#his brother drowned in his backyard pool

[herawell]

.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader[4.3K] loosely based on the movie float, lifeguard!steve, a summer full of swim lessons. mentions of drowning, eventual smut 18+

SWIM LESSON SCHEDULE

LESSON #2

[Six Months Before]

Steve Harrington was standing in Tammy Thompson’s backyard, bumping his knuckles against Eddie’s as the boy approached with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s in his hand.

Eddie had dragged you out, brown eyes pleading as per, promising he’d score big at this party and he’d definitely buy you a burger and shake with his takings on the way home. Midnight, he’d said, swear it, he’d said. But the clock in Tammy’s moms kitchen was ticking towards one o’clock and when Eddie spotted Steve - and Jonathan Byers - out by the pool, you’d made the decision to hang back.

They were too close to the water, the lagoon shaped pool lit up in the night by an underwater glow, yellow-white spotlights that made sure you could see just how deep it was. There were some girls hanging close by, dresses and skirts rucked up their thighs and their shoes long lost as they dipped their legs into the bright blue water, pink lips around cherry vodka bottles and their eyes on the boys - a potential ride home in more ways than one.

“M’not gonna let you just fall into the pool,” Eddie had frowned when you’d told him you’d wait inside. “Who even does that anyway? You’re not wasted enough for that sweetheart.”

And you weren’t. Barely tipsy, actually. 

But the pool took up most of the patio space and other people were drunk, stumbling around the yard and trying to dance to the music that came from the open kitchen door. The water was too much, too deep, too blue, too dark.

And Steve Harrington was too pretty and intimidating - but you didn’t tell Eddie that part.

Jonathan spotted you over Eddie’s shoulder and waved, smiling kindly before he said something that made Eddie’s eyes light up with excitement. And that was okay because Jonathan was quiet and sweet and always polite to you, commenting on the books he’d see you reading when he passed you in town and sometimes he’d bump into you during Eddie’s hellfire meetings, passing as he picked up his little brother.

Steve, you didn’t see as much. Only from afar, usually. He was quieter than he’d been in high school, crownless and a little softer around the edges than when you sat two rows behind him in Mrs Click’s class. But Robin had a lot of things to say about him, gentle ribbing that was always wrapped in a fondness anyone with eyes could see and for a while, you thought that maybe they were a thing until Robin had vehemently told you that they were everything but.

Platonic with a capital P, she’d told you, popping the last letter and hiding the burn in her cheeks. 

But still, you knew he gave her rides to work before he drove himself to the pool, acting oblivious and almost uncomfortable when the hoards of freshman girls made a point to pick the loungers closest to the lifeguard tower. 

Not that you’d ever seen such a thing. But Robin liked to poke fun and Eddie was a bigger gossip than the cheerleader he used to date during his sophomore year. 

So really, you had once mused, there wasn’t really any reason to be so avoidant of Steve Harrington now. Except, once you finally admitted to yourself you had an awfully bad crush on him, that was excuse enough. He would nod and smile politely at you when he ran into you and Eddie around town, at the mall, in the crowds at parties. And on good days, you’d smile back, lips thin and tight in an overly polite grimace of some sort but neither of you attempted to make conversation with each other. Any awkward silences were filled by your mutual friend, Eddie talking loudly and animatedly about whatever topic came to mind, his curls and his laugh both big enough to patch over any uncomfortable silences.

So when a few minutes passed with you staring into your drink, watching the ice cubes melt into whatever concoction Eddie had handed you, you didn’t expect Steve to appear beside you. He was busying himself with the stack of beers on the kitchen counter beside you, but he cleared his throat all the same, unsure about it as he gained your attention. But he was looking at you, purposeful, as if his elbow softly knocking yours wasn’t an accident. 

His gaze was still holding yours as he popped the cap off of a bottle of bud light lime, the cap hitting the floor. You blinked at him, eyes only straying for a second to see that Eddie was still out by the pool talking to Johnathan and some other guy you didn’t know. Brows furrowed, you turned back, lips parting to ask if everything was okay, because why else would Steve Harrington be looking at you. 

But then he was talking, smiling sweet and kind and holding a little of that confidence you knew back in school. It was still there, that self assurance that he had years ago, but it was muted, a boldness that wasn’t quite dimmed but definitely softened. It made him seem even more intimidating, prettier with his messier hair and scruff along his jaw, his clothes less tight and pressed. 

“You doin’ okay?” 

You blinked again, wondering if he really was talking to you. But there was no one else around and you gripped your cup a little tighter, nodding before you could make a fool of yourself. “Me? Yeah. Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Steve shrugged, smiling as he took a sip from his beer and he gestured out to the patio, to the pool and to Eddie who was grinning at you. “Just wondered why you weren’t coming out, that’s all. You’re normally glued to Munson.”

