#love in the air fanfiction

[bird-inacage]

LOVE IN THE AIR | Sky x Prapai Fanfiction

An Admission of Surrender

Summary: Here it is. I’m giving you all the power to hurt me. But you won’t hurt me, will you? Maybe that’s partially the reason he held onto those words for so long, because they are the final vestiges of safety he has remaining, before he’s completely given himself over, before he’s whole-heartedly and willingly surrendered himself up to be hurt all over again.

Details: Canon, based on TV series knowledge up to Ep11. No novel influence.

A/N: *NOW AVAILABLE ON MY AO3 ACCOUNT HERE* I will be continuing the post fics there. (I’d like to dedicate this to @shipsaremylifesource, @prapaiwife, @fortpeat and @moonchildridden, who have been the absolute most darling supporters, and just overall awesome, hysterical mutuals to be sharing the delirium of this pairing with. To my fellow members of the Insane & Deranged Prapaisky Victim Support Group/Comrade- in-Arms/Family).

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“Aren’t you going to say it back to me?”

Sky startles, notices the slight quirk in Prapai’s brow which is laced more with bemusement rather than any serious concern, before it dawns on him that he’s been silent for more than a few minutes. His heart feels skittish in his chest, so he dodges Prapai’s eyeline in an attempt to calm the tightening sensation in the pit of his stomach.

Prapai’s fingers are lightly massaging Sky’s hand. He waits a beat before nudging, “Did you hear what I said?”

He knows Sky heard what he said. He’s teasing. As per usual.

The first time Prapai said it, had been nearly a fortnight ago. Sky had proposed to bake a cake for his family dinner that week. He never liked to show up empty-handed, and though it was never anything fancy, Plerng and Phan had been all too keen (if not overly, slightly suspiciously so) on receipt of everything he had brought with him so far. He still hadn’t decided if the siblings were simply humouring him or there was some other joke at play that he was not privy to. Prapai had insisted on helping once Sky had made the suggestion. And as a matter of fact, he had been attempting to teach Prapai how to cook as of late.

As a responsible boyfriend, Sky felt it was only right to equip Prapai with a basic means of survival, which meant venturing beyond simply frying an egg or boiling a bowl of ramen without assistance. Prapai would just cheekily retort that he had Sky didn’t he? Sky was fully aware that Prapai was unlikely to ever be in a position where he would go hungry, with significant wealth to rest on eating out for the rest of his life, but still... It had been to Sky’s immense surprise, that the request had come from the man himself.

The downside unfortunately was that the kitchen always became a war zone when collaborative cuisine was attempted, despite Sky’s futile efforts to maintain order. He blamed Prapai, obviously, as his namesake came with a tornado-like aftermath as far as cooking was concerned. Whilst Sky had dubiously handed Prapai over the task of piping cream, a healthy smattering had somehow ended up on his face. Smiling, Sky had taken a kitchen towel to Prapai’s cheek, wishing he had seen for himself how cute Prapai must have been as a kid. All lop-sided, impish grins most probably. He could only entertain his imagination, based on the baby pictures Prapai’s mother had all too enthusiastically presented to Sky on his first visit.

It was only after a minute or two that Sky realised Prapai had been uncharacteristically quiet, and was about to chide him for not listening, when he turned to find Prapai watching him in a bit of a daze, clearly having done so for quite a while.

Sky felt that now familiar and sudden rush of heat to his chest whenever Prapai caught him off guard like that. Sky immediately swiped a hand across his cheek, “Do I have something on my face?”

Prapai had continued looking at him, eyes all soft and wandering and noticeably vacant as his gaze did an excruciatingly slow once-over across Sky’s face before finding his eyes.

Sky had shifted restlessly in his seat and instead turned towards the ingredients spread across the table, deflecting in an attempt to save himself from possible humiliation. “I can’t decide whether we should go for a berry jam or maybe something less sweet like a lemon curd? What do you think? Your Mom has less of a sweet tooth, so perhaps we could even do a bit of each?”

“I love you.”

Just like that.

It took Sky a moment - a few moments before he fully registered what Prapai had said. But to his astonishment, he hadn’t felt the cold fever of panic seize him in its grasp like it used to. Something had fluttered in his stomach, a nervousness of an altogether different kind.

As much as his mind had been going into overdrive, he would never doubt Prapai’s honesty. The man was a notoriously bad liar anyway. The reason Sky was dumbstruck was not the fact that Prapai was in love with him. He'd known that for a while now. But why Prapai had chosen to say it then, when Sky was certain he was powdered in billows of flour, hair still a bit mussed from their lie-in this morning, and fashioned in an old t-shirt and apron he’d thrown on as it had been laundry day.

Sky’s apparent flustering only made the grin on Prapai’s face even wider. But to the other man’s credit, he had not dwelled on the sudden declaration, which made Sky wonder if he had heard it at all. As if to test that theory, Prapai had proceeded to say it a few more times since, each delivered at an exceptionally mundane moment where Sky had not been anticipating it at all, and every time had without fail proceeded to send Sky into a small meltdown. Sky was beginning to suspect that Prapai was purposely trying to get that reaction from him, for it seemed to delight him no end.

“You’re ignoring me again.”

Prapai tugs the hand he has hostage up to his lips and presses against the raised line where Sky cut himself with a scalpel last week. The knot in Sky’s chest soothes a fraction.

Sky’s gaze quickly sweeps across the far end of the room, to the clock sitting on the dresser. “Don’t you have a meeting this morning?”

The attempt to change topic doesn’t elude Prapai, who now knows him far too well for comfort. Prapai rolls his eyes, which Sky immediately catches. He’s definitely rubbing off on the other man, and he doesn’t like it one bit when that attitude is directed at himself. Undeterred and still punchably smug, Prapai closes the distance between them by another inch or two. His eyes are bright, an ever present hint of mischief there, “I said I love you.”

And the confession bellies Sky once again. The utter sincerity of it. How Prapai manages to say this so easily, as if he were commenting on the weather or what he ate for dinner the night before, baffles Sky. It isn’t that Sky doubts his conviction. Not in the slightest. But mostly Sky’s brain is still stuck at The Why? The Why that has been festering in his gut ever since it dawned on him that Prapai wasn’t going anywhere. The Why every time Prapai stares into his eyes like there’s nothing else that exists on this earth but him alone. The Why when Sky considers that Prapai has the means to pick anyone he wants and for some demented reason (possibly due to some serious cognitive defect), has chosen him.

He doesn’t realise he’s said it out loud until he notices Prapai’s nose scrunch up slightly in that annoyingly endearing way.

“You’re asking me why I love you?” There’s an edge of admonishment in Prapai’s tone, like he’s genuinely a bit upset by the implication but quickly returns to his usual lilt of amusement, which grates because it usually means Prapai is about to make fun at his expense. “You want me to list all the reasons? Because I can if you want.”

Sky rolls onto his back and huffs.

Prapai simply follows, looming over him and takes a moment to search his face, before a smile tugs at the sides of his mouth, “I love how easily you get wound up and the way you tell me off. Because you’re usually right and I usually deserve it.” Sky shoots him a ‘oh you don’t say?’ face. “I love the really focused expression you get when you’re concentrating really hard. You’re always so engrossed in what you’re doing, you forget everything around you.” Prapai stares pointedly at Sky’s injured finger. “Sometimes even me,” which is delivered with an added pout.

“I love it when you get that ‘deer caught in highlights’ look in your eyes. Like you’re suddenly a kid again, lost and helpless and desperately searching for something - or someone”, which earns a small scoff. “It always reminds me of the night I first met you. I love the way you sneak glances at me when you think I’m not looking. It’s very sweet. It’s incredibly adorable actually. Haven’t I told you that you’re more than welcome to openly gawk at your stud of a boyfriend all you want? Why be so shy about it?”

Sky’s skin bristles with embarrassment, the telltale heat of a blush rising up his neck, and he flings a hand in Prapai’s general direction to try and halt the onslaught, “Stop.”

He hates how lovely it is when Prapai says things like this, and without any degree of hesitation. Hates how much it makes him squirm because it’s cheesy and sappy, and so bloody sentimental. But mostly he hates how much he likes it.

“I love how wickedly smart and quick you are. I love the dynamic you have with your friends, and watching you bicker with Rain. It’s welcome entertainment for both me and Payu actually. I love it when you take control, it’s extremely sexy. I love everything you cook...”

Sky’s eyes begin frantically searching around him, desperately wishing he had a dictionary or something substantially heavy within arm’s reach that he could use right now to knock his boyfriend out.

“I especially love the way you moan my name when you c—”

Sky’s eyes widen and he uses both hands to give Prapai a firm shove in the chest, “You have no shame!”

Prapai buries his face into Sky’s neck, hair fluffing in disarray as he laughs heartily into Sky’s collarbone, “Joke’s on you, you’re the one who fell for this shameless asshole”. The sound goes straight to Sky’s heart and he feels momentarily dazed, like he’s the one whose been clubbed on the back of the skull. Prapai re-emerges, rising only the few inches necessary to allow him to talk unheeded, but his weight atop Sky’s has them both breathing a little heavier than usual.

“I don’t know how else to explain it to you. I just love you. I love you fiercely, madly.” Prapai’s face is surprisingly earnest all of a sudden as he lightly combs Sky’s bangs away from his face, “You have absolutely no idea just how much.”

Sky feels himself go loose and pliant like he always does when Prapai stares at him like that, like he’s delving into the depths of Sky’s very soul and seeing him laid completely bare. His eyes dart between Prapai’s eyes and lips, lulled by the comforting thud thud of Prapai’s heartbeat. His hand is drawn to sit there, right in the centre of Prapai’s chest, where he can feel the steady thrum beneath his fingers. Warm, comforting and so very alive. Something in Prapai’s eyes turn molten, the thinly veiled desire behind them drawing Sky further and further away.

A shrill ring cuts through the fog like a knife, dousing them both alert, and Prapai let’s out a low groan. No doubt his secretary calling to chase. They both eye each other for another moment longingly before it is eventually Prapai who makes a move, swiftly planting a kiss on Sky’s forehead before plucking himself out of their shared embrace.

Sky registers the pang he feels at the loss of contact, the empty space that Prapai vacates in the very air around him. He sits up, perching his chin on his knees to watch Prapai fish for a clean shirt. Sky unconsciously dips his nose against the sleeves of the top he’s currently wearing - one of Prapai’s long-sleeved whites - and lightly inhales. It smells of Prapai of course, which eases the ache in Sky’s chest slightly. It’s why he began wearing Prapai’s clothes in the first place, because it’s comforting to feel close to him in this small way. But also he just likes how Prapai’s eyes twinkle when he notices Sky wearing his clothes, and how that makes him tingle all over.

He continues to follow Prapai’s movements, making no attempt to avert his eyes as he watches the rippled muscles along his boyfriend’s back disappear beneath cotton.

“You have a workshop this evening don’t you? I’ll drive by and pick you up afterwards. We can grab something to eat together—” Prapai stills when he meets Sky’s gaze, and his eyes go instantly soft. He offers a warning tut, “don’t do that.”

Sky is aware that he’s becoming increasingly reliant on Prapai, and that growing realisation is starting to seriously hurt his pride. So accustomed he was to being independent, he now feels handicapped by that fact. He distinctly remembers the first business trip Prapai had taken once they’d started dating, and the uneasiness that prospect had stirred within him at the thought of being left behind. Prapai’s eyes had been immediately apologetic when he told him the news, hand smoothing across Sky’s cheek in an attempt to soothe, “The shortest I could bargain for was three days.”

Sky had been mortified by just how humiliatingly needy he must seem for making Prapai feel bad for doing his job. He hated the idea of being the classic, desperate, clingy boyfriend, and so he’d plastered on the best carefree smile he could manage, “Seriously, three days is nothing. As if I haven’t spent a short lifetime living alone before I met you. You should be prioritising your work or your Dad will have a go at you again. Go for as long as you need to.”

Prapai had looked at him in a way that meant Sky had not convinced him in the slightest. “I’ll call every day okay? Multiple times a day. I promise.” He had then proceeded to kiss Sky all over, and nuzzle sulkily into his neck like a small, dejected animal. The irony was not lost on Sky that Prapai appeared to have taken it much worse than he did. Though he had to eventually admit that those three days had proved to be much, much harder than Sky had initially anticipated, and as soon as Prapai had returned, he didn’t detach himself from Sky’s side for a solid week.

