel free to request something for them (meaning the dudettes from the cast). Thank you so much for reading and have a good day.

- the author

[starrvsn]

౨ৎ ּ ׅ ۫ ✧ 。BOYS IN THE BOAT ˚₊ ꒰ PRETTY LIKE YOU !

﹙ MOVIE/FANDOM ⠆THE BOYS IN THE BOAT ﹚

𝟒𝟏𝟏. some of the ficitonal characters from the boys in the boat, reactions to you giving them flowers :)

STAR LEFT A MESSAGE! hi friends! i know i haven't posted in a while but i just recently watched the boys in the boat and i absolutely loved it! especially the cast, full of fine talented men- so here's a little something about them with more to come! if you have any requests or ideas about them please let me know!

INCLUDES ⠆joe rantz, don hume, bobby mach, george hunt and chuck day (just some of the characters im partially attached to…)

BOBBY MOCH ⠆

after their first win of the season, you greet bobby with a bouquet of flowers themed after the school's colors— immediately giving him praise and compliments about their win today. you knew he had a rough past season with the last crew, now seeing him with a new crew he trusted, something he was so passionate about. you were excited for him!

when he asks where this all came from, you shrug the gesture off as if it was nothing. stating that the flowers just reminded you of him and just had to give them to him. a wide smile tugs on his lips as he accepts them, his hand caressing yours gently. he appreciated them more than you knew. pulling you close, he presses a kiss on the crown of your head. caring less about his damp uniform or the loud crowd around you, just you and him.

“thank you lovely, these are beautiful.”

DON HUME ⠆

he's absolutely speechless, it wasn't everyday a man would recieve flowers and don didn't think he would be one of them. his eyebrows jump to his hairline when he sees you at the entrance of the shell house with a bouquet of flowers in your hands. his breath hitches as he asks where you got them from and you reply kindly that they're for him, giving him a sweet smile which he returns. you wanted to congratulate him for making the team, it wasn't easy and all the effort he put in finally paid off. a faint blush falls on his cheeks as he takes them, a beautiful arrangement of daisy's and poppy's held by a piece of brown parchment. he takes your hand tugging you into a hug, squeezing you appreciatively. there weren’t enough words to describe how much he loved them,

"this bouquet might be just as pretty as you." now you blush, playfully slapping this arm as you continue to hold him close. he wanted to keep them alive for as long as he can and maybe get you a bouquet in return. later (few months) when he sneaks you into the dorms he see's the bouquet in a glass still thriving well, making your heart swell.

JOE RANTZ ⠆

he's gotten several bouquets from several girls after winning gold in the olympics. he's received a many of gifts from different people but none of them felt as special as yours. when he saw you for the first time since their win in germany, you had planned to go out on a date to celebrate so when he comes to pick you up with his own bouquet in hand. imagine his surprise and delight when he sees you walk out of the building with your own bouquet in hand. he lets out a soft laugh in disbelief watching as you. a proud smile on your lips, almost skipping towards him.

"ever so original rantz?" you jokingly say, fiddling with the fabric of your dress. holding the flowers to him— they're almost identical to his except, he has your favorite flower in the bunch making your heart swell.

"i didn't know you were gonna get me flowers." he replies, ever so charming smile gracing his lips. you tell him you wanted to surprise him— a token of your appreciation for all that he's done, all the hard work he and all the other boys put in. he thanks you greatly, exchanging your bouquets. he presses a sweet, chaste kiss on your lips before interlocking hands and walking to your date destination.

GEORGE HUNT ⠆

george didn't really take mind to trivial things of interest like that, what his favorite flower was but he made a great deal to what yours were and he never missed the chance to give you flowers when he could— after any occasion he would give them to you. if you passed your exam or got into a fight, he'd get flowers to make it up to you. he didn't really expect to get his own flowers, as it really wasn't a thing.

so one day when practice was particularly grueling and draining, the last thing your boyfriend had expected was seeing you; with a small bouquet of flowers in your hands waiting outside the crews dorm. you were speaking with roger, keeping you company. "who are those for?" george announces himself, now standing between the two of you. you chuckle bidding roger goodbye as he leaves, now alone with your boyfriend— a timid smile forming.

"pretty flowers for a pretty boy." you proclaimed, holding out the bouquet to him. he huffs a laugh taking them carefully, admiring them. he raises a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, cradling your cheek— caressing it gently.

"these a perfect darling, just like you."

CHUCK DAY ⠆

“a new admirer giving you flowers? giving me a run for my money?” chuck eyes the bouquet in your hands, noticing that there was none of your favorite flowers in them— what kind of admirer were they? you let out a soft giggle that sounds like music to his ears. he won't lie, a slight pang of jealousy hits him at the thought of another man giving you flowers but he'd ask you another day.

"no silly, they're for you." you reply, standing from the bench to give them to him. he lets out a small breath of relief, practically melting at the gesture. he takes a hand that was stuffed in his pocket to take the flowers from you, eyeing them carefully. you tell him that some of the flowers had meaning— like the red tulips and daisy's meaning love. his gaze softens as you continue to explain, a loving smile gracing his lips as he admires your face and the bouquet. lovingly, he plucks a flower from the bouquet and tucks it behind your ear

"you're so sweet you know that." his hand running down your arm, grasping your hand gently rubbing your knuckles. you almost swoon— tilting your head in admiration "well you deserve the best, i hope you know." he knows, with you around it's hard to forget.

ownership of starrvsn. please do not repost, modify or translate.

[i-am-a-lost-girl16]

Okay but I absolutely love this and can definitely see all that you said.

Roger previously being a defenseman but getting switched to Forward makes sense to me because I think he would be a fundamental piece of the special plays (Like you said penalty kills and short hand goals)

Chuck is a big chirper, he and Bobby can just go at the other team all day pong. I don't know if you've seen Letterkenny but the scenes with the boys chirping is those two 😂

Also Don gives me a little bit of Sebastian Aho (Caroline Hurricanes) vibes, like a really solid center. Not prone to fighting but gets targeted because of his skill and the boys are quick to jump to defend him if they think the other team is going after him

100% Bobby will leave the net to defend his boys (even though fighting isn't allowed in college)😂

Sorry to ramble, I love hockey and I love these boys

Okay now I need to pick your brain about what hockey position the boys play? Cause I think previously you said Bobby as goalie? Which I love but I've been thinking about the others too😂😂

Okokok so I’m definitely all over the place but I’ll give my vibes. I can totally see ANY of the boys as being either defense or offense, so please feel free to give your opinions.