You scrunched your nose, cheeks warming because he wasn’t wrong, but the reminder of how close you usually stuck to Eddie made you feel younger, childlike. 

“It’s not like… that,” you explained, although you weren’t sure why you were bothering. “Us. Eddie and I- it’s not like we’re together, or anything.” You immediately regretted your words, the explanation feeling thick and clumsy on your tongue and your neck was burning, heat creeping up along your jaw.

Steve was still smiling, grin hid behind his beer and his brows were raised. He looked amused, nodding as you stumbled around each word and when you frowned, gulping down your watery cranberry and vodka, he grinned wider. “Yeah, no-- I know,” Steve assured you. He shrugged, “still, thanks for the clarification. S’good to know.”

You never found out what he meant by that, if he was being funny or just friendly, if he was flirting and genuinely interested. A neighbour called the cops and Eddie grabbed you before they could come through the front door, boosting you up by the foot so you could both scramble over the back fence. Steve had left with Jonathan and his girlfriend Nancy, the three of them running to Steve’s car just as Chief Hopper started yelling at the drunk kids left behind and you hadn’t so much as glanced back at each other for fear of being dragged home in the back of a cop car. 

The next time you’d spent any real time with Steve Harrington, well. You’d been sinking to the bottom of the lake.  

You were standing by the closed gate of the community pool at seven am sharp, the obnoxiously large lock stopping you from entering - despite the rip in the chain link fence to your right. 

You weren’t waiting long, even though you would’ve happily stayed on the other side of the lot for as long as required. The air was already warming, the scent of chlorine and leftover sunscreen surrounding you, mixing with the sound of the cicadas, the early morning sprinklers from the houses across the road. Then Steve was jogging towards you, one big hand clutching a rolled up towel and a set of keys and his cheeks were pink from his efforts, his sliders slapping on the concrete and he looked apologetic as he approached. 

“M’really sorry, car had a flat,” he huffed. “Would’ve left earlier if I knew I was walking.”

It was harder to look him in the eye after last week. Once the initial fear that had a vice grip on you loosened - if only slightly - it was easier to become so aware of how close you’d been to Steve. A whole morning spent half clothed and wet, his hands on you at all times, gentle and guiding as he coaxed you to walk around the shallow end of the pool. He’d been nothing but a gentleman about it, professional at all times with his hands either in yours or bracing your arms, never straying anywhere they shouldn’t, even if you’d caught his eyes going just that, maybe once or twice. 

You pulled at the collar of your t-shirt as Steve busied himself with the padlock, the air so much stickier now that he was close by. “It’s okay,” you told him. “I’m not in a rush.”

Steve snorted and it shouldn’t have been an attractive sound as it was. His eyes crinkled in amusement, mirth in them as he glanced down at you from under his lashes. He still looked soft from bed, hair mussed and a five o’clock shadow across his jaw that suited him too well. His lifeguard shirt was sunbleached and threadbare, the red shorts he wore smaller than his last pair, the material well above his knees. He was more sunkissed than last weekend, freckles on the bridge of his nose, cheeks stained a permanent blush. 

“Was your first lesson that bad?” He asked.

You burned, not knowing what to say, not wanting to offend him, not when he was looking at you like that. 

“No,” you squirmed. The lock was open now but neither of you moved. “I mean, yeah, but not— not as bad as I thought. It was okay.”

Steve  grinned like he knew something you didn’t, nodding slowly as he held the gate for you. “It was okay,” he repeated back, “I’ll take it.”

The pool was as blue and as intimidating as the first week, the generator humming and the filter trickling softly as you walked around it, giving the edge a wide berth. If Steve saw you frown and the dark blue depths, he didn’t say anything. Instead, you both dropped your towels and bags on a lounger and the boy didn’t so much as blush as he stripped off his shirt, throwing it alongside everything else. 

“You wanna get changed?” He asked, already busying himself with pulling some floats out of a shelving unit. “I’ll get everything sorted and you can—”

You were stripping off your own shirt before Steve could finish his sentence, the words getting stuck in his throat as you revealed the same old black swimsuit underneath your clothes. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen already, but you couldn’t help but feel flustered as you popped the button of your shorts, the denim dragging down your hips. You didn’t look at him as they slid off your legs, your feet clumsy as you tried to toe off your sneakers and step out of your shorts all at once. 

Steve was pink, even if you didn’t see it, his whole body turning from you abruptly as he decided what else he might need to take from storage. A pool noodle fell to the floor as you bundled up your clothes and chucked them onto the chair, both of you decidedly not looking at each. 

