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kcsplace · 3 days

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Don't mind me losing my mind over how happy Don is here, the smile he gives Bobby. He's dying, the man literally has a 104* temperature and has lost like 15 pounds in a week, had to be carried to the boat to row, spends the first 1500m mentally orbiting Jupiter. Then his man cox sings to him to get through his illness-induced-catatonia, sings the song Don played upon Bobby's insistence to give him the stroke rhythm and Don doesn't just respond and give Bobby the 40 he wants, he fucking gives Bobby a grin the size of which we only see when they win.

No person in the film is responsible for a smile from Don except Bobby. He smiles at the ground at the bonfire. He smiles when the crew wins. When the crew is announced to be going to Poughkeepsie. When Bobby flies and then they all leap in too. He smirks momentarily after he finishes the piano, the very piece Bobby pushed him for.

But at a person? For a person? Only once.

For Bobby

And you're gonna tell me I wasn't intended to ship the daylights out of these two?

#Don Hume #jack mulhern #yes I have gone through for all don's little expressions because I am normal #bobby moch #luke slattery #coxstroke #im so normal about don hume and this film #the boys in the boat #tbitb #its never not loving don hume o'clock

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strangethings-everywhere · 3 months

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Bobby Moch would commit homicide for Don Hume but consider… Don would also commit murder for Bobby, he’d just be more anxious about it

#bobby moch #don hume #luke slattery #jack mulhern #the boys in the boat #bobby moch x don hume #coxstroke #Bobby moch is small but mighty

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strokemycoxswain · 21 days

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Prompt:

@savvylittlecoxswain hope this scratches your itch! I’m also open to specific prompts if you got them! I just wanted Bobby drowning a lil bit this time lol.

title: problem solver

genre: angst, whump

pairing: gen, don/bobby if you squint

rating: t

warning: EATING DISORDER, bobby is actively starving himself in this fic, broken bones, near drowning

It’s a typical ideal of 1930s culture that one should earn their meals. Bobby Moch is in a paradoxical position where his meal ticket is the very thing that makes him hungry.

Already being a petite man, Bobby has his diminutive height on his side, but he’s had to fight for his manufactured emaciation since the first time he sat in the coxswain’s perch. Purging, fasting, over-working, hours in the steam room. Anything to be less cumbersome for his crew.

Like anything, it started casual. Now his unanswered appetence buzzes in the back of his skull day in and day out. If I skip this many meals and spit out water for the next two days, I can shed three more pounds and my crew will win gold. And, by God, did his boys look gorgeous in gold.

The crew noticed his odd eating habits, once upon a time. So he stopped eating with them. They didn’t like that, but what are they going to do? Tell him what to do? He’s their coxswain, it’s his job to boss and no one else. What they don’t understand won’t hurt them.

And sure, they boys could handle Bobby’s weight if he was at his healthy one-hundred twenty five pounds. But Bobby’s at his best, his most beneficial, when he’s at one-sixteen. When Bobby’s good, the boys are unstoppable.

So he’s frustrated when he’s got to that one-sixteen goal and the boys’ rowing turns to shit. Don can’t seem to keep up to Bobby’s tempo during practice, Shorty’s been tuckering out too quick, and Roger’s oars have been slapping the water in such a ridiculously clumsy fashion it almost seems intentional.

“Well, boys. Real exciting practice today.” Bobby grins tightly, feeling his eye twitch as they glide slowly back to the dock. Steam comes off of all of the crews’ shoulders and dissipates into the chilled autumn morning - evidence of their effort. His boys try so hard, so what is stopping them from being great? “Y’know, I kinda missed the testicle massages from days of old. I’m so excited we are right back to shaking around like a magnitude seven!”

Not one of them speaks up to defend themselves - even Chuck’s head hangs tucked to his chest. Bobby follows them as they load the shell back into the boathouse. Watching the muscles move under the goosepimpled skin of their backs and calves. They’re perfect. Not without flaw, but they’re perfect to him.

It’s me, he realizes abruptly. I’m keeping the greatness out.