Under the cut because I type too much :)

Bobby - Goaltender

small, loud-mouth goaltender, essentially the antithesis of your typical large and much more reserved goalie

always playing the puck even though Ulbrickson tells him not to and def leaves the crease a lot, but isn't totally reckless about it, like it's a calculated risk he takes

chirping at players all the time like I’m getting Marc-Andre Fleury vibes with a bit of Tuuka Rask’s attitude on special occasion, he’s always chirping at the players screening him in front of his crease and isn’t afraid to shove them when the linesman isn’t looking (def gets him in trouble with other team sometimes)

very flexible because of his small size and I can totally see him secretly having some figure skating experience (figure skating has many benefits to hockey players)

Don - Forward (Center)

probably plays Center on the top line because stroke is all about leading the crew at a certain pace like centers set up plays, Don would have the most assists but never takes any of the credit

pretty quiet on and off the ice but his locker is next to Bobby’s, mostly because no one else wants to sit next to the obnoxious goalie but also because he likes how there’s no pressure to speak a lot with Bobby

leads by example on the ice like the other boys will fall into formation behind him and follow his lead

might not be the best on the team but has some of the best, natural hockey instincts Ulbrickson has ever seen like he can see plays developing on the ice

Joe - Forward (Winger)

winger on the first line with Don and Shorty, locker is probably situated between Shorty and Stub

gets a bit rattled by chirping so having Don as a center kind of helps to mellow him out on the ice

doesn’t have a lot of the technique but had a lot of heart and passion, leaves everything out on the ice

gets a little ahead of himself sometimes, quick on his feet, always wants to jump ahead of the play which is where his teamwork is a little lacking (but is definitely getting better now that he’s with these boys)

Shorty - Forward (Winger)

Don’s other winger, very headstrong and has a lot of emotions in the game, perhaps one of the leading goal scorers

very sociable, loved to be the center of attention and is probably the player people simp over

sensitive, never quite sure what might set him off, shut him down, or make him lose his focus so he’s either hot or he’s cold and the other boys are there to help pull him out of it

Ulbrickson was probably worried he’d clash too much with Joe on the same line but instead they clicked really well, like they validate each other’s emotions when they’re pissed over a call or soemthing

Stub (Captain) - Defenseman

“tall and lanky, and he could reach all over the place” thus he’s easily a defenseman but like a defensive defenseman

has the most experience, like gives total veteran vibes so it’s fitting that the captain of the crew is the captain of the hockey team

kind of a calming presence, doesn’t get rattled and isn’t phased by anything even if one of the other boys is throwing a bit of a tantrum

refs love him because he’s always very civil when they’re talking about a penalty or something that just happened (I’ll find a video if anyone doesn’t quite get what I’m talking about, it’s a college hockey thing)

takes the new players under his wing (ha hockey pun), doesn’t want them to be treated like how he, Chuck, and Bobby were treated when they first joined

Johnny - Forward (Center)

book describes him as poster model for the all-American boy and “pretty boys are always forwards” says my bf so it must be true

lived and breathed rowing hockey thanks to his father who wanted more than anything for his son to become an oarsmen forward, every expectation his father sets Johnny meets (but I bet it weighs on him a little)

probably one of the top scorers on the team, gets a lot of power play minutes

ready to pull Chuck out of any trouble he might get into, and that’s straight out of the book so it totally fits if he’s on the same line as Chuck

Gordy - Defenseman

described as “Big, muscular, and very quiet” so defenseman just makes sense

once rowed the entire two miles of a race with his thumb cut to the bone played an entire game with a cut from a skate blade with needed stitches but didn't tell anyone

probably gets a lot of time on the penalty kill with Chuck and would definitely without a doubt lead the team in shots blocked

Chuck - Forward (Winger)

winger and team enforcer, which is hard because fighting isn’t technically allowed in college (if we’re talking college that is)

absolute chatterbox in the locker room and on the ice, probably the person people want mic’d up but might not be pg enough

If there’s a scuffle, it’s almost guaranteed to be Chuck in the middle of it, probably gets a lot of penalties tbh

the teams “spark plug,” the guy getting the boys revved up and firing on all cylinders both on and off the ice

Roger - Forward (Winger)

a fairly defensive forward, gets a lot of penalty kill minutes and I feel like he gets a lot of short-handed goals

maybe he played defense for his last team but Ulbrickson thought he’d be a great match for Chuck (and they were right)

where Shorty and Joe are great minds think alike, Roger and Chuck are like opposites attract, they balance each other out on their line and carry each other’s slack

[butterflieswhisper]

for anyone who wasn't there but wishes to know what the fuck happened. beastlife tumblr sexyman debate, a summary.

- I sent this message into moch's chat, in response to the lilies calling their alliance doomed yuri: "help i explained beastlife to a friend a while ago and they. said i was giving into tumblrina instincts (doomed otp)" (1:10:33)

- Dingo asked who beastlife tumblr sexyman would be (1:10:56)

- Moch nominated bree and kiwi, dingo nominated sonic. tom nominated themself, repeatedly. and started campaigning in live chat

- "We're all the same level of unfuckable" -Moch_ila, 2024 (1:12:48)

- Fishie asked in the actual beastlife discord (1:13:00)

- I was apologized to about this situation. thank you for the apology it would later become warranted. at the time it wasn't but now it is and i appreciate it /lh

- I nominated fishie on "wet cat basis". this was funny for about five seconds and then we all dropped it after actually thinking about it. fishie then got disqualified

- "how did we get here montage please" IM NOT DOING THAT. this is the best y'all are getting. (quote 1:19:41)

- sonicmike showed up (1:21:25)

- "biblical definition" of tumblr sexyman (1:22:12)

- moch tried to drop the "sex appeal" part. nobody let this happen (1:23:55)

- tom was un-nominated due to Being A Minor (1:24:28)

- reading the official wiki for tumblr sexymen (1:25:00)

- all the underage people were disqualified for Being A Minor as sex appeal was deemed mandatory to the conversation. sorry tom. (1:26:03)

- bree showed up (1:30:00)

- Dingo keeps trying to say that fanon interpretation is very important to this. Me (fandom) does not want to deal with this please it's not my fault ............ (1:30:00) (al (spiderlilyvalley) has since cast their vote for kiwi though. so. i guess if fandom interpretation is mandatory it would be kiwi.)