“Uh, right.” Steve dragged a hand through his hair, the soft ends immediately falling back across his forehead. He looked like he’d already caught most of the morning’s sun as he finally glanced at you, the tips of his ears a little pink. “Let's get started.”

—————

Your arms were crossed over your chest as you stood waist deep in the pool, partly for a little cleavage cover, mostly because you were cold. Your skin had prickled as you entered the water the same way as last time, step by step into the shallows, with Steve by your side. He didn’t hold your hands, but one of his hovered by your elbow the whole way down, ready to catch you if you stumbled, if you felt less than brave. 

He murmured soft encouragement the whole way down, a new praise falling from his lips at each stair and when you made it onto the pool floor, he’d grinned. 

“Look at you go, we’ll have you swimming lengths in no time.”

You couldn’t work out if he was joking or not, and the idea of going to the other end of the pool was enough to make your stomach churn, the lucky charms you’d shovelled into your mouth before leaving turning acidic. Still, you grinned - grimaced, maybe - and made a strange noise at the back of your throat. Steve thought it was supposed to be a laugh. 

“Ha— yeah, sure, maybe in a while.”

So Steve just smiled and left it at that. Then he was wading a little deeper, the water moving from his upper thighs and soaking his shorts, the cherry red turning scarlet, a deeper colour that you couldn’t help but stare at and then the pool swallowed his lower body, the ripples catching around his hip bones. 

He was facing you as he moved, arms out and hands coaxing, encouraging you to follow and when he saw the look of panic in your face, he stopped walking. “Hey, hey,” his voice was soft, just like the morning. It was all hazy skies, a blue-lavender fuzz and the trickle of water, the smell of chlorine and sunscreen and Steve Harrington’s wide, brown eyes. “Look, yeah? We’re not going any deeper than this, I promise. ‘N I’m right here.”

You remembered how you told him you trusted him, just seven days ago. How he’d told you in return that he’d come get you, just like he had before. It felt rude to question the man who’d once saved your life but still, you hesitated, arms still curled around your chest like you could anchor yourself to that spot. 

But then Steve held out his hand, palm up and resting on top of the surface. The blue of the pool made his skin look even more tanned, sunkissed and glittering with droplets of water, beads of it sliding off of his forearm, pooling in the middle of his hand. He wiggled his fingers at you. 

You didn’t even know you were reaching out to him until his hand curled around yours, bigger and wider and warmer despite the way you were still adjusting to the colder temperature. The sticky heat of the morning air didn’t do much for the large pool, the water still nipping at your skin as you moved through it. 

“There you go,” Steve praised, smiling wide and earnest as you took a step. “There she is, ladies and gents, Hawkins next high diver—”

You scoffed, eyes rolling and cheeks sore when you grinned, unable to help it. But you were still moving, baby steps towards Steve and the gasp that left your lips as the water crept up towards the line of your belly button was due more to the cold than the depth. 

Steve held your hand tightly, a solid grip, your own kind of anchor. 

“Alright, see?” He was beaming, eyes squinting through the rays of the sun that bounced off the surface and he was too pretty with it, painted in the reflections of the ripples and stripes of rainbow. “You did it, you’re killing this.”

You didn’t point out that you hadn’t technically done any real swimming yet, but the fact you were standing further into the pool than you were seven days ago felt momentous. Eddie had spent countless summers trying to even coax you inside the property line, sunscreen smeared on his nose and pleading in his eyes. 

“You still trust me?” Steve asked, eyes bright and earnest and god, it was impossible to say no. So you nodded, throat feeling a little thick and the words lost behind your teeth but you did and you meant it. And that only made Steve smile wider. “Good. We’re gonna practice floating, okay?”

The idea of it made your chest feel heavy, a sure fire sign that it wasn’t going to go as well as Steve had planned. Letting the water take control of your weight seemed impossible and the task of taking your feet off of the solid tiles at the bottom of the pool was nightmare inducing. But Steve was moving closer, his hand still in yours and his free one grazing your spine. His fingertips skimmed over your back, guiding you in front of him and turning you to the side as he spoke the whole time. 

“It’s easy, right?” He explained, your shoulder brushing his bare chest and you tried not to think about it all too much, tried not to panic despite the way your heart was thundering so hard it was a wonder Steve couldn’t hear your ribs rattle and crack. “M’gonna help, I won’t let you go, I promise. You just gotta let yourself lie back, just a little. I’ll help you do the rest.”

You laughed at him, his words, his positivity that was brighter and warmer than the whole of June and July. It was a gasping, mocking thing, a laugh that got stuck in your throat and the mere suggestion of letting your body fall backwards into the pool was enough to make your eyes dart for the safety of the stairs. 