He enters the boathouse to see that they’re all waiting for his closing comments before tucking tail to their dorms. He feels like he’s quaking, thigh muscles tight, as he comes to stand before them. He keeps a stiff upper lip when looking up at their faces. But none of them look too optimistic today. Even Don’s usual attentive gaze is aimed at his shoes.

“This morning wasn’t too hot.” Bobby starts, taking a moment to swallow against the anxious lump and sour hunger stuck in his throat. “Tell me what I can do.”

Eight pairs of widened eyes snap to attention at his request. There’s a current of worry emanating from them. Joe and Don look particularly freaked by the switch in Bobby’s demeanor.

“What can I do to make it work?” Bobby rephrases, singling Don out with his gaze. He knows his first stroke will be honest with him.

But Don stays silent, eyebrows creased and lips set in a severe frown.

“Bob.” Joe speaks up, stepping slightly forward. “We just need to work some stuff out. As a team.”

“Yeah.” Stub agrees quickly. “It’s not on you.”

Bobby nods, trying and failing to be convinced by their objections. He will work it out on his own, then.

“That’s that, then.” Bobby tries to sound enthused, but his stomach is doing flips and he feels like shame is the only thing left inside of him at this point in his twenty-four hour fast. “Teamwork.”

They break and he can hear Don following him close behind. He glances over his shoulder and the stroke’s expression is still shadowy with doubt.

“Can’t visit tonight.” Bobby says without turning to look at Don or even stop walking. “Got lots of homework. Law school. You understand.”

And Don’s footsteps silence but they don’t retreat. Bobby can feel Don’s gaze follow him until he’s no longer visible to him.

Bobby was going to break his fast after practice. A reward for good progress. But he thinks better of it tonight, being that there was no progress at all.

And if he goes back to the steam rooms and marinates for an hour or so, no one has to know.

—

It’s like someone flipped a switch at the next day’s practice. Don and Shorty move like steel machines and Roger is perfectly oiled and in sync with the rest of them.

Bobby’s so relieved that he’s practically singing to them as they drill. Yelling so hard into the megaphone that he’s sure Don’s face is being constantly misted with his spit.

They go and go and go. And go and go and go.

And it’s like they’ve suddenly rowed into an anti-gravity dimension, because Bobby feels like the world is being flipped upside down around him. His heart begins to pound and his eyes can’t focus and his mouth goes chalk dry. And whatever Don is saying to him sounds like gibberish.

Mindless, he wraps his rudder cord around his wrist tightly to try and ground himself. But the boat must be hitting some severe wake because his body is tipping over the side of the boat and hitting the freezing, black water below.

The cord around his wrist catches as his body twists into the river and a sickening, zipping CRACK!emanates from his pinky finger down to his triquetral bone. He opens his mouth to cry out, in confusion more than anything, and gets a lung full of liquid.

He’s barely under the water for thirty seconds, sinking like a rock, but it feels like he’s drowning for a good five minutes by the time he feels big hands grasp him around his chest and pull him back to the surface. His lungs feel like they’re shredding apart and he can’t get a breath in. He grips hard onto whoever has him with his good hand.

“Grab him!” Don’s usually quiet voice booms close to his ear. “Joe, pull him in!”

Another pair of giant paws grasp him under his arms and yank him back into the shell. His broken hand smacks the bow as he’s settled across Don’s seat and the boat begins to jostle as it moves toward the docks. Finally gasping in a hiccuping breath, he doesn’t have the sense to stop the scream from ripping out of his throat.

“What’s going on? Bobby!” Someone, it sounds like Roger, asks as the boat slams against the wooden planks of the dock.

Arms lift him up out of the boat and roll him so that he’s on his side with his good hand tucked under his head and his bad one draped on his side. Someone’s hand, burning blood hot compared to Bobby’s freezing, shriveling skin, begins to rub at his sternum roughly.

“Let it out, Bob.” Joe coaxes from above Bobby, voice urgent and teetering on this side of panicked. “Spit it up.”

And almost like Bobby’s body was waiting for permission, murky river water rushes back up his esophagus and bursts from his mouth.