- "why are you guys holding whisp at gunpoint for this" -bree, 2024 (1:30:30)

- FISHIE BLAMED ME. FOR THIS CONVERSATION. IT WAS NOT MY FAULT. (1:30:40)

- group created (1:32:50)

- kiwi appeared (1:34:30)

- kiwi discussion starts, catholicism angle (1:35:00)

- "i feel like the season four skin is definitely the most sexyman-able" -unidingo. sonic agreed with her (1:35:17)

- al fanart discussion begins as evidence ("they- they put me in a suit!") (1:35:38)

- Peregrine brought up as evidence (1:36:56)

- "Not the kikicest..." -Unidingo, 2024 (1:37:35)

- fishie, dingo, and moch all change their votes to kiwi (1:38:07)

- I decide not to participate anymore (1:38:13)

- Eker showed up (1:38:37)

- bree joined group (1:42:30)

- "al literally drew you in a suit" as evidence, by bree (1:43:00)

- kiwibird puts a hit out on me(whisp) ITS NOT MY FAULT ITS NOT MU FAULT ITS OFFMMAFUKAT (1:45:52)

- tom sent kiwibird onceler (1:50:00 ish)

- dingo nominates eker, with caveat that there's not enough content to bastardize them in fanon ( :((((( im trying not to bastardize anyone :((((((( you can correct me if im woefully terribly incorrect) (1:52:12)

- "maybe the sexyman was the friends that we made along the way" -moch 2024 (1:57:11)

yeah that's pretty much it

[arokel]

Catfooted

Fandom: The Boys in the Boat Pairing: Don Hume/Bobby Moch Words: 804 Rating: G Notes: Bobby really was on the UW fencing team! I took one three-week fencing unit in middle school PE so I am of course an expert in the sport as you can see from this fic.

Don knows he sticks out like a sore thumb in this crowd. He’s clearly not a fencer - he’s got the wrong proportions, for starters, and the UW fencing club is small enough that he’d stand out as a new face anyway - and he’s even more clearly not a fencer’s girlfriend.

Not that all or even many of the women dotted among the seats in the fencing courts have boyfriends among the team, unless fencers have a much more bohemian understanding of relationships than rowers do. But most of them seem to have at least inclinings that way, if the way their eyes track the lithe bodies of the fencers as they shake out their wrists and push their sweaty hair off their foreheads is any indication.

Don only has eyes for one of them.

He’s always known Bobby is athletic - Bobby keeps up with the rest of them on their training runs when his lungs allow, and what meat there is on his slender limbs is mostly muscle. But he’s never seen Bobby move like this. Graceful, predatory, catlike in the way his feet barely touch the ground before he’s bounding away with a delighted laugh, challenging his opponent to give chase. The wire helmet obscures his expression, but Don can see it perfectly in his mind’s eye: bright grin flashing, cheeks flushed in triumph and exertion, eyes alight with the thrill of the game. It’s beautiful.

Bobby’s opponent does something complicated with his foil and the girls beside Don murmur in appreciation, but Don’s attention is fixed on the way Bobby twists easily out of reach and parries with a direct, no-nonsense block. It’s so very much like Bobby that Don can’t help but laugh quietly to himself, even if it makes the girls glare at him. Let them think he’s amused by their sighing and pining; they can’t know that he’s just as besotted.

He and Bobby aren’t dating, per se. Don doesn’t know how that would even work, given how dangerous it would be for them to be seen in public that way, or to spend any more time sequestered in Bobby’s room with the door locked than they already do. But they’re doing everything else. So even though he’s only attending Bobby’s match as a friend, he feels a kinship with those girls in the stands who do have a sweetheart in the running.

Except that unlike them - Don can only assume - Don has felt that wiry body under his hands, has seen just how far those flexible hips can bend and twist and writhe atop Don’s. Bobby’s sweat-soaked hair and flushed face is familiar to Don for far more intimate reasons than fencing. Watching him now with that knowledge is mouth-watering.

Bobby looks like a wet dream come to life when he bounds off the court, shaking his hair out of his eyes and pushing the sleeves of his jacket up to his elbows. His gaze seeks out Don in the stands and he grins as he makes his way over. He, too, has no eyes for anyone else.

Don wants to tell him congratulations, or even a simple hi, but his mouth is suddenly too numb to form words. Up close, he’s almost too beautiful to look at.

“Cat got your tongue?” Bobby says, coming to a stop at Don’s feet. His chin is tipped up in teasing challenge, his lips chapped from breathing so hard, and Don can do nothing but nod. Bobby smirks. “Well, tell her to give it back. I’m kind of fond of it.”

“You were,” Don manages, face flaming. “You were. Out there. Very…”

Bobby’s laugh is delighted. “Why, thank you. I’ll take that as the compliment I assume it was meant to be?”

“Very much. Thank you for letting me come,” Don says. He feels on firmer footing with pleasantries rather than the veiled but very public flirting Bobby started them out with.

Bobby’s grin softens and his eyes dart down to his feet for a moment, shy, before he looks back up.

“Thank you. It was - I’m glad you could make it. I’ve got no girl to cheer me on, so…” He clears his throat. “But who needs a girl when I’ve got you, right?”

It should sound like a consolation, and it does hurt a little to hear. But Don also hears in it the truth of what Bobby really means: Bobby would date Don too, if they could. He’s fond of just a bit more than Don’s tongue.

"Yeah. You've got me."

Bobby beams. Then, alerted by some noise, he looks back over his shoulder and sighs. “I have to go change; I’ll see you back at the house. Find that cat in the meantime, maybe?”

Don watches him go, smiling like a fool. He knows the girls can see it, but he doesn’t much care.

[floralcyanide]

sᴛᴜᴅʏ sᴇssɪᴏɴ ― ʙᴏʙʙʏ ᴍᴏᴄʜ

bobby moch x gn!reader

Bobby asks you to be his tutor, which leads to something more.

✣ warnings: kissing, none other than that

✣ word count: 1k

✣ author’s note: I've been wanting to write for bobby for a while (: so here is a little something for our fave short king

masterlist | divider credit: @cafekitsune

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

“Bobby?”

You snap your fingers in front of his face as his gaze has lingered on you for too long, “Bobby.”

“Yeah?” he asks, snapping out of it.

“You were staring. Is something wrong?”

“No, no,” Bobby rubs his hands on his thighs, “Uh, everything is good.”

“Right,” you chuckle, “Let’s get back to studying.”

Bobby is a part of the rowing team for your university and needs some help in one of his classes in order to stay on said team. So he comes to you, as you’re the best in the class, for help. Plus, he thinks you’re cute. It’s a great way to get to know you and pass this class, so it’s a win-win situation. Except Bobby doesn’t know how to talk to girls without fumbling. Sure, he can get his friends to talk to them and even give them advice. But Bobby following his own advice is hard, considering he’s stubborn. 

Bobby hadn’t gotten much sleep last night despite a hard practice that day and seemed a little out of it. Hence, he had been staring right through you as you read a page of the textbook aloud. You can tell Bobby hasn’t gotten enough rest because he’s hardly paying attention and trying his best to stay awake. He had admittedly slept through most of his classes today. When you look over and notice Bobby struggling to keep his eyes open, you sigh and close the textbook.

“Bobby, go to your dorm and get some rest, would you? You’re gonna wither away,” you frown.

“No, I’m fine. I swear.”

“You’re literally falling asleep with your eyes open. Go to bed,” you cross your arms, raising an eyebrow at Bobby when he opens his mouth to argue, but he quickly shuts it when he sees your expression.

With a defeated sigh, Bobby pushes himself off the old and creaky library chair and stands up, “I guess you’re right. Can we meet later today or maybe tomorrow?”