“I— I can’t. I can’t do that,” you told him, eyes wide and head shaking furiously. “That’s just— no. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Maybe you tried to move away, to take a step towards the shallow edge of the pool, or maybe you only imagined you did. Because Steve’s hand was flat against the curve of your back and his palm nearly took up the whole god damn space there. His fingers curled around your own, his thumb running over the bumps of your knuckles. Steve bent a little, knees folding under the water to bring his face down level with your own and he looked so serious when he said: 

“Hey, listen, alright? I know it’s scary. But I promise you, I won’t let you go. You’re not going to go under.” He licked his lips, eyes searching yours for signs of panic, fear, flight. “I won’t let you go under the water, I swear.”

So you stayed, rooted to the spot but there nonetheless. And with a jerky nod, Steve’s hand squeezed your own and he moved into you. You felt his knees bump under your thighs, rough with coarse hair and lined with more muscle than you had, his hips bumping against the side of you. Suddenly the water didn’t feel as cold as before, the sharp chill of it gone. 

“I just want your to bend your legs, okay? Just a little and then let your feet come up. M’gonna support your back. And remember, you can stand here, yeah? S’not deep, you can stand right back up.”

You mumbled something, confirmation maybe, a curse perhaps, aimed at Steve or Eddie, you weren’t sure. You about your friend who was probably still in his bed, face down and oblivious to the situation he’d once again coaxed you into. But you also remembered how he’d been knee deep in the lake as Steve pulled you out, eyes wide and terrified as he prepared to throw himself into the black water to find you too. 

You lifted one foot, a mere stretch onto your toes, really, but Steve hummed in approval and his hand pressed into your back a little more, a silent promise that he was still there to catch you. 

One foot came off of the pool floor. 

“Thatta’ girl,” Steve whispered and he was close. So close, close enough for the words to feel warm against your temple and you could feel his gaze on the side of your face, watching, waiting. “I’ve got you.”

Another foot came off the tiles. 

You dipped, just a little, just for a second, your shoulders submerging and a shocked gasp ripping from the back of your throat before Steve’s hand on your back was pushing you upwards. You tried to fight it, legs kicking awkwardly until Steve was pushing you again, upupup, and your body broke out of the water, shoulders and back and butt flat against the top of the surface. 

“Keep your legs out straight,” Steve instructed, “let me take your weight, breathe in and out, keep calm.”

It all seemed too much to do at once. 

Your hand was a vice grip around Steve’s, but he didn’t seem to mind. He was watching you, gaze studious and gentle, nodding almost to himself as you tried to do as he told you. Your legs straightened out and stopped kicking, the warm air kissing your shins above the water, your chest shuddering as you sucked in a breath. 

“Uhuh, that’s it. Now just lie back for me, s’alright, I’ve got all of you.”

You choked out a laugh, a cynical sound and Steve’s eyes found yours. You were shaking slightly as you tried to relax, trying to drop your shoulders back into the water. “All of me? You been hitting the gym, Harrington?”

The joke was weak sounding, especially when your lip wobbled too but Steve grinned all the same. The hand on your back moved down a little, settling in the curve there, just above your ass. 

“Thanks for noticing,” he replied softly, a teasing lilt to his voice, a smirk in his smile. “Eddie never compliments me.”

You laughed again, louder this time but just as harsh sounding as before. The water was filling your ears as you lay back, a cold rush to the back of your head and neck as you finally flattened yourself out. 

“What a shit friend,” you managed to choke back. 

Steve let go of your hand with a soft murmur of assurance, quickly placing it beside his other one, both palms supporting your frame. His touch was a delicate thing, the width of each hand encasing your back, keeping you afloat. He was the warmest thing in the water. 

“Right?” Steve whispered, afraid to break the quiet, the spell that you were under. Your eyes were wide and on the sky as you lay there, watching the blue and the pink coloured clouds that were making their way over town. “You’re gonna have to have words with him.”

You nodded before realising the movement made your chin dip, your balance wavering. Your arms that had been floating at your sides tried to claw at something, anything, for purchase but found none and fear seized at your chest again. 

“You’re okay,” Steve told you. “Another deep breath in— there you go. Now, keep your chest and tummy pushed out, okay? Keep it all above the surface, chin up, legs straight, you got it.”

And you did, kinda. The panic that made your chest tight loosened its grip as you let out the breath you’d been holding onto so fiercely. Your legs felt lighter once you stopped fighting the drag of them, your arms floating out to your sides, the back of your right hand brushing Steve’s stomach and you felt the muscles in his abdomen tense. But your eyes were fluttering, lashes blinking against your cheeks as you just let yourself be, your body floating, the cool water lapping at your neck, your face. 