That little knot of worry which persistently forms in his gut every time Prapai has to leave him (even briefly), is something he recognises akin to abandonment, which he knows is silly, ridiculous even, —paranoid definitely. He’ll be back Sky.

“Sweetheart?”

“Hmm?”

“You stop that, now.”

Sky blinks from his spiralling reverie, “Stop what?”

“That.”

Sky nibbles into his bottom lip, “What?”

Prapai leans down and levels his gaze, something disapproving flickering across his face, “That thing you do with your eyes. I can read each and every thought in your head.” Prapai’s hand reaches out to stroke the back of Sky’s head gently as he lowers his voice. “I’m not going anywhere, remember?”

Somehow Prapai knows. He always knows.

His phone rings again, incessant and demanding, and Sky can only imagine the exasperation on his poor secretary’s face. The same expression she’d made when she had walked in on them kissing across Prapai’s desk, which Sky can safely say was wholly Prapai’s fault. It had been his idea to drag Sky along to his office, and Sky should have known better that he was not going to behave, even when in a professional setting.

Prapai hisses audibly, eyebrows raised in displeasure, which Sky responds with a wry smile, “Go.”

Prapai never expects anything from Sky. He may tease, but he'll never truly push which Sky is endlessly grateful for. He’s all too happy to offer up his heart and serve it on a platter even if Sky doesn’t ask for it. The fact that Sky has not said it back to him yet has not appeared to phase him in the slightest. And that’s the part that makes Sky feel increasingly guilty. Prapai soothes and coaxes all his jagged concerns away without expecting anything in return, and is surprisingly patient even when Sky is unable to match his pace. Worse yet, the man seems perfectly content with that, and Sky knows he has ample reason not to be.

He wants to be able to do more. Give more. But Sky is self-aware enough to recognise that he’s still a bit broken, and though he may want to, his anxieties haven’t allowed it.

It’s whilst Prapai is collecting up his scattered belongings from around the bedroom, that an urge bubbles up inside Sky like a shapeless thing that begs to be released. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about those words. Thanks to Prapai, they’ve rolled around in his head an awful lot recently, but he hasn’t been able to find a means to command their influence.

Something twisted in Sky’s gut says; what if he walks out that door and something were to happen to him and you regret not saying it? What if something were to happen to you, and you regret that he never heard it? He’s not sure exactly what type of unhealthy scenarios his mind is conjuring up to terrorise him, but the fear is all too real. Sky is no stranger to the creeping suspicion that this is all far too good to be true, and he’ll wake up soon or Prapai will come to his senses. After everything Prapai has done for him, he deserves more. Sky wants Prapai to know that he cares about him and appreciates him just as much.

As Prapai locates his jacket and car keys, he shoots Sky another one of his reluctant-to-leave-you smiles as he finally retreats towards the door, clearly dragging his heels. “Get some more sleep okay? I’ll call you later.”

Sky knows he’s exceptionally partial to sentimentality whenever Prapai has to leave, and his anxieties converge on him to act without thinking. Sky stares at that handsome, warm, loving face and feels himself overcome with affection.

It takes him a moment before he realises the three words have slipped out without prompt. Quiet. Tentative, and quite frankly a bit fumbled. As if he had only been planning to test drive the words on his tongue. Not at all as assured in tone as the same three words Prapai said to him only moments ago. Something in Sky panics, feels frantic all of a sudden. He tries to reassure himself that this is the least that Prapai deserves, to hear Sky say it back and more importantly, Sky wants to. But as much as Sky hates to admit it, it’s not so much an admission as much as a plea.

Here it is. I’m giving you all the power to hurt me. But you won’t hurt me, will you? Sky already knows the answer to that question, but it still crosses his mind like a bad omen. Maybe that’s partially the reason he held onto those words for so long, because they are the final vestiges of safety he has remaining before he’s completely given himself over, before he’s whole-heartedly and willingly surrendered himself up to be hurt all over again (despite everything he’s been through and suffered, despite his deepest, darkest fears)... After this, Prapai will well and truly have everything he possibly has to give.

He just wishes he had sounded more confident when he did eventually say it. Now he’s worrying himself stupid that it may have come across uncertain or questioning, and the last thing he wants is for Prapai to think he’s doubtful about his feelings.

Sky spots Prapai’s hand clenched round the door frame, where he had swiftly stopped himself mid-exit. Sky immediately flushes, diving back into the duvet, suddenly acutely aware of what he’s possibly done, and the havoc he may have just caused.

“You should go now, you’re already late—”

The keys in Prapai’s pocket jingle as he takes three long strides back towards the bed. Prapai’s breath is hot against his face as he presses Sky bodily back into the sheets, but not before he gathers him absolutely flush against him, and kisses him desperately on the mouth. Sky’s coherence spreads paper thin as Prapai’s hand skirts beneath the fabric of his top and along his spine to pin him closer, whilst the other tilts his jaw up to meet his eagerly. Sky’s hands curl into the fabric of Prapai’s shirt, fingers occasionally wandering into the hair on the back of Prapai’s neck, as he allows the man to completely engulf him.

When Prapai releases him momentarily, his freshly laundered shirt is a crumpled mess beyond salvation. His smile is positively beaming - everything will be alright - that boyish charm creeping in which always makes Prapai look instantly younger and sweeter than usual.

“You really—”, and it irks Sky that it takes another attempt before he’s able to find his voice again, “You really have to go now—”

“Nnn mmn, one more,” before Prapai angles in to kiss him again, and the jackass takes his sweet time. Languid and probing, it sets Sky alight. They break apart briefly to breathe before Prapai impatiently leans into him again because he’s full of shit, and once is never just once.

Sky feels scattered and light-headed when Prapai draws back just enough to allow himself access to Sky’s throat, voice slightly husky against his pulse. “Say it again. Please.”

“I jsst—”

Sky vaguely considers if Prapai may be attempting murder if he doesn’t comply, because he’s struggling to draw air or even formulate one complete thought whilst Prapai continues to assault his lips. If they don’t stop soon, there’s not a chance in hell that Prapai’s going to make that meeting or work at all.

“Again,” Prapai demands but his eyes are achingly tender.

Sky is once again winded by the sheer elation in that gaze, that he cannot possibly bring himself to deny him. So he musters his courage, takes Prapai’s face in both hands, and despite the blush he can feel colouring his cheeks, he meets those eyes evenly and steels against the sheer pounding of his own heart.

“I love you.”

There. Better.

Something in Sky seems to fall into place then. Because all the fear and worry falls away and all that’s left is him.

Prapai’s eyes are brimming with reverence, pride and adoration.

“My Sky.”

The endearment would usually make him inwardly wince with embarrassment, because if there’s something Prapai has an innate talent for, is saying the most corny, toe-curling declarations of love without so much as batting an eyelid. But right now, Sky can’t resist that all encompassing love wring him utterly boneless, weightless, senseless...

You’re mine, it says, and Sky couldn’t be happier at the declaration.

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I hope whoever has the patience to read this, does enjoy!

[surrealsunday]

Invisible Ladders

Sky lives by one rule: Alphas are assholes. It’s that simple. And Sky isn’t ever going to be the demure, subservient omega he’s expected to be… never again. That worldview is turned upside down when Prapai steps into the picture – or more accurately, saves Sky’s ass. He’s everything Sky expects – pushy, cocky, arrogant – and everything he doesn’t – genuine, forthright, kind. Sky doesn’t know what to make of him and can’t seem to escape him. And then there’s that small matter of biology…

Fic is fully written, just being edited/ getting social media completed. New chapter posted weekly. Fic is ~205k words

Epilogue

[yoongisassonfire]

Love in the air | Prapai x Sky Fanfiction

inspired by @kimberbee AU on Twitter

Title: The Roommates: I hate you confession

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After a long day studying with classmates at the university, Sky returned to his dorm exhausted. He could barely walk straight without having back pain from sitting down for so long. Exam periods are always the most challenging time for him. Maintaining good grades required hard work and much effort, and he loved to see his family proud of him.

He heard something that made him stop midway as he turned around the keys to his room. Noise could be heard except for two reasons. Both reasons weren’t pleasing for him. He was at it again. Prapai. His roommate was studying at a different faculty. He was a year ahead of him, and Sky wondered how he would end up with him in the same room. They mostly assigned roommates according to the year of admission. Sky was everything but a lucky person. His bad luck again made him be assigned as his roommate.

Taking a deep breath, Sky banged on the door multiple times as the noises faded behind the door. He didn’t want to burst into the room and see something he would regret for the rest of his life. After a couple of minutes, a young man with fluffy hair that reached his eyes, fair skin, and curious eyes walked out of the room. He was buttoning up his shirt as he looked behind him before leaning in to kiss the villain.

“Sorry for stopping there.” Prapai appeared at the door, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his hip. Glancing at Sky, he smirked as he looked back at the small boy, who looked disappointed. “I have to respect my roommate. I will call you later.”

Sky rolled his eyes as he pushed the little boy to access his room. “He will call you never. And probably will bring someone else tomorrow.” Sky spat his words as he pushed Prapai out of the way, who was also blocking his way.

As Prapai closed the door, he turned to look at Sky, who was dropping his belongings on his study table. “Oh, you mad? Are you jealous?” Prapai said teasingly as he walked over and rested his chin on Sky’s shoulder. 

“I told you not to touch me without my permission.” Sky flinched as he stepped away from Prapai enough to leave a good personal space between them. His eyes roomed the older guy from head to toe. Prapai was handsome. Sky knew why everyone would want to sleep with him, even if it was just for one night. He hit the gym regularly, so his body was muscular. He had a charming yet annoying smile.

Sky hated this guy’s gut.

Prapai smirked as he stepped back. Both of his hands were in the air in surrender. “Relax. I was playing around.”

“Can you please stop that?” Sky said firmly. Looking at Prapai deadly in the eyes. “You are not living alone in this room. Stop bringing people here, or just… leave.”

“Sorry, little Sky. But I cannot leave.” Prapai said, dropping on his bed. The towel slid slightly, revealing more skin of his tight. “And definitely cannot stop just….” Prapai winked, and Sky angrily looked away as he continued playing with the things on his table.

“I cannot believe the bad luck that made me end up with you.” Sky cursed under his breath, but Prapai heard him clearly, saying: “Such an unpleasant thing.” 

“You know,” Prapai straightened up as he said. “You can always leave yourself. You don’t have to stay here. Unless you want to join me too. How do you like this?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Sky frowned at him. “Who would like to join something as dirty and disgusting as this? Unhuman behavior. Animals do not even sleep around as much as you do.”

“That’s a little bit too harsh, Sky.” Prapai’s eyes suddenly darkened. His smile disappeared as his eyes met Sky’s. Sky knew he was a little bit harsh. Prapai was free to do whatever he wanted to do. He felt guilty instantly. Before he could apologize, Prapai stood up and walked to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. It didn’t concern Sky, no matter what Prapai’s life choices were. He just wanted him to respect the fact that both lived in this room.

That night, Prapai didn’t say another word to Sky. After he took a shower, he went straight to bed without even giving him a chance to Sky to say anything. Sky didn’t know why he felt so guilty. He didn’t know much about Prapai and his life. But for the past six weeks, while living together, Prapai always brought a new person into the dorm. At first, Sky decided to leave the room for him until it was over. However, as time passed, Sky discovered that this room might never feel his at some point. So, he started to talk more about how he didn’t like it. He also had the right to be in his room when he wanted.

Yet, Sky knew that didn’t give him the right to say what he said.

~~

“You said that to him?” Rain’s eyes widened as he looked at his best friend in disbelief.

“He got on my nerve last night.” Sky said, looking at the empty ceiling as he sipped his juice. “He had the nerve to ask me to …” Sky rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“What did he ask you?” Rain asked curiously.

Sky shrugged. “Forget about it.”

“Have you apologized to him?” Rain asked innocently. “I can see you feel guilty about what you said.”

“He was gone by the morning.” Sky sighed, shaking his head. “Why does it have to be him? I am not comfortable at all.”

“Look for another room then.”

“I did. They are all occupied. If I want to find a condo, well, they are expensive.” Sky said as he sipped more of his juice. “That room is my only choice for now.”

“Oh right, the guys are going for a drink tonight. Are you joining?” Rain suddenly said, changing the whole conversation.