“Sure,” you say, “If you want to later, just come by my dorm building after you wake up and have someone knock on my door.”

Sure enough, later that evening, one of your dormmates knocks on your door during your nightly reading.

“Yes?’ you call through the door.

“Someone is here for you,” your dormmate giggles.

“Is it Bobby?”

“I don’t know, he didn’t give a name. He’s kinda short, but he’s cute, though.”

“Okay, thanks,” you say, ignoring your dormmate’s comment, “Tell him I’ll be down in a minute.”

When you throw on some clothes and go downstairs to outside, Bobby is standing there patiently, books under his arms. 

“Sorry that it’s so late. I was more tired than I thought and slept all day,” Bobby rubs the back of his neck.

“It’s okay. Do you still want to go to the library?” you ask.

“Yes, if that’s okay with you,” Bobby says.

The two of you walk to the campus library, talking about Bobby and his stunning progress with the rowing crew. 

“You should come watch us tomorrow if you aren’t busy,” Bobby suggests.

“I’d love to,” you grin.

You’ve always found rowing quite interesting, considering it took a lot of strength to do the sport. You know Bobby is the coxswain, so he calls out to his teammates to tell them what to do. Rowing isn’t the only thing about Bobby that interests you. Despite his small stature and emotionless resting expression, Bobby is kind and smart- he’s also quite handsome. You wonder why he doesn’t have someone on his arm yet. 

When you arrive at the library, the two of you go over the materials in today’s class that Bobby had slept through. You both dive into the readings, your noses in your respective books. You would occasionally look up and catch Bobby staring at you, and you’d hurriedly look away. It became almost a game, seeing if you could catch the other staring. You would giggle and then hurry to cover it up with a cough or the clearing of your throat. It’s nearing midnight now, and you had to be up early for class in the morning. 

“Ready to turn in?” you ask Bobby, who is actually distracted by his reading this time.

“Oh,” he blushes, closing his textbook, “Yeah, we probably should.”

The two of you walk back to your dorm in comfortable silence. It isn’t until you’re right outside the building that Bobby decides to speak up.

“You’re really cute, by the way,” Bobby cringes at himself, “I just thought you should know that.”

You smile, feeling your ears burn at the compliment, “Thank you, Bobby. You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”

Bobby waves a dismissive hand, “You’re just saying that to be nice.”

“No,” you shake your head, taking a step closer to him, “I mean it.”

Bobby scratches the back of his neck nervously under your gaze. You grab his hand from behind his neck and entangle your fingers through his, leaning in to give a soft kiss to his lips before pulling away. 

“Goodnight, Bobby,” you let go of him, and he’s red as a beet in the face.

“Yeah, uh, goodnight,” he nods with a giddy smile.

After that, it becomes a habit to study at the library and then send each other off with a kiss. It isn’t until Bobby works up the courage to ask you out on an actual date that it becomes serious. And at the end of your first date, you dare to take the kiss a little further by nibbling at Bobby’s bottom lip. He allows you to take over, your tongue exploring his mouth. The two of you are hidden in the bushes by your dorm so you aren’t seen by anyone. Your hands find the sides of Bobby’s face as you deepen the kiss. You feel his cheeks burn under your touch as he stifled a moan as you bite his bottom lip while pulling away. 

“Goodnight, Bobby. I had a great time,” you wave, turning to walk away to the building entrance.

Bobby watches you disappear inside the dorm and is thankful he had the courage to ask you to be his tutor. 

[sassyandclassy94]

Water Under the Bridge

Bobby Moch x Original female character

Part 1 of “Let Me Spend My Whole Life Loving You” (my new Bobby x OFC series of oneshots)

Summary: Bobby suffers a bad breakup and thinks he’ll be alone forever (at 21 lol! Imagine that… Boy, you’re so young!) That is, until an unexpected lady walks into his life.

Rating: Teen and up

Word count: 8,776

Trigger warnings: I don’t know, there’s nothing sexual (as of yet). But breakup I guess? Insecurities regarding height

Author’s note(s): *This fic is purely about the movie portrayal only. Not the real Bobby Moch whatsoever. As always, I mean no disrespect to him or his descendants* Special shoutouts go to @groovin2beats and @i-am-a-lost-girl16! Rachael, thanks to you (and Luke himself with his tall wife) I’m obsessed with the idea of movie!Bobby ending up with a tall lady. I will now no longer accept any other headcanon please and thank you. As for @i-am-a-lost-girl16 ? I cannot thank you enough for helping me flesh out this lovely lady. Thank you for being so willing to hear and add on to the headcanons I send you♥️ it really means alot. And a very special shoutout goes to @youredoinggreat-honey . If it weren’t for you and your wonderful encouragement to keep going, I don’t know if I would’ve kept writing for this fandom. Your excitement for my fics and ideas makes me and my fics feel so welcome and worthy you have no idea! Thank you for not only encouraging me as a writer, but for bring my friend and for reminding me that I’m not alone.

Tagging: @applebutter-and-cinnamon (I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it)

Bobby inhaled, fiddling with the small box he had hidden in his pocket as he waited for Tilly, his steady girlfriend, to get back from whatever it was she was doing. They had been steadily dating for at least a year now and tonight, Bobby planned on popping the question. After putting money aside for months, he was finally able to purchase the ring he had his eye on a few days ago. He even talked to her parents; now all that was left to do was ask Tilly those four words. He exhaled. He really wasn’t feeling nervous at all; in fact, he was feeling rather confident and excited. He had known for a while now that he wanted to marry this woman. Sure, the economy was bad, but he was just recently named to cox the JV rowing team, which entailed a job, he was graduating next year and then after that he planned on having a job to support them as he went through law school. It would be hard, yes, but being that they loved each other, they would make it work, right?

More on AO3

[theragethatisdesire]

M!! So happy to see you pop up on the dash again 😀 since you asked for nasty things, (and in honor of halloween) any ideas of what sort of risqué costumes the AOT boys would love to see their s/o in?