Steve’s hands were sure and steady on your back, never leaving or faltering. In fact they steered you away from the wall and kept you pushed to the surface, gently guiding and encouraging. They made your body feel warmer than the water did, the sun on your front, a dry heat that shone over your face and chest, rainbow spots in your vision and his palms were just as hot under the water. 

He murmured nonsense as he let you balance on his fingertips, always encouraging and soft, pretty praises that made your toes curl into the pool and when he saw the way you trusted him, the way you let him hold you, he stopped talking altogether. 

It was just you and Steve and the water under the sun. 

Fingers danced a line along your spine, one set between your shoulder blades, the other holding you up from the small of your back and it was a shockingly intimate touch, especially when his skin found your own between the straps of your bathing suit. 

Something told you that it would be a bad idea to open your eyes, but Eddie told you bad ideas had good outcomes all of the time. So you did just that, blinking against the sun that was rising as the morning moved on, the sky turning bluer and brighter, but not nearly as warm as Steve’s gaze. 

He was looking down at you, his knees still bent and the water lapping at his chest, his face much closer than you realised. He was smiling, a soft thing that made your heart thunder loud enough to travel through the water, a steady drumbeat in your ears. And when the boy realised you were looking too, his cheeks turned that pretty pink colour, a cotton candy blush that you couldn’t help but stare at and he nodded, clearing his throat before he spoke. 

“You’re doin’ great.”

The water filter trickled somewhere in the background, the sound of someone’s car door slamming in the distance. Apart from that, it was just Steve’s voice over your drum kit of a heart. It took a while for you to nod, water slipping over your chin and lips, tongue licking away chlorine. 

“I’ve got a really good teacher,” you replied. 

[nctnanajaemin]

"my brother's bestfriend" pairing:lee jeno x na!sister reader word count:1.5k chapter three MINORS DNI warnings: smut, cursing, use of pet names (princess), praise, blowjob, cum swallowing.

jaemin decided to have all the guys over to swim today. most of them are in the water and you're sitting on one of the lounge chairs watching them fight over some game they are playing.

"y/nnnnnn." haechan drags out.

"what do you want now, haechan?" you ask with a hint of annoyance in your voice.

they have been nonstop pestering you about getting in the water since they got in.

"get your ass in the water." mark says while swimming over so he's in front of you.

"i said in a little bit."

"you have five minutes, or we both are getting out and throwing you in." mark tells you as they swim back over to the guys.

jeno looks over from where he's sitting on the other side of the pool, his eyes trailing down your body and back up again.

you watch as he continues to check you out, completely oblivious to the fact that you caught him.

you unlock your phone and text him.

you lock your phone and put it back on the table, looking up to see mark and haechan pulling themselves up out of the water.

"why won't you get in the water?" haechan asks, walking over and standing beside your chair.

mark shakes his head and drops of water go everywhere, most of them landing on you.

"stop." you swat at him. "you're getting me wet."

johnny and yuta start laughing, making the rest of them start to laugh as well.

"thats not what i meant." you roll your eyes. "you're all immature."

mark and haechan look at each other and nod before the both of them pick you up and throw you into the pool. you resurface as the others jump in.

"how does the water feel?" mark smirks.

you push the hair out of your face. "you guys suck."

"aw, are you mad." haechan asks, swimming closer to you.

"come any closer and i'm drowning you."

haechan throws his hands up in the air as if he's surrendering. "oooh i'm so scared."

you swim backward, away from haechan, to put some distance between the two of you. as you move away from him, you end up backing into someone. you turn around and jeno is standing in front of you with a smirk plastered on his face.

"jeno's the shark!" mark yells, and everyone scatters to the other side of the pool.

you turn your attention from jeno and look at mark. "shark attack? what are we child-" you cut yourself off when you feel jeno grab your ankle and drag your body underwater.

"the look on your face was priceless." haechan says between laughs after you resurface again.

"he's lucky i didn't accidently kick him in the face.'' you cough out.

you all swim for a little while longer before getting out.

you choose to lay down where you were at previously and jeno moves to the chair beside you.

he looks at you for a moment before talking. "are you mad?"

"no. why would i be mad?" you ask, not bothering to open your eyes.

he messes with the towel in his lap. "because of what happened in the water."

"it's nothing that hasn't happened before." you tell him, finally opening your eyes to look over at him. "and since when do you care if you or the guys piss me off?"

he stops messing with the towel and rests his hand on his lap. "i don't care." he says quickly. "i was just asking because your in a mood now. well moodier than usual. you're always in a mood."

"so you don't care, but you're asking if i'm mad?"

"i just don't want you being bitchy over something that I can easily apologize for."

"i'm not being bitchy." you cross your arms and his eyes immediately look down at your boobs.

"sure you're not, when was the last time you didnt have attitude?"