“Pass. I must finish the assignment first.”

“You can always do that later. The deadline is still next week.”

“I am not sure.” Sky didn’t like alcohol that much. He hated its taste and how it made him unable to control his body.

“Just this one time. Please,” Rain whined like the little kid he was. And Sky knew if he disagreed, Rain wouldn’t shut up about it.

“Okay fine.”

~~

The moment Sky entered the pub, he instantly regrated it. He should have insisted on not going. The place was full of the smell of cheap perfume and cigarettes. There was a band playing some music at the corner of the pub. Some of their faces were familiar, but he couldn’t remember where he had seen them. Everyone was drinking heavily. Meanwhile, he could only manage a sip from his class. He hated how this tasted.

“Where are you going?” Rain asked, putting his hand on Sky’s shoulder when Sky was just about to stand up.

“Bathroom.” Rain nodded as he withdrew his hand. “Don’t leave. I will drive you home. Just tell me when you want to go.”

“Don’t worry about me.” Sky said, smiling at his friend. “Don’t drive. Ask P’Phayu to pick you up. You are drunk. It’s dangerous.”

“Oh, you are right.” Rain was already tipsy as he nodded, reaching for another glass.

Sky shook his head as he headed to find the bathroom. Along the way, a couple was making out against the wall. Sky rolled his eyes as he walked past them. Ironically at this moment, Prapai crossed his mind. He didn’t get the chance to apologize to him yet. He hadn’t seen or spoken to him since last night. He was probably somewhere pinning someone against the wall, making out with them. Or worse. They could already be in his room.

When Sky reached the bathroom, an unexpectedly tall figure walked out. Prapai’s eyes widened when he noticed Sky. The younger boy could almost swear that he saw Prapai’s lips lifting to a smile. But it was only instantaneous and almost unnoticeable. Without realizing it, Sky was already looking behind Prapai, expecting someone else to be following him out of there.

Scoffing, Prapai rolled his eyes. “I am not an animal to this extent. I have my limits too.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean….”

“It’s okay.” Prapai cut Sky before he could continue what he wanted to say. Stepping aside to clear the way for him. Before Prapai could walk away, Sky grabbed his hand, stopping him. Prapai’s eyes widened as his head tilted to the side.

Taking a deep breath, Sky opened his mouth to speak when someone wanted to use the bathroom, murmured excuse me as he walked between Sky and Prapai. Sky sighed as he looked at Prapai once more before shaking his head. “I just wanted to apologize about yesterday. I was harsh.”

“Sky…”

“I shouldn’t have said that. I am sorry.” Sky said, not daring to meet his eyes. “I don’t care what you do with your life. Just don’t do it in the room we share.”

Prapai smiled widely, and Sky’s heart clenched. It’s the same annoying yet charming smile that he hated the most.

“You are kind of cute, do you know that?” Prapai said as he ruffled Sky’s hair. He earned a glare from him, but it was worth it.

“The Fuck…” Sky cursed as he pushed Prapai’s hand away. “I told you not to touch me without my permission.”

“Okay, little Sky.”

“Stop calling me that.” Sky frowned as he turned around and walked into the bathroom, leaving Prapai in the hallway.

~~

Rain was already passed out when Sky returned to the table where his friends were sitting. Everyone had already left except for both of them. Reaching for his friend’s phone, he found his boyfriend’s number and called him to pick him up. Sky didn’t have a car and didn’t know how to drive. So, carrying Rain home was an impossible mission for him. It took only 10 minutes for Phayu to arrive. Sky wasn’t sure if Phayu lived close or if this guy was crazy enough to drive high speed to pick up his drunk boyfriend.

“Thank you, sky, for calling me,” Phayu said as he gently tapped his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Rain. Rain. Let’s go home.”

Rain let out small groans as he opened his eyes slowly. “P’Phayu.”

“Yeah, that’s me. Let’s go home, honey.” Phayu said gently as he wrapped Rain’s arm around his should, while his arm wrapped around Rain’s waist holding his small frame tightly to him. “Do you need a ride, Sky?”

“Don’t worry about him. He is leaving with me.” Sky looked behind him to find Prapai. Phayu didn’t move from his place until Sky looked at him and nodded. “Yeah, he is my roommate. I can go home with him.”

When Phayu walked away with Rain, Prapai grabbed a chair and sat beside Sky. “Your friend?”

Sky nodded. “Let’s go home.” Before he could stand up, Prapai stopped him by placing a glass of beer in front of him.

“Let’s have a couple of drinks first.”

“I don’t drink.” Sky said, pushing the glass away. “Especially not around someone like you.”

“What do you mean someone like me?”

“A Playboy.”

“We have been living together for six weeks now. If I wanted to make a move on you, I would have already done that.” Prapai looked at Sky with daring eyes. “I will not use this cheap trick on you. Or on anybody.”

“You will never get me.”

“Don’t be so sure, little Sky. World changes in a blink of an eye.”

“But I will never change. Because I hate your guts. I hate your presence. I hate your rudeness. I hate your shameless behavior. I hate your smile. I hate you.”

“Are you drunk?” Prapai frowned because whatever Sky said now didn’t sound like a declaration of hate.

“I only took one sip of this.” Sky said as he pointed at the glass full of beer. It looks almost untouched. “I am not drunk.”

“Okay fine.” Prapai smiled, shaking his head. Surprisingly, Prapai couldn’t help but find Sky cute that night. He almost forgot why he was so angry with him this whole time. However, this guy he was looking at now seemed not to like him. Something told Prapai that this should change.

[imusuallyobsessed]

Did you watch Love in the Air and think hmm, there could be like 30k+ more introspection in this, to the tune of “Labyrinth” by Taylor Swift?

Well, look no further! And I’m not even done yet! Happily ever after guaranteed, angst with a happy ending. Mostly canon compliant, but chapter 4 will go post-canon and be fluffy af!

[ronandhermy]

Som just wanted to have a good time that night. Maybe have another fling with Prapai. He did not expect to be thrown to the floor by the prettiest man he'd ever seen.

Or, an AU on the episode 12 scene where Prapai is getting hit on at the party. AKA Rain is pissed on his friend's behalf.

[sometimesanalice]

Like I Can (Part 1)

Summary: After yet another bad date and tired of swiping on apps, the Dagger Squad steps in to help you out by setting you up on a series of blind dates. Much to Rooster’s dismay.

Warnings: fuff, slight angst. Minors DNI

Length: 3.2K

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

Part 2

(We’re kicking of Valentine’s Day a bit early❣️ Enjoy!)

“I’m all for growing the sport, but Brady buying an MLP team is ruining the integrity of the league. He may be the GOAT of football, but he has nothing on Ben John’s world-class pickleball game,” your date Max passionately states from his spot across from you at the Italian place he had recommended.

Or was his name Mac?

He’d already told you all about the CRBN paddle drama. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had already prepared a PowerPoint presentation on the topic complete with transitions and color-coded charts. He seems the type.

And he had yet to ask you a single question about yourself all evening.

You can tell he is gearing up for the next part of his rant, when your phone lights up on the table, the ringer on higher than you realized.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I thought I had this on silent. It’s my mom, I should probably take this,” you apologize to him, your phone already halfway raised to your ear.

“Hey, kid, how’s it going?”

“Hi Mom, I’m with someone right now. Is everything ok?” You let a little worry tinge the tone of your voice.

“Seriously?” Rooster drolly rasps on the other end of the line, “Are we actually doing this?”

“Oh no! Is she alright?” You wouldn’t consider yourself actress, but you think you’re really selling the performance with the way you widen your eyes and how you make your voice go a little tighter and higher.

“Yup, seems like we’re really doing this. What’s it this time, kid? Did grandma slip on a banana peel and then get run over by a reindeer?” You can practically feel his eyes rolling as he begrudgingly goes along with you.

“Oh my goodness, that sounds serious! How would that even happen?” you ask, shaking your head in in faux shock determined to really sell the act.

“Is everything ok?” Max-Mac whispers to you from across the table. 

His profile didn’t raise any red flags when you’d swiped on him. If anything, he’d seemed a bit more of the beige flag type. Your chats had been fine, he seemed fine, so why not meet up for a date?

What you didn’t realize until it was too late was that “Sports Enthusiast” actually translated to “Pickleball Fanatic”.

“Hold on, Mom,” you hear Rooster scoff as you pull the phone away from your ear. “I’m so sorry, there’s been a family emergency. It’s my grandmother. I really need to go,” you announce to Mac-Max grabbing your purse from the back of the chair. “Thank you so much for understanding. And good luck at your pickleball tournament!” you call back to him as you hustle towards the front door.

“I take it you’ve made your escape?” You can hear the humor in his voice, your antics are nothing new to him.

“Oh my god, was that seriously only thirty minutes? He wouldn’t stop talking about pickleball, Rooster. Anytime I tried to change the subject, he found a way to circle right back to it!” You tell him as you attempt to dig your keys out from where they were buried in your bag. “And then, he pulled up the leg of his jeans and said, I kid you not: ‘Don’t worry, this isn’t an ankle monitor, I’m just wearing my ankle weights.’ Who does that?”

“Just come to the Hard Deck. You should have canceled like I told you to in the first place. Bob and Coyote got back the other day, so everyone’s here. Well, almost everyone,” he says pointedly. “We’re more fun anyways. And Hangman has been harassing me about you, something about your fluke of a win?”

You’d kicked Jake’s ass the last time you played darts with him. Although in his defense, he had been pretty drunk that night and it was a less than fair game since Phoenix would distract him while Fanboy moved your darts on the board.

You wouldn’t be challenging him to a rematch anytime soon. Not unless the odds were in your favor, it was better to keep him on his toes and his ego in check.

Thankful for the princess parking you managed to snag when you first arrived, you unlock your car and toss your bag into the passenger seat before climbing in. Breathing out a sigh of relief to be done with Mac-Max once inside.

“You back in your car yet?” Rooster asked. He was such a worrier, but you can’t say it bothered you. You liked knowing he cared.

“Yeah, just got in.”

“Ok good, see you in a few. Drive safe, kid.”

Thirty minutes later Natasha was sliding a cold, frothy pint in front of you with a sympathetic look.

It wasn’t too busy at the Hard Deck yet, but it was still early in the evening. You knew it would pick up soon, and before long Penny would be ringing her bell on some rowdy unsuspecting customer.

“Ankle weights?” She asked, trying and failing to keep from laughing at your expense.

“Seriously, Rooster?” you shoot a glare in his direction, “Where’s the loyalty?”

“What? She was right there when I called you. A request that was your idea, if you remember,” he said as he walked up to you, squeezing your shoulder before sliding his arm around you in greeting. “Plus, it’s not like you don’t already tell Phoenix about all your escapades. You really know how to pick ‘em, kid.”

You’ve known Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw since before you had braces back when you were still wearing your hair in two braids. Your moms had been on the school PTA together at the time and had hit it off immediately.

He hadn’t been too happy about being forced to hang out with the kid who was couple years younger than him, especially one who was so clearly enamored with the cute older boy. While you’d outgrown that phase, for the most part, somethings stuck- like the nickname. 

And over the years you’d formed your own bond outside of the forced proximity of your mothers’ friendship.

He’d taught you how to throw a punch, the different ways to pitch a baseball, and to drive a stick shift. You’d taught him how to whistle with his fingers, to play Nerts, and to tie a tie (after asking your dad to teach you).

The give and take was easy with him, you both showed up for the other.

You were there the night he drunkenly fell through the glass patio door at Jason Cameron’s homecoming party. As one of the only sober people there since he wouldn’t let you drink, or let anyone else give you alcohol for that matter, you were the one to take him to the ER. “Don’t worry, kid,” he had slurred, pressing the Washington High t-shirt that you’d found in your trunk to his face to stop the bleeding, “Looks s’worse than it feels.” And you were the one to stay with him as he was stitched up. The evidence of that night still unmistakable on his face.

He was there for you when your parents had sat you down and told you they were getting a divorce. A hurricane of angst and grief, you hadn’t left your room for anything other than school for over a week when he’d let himself in your room one afternoon. Rubbing small circles on your back as he’d let you cry for a bit, he didn’t even tease you about the stains you’d left behind on his shirt. And then he’d herded you into his crappy car and drove you to the slightly sketchy amusement park an hour away with the Tilt-A-Whirl and the giant corndogs. And when he’d told you “It’s going to be ok, kid” on the ride back home, you believed him.