HEYYY moch <333 so happy to see you in my asks, how are you my love?? i would LOVE to elaborate on this, thank you sm for such a seasonal and fun prompt

eren

ok, call him basic but i think eren would love any animal costume. bunny, cat, dog, whatever. i feel like he secretly loves giving you a silly pet name just for the night (sue me, but i think for this situation alone he would love calling you "bunny/kitten/puppy" for the night)

the ears are really cute to him idk why i just know it's true

i think he also loves anything matching he can do with you. prisoner + warden, beast boy + raven, jack skellington + sally, etc

i'm going to throw him in the same category as reiner here that he thinks "scarier" or i guess like darker, more intense costumes are sexy??

i think eren's all-time fav costume in that regard would be Misa from death note (totally not because that's my costume this year haha....) bc you know that's his Fav Anime Gf or like, the purge costumes where it's just girls covered in blood with machetes and the light up masks

he loves blood on a costume too i think that just really gets him going

jean

i feel like jean would love anything downright sexy, borderline whore-ish LOLOLOL

that sounds really vague, but i think he'd like anything that's been....corrupted?

sexy nun, sexy teacher, sexy nurse, etc. i think jean loves watching you pull your lingerie on and try to excuse it as a costume

definitely makes you 30 minutes late to the halloween party

i feel like he doesn't like to dress up much himself, like he's very snobbish in that aspect and feels "too mature" (what a brat), but he loves seeing yours and wants to come out with you every year to see what you put on and to fight guys off of you

reiner

okay so firstly, let's just go ahead and acknowledge that reiner wants to match with you, regardless of what you wear. let's just get that out of the way bc that's basically canon

i hope this doesn't sound too perverse, but i think reiner's a big fan of the more...scary/intense/darker stuff

like a vampire but genuinely scary with the eyes and shit for example, or like Misa from death note, shego from kim possible, one of the shining twins, whatever

he loves all of the Typical Goth Girl costumes

i also just picture him being such a black-cat-gf, my-gf-could-kick-my-ass type dude so maybe my personal headcanons are leaking in

but i also think he would just love anything punny. like any costume that has a little bit of a joke to it? he's a sucker for puns/dad jokes and i think he can also appreciate a wholesome moment

[chloroooew]

I'm so sorry about the hate you're getting on twitter. Your art is lovely and you seem like a genuinely sweet person :( and less important but also you are the reason I started to like Whitney + got DoL hehe but that aside I really hope you are okay !! Please stay safe!

Thanks for your concern! Im fine now : D Im glad to hear you like him too!🫳🫳💖

[dogwooddiaries]

admittedly stealing the "double drabble" structure. thanks @kcsplace!!

Noticed Don's watched him for months. He's the person everyone watches, everyone knows. Not because that's his goal. He is simply going so many places, aiming for so many ends that he can't help but live bigger and broader than the ordinary people he's around. Anyone who might be in the way should get ready for a collision - Bobby Moch is coming through. For all that Bobby is seen, Don is unseen. He knows the coaches notice him, think about how he matters, tell him to keep up what he's doing. It's enough for him. So he keeps his voice low and stroke steady. He's a part of the shellhouse camaraderie, but merges into the middle of things, never on the edge or in the center. Those are the places that get you noticed. Don's content like this. But the latest chalkboard update of shell assignments places a new name for who he's facing. Someone different will settle across from him, and Don feels a twist of nerves at the shift, like opening night on the stage. He offers a hand, a self-deprecating smile at the formality, and says his name. Bobby's grin is wide, satisfied. "Yeah, I know you."

[crushribbons]

𝕗𝕒𝕚𝕣 𝕘𝕒𝕞𝕖, 𝕔𝕙. 𝟚

summary: Bobby Moch makes for one passive-aggressive roommate. (pt. 2/?) (part one)

cw: 3k words, modern college au, roommate!bobby, general fluff, confusing and increasingly blurred relationship dynamics, very light angst, big flame by doris wilson is regrettably so bobby that i had to write about it, fem reader/OC. this is a work of fiction about the character portrayed in tbitb and not affiliated at all with the actual historical figure (like duh?) requests

a/n: this is a shorter chap and a lot of dialogue so thank you in advance 4 putting up w me xx laney

8-track for the series: 1・2・3・4・5・6・7・8

She held out another short-sleeved button-down shirt at arm’s length and wrinkled her nose. “Here, you’ll love this one. It looks the same as the last twelve you’ve tried on.” Bobby’s hand reached around the thick velvet privacy curtain of his dressing room and scrunched his fingers in impatience. 

“Gimme,” he said, and she pushed the purple monstrosity into his outstretched palm. 

“I’m starting to remember why I only go shopping with you once a year,” she called to him as she leaned against the wall next to his cubicle and stared at the ceiling. The store’s harsh spotlighting was starting to cause an irritating throb in her temple. Maybe not just the lighting. 

Bobby was a chronic clothing over-shopper who had to have his credit card taken away and frozen too many times to remember. She still recalled the unholy hellfire that had rained down on her when she revealed to him that she’d frozen it the same day the local mall was supposed to run a massive sale.

“You don’t need any more workout clothes! You sit at the front of the boat and yell, that’s it!”

“Melt it out of there right now, or so help me God, I will take YOUR card with me, and you do not want me to do that.” He usually won the card away from her with little argument after the threats started rolling out. And the only other way to corral his spending was to accompany him on his frenetic fits of financial irresponsibility and wrestle things away from him herself.

When he had woken her from her peaceful Saturday afternoon nap to announce that he needed a new shirt “because I want one”, she’d groaned and covered her eyes but ultimately found herself trailing behind him as he trotted from store to store and held up anything he needed her opinion on. 

It was a beautiful day at the open-air mall, and as she leaned her head backwards and waited for Bobby to change for the umpteenth time, she realized she was enjoying herself. Unprecedented. It had been happening more and more lately; having Bobby flit around at her ankles wasn’t grating on her nerves the way it usually did. She pulled out her phone while Bobby vocalized the bassline of a Temptations song from inside the cubicle and opened a new note. Research early signs of dementia. The swish, swish of Bobby turning on his ankles to vogue in the mirror made the corners of her mouth turn up without her consent.

“I like this one.”

“Then get it.”

“But there was another–”

“Robert.” He stuck his head back out of the curtain and gave a sunshiney, if slightly shit-eating, grin. 

“I can tell when I’m pushing my luck. I’ll get this one.” 

Bobby bounced lightly on the balls of his feet while the cashier rang up his record-low shopping haul of two shirts and a pair of swim trunks. He turned to his roommate, who was preoccupied with scrolling through pages of WebMD-sanctioned proof that she was losing her mind by enjoying his company. “Thanks for coming shopping with me,” he said.

“Someone has to keep you in line,” she responded without looking up from her phone.

“And there’s no one I’d rather have more!” He reached out to tweak her nose but she intercepted his hand mid-reach, still not bothering to glance at him, and squeezed his fingers backwards in a death grip. “Ow, ow, ow,” he said cheerfully, and without thinking, she pulled his hand to her lips and pecked three light kisses on the crushed fingertips, a remedy she had picked up from the man himself. She wasn’t sure if it was a holdover habit from his childhood that someone had used to soothe him or if doing things in threes was just another one of his compulsions, but the act had made its way into her rolodex of ways to calm him down.

“All better,” she murmured, her brow furrowing while the medical advice site recommended cryotherapy and the cashier handed Bobby a large shopping bag with his purchases and receipt. The woman’s severely slicked bun made the smile she gave them look tense. 

“You two are a very sweet couple,” she told them. “Have a great rest of your day, and thank you for shopping with us.”