"probably around the last time that you weren't an asshole."

he lets out a small laugh. "fair enough." he adjusts the way he's sitting in the chair so hes facing you more. "can i ask you something?"

"no."

"i was asking as a courtesy, im still going to ask you anyway" he takes a quick look around the backyard to make sure no one's paying attention to the two of you before looking back at you. "can you do me a favor.

"what kind of favor?" you ask skeptically.

"nothing bad." he shifts in his chair again and looks down, his ears slightly turning red. "i'm just having a little…. situation."

your eyes widen, knowing what he's referring to. "really?" you ask, a smirk appearing on your face.

he looks back up and sees the smirk on your face. "dont look at me like that. just say yes or no."

"go in. i'll follow in a couple of minutes."

he nods and gets up from the chair, heading inside the house.

once you think it's been enough time, you get up from the chair and head inside.

upon opening the door to your room, you find jeno sitting on the edge of your bed.

he has his phone in one hand and is attempting to get himself off with the other.

you shut and lock the door, causing him to look up.

"took you long enough." he tells you, tossing his phone onto the bed beside him.

you walk over and stand in front of him. "yeah, yeah. i'm sorry."

he grabs your hips and pulls you so you're standing in between his legs. his fingers gently trace your hips over the semi wet swimsuit. "i like seeing you in this. you have no idea how bad i've wanted to get you alone all afternoon."

the smirk from earlier returns to your face. "clearly, but how bad?"

"bad enough that i was ready to say forget that we were in front of everyone and pull you into the house."

"you don't have the balls to do that." you whisper, kneeling down in front of him.

you take his length in your hand and open your mouth, letting saliva drip out onto his cock before gently grazing your thumb over his tip.

you look up as he lets out a shaky breath, his eyes locking onto yours.

"you're teasing," he mutters. "don't tease."

you flick your tongue over the tip. "I thought you liked it when I teased."

jeno lets out a low groan, his hand moving to the back of your head. "not right now. we don't have a lot of time and i need you."

you swirl your tongue around his tip before moving down his length. his grip on your hair tightens as he watches you, his breathing growing heavier with each movement of your tongue.

you take him into your mouth and bob your head up and down on his shaft.

"shit." He curses, his hips starting to move in time with your rhythm. "you're so good at this."

you continue to work your mouth up and down his shaft, taking him deeper each time, your hand moving in sync to get what couldn't fit.

"fuck, princess."

you hum around him, the vibrations making him shudder.

you increase your pace, and his moans grow louder, his body trembling as he lets out another soft curse, bucking his hips as he fights to control himself.

"i'm so close", he warns, his voice strained.

you hollow your cheeks and take him as deep as you can, and with a final moan, his body tenses, and he releases into your mouth.

you pull back and swallow, keeping your eyes on him as pleasure washes over his face. he pulls you up, and you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

"that was amazing" his lips brush against your neck. "you're amazing."

"hm. glad i could help with your little…situation." you mock, laughing as he rolls his eyes. "you make yourself look somewhat presentable again. i'm going to go out so they don't get suspicious."

he nods and lightly pushes you off him so he can pull his shorts back up.

you leave him in your room and walk back downstairs, making a couple of drinks to take out so you have an excuse as to why you were in the house.

jisung looks up as you walk back over. "where'd you go? you were gone for like 15 minutes."

you hold up the cups. "i was making drinks."

"you made drinks for everyone?" jaemin asks. "since when do you ever do anything nice."

"i can never win with you guys, i swear." you mutter under your breath, setting the drinks down on the table.

chapter two | chapter four

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[letsgetrowdy43]

the boys finding out quinn has a gf and jacks all like ur my new sister and lukes js smiley cuz quinnies happy

Meet the brothers—

Quinn was enamoured with you, in every aspect of your being. The two of you had met through mutual friends, being Brock's neighbour meant that you had been acquainted with the entire Canucks roster.

The moment you met Quinn you knew he was the one, the two of you had hit it off the moment you had been introduced, solidifying what you believed to be your delusion.

It was like a match made in heaven, Quinn being a grumpy, level-headed hockey player, and you the more shy and sweet type.

It was as the saying goes, opposites attract.

You'd been nervous ever since Quinn brought up the idea of meeting his brothers over the course of the off-season, you'd met his parents at a game he'd invited them to. Jim and Ellen were certified sweethearts, but his brothers, who happened to also be his best friends were a different case.

Getting the stamp of approval from both Jack and Luke meant everything to Quinn, and by proxy, it meant a lot to you. If you were going to be completely honest, you pictured a whole life with Quinn, even if you'd only been together a short period of time. Quinn had given you a million reasons to feel like a future was in the stars for you.

Your life started the moment you met him and would stop the second he was no longer a part of it.