You had been there for him when his mom passed, and all during that dark period after when he was set on self-destruction after his fallout with Maverick. While he had tried to push everyone away, you were always the type to hold on tightly to the people that mattered.

And then life had sent you on different directions. First when he went to college and then when you did. Next for him the Navy, and then you with your own career, both of you always in motion. You two shared a connection the way people with a long history do, the kind where you could go months without talking but knowing the other person is always right there if you need them. Your camaraderie sustained by texts, email, and the occasional FaceTime.

A long-distance friendship for over a decade.

So when your boss had approached you about a promotion that was dependent on you relocating to the West Coast, you thanked whatever kismet in the universe had you packing for San Diego where he was permanently stationed.

The break up with your boyfriend at the time was entirely too amicable considering how long you had been together. He was nice, the sex was nice, your life together was nice. You had all but signed the paperwork for your promotion when you told him, but he didn’t see himself as a west-coaster and you couldn’t envision yourself as anything but. Whether you had stayed together all that time out of convenience or complacency, you still couldn’t say.

It was easy to fall back into the comfort of your friendship with Rooster. Although the lanky teen you had known was replaced with a mustache sporting well-built man courtesy of the Navy. One that had left you feeling confusingly flustered on more than one occasion, and forced to cycle through your mental highlight reel of embarrassing teen Rooster moments to keep from your mind from wandering.

He’d helped you find your apartment, taught you about avoiding the 15 Northbound, and showed you where the best place in town to get tacos was. The transition was made easy with him by your side as he introduced you to his team members who quickly folded you into their group as one of their own.

That was a little over a year ago. You liked this new life of yours in San Diego.

And while the dating pool of men you could swipe through was much larger, well, some things never changed.

“You don’t get it, Rooster. You’re surrounded by absurdly hot Naval eye candy all day,” you complained gesturing to Natasha, she raised her beer to you as thanks in response. “While you’re getting women throwing themselves at you because of the gold wings, I’m fighting for my life on these stupid apps where all the men on there are posing with fish. It’s brutal!”

You’d need to officially call things off with Max-Mac later, thinking to yourself how glad you were that you never gave him your real number, and instead signing up for a Google voice number. You were just not cut out for the competitive pickleball lifestyle.

“Bradshaw, why don’t you set her up? It’s not like we don’t know enough people who would be better options than these fish men,” Natasha asked, like it was the most logical thing in the world, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, Bradshaw. Tell Nat your super logical reasons for leaving your longtime friend to fend for herself.” You knew where this was heading, so you took a long swig of the beer Phoenix had brought you.

“Seriously, not this again.” His arm that was around you was removed in favor for pinching the bridge of his nose and looking up to the ceiling like it would spare him from the conversation.

“You started it, now tell her.”

“I need another damn drink if we’re going to do this,” Rooster mumbled.

“Me too,” chimed Natasha, clearly reveling in his misery.

“Make that three. I need to catch up.” You hadn’t even stuck around long enough to get a drink at the restaurant, and now you were ready to let loose a bit.

He grunts out some unintelligible thing and then stalks off to the bar shaking his head.

“I’m an upstanding citizen, I pay my taxes, I make a mean peanut butter brownie, and I always drive him around when the Bronco is in the shop for a tune up. It’s literally the least he could do,” you say to Phoenix as you watch him chat with Penny as she works to grab the fresh bottles.

“Oh, so this is thing,” Natasha says decidedly when she eyes the six beers he’s carrying back to the table, three bottles held by the neck in each of his large hands. His classic Hawaiian shirt fluttering with every step, your eyes briefly drifting down to his defined waist.

“Sure is,” you confirm, drawing out the word. Downing the rest of the beer from your pint glass before reaching for one of the new bottles Rooster was divvying out amongst your trio, “I’ve never asked him for anything-”

“That is a boldfaced lie. And you know it,” he cuts in, as he hands you a granola bar from his pocket, that he must have snagged from Penny. “You definitely asked me to set you up with Kyle Cooke from my baseball team in high school. I didn’t do it then, and I’m not doing it now,” he declared, pointing at you with an accusatory finger to further drive the statement home.

“Reasons being?” Natasha wheedled, a mischievous smirk on her face. You could tell she was eating this up, there were two things Natasha Trace loved most in this world: juicy gossip and giving Rooster a hard time.  

Ever the showman, he dramatically lifts up a finger, “First of all, everyone I know is an asshole.”

“I am offended on Bob’s behalf,” you countered, unwrapping the bar and taking a bite, annoyed. Hangman might fit the description, but certainly not Bob.

“Two,” he continues on, raising a second finger, and ignoring you completely as if you hadn’t just made a very valid point, “Let’s say I set you with a friend and then you end up hating them. Then you’ll judge me for being friends with them, we’ll argue, and eventually we won’t be friends anymore. Or even worse, I set you up with someone, you hit it off and date for a while. What happens when you break up? I’m left having to pick sides and walk on eggshells around you guys about the other person.”

“God, you’re such a overthinker. That all sounds totally rational, you drama queen,” you look to Phoenix for agreement, but she’s busy typing out a text message on her phone.

“And three, it’s messy as fuck. And I don’t need to hear about your trophy of a one-night stand.”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes, “That was one time! It wasn’t a trophy it was a gold medal.”

“Wait, what?” Confusion coloring Natasha’s features. 

“One time this guy gave me one of those plastic gold medal things on a lanyard, kind of like the ones they give out at kids soccer games, after we hooked up. I mean, kicked him out right away, but I did keep the medal. It was a good confidence boost,” you shrug.  It wasn’t exactly a high point moment for you.

After that encounter you’d definitely started scrutinizing every profile a bit harder before swiping right, or at least you thought you had been. In your defense, at least Max-Mac’s profile didn’t have a fish photo, but the bar was still clearly on the ground.

“I knew you when you wore those shirts with that big mouthed monkey on them. And that’s the kind of shit I don’t need to know about. I don’t wanna be involved. Not gonna happen, kid,” his declaration resolute.

“Well, that sure is something, Bradshaw,” Natasha states, giving him a curious look.

“What are y’all over here discussing so intently,” Hangman questions as he saddles up to your little group, tucking his phone into his pocket. 

“We were just getting into the finer details of the kid’s dating life and how I am going to fix it by setting her up with this great guy I know,” she pronounces, looking all too pleased with herself. A truly self-satisfied grin gracing her face.

Natasha Trace was probably the most bad ass person you’ve ever met, so the idea of her setting you up with someone had you sitting up straighter on the stool you were seated on, “Really?”

“Who?” Rooster demands, frowning at her.

“Yeah, I mean Bradshaw clearly has his convictions, and I respect that. However, I’m an excellent wing-woman. Seriously, I don’t know why I haven’t thought about introducing you guys before. You two would be perfect together.”

Hangman never one to miss an opportunity to rile up Rooster is quick to jump in, “Just because you fly in a two-seater doesn’t make you a good wing-woman, Phoenix. However, now that you mention it, I have a buddy who might knock your socks off. Unless you’d rather just knock boots, I’m sure he’d be up for whatever you wanted,” he shooting you a wink. “I think I’ll toss my name in the ring here too. After all, I’m very good.”

“You want to make it a bet, Bagman?” Her accent always got a little more pronounced when she went toe to toe with him.

“What’re you thinkin’, Darlin’?” he drawls suggestively with a sharp smile. That ever-present toothpick being rolled in his mouth from side to side.

“You guys are not going to be making bets around the kid’s love life,” Rooster snaps.

“The big dogs are talking, Bradshaw,” Hangman taunts as he waves him off.  

“$50 entry? The dates happen here and at the end the kid picks which date was the best. Winner takes all?” You can see the competitive gleam in her eye.

“Alright, alright. Works for me, Phoenix. I can’t wait to take your money.”

“The hell you are,” Rooster barks, still trying to regain control of the quickly spiraling situation.

Well, this had certainly taken a turn.

You find yourself reaching for your third beer of the night.

And you’re even more surprised when Hangman hollers for the rest of the team to join, and before you know it your dating life takes centerstage as the subject of the bet between the group of competitive naval aviators. Many of the others deciding to join in, never ones to shy away from a bit of rivalry.  

“What do you say? You up for it?” Natasha asks, wanting to make sure you were still on board now that her original offer had taken on a life of its own.

You look over and see Rooster looking at you like you’d be crazy to get involved in their kind of chaos. You know he can already tell what your answer will be.

“Why not?” you agree cheerily as he groans into his beer.

At least you would be spared from swiping for a while. It’s what you deserve, you are an upstanding citizen after all.

Get ready for some dates! Part 2

Written as part of @roosterforme’s #Love Is In The Air TGM Fic Challenge! 

Song Inspiration Sam Smith’s “Like I Can”.

Thank you Jordan (@gretagerwigsmuse) for letting me bounce ideas off of you!

Edit: I’ve started a tag list for Part 2! Just let me know if you’d like to be added!

[bussyslayer333]

Love me, Love me

summary: bob floyd and the trials and tribulations of loving you.

or, my contribution to @roosterforme ‘s #loveisintheairtgm fic playlist!!!

pairing: bob floyd x bartender!reader

word count: 3.0k

warnings: swearing, some suggestiveness, mentions of alcohol maybe??, idiots in love smh

Bob was staring at himself in the mirror feeling a lot like how he did before his first middle school dance. Touching up his hair so he could impress Missy Clark. Except now he wasn’t trying to impress Missy, he was trying to impress you.

It was simultaneously a hundred times better and a hundred times worse.

Better, because you didn’t have braces that would catch on his lip if you kissed. Worse because you were probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and somehow he managed to make a fool out of himself every time he saw you.

He was picking up Jake and Bradley tonight before heading to the Hard Deck. It was probably one of his short comings as a man who doesn’t drink; he was destined to be the designated driver.

When Jake slid into the passenger seat he looked to Bob, looked away for a moment, then stared straight back at him.

“What?”

“Is that a new shirt?” Jake questions, mildly intense.

“Errr, yes?”

“Why do you look so nice?” Jake pesters, reaching a hand out to poke at Bob’s neatly styled hair.

Bob shrugs his hand away with a huff, “Um it’s a new year’s resolution, y’know look good feel good thing.”

Jake raises an eyebrow, unconvinced, before leaning in to sniff at Bob.

“You’re wearing new cologne.” Jake states, “why?”

Bob is starting to get slightly antsy, worried for the inevitable teasing that would occur once Jake found out about his infatuation crush on you.

“Well, Jake, the thing is…”

Jake leans in.

“I’m in love with you! I’ve been trying to impress you for months! …yeah.” Bob finishes lamely.

Jake laughs. Loud.

For a moment, Bob is offended that the idea of him being in love with someone is so amusing. Then he remembers the fact that for some reason he has just professed a fake love to the most obnoxious man on planet earth.

“Bobby, man you crack me up.” Jake chortles, wiping at the few tears that had slipped from his lash line.

Bob sighs as he comes to a slow in front of Bradley’s house, too caught up in his thoughts to stop Jake from hitting the horn to alert Bradley of their presence.

Bradley emerges from his house, hawaiian shirt on and an effortlessly handsome smile plastered across his face. Bob realises that if he was going to fake confess again Bradley would be a much more believable candidate.

“Hey boys,” Bradley smiles, sliding into the seat behind Bob.

He pats Bob on the shoulder far too hard without realising, and smacks Jake on the back with the same strength. Jake doesn’t shudder down on impact like Bob.

Jake allows Bob a second to breathe before he starts his pestering again, albeit more slyly.

“Rooster.” He starts

“Bagman.”

“Very funny.”

“I try my best.” Bradley chuckles.

Jake rolls his eyes and continues, “any guesses for why our dear Bobby is so dressed up for our Friday night drinks?”

Bob goes to protest, but Jake shushes him promptly.

“and don’t confess your undying love for Rooster because I will know you’re lying.”

Bradley cocks his head in confusion, before getting to his point.

“The bartender, obviously.” Bradley laughs.

Jake raises his eyebrows and makes a loud “ooooooohoooo” noise at Bob.

“You’re nailing her Bob? Nice.” Jake slaps Bob on his still recovering shoulder.

“No! I’m not!” Bob speaks a little defensively.

Bob had grown to like Jake over their time spent working together. However, his crudeness towards subjects such as this still made him cringe.