“Johnny.” Don’s voice is breathy but even as he pulls himself up onto the dock. Staring at Don’s sopping shoes from his lying position, Bobby realizes that his first stroke swam to shore behind them. “Run to the infirmary. Have them bring a backboard or something.”

“Nuh…” Bobby objects sluggishly. His tongue feels leaden and too thick in his mouth and he feels like his chest is full of mud. “I c’n walk.”

Johnny’s retreating steps are a quick, short staccato as he runs off towards the campus infirmary.

“Shut up, Bobby.” Chuck snaps, sounding hysterical.

“Duh fuhh you jus’ say tuh m’?” Bobby tries to sit up but his hand hurts too bad to move and Joe’s hands feel like they weigh a ton each.

“Stay down.” Chuck commands as clarification.

“Calm down.” Joe warns.

Don hunches down over Bobby, water dripping onto Bobby’s numb cheek.

“You think he’s sick?” Joe asks Don as the first runs a careful, reverent finger along Bobby’s quickly swelling wrist.

“I don’t know.” Don murmurs from between his teeth. “His wrist is probably broken.”

“‘m righ’ ‘ere!” Bobby protests them speaking over him like he’s an invalid. Like he’s not completely in control.

Maybe I’ve lost control, he realizes seeringly.

“I got him a blanket!” Shorty’s breathless voice calls out from far away, like he’s also been running around. A blanket is tucked around Bobby’s body a moment later, effectively blocking out the stabbing wind.

“Th’nks.” Bobby’s teeth clatter as he begins to shiver profusely. He sneaks a blurred glance up at Don and can make out the tremble of the younger man’s lower lip too. “Yuh col’, D’n?”

Don shakes his head, sharing a loaded look with Joe. The blond second stroke is contemplative from his position behind Bobby’s shoulder, keeping his coxswain propped on his side.

“Are you sick, Bobby?” Don asks earnestly, his hand coming down to feel Bobby’s cold, flushed cheek. “What happened?”

“‘M jus’ h’ngry.” Bobby admits, his inhibitions having vanished with his body heat.

“Hungry?”

“Yuh. Needa eat.”

“How long has it been since you ate last?”

Bobby feels bone tired and drunk now. His visions swims so that Don’s face just looks like a pale smudge against the grey backdrop of the morning.

“Coupla days…” And Bobby falls off the edge of the dark again.

—

Bobby wakes in the hospital a few hours later. Not the school infirmary, but the hospital.

God, his boys are so damn dramatic.

Don is sitting in the visitors chair with his chin tucked to his slowly rising chest. Bobby knows he’ll wake up with a crick in his neck.

He looks down at his own bed. His right hand is wrapped in a stiff cast and he’s got two layers of blankets tucked tightly around his torso and legs. There’s an IV bag dripping into a tube that’s connected to the crook of his elbow.

He feels like shit.

“Don.” Bobby calls as loud as he can; his throat sounds ripped apart. “Donny, you’re gonna hurt yourself sleeping like that.”

Don picks his head up slowly, blinking hard. His eyes are red and his dark circles look purple under the hospital lighting. He silently stands and walks to the side of Bobby’s bed.

They stare at each other for a moment. They are good at communicating silently - it’s Don’s preferred method, after all.

Bobby’s eyes say Sorry?

Don’s say Don’t scare me like that, idiot!

Don immediately manipulates the hospital bed and Bobby’s weight so that the coxswain is propped up in a sitting position. The younger man then reaches down to a place next to the bed where Bobby can’t see and brings a mug and a package of saltines back up.

“You’re going to drink this. All of it.” Don informs Bobby, holding out the mug.

Bobby takes the lukewarm mug dumbly and looks into it. It looks and smells like chicken broth. He takes a sip and the saltiness is so good his eyes nearly roll back.

“You’re going to finish these.” Don continues, holding up the crackers before sitting the package in Bobby’s lap.

And Bobby isn’t sure what to say. Don’s smart, he’s got Bobby figured out. But the coxswain will probably never find the courage to explain himself. Instead, he takes steady sips from his soup mug in order to smooth the crease between Don’s eyebrows.