So now you sat shakily in the passenger seat of Quinn's rented car, his hand reassuringly on your upper thigh, feeling the nerves radiating off of you. Your nerves were wracked as you pulled into the driveway of the boy's shared Lake house.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, staring at you as you let out a loud sigh and nodded, "Don't stress over these two, I love you, so they are definitely going to love you" he mumbled pressing a kiss to your temple. "But we can wait here till you feel ready" his hand outstretched to hold yours, his thumb gliding over your knuckles.

"I'm okay," you whispered, placing a short kiss on his lips as he smiled into your mouth, "let's go in while I'm feeling slightly confident"

Quinn made quick work of his seatbelt before running to the trunk of the car to retrieve your guy's bags, ones that he would not let you carry into the house, claiming you were 'far too pretty to be allowed to do chores.'

The house sounded empty as you entered its walls, Quinn extended his hand out to you as he dropped the bags by the door. You gladly took his hand as he led you through the house and out to the backyard where the boys and their other friends found themselves by the pool.

You recognized Trevor Zegras' loud laughter first, the man was wrestling the middle Hughes in the pool, chuckles filling the air as Jack jumped on him and pushed his head under the water.

"Huggy!" Trevor announced as he popped up and out of the water, his arms extended out with a big grin on his face.

All of the boys turned around with smiles as they saw Quinn sheepishly smiling at them, blush rising in your cheeks as you watch the attention turn to you.

Luke was the first to get up from his chair to hug his brother, an awkward smile on his face as he greeted you for the first time. "You must be y/n? Quinn never stops talking about you, I think he might be obsessed" he pokes fun at his older brother who hides the embarrassment on his face. "Don't tell him I'm saying this, but think I might be as obsessed with him as he is with me" you whispered to Luke who laughed before he was shoved out of the way by a dripping wet jack.

Jack pulled both you and Quinn right into his arms, his body still soaked from being in the water as both you and Quinn hissed at his cold touch.

"Oh my god it's so good to finally meet you, I feel like I already know you, Quinn never shuts up about how perfect you are," he said excitedly as he drowned out Quinn's annoyed rambling. "It's really nice to meet you too" You smiled at Jack's contagious energy. "I love her already" he whispered to Quinn right before Trevor picked him up again and threw him back into the water.

Quinn introduced you to the rest of the boys before escorting you into the house to go and get showered and changed for dinner.

"See that wasn't so bad was it?" he mumbled into your neck before placing a sloppy kiss on your shoulder as he led you into the kitchen. "I feel like it went really good" you whispered as you turned to face him, a shy smile on your lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

A smile worked its way onto his lips as he pulled you in by the belt loops, "they love you already."

Jack and Luke stood next to each other watching the interaction through the window, laughter leaving their lips as they watched Quinn break out into flustered mess.

"She's perfect for him, I can see it," Jack said lowly as he looked at a smiley Luke. "she gonna fit right in," he said watching as she whispered something in his ear he picked her up off her feet and threw her over his shoulder, heading for his room as she squealed.

-

-

-

[fictionallystable]

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games)

Relationship: Phillip Graves (Call of Duty)/Reader

Characters: Reader, Phillip Graves (Call of Duty), Original Male Character(s)

Additional Tags: Author Has Played Call of Duty, Childhood Friends, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, slight age gap, Civilian!Reader, Pre-Canon, Jealousy, Angst, Kissing, Time Skips, Slight OOC Graves, Brother's Best Friend.

Words: 1,990 | Chapters: 3/5

Authors: @orphancains & @collinnmckinley

Chapter 3: Happy Birthday.

Chapter Summary: Your parents invite Phil and his new pretty girlfriend to dinner, and things take a turn but not for the better.

A/N: Sorry for the late update. But here is Chapter 3, finally! We'll try to post Chapter 4 sooner than this one. Again, thanks for hanging in with us! :) (likes and reblogs are appreciated <3)

the fic can also be found on AO3

tags will be updated!!

In front of you a cake with light purple frosting and exactly thirteen candles sat on it . Your mom had ordered it and it was a special order for your birthday. You were excited to finally get into your teen years , and you were grateful your mom didn’t force you to invite your old classmates from school to your home, despite your father’s initial ideas. Instead, you sat at the table outside in your backyard, the same oak tree you always played under as a kid provided your family shade as you sat by the cake, whose candles you blew out just minutes before. You were content to just be with your brother, mom, dad, and a few cousins for the afternoon, rather than surrounded by strangers masquerading as friends. And now, you were excited to dig into the cake.

“ Wait wait wait- Before we eat,” Your brother spoke up, while your mom removed the candles with smoke still spiraling off their tips. “I wanted to give you my present.”

You gave him a confused chuckle. “Matty, you already gave me the present this morning, remember?”