“But you would like to…?” Bradley supplies unhelpfully.

“I mean, yes, but also I want to take her out. On a date. With me.” Bob sighs.

If he thought too hard about what it would be like to have you in his bed, he would probably be sporting a hard on in the car with two of his best friends. It wouldn’t be the ideal way to start his Friday night.

“You should ask her out,” Jake smiles nonchalantly.

“Yeah! Tonight,” Bradley adds on.

Bob can’t help but laugh dryly at his friends optimism, because of course they would think it’s that easy.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he sighs out, pulling onto the road that leads to the Hard Deck.

“Sure it is!” Bradley delivers another encouraging painful slap to Bob’s shoulder.

Bob sighs dejectedly, clearly Bradley did not understand what he was trying to get at. He lets Bradley and Jake get out of the car before giving himself a mini pep talk in his rear view mirror.

“You’ve got this, Bobby,” he affirms.

BANG BANG.

Bob jumps out of his skin.

Jake’s face is smushed against the window, “you coming?”

“I can see up your nostrils.”

“Lucky you,” Jake snorts, finally pulling back so Bob can get out.

You’re the first thing Bob sees when he enters the bar; giggling at something a patron said as you pour a pint of whatever IPA Penny has on draft at the moment. Your hair is pulled back loosely and the light summer dress you’re wearing has Bob wondering if he needs to wipe at the drool forming at the corners of his lips.

He beelines for you, ignoring the shouts of greeting coming from his group of aviators already congregating around the pool table, and when you look up and meet his eyes, Bob could swear your smile widened.

“Hey Bob! Don’t you look smart!” You smile, radiant as ever.

Bob tries to ignore the heat that floods his cheeks and bites his lip to refrain from smiling too hard.

“Darlin’, thank you, but you… you look stunning,” he charms, probably overeager but you seem to have that affect on him.

Your nose scrunches in the way that it always does when you’re bashful of a compliment, it’s adorable but the idea makes Bob frown sometimes, makes him wonder if you know how beautiful you really are.

“I, I mean- this old thing?” You shrug down at your dress.

Bob can tell you’re being modest. You don’t need to be.

“Can I get you a drink?” You offer, steering the conversation from yourself.

It’s now or never that Bob realises he needs to make his move. He pinches his thigh through his trousers and finally pipes up.

“I, um, actually had a question that I wanted to ask? If that’s okay?”

“Yeah, shoot!” You nod.

“I wanted to ask this really incredible girl out, and I was just wondering, well, what you think she’d say?”

“I think she’d be a fool to say no,” you say with conviction.

Bob’s confidence seems to skyrocket after your confirmation. He nods and tries to conceal the smile threatening to split his cheeks in half.

“Good to know.”

As he walks off, Bob lightly pumps his fist in victory. You can’t help but giggle at the sight, hoping that whoever he was asking out would say yes. It would, however, be a lie to say you weren’t disappointed he wasn’t asking you.

Bob spends the rest of the weekend thinking about where he should take you out. He doesn’t want to come off too eager, so figured he should wait until Monday to see you again. He’s not sure when your next shift is, but figures if he swings by the Hard Deck after work he could probably catch you and ask whether your prefer Italian or Mexican.

When he gets to the Hard Deck at just gone 6 the bar is relatively empty, not much of a Monday evening crowd apparently. Bob ummed and ahhhed over the idea of bringing you flowers. In the end he settled on some pale pink roses, hoping they’d please you.

Penny is manning the desolate bar when he finally makes his way to the bar top. She smiles at him, albeit slightly confused at his lack of company and addition of flora in tow.

He says your name tentatively, “is she here?”

Penny frowns, “She just left about half an hour ago, said she had a date?”

Bob’s stomach drops. “Oh.”

“Was there a message you wanted me to pass on?” Penny smiles apologetically.

“No, um, don’t worry about it. Thanks Pen,” Bob nods curtly, spinning on his heel.

The flowers feel out of place in his clammy palm now, a dead weight dragging his right arm down. He still places then gently down on the passenger seat when he enters his car.

Bob leans his head on the steering wheel, not caring about the way the metal frames of his glasses are pushing painfully into the flushed skin of his cheeks.

“Fuck.” He whispers.

Bob drives back to his apartment with a furrow etched onto his brow, wondering if he hadn’t been clear enough that he was interested in you. His first thought is to ring Phoenix, you and her were close and regularly went out together. She picks up after the first ring.

“I’ve fucked up.” Bob sighs.

“Well hello to you too,” Nat snorts, Bob can hear the crinkle and crunch of what sounds like a bag of chips.

“Care to elaborate?” She questions.

He speaks your name as a whisper, “is she on a date right now?”

“Ohhhhhh,” Nat exclaims in understanding, “you’re an idiot.”

“I know!” Bob groans, at the reminder.

“She really likes you! But now she thinks you’ve got some secret crush!”

Bob is elated at the idea of you returning his feelings. Not so much at the idea of his failed attempt at asking you on a date being so stupid that it put you off.

“Ughhh, this is really embarrassing Nat.” Bob grumbles.

He can hear Nat snickering on the other end of the phone.

“Just tell her you like her, Dumbo.” She crunches down on another chip.

“Thank you that is really helpful actually.” Bob spits sarcastically.

Bob can hear Nat shuffle around before she starts up again, “look, for some reason she’s enamoured by everything you do. Like she’ll text me about how cute you looked in your glasses or how she liked your patterned shirt.”

She snorts, “it’s kind of disgusting but also heartwarming, I don’t know, what I’m trying to say is you just need to be yourself. That’s why she likes you.”

Bob is silent for a beat, “…she liked my shirt?”

“I’m hanging up now-”

“Thank you, Nat!” Bob quickly shouts down the line before she ends the call with a chortle.

Praying on the downfall of someone’s date is somewhat cruel. But Bob couldn’t really find it in him to care. Not when you look so sweet in one of your sundresses, stood at the bar wiping down the continually sticky counter tops.

It’s busy for an early Thursday evening, and Bob has once again bypassed his friends to beeline for you. Refreshed flowers in his hand, Bob was going to tell you how he felt. No beating around it this time.

“Oh! Hey Bob,” you drawl, slight flush to your cheeks at the sight of him.

“Hey beautiful, these,” he hands over the delicate bouquet, “are for you.”

You take them from him, inspecting the pinks and whites of the variety of flowers wrapped up in tissue paper.

“Wow, thank you! I- well no one has ever bought me flowers before!” You gush, fiddling with the ribbon at the bottom of the bouquet.

“They’re kind of an apology actually,” Bob smiles.

“Oh?” You prompt.

“Last Friday, I asked you that question?”

You nod in remembrance.

“Well, I was trying to ask you out. On a date that is, but clearly I went about it the wrong way, and if you’re not interested that’s okay! Of course, I just wanted you to know-”

Bob’s rambling is interrupted by the touch of your lips to his. His eyes widen in surprise before he leans in fully to your touch, hand coming to caress at your cheek. You pull back all too soon for Bob, who tries to chase after your lips.

“I want to.” You whisper against his lips.

“Huh?” Bob mumbles, slightly dazed from your kiss.

You giggle and pull back to look into his eyes fully, “Go on a date with you Bobby. I would love to.”

Bob grins, “Really?”

“Totally.”

Bob arrives outside your apartment at exactly the time he said he would. He’s dressed in a stripe button down and cream shorts. He looks handsome, annoyingly so and greets you with a kiss on the cheek. Ever the gentleman.

“We’ve already kissed,” you tease, smashing your lips against his in a greeting.

Bob reciprocates almost immediately, making a noise of approval as your tongue flicks against his. He pulls back breathless,

“I was trying to be a gentleman.”

“It’s okay,” you take his hand and thread your fingers through his.

You swing your hands gently whilst you listen to him talk, “I was thinking we could walk down to the beach?”

“Sounds perfect.”

The breeze is light, heat from the late afternoon still clinging to the air as you walk along worn concrete. Bob’s hand stays intertwined with yours and he nods along to all of your ramblings, somehow still interested even after your seemingly endless anecdotes.

“I’m probably boring you,” you smile apologetically.

Bob shakes his head with a laugh, “darlin’ I could listen to you talk about my taxes and be absolutely enthralled.”

You try to fight off your furious blush by smushing your face into his surprisingly muscular arm. Bob rolls his eyes and takes your face in his hands.

“I mean it.”

Bob initiates the kiss this time, slowly guiding your face towards his. It’s only quick, as your still surrounded by couples walking, but it leaves you reeling anyways.

The sun is setting by the time you make it to the beach, and you have a sneaky feeling Bob has timed your date to match it. You don’t ask, the idea alone is almost too much.

He lets you chatter on as you walk further and further down the beach, only stopping to ask questions to further your stories.

“I wanted to ask you something,”

“Sure,” you hum.

“Did you go on a date with another guy this week?” Bob hopes he doesn’t sound too accusatory (or jealous).

You nod shyly, “yeah, he kind of sucked though.”

“How come you went?” Bob inquires.

“I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn’t jealous of you going on a date with someone else.”

Bob chuckles, “even though you were the one I was asking out?”

You snort, “We’re stupid.”

“The stupidest.”

You both giggle for a moment at the absurdity of the situation before allowing the laughter to lull and finally take in the scenery. You hadn’t passed people for the past 10 minutes of your walk, reaching a more secluded area of the beach.

“Do you want to go in the water?” You ask slyly.

“I mean, I’m not very well prepared,” Bob gestures down to his outfit.

“Me either,” you shrug with a smirk, before lifting the hem of your dress and pulling it over your head.

You let it fall to the ground and bend down to take off your shoes, leaving them next to your dress. You snap back up with a smirk and let Bob take in the sight of you in your lacy underwear. He gulps visibly.

You wander towards the waves slowly, letting Bob take in the way your hips sway tantalisingly.

“You coming?” You call over your shoulder.

“Fuck.” Bob whispers to himself, “yeah, give me a minute!”

Bob shucks himself of his clothing in record time so he can join you in the water, which is rippling gently against your waist. It’s cool, but not overtly unpleasant. If anything it’s soothing his nerves.

You turn to face Bob when you can sense him behind you,

“wow,” you breathe out, drinking in his toned abdomen that had been exposed to you.

“I feel like I should be saying that,” Bob smiles down at you, allowing his hands to rest at your waist.

You roll your eyes and flick water at him playfully. Bob’s eyes darken teasingly and he splashes you back with a little more force.

“Bob!” You squeal as the cool water hits your chest.

You have no choice but to retaliate with an even larger splash of water. As soon as it hits Bob you take off, disturbing the peaceful ripples as you try to swim away from the now drenched Bob. He catches up to you with ease and lifts you into the air, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

Your arms come to hang around his neck and you rest your forehead against his, both breathing harshly against one another’s mouths. Your lips connect sloppily as Bob’s hands grip tight at your behind to keep you close to him. The light blue lace of your thong is now dark blue from the water, the fabric of the bra much the same. It clings to you almost sinfully, and when Bob pulls back to look at you he lets out a deep, guttural groan.

“Look at you, darlin’.”

You flush at his words, accent heavy now it’s tainted with lust. You flick water at him playfully once again, trying to distract from how overwhelmed he makes you feel.

Bob chuckles and readjusts you in his grip, one arm under you to support you and the other pushing back at the wet strands of hair framing your face.

“Is it crazy if I say I think I love you?” Bob whispers.

“Is it crazy if I say the same thing?” You reply.

a/n: HERE IT IS 🎺🎺🎺🎺 sorry for the wait everyone!!! please behold valentines bob, isn’t he the cutest idiot 😭😭

expect a lil jakey one shot next guys, then mayhaps ch4 of drive me wild hehehe

as always pls reblog, comment, or send me an ask and tell me what you think!!!

thank you for reading :)))

- honey <333

[ktredshoes]

HBO War Fanfiction Stats

Let me start by saying that I am not in any sense criticizing anybody's taste in HBO War relationships. In my opinion, any well-written fanfic, regardless of ship, is worthy. Heck, any fanfic is worthy — it takes a special type of creative courage to write and share a fanfiction story so that others might appreciate what you see in characters you love. So, that's the first thing.

Buckle up, I get wordy. More under the cut.