Bobby stomach feels heavy and otherwise unexplainable as he opens the package of saltine’s under his first seat’s steady gaze. There’s nowhere for him to go to hide and purge out of sight after this. He will have to sit and digest this in Don’s presence.

Things will inexplicably change. Not just between him and Don. But with the whole team. A knot pulls itself tight in his chest. He realizes that he will mourn his starving like a dead friend.

But as he works through his meager dinner, watching Don watch him as his hands smooth the blankets on Bobby’s legs like he’s petting him, Bobby feels like he can figure a new strategy. He’s a problem solver, after all.

#my fic #don hume #the boys in the boat #tbitb #bobby moch #coxstroke #jack mulhern #don and bobby #joe rantz #callum turner #luke slattery #fic prompt

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thunderstorm-in-technicolor · 3 months

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*cracks knuckles* another coxstroke fic is in the works.

i can’t say too much… except maybe it has a touch of possessive!don in it

#liv talks #the boys in the boat #bobby moch #don hume #coxstroke #don hume/bobby moch

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sparrow-in-the-field · 29 days

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Not sure it's enough of an idea for a full fic, but this morning I'm thinking about Don finding out about Bobby's childhood botched appendix surgery for the first time.

Bobby doesn't ever talk about it to crew, so the only reason it comes up is after the first time they're intimate together, and Don asks what the scar is from.

Bobby tells him, his tone casual; he doesn't talk about it with friends or crew, but it's been a part of his life for long enough that he's used to talking about it when he has to, like at doctor's appointments, with family members; hell, even the coaches know about his medical history for him to be allowed on the team.

So he talks about it to Don the same way, with relative ease. Don's gone quiet, but he's often quiet.

"So yeah, that's why I ended up so small, kinda stunted my growth. I guess almost dying as a kid can do that to you," Bobby says, maybe still too casually, because suddenly Don's hand holding his tightens.

Bobby looks over to him--his gaze had wandered off as he talked--and finds Don's eyes looking at him, wide and concerned.

"You almost died," Don whispers.

Bobby can't tell if it's a question or a statement, but he can tell that Don's upset, and his heart swells with warmth. Damn this absolute sweetheart of a man.

"Oh, baby. It was a long time ago. Everything worked out, I'm okay," Bobby comforts him. He lifts himself from lying at Don's side to straddle his waist instead, sitting on top of him and lowering his face to be close to Don's, hands threading into his hair. "I'm here right now, aren't I?"

Don swallows hard, his eyes glisten a bit as he blinks a few times, and then he nods. Bobby smiles at him, lowering himself further to pepper kisses over his face, muttering, "I'm okay now. It's okay."

Don eventually breaks into a smile over the kisses, and his hand finds Bobby's nape to guide him into a kiss on his lips.

They don't talk about it much after that, which Bobby is fine with since there's not much more to say. He's still glad Don knows, and he can more comfortably bring up stories from his childhood that make sense with the context.

Don seems to understand, and he doesn't treat Bobby any different, like a fragile thing now, which is a relief.

The only thing that really changes is that when they're intimate, as Don's lips wander over his body, he will make sure to press a kiss to the scar on Bobby's torso.

#the boys in the boat #bobby moch #don hume #bobby moch x don hume #ficlet #idk they're just soft #coxstroke

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savvylittlecoxswain · 7 days

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Growing up, Bobby was accustomed to feeling pain when someone touched him. His body would ache so much from the infection running rampant in his body that he couldn’t even handle the loving touch of his parents, nevermind the doctors’ and nurses’ poking and prodding. Even now that he isn’t pain, he still carried an aversion to touch into his young adult years.

Most people don’t ask before touching him, so when Don asks he can’t help but cry.