Bobby’s face split into a smile that reached each of his ears. Next to him, his presumed-girlfriend’s face was melting into a mixture of mortification and outrage. “Oh no, we’re not–!” She wasn’t sure why alarm bells were blaring in her head, but she couldn’t even hear what Bobby gushed to the cashier as she yanked him by the forearm out of the store. 

“Sweetheart, that was rude,” Bobby deadpanned, letting himself be pulled along behind her. God, that idiotic grin was back and she wanted to peel it off his face like a sticker. It was so typical of him to delight in the fact that she was single and to rub it in her face. Any time someone even implied that they were dating, he would break into a giddy giggle as if the idea of her being able to sustain a relationship was impossible. 

And when he had realized that Shorty would not be a permanent fixture in her life, as with all the other people she brought home, he had been borderline insufferable. Their dinner from the evening following Shorty’s overnight stay was still being stewed over in her mind.

“Mm. Good soup.” Bobby made a ring with his thumb and forefinger, the rest of his fingers splayed out, to emphasize how delicious the pad thai in front of him was. She snorted and nodded, dipping back into her plate of noodles. “So,” he began. He dabbed his lips with an affected little sniff. “Post-sexual encounter debrief time.”

“Ew, no.” His eyes narrowed, and she started sputtering as if she owed him an explanation. “No! That is not a thing we do; when has that ever been a thing we do?!”

Bobby scoffed, “When the person you encounterrr—” (he stretched the last syllable out while lifting a noodle of the same length to his mouth) “—happens to be a dear, dear friend of mine.” It was her turn to scoff.

“A friend whom you accused only last night of being illiterate.” She put her finger to her chin and pretended to be sussing out one of the great mysteries of the universe while Bobby ground his jaw. She knew she should stop, and that this rehashing would only reopen the wound that this dinner was supposed to heal. This dinner, and the cute note he’d left for her that morning, which, for some reason, was now stuck to the lamp on her nightstand. The note that had contained a few scratched out words that she still couldn’t make out.

He was starting to get irritated again. The jumpiness always started under his skin and worked its way out to his fingertips, which started drumming the table right on cue. Silence fell between them while they studied their noodles. Her shoes were sticking to the tacky floors of the restaurant, and “Big Flame” by Doris Wilson was playing over a tinny speaker perched in one corner. She almost dropped the whole thing to tell Bobby how much the song reminded her of him.

She could keep pretending to be annoyed with Bobby’s behavior, she reasoned, or she could start wondering why exactly he was this upset over her hooking up with his friend.

Speaking of. “I guess I was really surprised you decided to…on the first date,” Bobby said, slowly. “I didn’t think you’d go that fast.”

“Are there official rules and regulations I should be following?”

“For when to sleep with someone? Um, yes, my dear, they are found in a little socially and culturally significant piece of media I like to call Sex and the City.” She choked on the sip of water she was taking and began laughing hard. Leave it to Bobby to ruin her determination to be pissed at him by being himself.

While they were still laughing, Bobby motioned to his left cheek. “You’ve got…” He wrinkled his nose. “Somethin’.” She touched her face, swore, and began looking around for a napkin, but he beat her to it. Before she could stop him, Bobby leaned across the table, took her face in his hand and dabbed at the smear of peanut sauce on her cheek with the napkin in his other hand. “Hang on, jeez.” She was frozen in place, somehow annoyed at the intimacy of the act and somehow enjoying it at the same time. He was concentrating on her face, his tongue poking out between his lips while he scrubbed at the stubborn stain. When his brow furrowed, his lips tended to form a comical pout. They were pink, even in the restaurant’s grey-green fluorescent lighting, really pink. Soft-looking, too. 

She panicked and said the only words that had been pre-written by her brain in an awkward monotone: “This song reminds me of you.” Bobby stopped what he was doing and looked up at the ceiling, presumably to hear the song better. When he clocked it, he broke into a smile that made the parts of her face he was still holding onto heat up a little.

“Why’s that?” he asked, like the answer would get him “A”s in all his classes for the rest of the year. She shrugged. Very pink lips. And a cute nose, damn it.

Then Bobby pulled the napkin to his mouth without relinquishing her face and spat on it, a huge glob of saliva falling from his mouth, and raised it back to her face. She squealed and pushed him away so he rocked backwards into his seat and asked “What?!”

“Nasty,” she scowled. Chastising herself for…whatever that behavior had just been, she licked her own fingers and wiped away the rest of the food on her face. “Oh, but it’s fine when you do it,” Bobby said, rolling his eyes. The food on their plates had dwindled to a few scraps, and he craned his neck around until he made eye contact with their waiter. “May we have the check, please!” he called very politely, but still so loudly that it made her want to cover her face. 

The waiter hurried over and asked, “Two checks, or–?” Bobby held up one finger.

“One, please, sir. I owe this young lady a meal.” When they were alone again, Bobby sobered suddenly and said, “I really am sorry, you know. For what I said last night. I think…” He reached for his water glass and took an enormous gulp. “I think you guys will make a really sweet pair. You’re great for each other!” 

Bobby Moch, I’ve never heard you tell such a bald-faced lie, she thought. “Well, thank you, but even though Carrie Bradshaw has sanctioned our one-night stand, I think that’s all it’s going to be. We’re just gonna be friends.” Bobby looked far too happy at this news, so she added, “Probably still gonna hook up with him, though.” 

Glee, that was the only word for the expression on his face as he absently tossed his credit card at the returning waiter. As the waiter walked back to the kitchen, Bobby clasped his fingers under his chin and leaned on them, pure delight strobing off him. “Sad to hear it.”

“Clearly,” she growled. It hurt, more than she had realized, that Bobby enjoyed her romantic failures as much as he did. He practically celebrated every time she fucked up her love life by forgetting a first date or putting her foot in her mouth while flirting. And there was nothing he loved more than when they were mistaken for a couple in public and he could lord the fact that he was the only man she ever spent any time with over her for a good few days. In the interest of not exposing anymore of her vulnerability, she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair. 

“No, really!” But he was fighting through laughter that made her stomach sink in humiliation. She tried to look away. Bobby’s laughter was a special breed of contagious. It had been known to rip  through entire lecture halls in mere seconds if he found something really hilarious. No matter how angry or sad she was, if Bobby found something that tickled him, she inevitably found herself laughing along. “Shorty’s so–mm, he’s just so yummy!” He was almost in hysterics at this point, and although it was the last thing on Earth that she wanted to be doing, she felt her shoulders start to shake a little, as well. Then a smile was fighting the frown of her face. Before she knew it, Bobby was saying, “Think about all those yummy babies you’re missing out on!” and they were both doubled over the table, heedless to the tables next to them that were giving pointed and exasperated looks. 

She wiped a tear from under her eye. “He is yummy, you bitch. And very smart, for the record.”

“I know, I know,” he said, and waved a hand at her dismissively. “I just have to keep you humble.”