Tagging a handful of folks who showed interest in my decidedly unscientific findings: @onyxsboxes @jesslovesboats @itstheheebiejeebies @onekisstotakewithme @sparkling-strychnine

Trying something here: @meyerlansky @anachilles @astolovewithallmyheart @dano-png

I started down this fanfiction stat rabbit hole about four years ago when I started looking at The Pacific tags on Archive of Our Own (AO3). I was trying to figure out if it was just my imagination or not that everything other than Sledgefu in TP fanfic felt like a rarepair. I was not surprised to find statistical backup for what anecdotally felt true.

I love all the HBO War series — and for the record, I consider Band of Brothers, The Pacific, Generation Kill, and Masters of the Air to all be part of this fandom community. I won't get into trying to rank them or make the case that one is better than another — they are all related in being stories of men at war, and three specifically stories of men at war during World War II — but direct comparisons, in my opinion, are apples to oranges to prosciutto to tiramisu. They all have different raison d'etres. So that's the second thing.

(I will admit to a particular soft spot for The Pacific as the overlooked "younger brother" to Band of Brothers, precisely because of the tendency of some to negatively compare it to BoB. TP was never intended to be "part two" of Band of Brothers — I was listening recently to a podcast with Tony To, an executive producer of both shows, who asserted that BoB was, yes, about the brotherhood of war, but TP was about the cost of war. )

Anyway.

A couple of days ago, I saw someone post about the fact that the Cleven/Egan ship in Masters of the Air was about to hit 1,000 stories on AO3 — and since I knew that the total number of stories was only about 1,400ish, I figured it was time to take a look at MotA stats too. And that led to looking at GK stats and BoB stats and once I finished, I was really struck by what I saw.

I have a whole spreadsheet looking at the four shows, with breakdowns by relationship and character, with percentages of total stories. (I've posted some graphics from those spreadsheets below, not to worry.)

So what did I learn?

The Pacific and Masters of the Air both are overwhelmingly dominated by a single ship — Sledgefu in the case of TP and Clegan in the case of MotA.

As of August 10, 2024, there were 1,500 stories on AO3 tagged for The Pacific, and 1,485 tagged for Masters of the Air. Sledgefu features in 884 of TP stories, which is 58.93% of the total.

You might think that's an astounding total — but Clegan features in an astonishing 986 of MotA stories, or 66.4% of all stories. The falloff in the next highest ship in each fandom is precipitous: Hilldane in 14% of TP stories (210), and Crubbles in 8.82% of MotA stories (131).

If you are a fan of any ship aside from the most popular pairing in these two fandoms, that has got to be terribly discouraging. You wouldn't think the dropoff would be so high if you're at all active in the HBO War fandom on Tumblr, based on what's posted on a daily basis, but if your entry to HBO War fanfic is solely on AO3, what would you think?

I will once again state that I'm making no judgement on anybody's favorite pairing — I'm making a case on behalf of all the other ships. I'll also note that there are many, many fics posted to Tumblr that never make it to AO3, and I would very much encourage those authors to please please please consider posting your stories to AO3! (If you don't have an account on AO3, it currently takes about 10 days from requesting an invitation to receiving it, which is not that long in the scheme of things.)

The popularity of TP and MotA characters in these stories shows a similar disparity between the most popular and everybody else. In The Pacific, Snafu features in 63.53% of AO3 stories (953) and Sledge in 62.6% (939). No one else is as high as even 20% -- Burgie is in 17.2% (258) and Ack Ack is in 15.6% (234) and Hillbilly in 14.73% (221). The other two ostensibly lead characters in TP are Bob Leckie (12.53% or 188 stories) and John Basilone (1.67% or 25). I find that just shocking.

MotA is both better and worse. There are 10 characters who appear in 10% or better of posted stories on AO3 — but the dropoff from most popular to next highest is even more dramatic. Bucky Egan features in 77.9% of stories (1,157) and Buck Cleven in 74.28% (1,103). The next highest is not, as you might think, Harry Crosby or Rosie Rosenthal, the other featured lead characters in the series. It's Curt Biddick, who is in 25.19% of stories (374), followed by Croz in 23.7% (352). Next is Rosie, who is tied with John Brady — both in 16.9% or 251 stories. What a steep drop!

But, hey, at least there are a baker's dozen plus one of characters who feature in at least 100 MotA stories:

Egan: 1,157 stories (77.91%)

Cleven: 1,103 (74.28%)

Biddick: 374 (25.19%)

Crosby: 352 (23.7%)

Brady: 251 (16.9%)

Rosenthal: 251 (16.9%)

DeMarco: 243 (16.36%)

Payne: 225 (15.15%)

Lemmons: 181 (12.19%)

Hamilton: 167 (11.25%)

Marge Spencer: 146 (9.83%)

Douglass: 139 (9.36%)

Kidd: 130 (8.75%)

Blakely: 111 (7.47%)

After 14 years, will TP ever develop more diversity on AO3? Probably doubtful — though since I first checked the stats in 2020, Hilldane has gained 2%, so there's slow change but some change. Eight months in since the birth of the MotA fandom, and Clegan, and by extension Bucky and Bucky, are steamrollering the rest of the MotA relationships and characters on AO3 — based on what I see on Tumblr, I don't know if that huge disparity will hold up, but who knows? It's still a very new fandom.

But what about GenKill and BoB, you say?

Well, as you might have guessed, there's a clear delineation in GK between the top ship and the next ones below it, but the dropoff is not nearly as dramatic as in TP and MotA.

There are 3,024 Generation Kill stories on AO3 as of August 10, 2024, and the number one ship is Brad/Nate, with 1,261 stories, or 41.7% of the total. Next highest is Brad/Ray, with 677 stories, or 22.39%. The top three characters are Brad, featured in 63.82% of stories (1,930), then Ray, featured 52.35% of the time (1,583 stories), followed by Nate (45.44% or 1,374 stories). Next is Walter Hasser at 571 stories (18.88%), followed by Poke Espera at 284 stories (9.39%), Mike Wynn at 262 stories (8.66%), then Doc Bryan at 254 stories (8.4%). There's that dropoff again!

And as for Band of Brothers? After nearly 21 years on AO3 (the oldest story dates from November 2003), there are 5,016 BoB stories on AO3, with a huge number of ships and characters — albeit some quite small. Frankly, I stopped counting after getting to 70 relationships and 55 characters — I just got tired!

Still.

Let me add that the earliest BoB stories on AO3 are not well tagged for ships or characters — many don't have any tags at all. I don't know the reason for it — whether the tagging system in the early AO3 days wasn't easy to navigate, or maybe the lack of tagging was a holdover from earlier systems or archives? I have no idea how well-tagged stories were on LiveJournal, Dreamwidth, or Fanfiction.net. So anyhow, early BoB stories on AO3, if tagged according to current standards, would definitely change the stats but I have no insight on how it might shift them, except definitely upward for the most popular characters and ships.

At any rate: onward.

The top BoB ships on AO3 are 1) Winnix — 1,250 stories or 24.92%, 2) BabeRoe — 771 stories or 15.37%, 3) Webgott — 663 stories or 13.22%, and 4) Speirton — 662 stories or 12.4%.

Moving on to characters, there are a dozen that feature in 10% or better of the BoB total. Take a look:

Winters: 1,173 stories (34.35%)

Nixon: 1,652 (32.93%)

Roe: 1,380 (27.51%)

Speirs: 1,135 (22.63%)

Heffron: 1,125 (22.43%)

Luz: 1,063 (21.19%)

Liebgott: 1,058 (21.09%)

Lipton: 978 (19.5%)

Webster: 790 (15.75%)

Toye: 749 (14.93%)

Guarnere: 686 (13.68%)

Malarkey: 514 (10.25%)

That's a much more even distribution here, without the massive dropoff in the other three fandoms. Or as @itstheheebiejeebies put it to me: "BoB fans feast on variety. It's a grazing table instead of main and side courses." Just so.

So what do I take from all this? I mean, in the case of MotA, I came into the fandom all gaga over Callum Turner and thus Bucky Egan. But then I quickly veered off into following Benny DeMarco (Adam Long) and for the past several months I've fallen under the spell of Everett Blakely (David Shields). Will I stay there? I have no idea! And that's kind of exhilarating.

But here's what I know for sure: as I continue to read and write HBO War fanfic, I'm going to be doing my best to support the ships and characters out of the top tier.

Creators: Don't just post your fanfic to Tumblr — post it to AO3 and tag it.

Be the change that you want to see.

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

Now, as promised, here are the stats in graphic form.

[roosterforme]

The Kind of Girl I Could Love | Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: Bob has a secret admirer, but he's convinced it's actually Jake and Nat messing with him. 

Warnings: Pure fluff

Length: 1900 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female Reader

I wrote this for my Love Is In the Air playlist! Check my masterlist for more!

It started out with a simple note.

I like your glasses.

Bob held the note card in his hand and glanced around the deck of the aircraft carrier as discreetly as he could. There were people everywhere. Anyone could have left this for him to find on his seat inside the cockpit of the F/A-18 that he shared with Phoenix. 

I like your glasses.

Bob didn't even like his own glasses. There was nothing to like about them. They made him look even more awkward than he already felt, and he couldn't wear anything else, or he wouldn't be allowed to be in the Super Hornet at all.

So he scrutinized the handwriting, but it didn't look familiar. And that's when it dawned on him. Phoenix and Hangman were just messing with him. They did this from time to time. One time they covered his car in post-it notes. Another time they hid his helmet bag from him. 

He rolled his eyes and scrunched the note up in his fist. Bob was completely unremarkable. Nobody would ever leave him this kind of note. Nat and Jake should have known he wouldn't fall for it this time.

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

Bob found a second note a few days later.

Your smile is nice. I wish you would smile at me.

He sighed and tilted his face up to the heavens. Great. Now he was going to have to call Nat and Jake out on their little pranks. He could feel his cheeks flushing pink this time. It was so embarrassing that his teammates thought it would be funny to do this to him. Nat knew how shy he was, and how he wished he could find a girl to date. 

Bob glanced around again. There were a few women on deck at the moment. None that looked like they would be remotely interested in him. They were all either too old or too attractive. And who would have access to his cockpit seat anyway? 

It wasn't a good idea to get his hopes up when he just knew who was behind this. 

"What's wrong with you?" Nat asked as she climbed her ladder. "I already apologized for eating your croissant! I didn't know you were saving it for later!"

Bob shook his head. "This isn't about the croissant, Phoenix. But I wish you and Hangman would stop picking on me."

"Huh?" she asked before boosting herself into the seat in front of him.

But it was time to get to work, so Bob crumpled up this note as well and tossed it into his helmet bag. "We can talk about it later," he mumbled as he started his preflight safety routine. 

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

Now things were getting out of hand. 

You look handsome in your flight suit. Tall and strong.

Bob took another close look at the handwriting. It looked fancy and feminine, but nothing like Nat's. He supposed Jake would be able to imitate something like this if he really tried. 

"Hey, Hangman," Bob called to him. 

Jake turned and shrugged at him from the top of his own ladder. "Yeah?"

"Can you just knock it off?" Bob asked, waving the note card in the air.

Jake squinted like he was trying to see what Bob was holding. "What are you talking about, Bob?"

"The notes!" 

But it was too late, because now all of the conversation was being drowned out by the deck speaker system. The final mission announcements were being made as Phoenix got settled into her set. 

Bob would have to talk to them both later.

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

"I know I'm an easy target, and I know I don't usually get annoyed, but please. Please, just stop."

Jake and Nat both looked at him from across the table as they ate their dinners later that night. 

"Stop what exactly?" Jake asked. "Is this what you were trying to tell me earlier?"

Bob's cheeks flushed. He couldn't believe they were going to make him spell it out like this. 

"The notes, guys," he said, pulling the newest note card out of the pocket of his flight suit and sliding it across the table. "It's not funny."

Jake and Nat both leaned closer to read what was written there, pretending they had never seen it before. 

"You have a secret admirer?" Nat asked, her eyes darting up to meet Bob's.

Jake grinned. "Someone has a crush on you."

Bob took the note and crumpled it up. "I know it's you two, so can you please stop!"

Nat and Jake looked at each other. 

"Did you write it?" she asked, and Jake shook his head.

"Did you?" he asked, and she shook her head no as well. 

Bob didn't think he should believe them, but he really, really wanted to. Just the idea of someone thinking about him in that way made him want to smile. 

"It's not us," Nat said with a grin. "But we'll help you figure out who it is." 