#and Don is all ‘nonononononono what did I do? what did I do??’#cue all the boys freaking out like ‘DON! WTF did you do?’#‘why is he leaking? Don whY IS HE LEAKING?’#‘Someone go get Coach I think Don broke Bobby!’#and Al comes out and just quietly backs away like ‘gEORGE? Hume broke Moch’#Pocock comes out from his workshop and stops at the landing of stairs and is like ‘he didn’t break him he fixed him’#the boys in the boat #bobby moch #boys in the boat #boys n boats #bobby and his boys #botched appendectomy #bobby moch needs a hug #someone write this please 🙏#coxstroke #don hume #Bobby and Don

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shadowquill17 · 7 days

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I previously made a post badly summarizing my WIPS, and one of my TBITB projects was this one:

Step Up or Shut Up: Local Short Guy is mad at his teammates for being 1) not as motivated by rowing as he is and 2) raging dickhead assholes. Also he can't help but notice the cute freshman that just started rowing in one of the other boats.

If that spoke to you at all, I've got great news, chapter 1 is out! With a somewhat calmer title and hopefully better summary.

Bobby wants a crew he can trust. He wants a stroke he respects, and who respects him. He wants crewmates ready to work for greatness. Instead he gets Wink Winslow’s crew and Bo Billings, a spoiled asshole who cares more about making a point than about rowing and who is determined to make Bobby quit so he can get his old cox back. So now Bobby has to scheme and plot just to win over his own crew and convince Ulbrickson he does deserve to be coxing an eight, thank you very much. Meanwhile, he can’t stop noticing the really cute and impossibly talented stroke in the new freshman boat. As if he doesn’t have enough on his plate.

#bobby moch #my fics #tbitb #the boys in the boat #my posts #don and bobby #coxstroke #sox #tbitb fanfiction

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arokel · 2 months

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WIP WEDNESDAY

aka time to unveil my hyperspecific 1960s lesbians au

The fair had been open for a week now and the day was cloudy and threatening rain, but Bobbi Moch couldn't have cared less. She hadn't even brought an umbrella. Well. She might have cared a little. Because right beside her in line for the Monorail was Don, and Bobbi might have gone a little heavier on the hairspray than usual just to make sure her updo would stay nice the whole time they were out. Even though Don had seen her sweaty and red-faced in Old Nero, hair tossed by wind and frizzed by the spray from their oars, she wanted to look as nice as she could for just this one day. It was a special day, after all - one Bobbi had been waiting for with just as much excitement and anticipation as Century 21. That Don had even accepted her invitation to the exposition was special in itself. Don didn't like crowds, and she didn't really like going out with other girls to places where it might look like a date - especially with Bobbi, tiny compared to Don in her plaid dress and patent leather shoes, her glossy hair flipped up at the ends and her pale pink lipstick. Standing next to Don in her trousers and blouse, curly hair cut short around her ears, they might have looked to some people like boyfriend and girlfriend. That sort of misconception always made Don even shyer than normal. Only this time it really was a date. Or at least Bobbi hoped so.

aka aka

thanks to @jondoe-inspiration for the tag! tagging @icegreyrose and @strangethings-everywhere and anyone else who wants to jump in <3

#i'm calling the ship bobbysox because coxstroke feels innacurate in this instance #the boys in the boat #don hume/bobby moch #don hume #bobby moch #bitb fic #don is short for donna in case you were wondering

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clearskiesovertinseltown · 1 month

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ITS SPRING BREAK YALL KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS TIME TO WRITE

-600 word research paper

-memoir for creative writing class

-outline and hopefully begin writing coxstroke hunger games au

-rwrb rowing au

-coxstroke modern setting smut 🤭

-outline part one of my novel

-final draft of my one-act play!! public staged reading in t-minus three weeks!!!

-thorough character breakdowns for a blog im working on, ensemble drama/comedy narrative piece thats kinda just crack

-probably more that im forgetting rn

#the boys in the boat #bobby moch #don hume #bobby moch x don hume #coxstroke fanfic coming SOON

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kcsplace · 2 days

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Are there any Coxstroke fics with Bobby extremely turned on when Don fought with Joe? He's frustrated and wound up as hell because the crew is out of sync, but then Don is swearing and gesticulating and more animated than Bobby has ever seen and he really likes it

Please god don't make me write it myself I beg of you. Because this??