“Oh, do you?” An eye roll was locked and loaded, but he had to go and interrupt it by saying, “Oh, yeah. If you ever figure out how pretty you are, I would never get to spend any time with you.”

To say that this memory came back to her wasn’t quite accurate; she was fairly certain it hadn’t left her head since he’d said it, but she spent so much time trying to expel it that she thought she might be going insane. It had kept her up for two weeks now. They had left the restaurant and returned home as if he hadn’t even said it. If you ever figure out how pretty you are… She released her vice grip on Bobby’s arm and turned on him. 

“Why do you do that?” she cried. Her voice came out weaker and more wounded than she’d intended. She realized that they were standing in the middle of the street outside the store and pulled Bobby and his shopping bags back up onto the deserted sidewalk. The look of unrestrained joy had melted off his face and been replaced by sheer confusion. His lips were doing the pout-y thing again. Idiot.

“Do what?!” he demanded.

“Make fun of me because I never have a boyfriend.” It sounded dumb now, a very high school complaint for a college student to be making. “You always laugh and make jokes whenever I break up with someone or suck at talking to them, and you always rub it in my face when we get mistaken for a couple.” She sniffed and discovered that she was crying. It wasn’t much, just a few tears streaming down her cheeks and settling, salty, on her mouth. She decided not to be embarrassed by them, and to not let him make her feel embarrassed.

Bobby was aghast. “You think I’m…making fun of you?” She made a guttural noise in the back of her throat.

“I know you’re making fun of me, Bobby. You get so happy that people think we’re together, because of course you’re the only guy I could possibly sustain a relationship wi–”

“You are so stupid.”

She had gotten all revved up, and he’d gone and ruined it again. “What the hell did you just say?” Bobby was staring at her like she’d just insisted that nine plus ten equals twenty-one. His thick brows were drawn together.

“You can’t think of any reason, other than some horrible and malicious intent, that I might be happy someone thought we were dating? Like, oh, I don’t know, flattery, maybe? That someone thinks I could land a girl like you?”

No less than thirty cars had whipped past them on the busy street they stood in front of before she could form thoughts again. Oh, he isn’t making fun of me. He just likes people thinking I’m his girlfriend. Alright.

Alright. That’s fine. “Don’t call me stupid,” she muttered stupidly. Then he was hugging her, and it was warm and really nice and his arms fit into the contours of her body like they were made for it. 

“I’m sorry,” he said to her hair, “that it seemed like I was making fun of you. I think I might be passive aggressive even when I’m not angry.”

“Passive regressive,” she replied, still completely dumbfounded but refusing to let Bobby Moch have the last word. “You child.” He smelled like the cologne she’d bought him for his birthday, plus a little bit of the cupcake store they’d been in prior to the clothing one.

“Ah, see, you’re fine,” and Bobby released her to smack her gently on the forehead and wipe the tear tracks away from her cheeks with both his thumbs. They started walking back in the direction that they’d come from, weaving in and out of stores and window-shopping to Bobby’s heart’s content. As was starting to become a pattern, she noted, they didn’t talk about what he’d said. And really, when she considered each word carefully, all he’d meant was that it was nice to be mistaken as anyone’s boyfriend. He didn’t have much time for dating either, between crew practice and his pre-law course load. That’s what he’d meant. 

And calling her pretty? He had obviously just been trying to win her over after laughing at her. The flattery seemed transparent in retrospect. Now that she considered it all in conjunction, the conclusions were so undeniable, she couldn’t believe that she’d been losing sleep over it all.

That night, while she layed in bed, ready for a night free from overthinking, she admitted to herself that she wanted to kiss Bobby. She rolled over, grabbed her phone off the nightstand, and texted Shorty.

masterlist

[logogreffe]

Très vs Trop vs Super vs Vraiment in French

Let's set the scene : You're talking to your friend, she shows you her new art piece and you say "C'est très beau !" to say "It's so pretty !". And for a few seconds she looks a bit disappointed.

(This might sound a bit exaggerated but if a friend of mine, a native French speaker*, says "c'est très beau !" to me, I might assume that :

they're saying that ironically because it's such a strange way to say "it's so pretty !".

they think that I'm under the age of 8 and I'm bothering them - "c'est très beau, now go play with the other children")

(If your friend knows you're not French, she'll understand what you mean, don't worry)

So then, what should you say ?

First, let's take a look at "très"

1. Très // Very :

If you are writing a thesis/sending an email to French clients/talking to your boss etc…using "très" to say "very" is the way to go.

BUT we don't actually use it that much orally in the day to day life in exclamative sentences such as "It's very + adj ! "

Note 1 : Surprisingly if you want to say "It's not very + adj ! " you can still use "très".

Exemple n° 1 et 2 : "C'est pas très bon !" // "It's not very tasty !" "C'est pas très pratique ! " // "It's not very practical !"

In text messages or orally, whenever you want to say "It's very + adj !" I would suggest you forget about "très" and use the other expressions I'll mention in this post. Note 2 : You cannot use the word "très" with every adjective ! - La maison est très belle. La maison est très magnifique. - La soupe est très bonne. La soupe est très délicieuse. [This website lists adjectives you can use to avoid saying "très". The adjectives on the left can be used with "très", the ones on the right cannot.]

2. Trop // Too :

"Trop" can be translated as "too" or "too much"

Exemple n°3 : "Mon café est trop sucré". // "My coffee is too sweet"

BUT NOW. If we go back to our great example : Your friend shows you her art piece. A possible answer is :

"C'est trop beau !" (lit. translation :" it's too pretty").

"C'est + trop + adj ! " is a very common way to say "it's very + adj ! ". Note 1 : It's quite informal ! Be careful whom you use it with !, (I was scolded as a child for using it)

Note 2 : This only works with the adjectives mentionned below ! If you use any other adjectives like "hot" for example : "l'eau est trop chaude" will mean that the water is too hot. (I guess you could also think of "trop" in this context as "so") Note 3 : "Trop" can also be used in the following structure : "Subject + [être] + TROP + Adj" - Beau/belle : C'est trop beau ! // It's so pretty ! (C'est trooooop beau ! // It's soooo pretty ! ) Elles sont trop belles ! // They are so pretty ! - Cool : C'est trop cool ! // It's so cool ! Mon chat est trop cool ! // My cat is so cool ! - Chiant : (!!!bad word alert!!!) C'est trop chiant ! // It's so fucking annoying ! Mon frère est trop chiant. // My brother is such a pain in the ass. - Moche : C'est trop moche ! // It's so/very ugly ! Ce tableau est trop moche. // This painting is so/very ugly. - Bien : C'est trop bien ! // it's so great ! Ce film est trop bien ! // This movie is really great ! - Sympa : C'est trop sympa de ta part ! Merci ! // It's so nice of you! Thank you! Mes amies sont trop sympas ! // My friends are so nice !