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

Bob didn't want to get his hopes up. But when he thought about who might have access to his cockpit, he immediately thought about the mechanical crew. And when he thought about the mechanical crew, he thought about you. 

He had seen you out on deck the other day, but you were so beautiful. Way too gorgeous to be leaving the notes. Just the prettiest smile. Sometimes you said hi to him, and he'd get so flustered, he could barely respond. 

It was too unlikely though. And he wasn't even sure if it was a woman leaving the notes. 

"I have an idea!" Nat said as she checked the air pressure in the tires. "Why don't you leave a note?"

Bob thought about it for a second. "I guess I could do that."

So he left a note on his seat asking who you were.

And the next time he climbed the ladder, there was another note card waiting for him. 

I'm too shy to tell you who I am. But I work closely with your jet. And I have a crush on you.

Bob's heart was pounding. There was nobody on the tarmac at the moment, so he showed the note to Nat.

"The plot thickens!" she said as she read it. "I wonder if it could be her."

Bob looked in the direction that she had nodded, and there you were. You had your hair pulled back away from your face, and you were wearing your typical jumpsuit. And you were smiling, your eyes catching Bob's for a split second. 

"Nat. Come on. She's so pretty.

Phoenix just laughed at him. "You're a catch, Bobby! Even if it's not her, you can still ask her out."

But he just shook his head and muttered, "No, I couldn't."

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

Bob got two more notes the following week. 

Your accent sounds cute. Where are you from?

This person has heard him speak before.

Bob had only ever been complimented on his accent when Jake had as well. Everyone loved Hangman's Texan drawl, and only mentioned Bob as an afterthought. But when he wrote a note telling you he was from Montana, and asking you as politely as he could if you were a woman, Bob got another note in response.

I've never been to Montana. Yes, I am a woman. You sound smart and organized in the air.

If it wasn't for the fact that this woman had mentioned his glasses, Bob would have been convinced these notes were meant for Jake. 

And now Bob was facing a different problem: the aircraft carrier would be arriving back in San Diego in a few days. His missions were finished. He didn't have much reason to climb up into his cockpit now, and he still didn't know who the notes were from.

In a final effort to try to bring his admirer out of the shadows, Bob wrote one final note and bypassed all of the mechanics to leave it on his seat. 

When we dock in port, would you like to meet in person? Near the Admiral Kazansky memorial statue? I'll wait there as soon as I get off the carrier. I hope you'll be there too. 

On his way back across the deck, he saw you dressed in your jumpsuit, and you smiled and waved at him. Maybe Nat was right; he could still ask you out no matter what, even if you weren't the one leaving the notes for him to find. 

But he felt a connection with the note writer. She seemed to like him as he was. He never had to show off or pretend he was confident like Jake for her to notice him. So he would wait, and hopefully in two short days, there would be someone meeting him at the statue. 

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

Bob was starting to sweat through his khaki uniform, and it wasn't even that hot outside. 

"Are you sure I look okay?" he asked Phoenix, and she continued to make a fuss over him.

"You look so good," she promised, combing her fingers through his already tidy hair and readjusting his glasses. "Here, open up." She popped a mint into his mouth, and Bob rolled his eyes.

"I highly doubt I'll be kissing anyone, Phoenix."

"You never know, Bobby. I'm still holding out hope that the cute mechanic is your note writing secret admirer."

Bob let Phoenix lead him down the ramps when their deboarding group was called. He was so nervous now, he just wanted to go right home and pretend none of this had ever happened. 

"Go find your girl! Text me later!" Nat told him, pushing him in the direction of the statue. 

Bob wound his way slowly through the crowd. His heart was pounding. What if nobody was there? What if nobody came? What if it was just Jake waiting for him after all?  He felt sick, with clammy palms and an upset stomach as he neared his destination.

"Bob?" a soft voice called to him, and his eyes drifted up a uniformed body, his eyes coming to settle on your face.

"It's you? The pretty mechanic?" he asked, and when a smile found its way to your lips, you nodded.

"Yeah. It's me. Are you disappointed?" you asked, twisting your fingers around each other and shifting your weight from one booted foot to the other.

"D-Disappointed?" Bob asked, setting his duffel bag down next to yours. "No. I was hoping it was you. I still can't believe you noticed me."

You giggled, a cute, surprised expression on your face. "Bob, you were the most noticeable guy onboard!"

Bob inched closer to you, but you didn't back away. You actually stepped right into his personal space and ran your palms up to his shoulders and kissed him softly. Desire bloomed through his body, and as you pulled away from him, Bob leaned down for another kiss. His glasses bumped your cheek, but you didn't seem to mind as you kissed him over and over, until he felt a little dizzy. 

His glasses were askew, but he could clearly see the gentle flutter of your lashes as you opened your eyes and gazed up at him.

"Do you want to go grab lunch with me?" you asked, your expression so open and your face so pretty. "I want to hear all about Montana in your sexy voice."

"Yes, of course." Bob blushed and fixed his glasses, but he scooped up both duffel bags and followed you along the dock, listening to you gush about how strong he was. 

The last thing Bob heard as he disappeared into the crowd with you was Jake wolf whistling and Nat yelling, "Go Bobby!"

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

Bobby!!! So noticeable!!! Thanks to @thedroneranger for helping me shape this fic together!

@theamuz

@cherrycola27

@katiedid-3

@mak-32

@bradshawsbitch

@beyondthesefourwalls

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@endofdays56

@avaleineandafryingpan

@t-nd-rfoot

@wkndwlff

@eddiemunsonreader @wintercap89

@the-fever-of-mankind

@yanna-banana

@lovingperfectionsblog

@daisydont-lie

@sappy-seresin

@birdy-bat-writes

@cutelittlefakejourneys

@cottagecori

@fandom-princess-forevermore

@sotalife

[jestroer]

My pretty late entry for @redscapeweek day 4 - Tailor

Which is a fanart for an amazing piece of redscape fanfiction featuring tailor Mumbo and transfem Scar - Oh to be pretty by @bedazzledpiss! So go read it!!

[bradshawsbitch]

best friend | bob floyd x f!reader

a second part

this fic is for @roosterforme 's Valentines Day challenge - #love is in the air tgm! for this fic I chose the song 'You're My Best Friend' by Queen - count on me to make the simpiest song on earth a smidge angsty!

disclaimer; as always with me - I set out to write fluff... and I have to go through the five stages of grief first apparently. this did not turn out quite like I first thought, but I hope you'll like it still! it does have a fluffy ending!

plot; bob has always known he needs you. but perhaps he needs you more than he himself knows?

warnings; fluff with a small preamble of angst, female!reader, no use of y/n, uranium mission, mentions of earlier overconsumption of alcohol, mentions of bloody nose, mentions of throwing up, cursing, cuddling naked (is this a warning? i don't know. it's in there), l-bombs, bob tying your shoes bc heart eyes.

word count; ~3.4K

tagging people who might like; @theharddeck @rhettabbotts @lt-bradshaw @roleycoleyreccenter @sebsxphia @laracrofted @gretagerwigsmuse @hangmanbrainrot @hangmanapologist

◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇

‘you make me live’

Robert Floyd was a very clean-cut man. His glasses, the birth control ones, were neat and tidy on his face, rarely crooked, and rested (a little uncomfortably if he were allowed to complain) against the bridge of his nose. He much preferred his old ones, the ones that he had had as a teenager, horn rimmed and snug and comfortable against his nose. But those had broken during a stint he’d pulled just before he joined the Navy, and thus - birth control goggles it was for him. To be fair he figured it suited his new lifestyle better. Neat. Unassertive. 

As a teen, Robert, at that time most known as Robby, was not quite as tidy and neat as he was now. The Robert that you, his best friend, had come to know was definitely on the more rowdy side. He drank quite heavily, and had the occasional smoke as well - something he was fairly certain would shock Hangman’s smirk right off his face if Bob ever wished to shatter the illusion of naivety he’d shouldered. 

It would sometimes irk Bob when people at first construed him as meek. Sure, he’d never been the most social butterfly, and meeting new people always seemed a bit daunting no matter how much practice he had. He figured that might be why he had drank so heavily in his late teens. He’d wanted to be able to talk to people and not feel as if he wanted to sink through the floor because he stuttered once.

After every stutter he uttered, Bob cursed up a storm in his head at his own incompetence. He was far from upset though, he was fucking pissed. How was it that he knew exactly what he wanted to say, yet his tongue betrayed him so wholly? It hardly seemed fair that he actually had so much to say, yet didn’t possess the ability to voice it. If people only knew how eloquent he had sounded in his head.

He guessed that’s why he liked you so much. That first time that you met, and Robert’s tongue had done its best to trip him up at every turn, you’d just smiled warmly at him - eyes twinkling with genuine interest as he spoke. The more you gave him your undivided attention, without letting your gaze flicker away from his face, the more confident Bob had grown - as if his mouth and tongue suddenly remembered how to do their jobs properly when he felt more relaxed, and as if he wasn’t in a rush to say what he wished before the recipients focus had been drawn elsewhere. 

You had waited patiently, and you’d replied with such care that he felt taken aback that you’d actually remembered most of his monologue. Since then, Bob had barely gone a day without speaking to you. It didn’t matter much what time of day it was, or how long you spoke, or how. Through the phone, via FaceTime or in person, Bob just needed to hear your sweet voice. Needed you like the air he breathed.

It had been that way ever since you met, and you had helped him when he needed it the most. Just before he had managed to make his drinking an unsalvageable problem, you had reminded him that he was valuable without the confidence that beverages lended him.

With you he never felt the need to put on any bravado or show. He had barely touched a drop of alcohol since his nineteenth birthday, and he never felt the urge to start up again. Bob had figured out that people could find him interesting and worthwhile without having the aid of alcohol to loosen his tongue and inhibit his sagacity.

‘whatever this world can give to me, it’s you - you’re all i see’

The world had undoubtedly thrown a few wrenches in Bob’s path. Growing up he’d suffered a lot at the hands of his peers, not really knowing why they felt the need to pick on him in particular. In his mind he didn’t stand out much.

Sure, he might be a bit clumsy sometimes, and he had been a little thinner and ganglier than his fellow classmates - but as he grew that had changed. Now he had defined abs and biceps, and still he didn’t feel entirely comfortable flaunting them on the beach. He preferred to keep a shirt on on the rare occasion he’d make it to the beach, something he knew you didn’t like - but something you didn’t ever push.

Bob was fairly certain most of the people that used to make fun of him had no idea that he was quite sharp, and he was not entirely sure that if he were to explain the intricacies he attended to in the aft seat of the F/A-18F he was usually assigned to, they would most likely come up blank for a response.

Robert was fairly certain anyone could wake him up in the middle of the night and ask him to man the AESA or ATFLIR system and he’d do it half asleep. The only one he’d tried to explain what he did in detail to was you, and only because you had asked and seemed genuinely intrigued - not even his father seemed particularly interested in knowing the heavy weaponry his son was responsible for when Bob tried to talk about it to him when he’d just joined the Navy.

Through any of the hardships Bob went through though, he always had you. You were always just a phone call away, even though Bob preferred to see you in front of him. Robert would never really call himself a liar, he tried his best to always say what was on his mind, no matter the outcome, but he undoubtedly was a liar.

Horribly enough, he was lying to you. And for some time he had definitely lied to himself. He’d almost told you after his situation with Phoenix, that first time he’d have to eject out of a spiraling Super Hornet at such speeds it made him dizzy to think that he’d actually survived. 

He had called you from his hospital bed, voice shaking slightly as he reassured you that he was alright - having to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep from sniffling as he heard your teary voice blubbering how worried you’d been when you had gotten the call that his plane had gone down during a training exercise.

He had made you his emergency contact several years ago at that point. And perhaps your soft sobs was what made him keep his confession close to his chest for just a while longer. If you didn’t know, and he didn’t make it home during the upcoming mission - at least you might not suffer too much from the loss of him. Better to lose a best friend than a lover right? That’s what Bob reasoned. 

‘whenever this world is cruel to me… i got you to help me forgive’

As Phoenix put the Super Hornet down hard on the deck, Bob shook slightly as he swiftly went through his checklist. He was pretty sure his nose was bleeding, and wave after wave of nausea kept hitting him sporadically. He needed to get out of the jet. He needed to breathe fresh air, and most of all - he needed you. Hurrying down the steps, Bob ran as fast as his legs would carry him to the side of the huge ship, emptying the contents of his stomach into the vastness of the ocean below. They had lost Mav. They had lost Rooster. 

What if it had been him and Nat? It just as easily could’ve been. His legs were shaking as the adrenaline from the mission they had just gone through started waning. God, why had he gotten close to any of these people? He knew he had gotten too familiar with all of them after that god damned game day on the beach - he’d told you happily about being perched on Bradley’s shoulders, and you’d laughed and congratulated him on a good game. 

The memory sent another wave of nausea through him and he retched again as warm blood dripped down over his cupid's bow. Just as he was about to rush up to the nearest admiral around and get on his knees to beg them to let him call you, Phoenix showed up at his side, her dainty hand - that had just guided them to safety - landing on his shoulder. Not caring in the slightest, Bob quickly wiped his mouth and nose on his sleeve before roughly pulling her into a bone-crushing embrace, her soft words of reassurances falling on deaf ears. 

“Thank you, Nat. For getting me back.” Bob had, since he had met Natasha, known she would do everything in her power to make sure he made it back, with or without Maverick’s ‘funeral talks’. He watched his pilot clench her jaw, eyes turning misty as she looked up at him and nodded. 

“Likewise,” she said, patting his shoulder again before releasing him swiftly as they both noticed Hangman’s F/A-18E launch off the ship. Nat’s brows were furrowed, and Bob accompanied her as they made their way back towards the others. Fanboy took one look at Bob before offering him a pained look and a baby wipe - Bob knew that Mickey sometimes still threw up after flights, and had them on him at all times just in case. 

“You okay, man?” Fanboy spoke softly to the other wizzo, patting Bob’s back as the taller man thanked him and wiped at his nose and mouth. Bob shook his head somberly, wanting to be anywhere else than where he was right now. With a clarity he hadn’t known in a while, he realized that he craved you. Craved your voice, your touch, your embrace. He needed you.

‘you’re the first one when things turn out bad’

If he had been able to teleport himself to your doorstep right now he’d press you so close to his chest, he’d breathe in your scent, he’d let his lips descend upon yours only to let them never leave their new found home, securely against yours. He’d carry you to bed, and he’d use any excuse to keep you snuggled into his side for days and days. 

As it was, he had no choice but to stay where he was. Perhaps it was best that he did, otherwise he wouldn’t have known that both Mav and Rooster had made it back alive, if barely. Laying down to sleep that night as the waves rocked the ship, he had never felt so exhausted mentally and physically in his life. It felt as if his very essence had been changed through the emotions and experiences he had had during this day. He couldn’t wait to be home. Home with you.

Bob had decided the second the Super Hornet had landed that day that he would be selfish. He would tell you about the feelings he’d harbored for you for years now. It was better than dying and you never even knowing. Never knowing that you were the only one for him, that you were his sunshine, his very reason for breathing. 

‘i’m happy, happy at home’

What Bob hadn’t counted on as he finally was able to make his way towards where people were usually gathered to greet their loved ones, was that you were there. He never had anyone waiting for him, because you lived some ways away, and the rest of his family were all the way over in Montana. Perhaps that’s why he needed to be nudged in the side by Phoenix, the one whom he’d spent the most time showing pictures of you to, before he made out your calls of ‘Robby!’.

His mouth fell open in shock as he saw you sprinting towards him, dropping his duffel bag just in time to be able to catch you in his arms as you barreled into his tall frame. He only had to take a small step back to steady himself, before his arm squeezed hard at your waist and his other cradled the back of your head as he felt you nuzzle into his chest.

He could hardly make out your muffled words, but it did sound an awful lot like his name being repeated over and over again in relief. Relief flooded him too as he took in a shaky breath, overcome by the familiar scent you brought with you. Tears clouded his vision as he pulled you in closer, standing to his full height for a moment, letting your converse clad feet lift off of the pavement.

As the two of you pulled away from one another, he could see tears streaming down your cheeks, and his brows furrowed as he cradled your face between his large palms. 

“Sunshine…” Bob breathed out, a lopsided smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You offered him a teary smile in return. Thumbs soothed over your tear stained cheeks, and Bob took this moment of silence to look you over.

He noticed that in your haste to make it over to him, one of your shoelaces had fallen out of the neat bow you’d no doubt hastily thrown together before leaving to see him. How you’d gotten the information he wasn’t sure, he hadn’t been able to tell you before he left when he’d be back. He figured Phoenix might have something to do with it though. He wondered what she’d told you.

Releasing the hold he had of your face, Robert slowly fell down to kneel by your feet, slowly taking the laces between his nimble fingers, tugging softly to make sure they were tight enough before tying another knot, this time a double bow, to make sure they didn’t fall apart again.

He playfully tugged at the top of the shoe, before he gazed up at you. The expression on your face had his breath leaving his lungs suddenly, and his lips parted in surprise. That look of adoration on your face was so beautiful to him, and to have it directed at him… it was overwhelming. 

“Take me home?” you whispered once he had stood to his full height again, and he wasn’t entirely sure what you meant. He had rented a small flat whilst he was going to be stationed here, so he figured that was home for him right now. Maybe home was wherever you were. Maybe you felt the same. He hoped you did. Bob only nodded before confidently grasping your smaller hand in his, lacing his fingers with yours as you steered him towards your car. 

The ride back to Bob’s rented flat was mostly silent, except for his soft spoken directions. He had yet to let go of your hand, thankful for your automatic car. His thumb stroked over your knuckles, maybe more to soothe himself than you. He felt like he needed to feel your skin against his own, make sure you were real. Make sure he was real too. 

Getting out of the car, Bob swiftly moved to open your door, his hands on your waist the moment you stood up.

“Robby,” you whispered, emotions unknown lacing your tone. Bob couldn’t do this here. Not on the driveway. He ushered you to the door, unlocking it and steering you inside without uttering a word.

“You’re my best friend,”

Bob spoke slowly, letting his cerulean eyes map out your face, every single familiar feature a thing of beauty. Heaving a deep sigh, he again let his palm rest against your cheek as you gazed up at him, that look of adoration still present.

“I love you, sunny,” Bob confessed, his voice breaking at the end of his sentence, overcome by the fact that he might not have made it home to tell you that. You licked your lips as more tears fell from your eyes.

“Phoenix told me you almost didn’t make it home to me,” you replied shakily. He averted his gaze, but you stepped closer, your chest now resting against his own. It forced him to look down at you again, god, you were so close. 

“How could you have left me without telling me that beforehand? I’ve–” you trailed off, a sob shaking you softly. Bob furrowed his brows, letting his arms wound around you to hold you steady against him. 

“I’ve loved you my whole life… ever since I first heard you speak, I’ve loved you,” you cried “as more than a friend. I’ve wanted to be yours for so long, Robby,” Bob groaned, pulling you into a tight embrace, tucking your face into the crook of his neck as his lips found the top of your head.

“Sunny… you’re mine. You’ve always been mine. And I’ve always been yours. I’m sorry–” his voice broke again “I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you. I never in a million years figured I’d be good enough for you,” his voice was raw with emotion, a raspy and deep quality to it that had you momentarily dizzy.

You thought you had heard every iteration of Robert’s voice that there was. Sleepy Robby, angry Robby, sweet Robby, sad Robby… nothing compared to this. Nothing. 

“You stupid, stupid man,” you chastised him, a teary laugh falling from your lips as you broke free from his embrace. Bob had the decency to look bashful as he chuckled, thumb stroking over your cheek again. Your own hand raised, fingertips ghosting over his cheeks, the harsh feel of his stubble unusual for you. Your exploration continued slowly, before your thumb graced Bob’s lower lip, hearing his breath stutter in his throat. 

“Kiss me, Robby,” you spoke softly, glancing up at those cerulean eyes you loved so much. The groan that left Bob was otherworldly to you as he cupped your face in between his palms, his warm lips descending upon yours as your eyes fluttered closed.

Bob could swear he’d never felt anything like it as his lips were met with your warm and plump ones, moving so slowly and deliciously against his own, small sighs making him a little crazy. He couldn’t get enough of the feeling. You felt like home. Hesitantly, Bob let his tongue wet your bottom lip, and the way you let him deepen the kiss had another groan leaving his lips as your tongue met his slowly. 

“I never want to leave you again,” Bob leaned his forehead against yours as his eyelids squeezed shut. 

“Then don’t,” you let a soft giggle escape from you. Bob only smiled, before he bent down, letting his hands rest on the backs of your thighs as he hoisted you into his arms. 

“I need snuggles and I need them now,” he simply said as he walked you into his bedroom, carefully helping remove your shoes before he planted you in the middle of the comfortable bed. Removing his own shoes, Bob stripped out of his khaki uniform, leaving him in only his boxers - something you had certainly seen before, but something beautiful nonetheless.

He moved to climb onto the bed with you, but you held up your palm, stopping him momentarily as you wiggled out of your jeans and your top - needing to feel Bob’s skin against yours. 

Bob offered you the softest of smiles before he laid down beside you, keeping a small distance between your bodies, not wanting to make the first move at touching you. Rolling your eyes, you muttered “silly man” before promptly draping your thigh over his, letting your stomach and chest snuggle close into his warm skin, your head resting against his neck. 

“Thank God,” Bob sighed, kissing your forehead as his strong arms wrapped around your midsection, his fingers tracing patterns on your bare skin. The same fingers that only hours ago had frantically manned the countermeasures and systems needed to get out safely. Bob squeezed his eyes shut before he took a shuddering deep breath.

“Hey, you’re here with me, Robby,” you spoke softly, resting your chin against his chest. “You’re here and you’re mine and I love you so much,” you continued, your fingers raking through his neat hair. He managed a smile, and his body relaxed against yours as he mirrored your movements.

“I’m here… and I’m yours, and I love you,” he repeated slowly, leaning against his forearm as he reached to kiss you again, one hand resting comfortably at the back of your head as his lips moved with yours. He felt your lips turn upwards into a soft smile against his own, and when you broke away from him, he let out a relieved sigh as he fell back against the pillows, eyes closed.

He smiled as he felt you climb on top of him, curling up on his chest, your head resting comfortably on his sternum, your thighs encompassing his hips. His palm softly stroked up and down your spine, and he swore he could almost hear you purring like a cat at his touch. 

Soft kisses were shared between whispered words of comfort and love, and Bob had never thought he could be this lucky, to have his best friend dozing off against his chest, her kisses and her love soothing his rattled soul.  

‘oh, you’re my best friend’

[bird-inacage]

Hello All,

This is just a quick note to say THANK YOU to anyone who may have already read, liked or commented on my Sky x Prapai fic ‘An Admission of Surrender’.

I have now opened a AO3 account, under the pen name [bird00inacage_sings], where this fic can be found. I do plan to continue writing, probably more significantly after this last episode of the series airs (because I’ll be too busy banging on about it).

So if you have enjoyed my writing, then you are very welcome to follow me on there. And we shall continue the Sky x Prapai legacy!

[surrealsunday]

Invisible Ladders

Sky lives by one rule: Alphas are assholes. It’s that simple. And Sky isn’t ever going to be the demure, subservient omega he’s expected to be… never again. That worldview is turned upside down when Prapai steps into the picture – or more accurately, saves Sky’s ass. He’s everything Sky expects – pushy, cocky, arrogant – and everything he doesn’t – genuine, forthright, kind. Sky doesn’t know what to make of him and can’t seem to escape him. And then there’s that small matter of biology…

Fic is fully written, just being edited/ getting social media completed. New chapter posted weekly. Fic is ~205k words

CHAPTER 9

[amiserableseriesofevents]

I firmly believe that Bucky's love language (besides the obvious physical touch) is acts of service - scrounging up the materials for Buck's radio, giving Buck the lucky deuce, getting him a bike, making sure that he's the first of them to try to escape, etc - while Buck's is words of affirmation - "don't you die on me before I get over there", "the last few years would have been a lot rougher without you", "this you will be the one worth knowing", etc.

[imusuallyobsessed]

Whatever happened to Sky’s body, he would endure it. Survive it. In the meantime, Sky just went somewhere else.

Whatever happened to his body, Sky wouldn’t be in it.

+++

Or, the dramatic climax and conclusion. Buckle your seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen.

[ctrl-lupin]

GOD BLESS TMS they finally understood we want domestic polygang