Note 4 : Saying "c'est cool ", "c'est beau ", "c'est bien", "c'est sympa" sounds quite passive-aggressive in French. ("c'est chiant", on the other hand works perfectly on its own, don't worry) Note 5 : Those are the most common adjectives that you can use with "trop" . I cannot think of any other adjectives but there might be some more ! The use of "Trop" is really common but informal. What should you say if you don't want to say "trop" and don't want to use "très" either ? -> You can use "super" or "vraiment"

3. Super : You might have seen it translated as "Great". When used in the exclamative sentence "Super !" or before a noun , it does indeed mean "great". But if it is used before an adjective, it becomes synonymous with "really" or "very"!

Exemple n°4 : "Il fait super chaud dehors !" // It's really hot outside !

4. Vraiment : "Super" is a bit more formal than "trop" yet if you're talking to the big boss, "vraiment" would be better.

C'est trop beau ! < C'est super beau ! < C'est vraiment beau !

Note 1 : "Vraiment" literally means "truly". Yet, I feel like in some situations we use this one in French the way English speakers use "really".

Exemple n°5 : "C'est vraiment énervant, j'arrive pas à utiliser ce logiciel" // "It's really/truly annoying, I can't figure out how to use this computer program."

Note 2 : While "trop" and "super" are informal, you can use "vraiment" in both formal and informal settings.

Exemple n°6 : "T'es vraiment chiant !" // "You're really/truly a pain in the ass !" (You could also say "t'es trop chiant !" ou "t'es super chiant !")

5. A few more examples and 3 mores words to say "very"

Exemples n°7 et 8 : "Il fait super froid dehors aujourd'hui ! " // "It's really cold outside today !" "38 euros ? Putain, c'est super cher ! " // " 38 euros ? Fuck, that's really exprensive !" Some people also use "méga" "archi" or "giga" to say "very " , (those 3 are informal as well)

Exemples n°9 , 10 et 11

"Il fait méga chaud dehors ! " // "It's really really hot outside !" "J'ai archi faim !" // "I'm really really hungry" "J'ai giga soif !" // "I'm really really really thirsty" You can try this little test I made about this post here ! * from mainland France

[sparrow-in-the-field]

I almost included a telegram to Ulbrickson in the epilogue of The Cormorant, but I couldn't figure out where to fit it/it messed with the flow, so it ended up getting cut. But I thought I could share it here instead :>

TELEGRAM

FROM: Bob Moch

MESSAGE: Long story, Coach, but I got my Aves on my birthday. Found it out on the Mississippi with Don Hume. We're going to come back to Seattle in the Fall, so no need to find a replacement for me after all. Excited for this new bout of freshmen!

TO: Al Ulbrickson

When Al first got the telegram, he only noted the last name, saw that it was from Moch, and assumed it was from Bobby's family. He sighed, sitting down at the kitchen table and tearing open the envelope. It was likely Bobby's father sharing about Bobby's passing, perhaps would include information about the funeral.

It was a damn shame, always had been. Ulbrickson got to know Bobby well over his college years--the best cox he ever coached, without a doubt, and beyond that, a brilliant student, who then became an impressive coach. A pain in Ulbrickson's ass, but Al would never deny he was a good man. A life cut too short.

He cleared his throat, not one to show much emotion outwardly, and he unfolded the paper to read the message. Within the first few words, his brow furrowed, and he had to look back to the envelope to confirm that the message was in fact, not from Bobby's father, but from Bobby himself. He quickly returned to the message, and as he read it, a smirk grew on his lips. He shook his head, huffing a laugh.

"Al?" Hazel walked into the room, her brow quirked. "What's got you smiling this morning?"

"Oh, just Bobby Moch, being Bobby Moch," he said, handing her the message.

She read it, a smirk of her own forming across her lips. It turned to a grin as she teasingly slapped the paper back to his chest. "Worked out that you waited to replace him. Did you think this would happen?"

Al shook his head, taking the paper to read the message again. "I did it for the benefit of his family; they'd have inherited his pension as a UW employee when he passed. But maybe I should have figured that Moch would have a final trick up his sleeve."

Hazel hummed, leaning against the counter. "I can't wait to hear the full story. We'll have to have him over for dinner once he's back in town. With Don Hume too, it sounds like?"

Al huffed, giving a nod. Those two...he didn't exactly understand what Hume's role was with the Aves, but it came as no surprise that he'd be back in Bobby's life now that Bobby had a bird. Like Hazel said, they'd have to wait to hear the full story.

He grabbed his hat, standing up from the table. "I should go and tell Pocock." He stepped past his wife, paused, shaking his head, and he looked at her again. "Can't say I've ever been so glad to have a pain in my ass stick around after all."

Hazel smirked at him, her eyes sparkling with fondness. "Thank goodness the UW rowing team remains in good hands, hmm?"

"Yes, right," Al said, clearing his throat again. He didn't have to say anything further; they both knew it was more than that.

[strangethings-everywhere]

Last Line Tag

thank you to @sassyandclassy94 for the tag! i’ve got a few i’m working on rn so i’m gonna give you a couple!

Rules: post the last lines of what you’re working on! (or something along those lines idk)

spoilers btw

When Our Fingers Touch, I Feel My Way Back Home (coxstroke WWII AU):

After much discussion, it was Don who crawled into the crater to dig through what was left of Roger and Shorty. That was usually the medic’s job, but Chuck was hysterical and in no state to try and see what was left of his best friend.

Bobby stood at the edge of the hole as Don slowly slid into it, his face unreadable. He glanced over at Bobby with tears in his eyes and Bobby’s heart snapped in two. He was already holding Joe, who’d barely spoken a word since he found out what happened. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

Star-Crossed in the Worst Way (coxstroke):

Everything was foggy. Don wasn’t sure if he was burning or freezing, maybe both? Fuck, his eyes felt so heavy. How long had he been asleep? Why did everything hurt? There was something in his arm and around his forehead. Where was he?

“...wake up?”

“Mr. Moch, we aren’t sure. In cases of extreme hypothermia, it’s common for the patient to sleep for a while. We’ve already told you this.”

Proof That Harley Keener Has A Heart (marvel fic):

“My fucking wrist.” Harley glanced down at his cast and sling with pure hatred. “It’s my dominant hand, I can’t do anything with it. I can’t fix anything, I can’t write. This is so stupid, I just…” He kicked the pile of metal on the ground in front of him. “My wrist hurts man.”

“I get it.” Peter gently lowered himself onto the bed with a grimace. “You’ll have a cool scar though.”

Harley snorted. “Not as cool as yours.” He sat next to Peter and glanced over at him. “Sorry that I haven’t come to see you at all. I… I’ve been struggling.”

tags: @seasidesandstarscapes @sparrow-in-the-field and idk my brain isn’t working so whoever wants to join!