“I have something else,” he said with a sly grin before jogging off back into the house. 

You looked up at your parents, as if silently asking them if they knew what he was up to. Your mom shrugged while your dad only huffed.

When your brother came back, your jaw dropped and you gasped. In his hand was a bundle of fur , but most importantly, the said bundle was moving and when you looked closely you recognized it as a small German Shepherd puppy. He couldn’t have been older than 2 months. In typical puppy fashion, he wiggled out of your brother’s arms to scamper toward you.

“I just picked him up from the humane society an hour ago.” He let out a breathy laugh.

When he let go of the puppy, immediately the fur bundle tried to leap onto your lap, sniffing your face and giving small kisses near your nose as you bent down to carry him. You giggled at the tickling of his whiskers against your skin. You cooed lovingly and caressed his head and felt his soft fur between your fingers. Purposefully, you sang the dog praises loud enough to drown out the sound of your parents trying to reprimand Matty for this ‘expensive’ gift and the “ Matty, we’re going to talk about this later ”.

You beckoned your brother to come over to you, and when he did you hugged him tightly.

Your brother knelt down in front of you. “ So? You gonna give him a name? ”

You furrowed your brow, still petting the dog. “Oh shoot ! Now I have to think about that don’t I… ”, your brother shook his head amused at your conflict.

Before you could begin brainstorming, you heard the door from the house open and looked up. You saw Phillip there, closing the door behind him holding a gift box. When he glanced at you, he gave a small wave and one of his soft smiles. You stiffened, but you waved back hesitantly. You didn’t expect him to come. Suddenly, you felt nervous, embarrassed. Scenes from the night of that disastrous dinner flashing in your mind, him kissing Marisa by the pool also invading your thoughts. But you tried to brush them aside. And when you did you felt a hint of the same joy you always felt when Phil appeared. As if feeling your emotions too, the new puppy sitting on your lap yapped and barked happily at the sight of the new human.

Your brother glared briefly at Phil. “Dude, you’re late.”

Phil ignored his comment, focusing instead on you and the dog on your lap. “Holy shit, Matty—” Phil’s cursing prompted a low grumble from your dad “—I thought you were joking when you said you were getting her a puppy ,” he said as he approached you. “And you actually got her a German Shepherd. Jesus, he’s gonna be as big as a bear when he’s fully grown.”

The puppy then lept back off your lap and landed on the floor, clambering up Phillip’s leg trying with his front paws. He knelt down and gave the dog a few pets as well. “Man, I don’t know if my gift can top this,” he said with a small laugh as the dog also l icked his face. You felt your heartbeat quicken a bit at the mention of him getting you a present. You were surprised he even kept your birthday in mind, let alone wanting to give you something after what had happened.

He stood back up and dusted the grass off his knees. “Sorry, I’m late. Had to meet up with someone real quick on the way , it took longer than I thought.”

“Don’t worry, Phillip, we were going to save you a slice of cake just in case,” your mother warmly added, to which Phillip thanked her.

He handed you the box gently and said, “I made sure to bring you something though.”

You felt your throat tighten and you felt your eyes wanted to water from the emotions flooding you. Regret, from the dinner. But also adoration for this boy who felt like a second older brother to you, but even more than that. You couldn’t find the words to describe it. Instead, you held the present, unwrapping the lilac and silver wrapping paper slowly. 

When you opened it, you felt your heart soar in your chest.

“Oh, my god…” you exclaimed, looking up at him in surprise. Phil had gotten you the artist kit that you had been dreaming about for months, but you could never afford with what little money you had saved. Your eyes shined with joy as you held the gift in disbelief. “I can’t believe you got this! You—you actually remembered!” 

He furrowed his brows for a split second, but he continued to smile and tenderly placed a hand on your shoulder. “Of course I did.”

Standing much shorter than Phillip, you had to crane your neck to look at him, but your heart fluttered when you saw the warmth with which he looked at you. Without a word, you jumped forward and wrapped your arms around his chest, hugging him tightly. With the hug, you could feel all the shame and hurt from the past couple of weeks melt away. He hugged you back, his larger arms making you feel safe. 

“ Oh, god! The dog is trying to eat the cake!,” your mom was panicking.

You pulled away from the hug and found that, yes, the puppy had its two paws on the edge of the table, his nose dangerously close to the slices of cake that your mom had put aside while she cut the rest.

“ So , what’s his name?” Phillip asked you gingerly but also choked back a laugh at seeing your dad scratching his graying head of hair in annoyance.

“I’m not sure…” you frowned at the thought, grabbing the dog and carrying him, you held him to your chest while he panted happily at Phil beside you. 

He hummed in return.

“Why not name him Bear then ?”

He blinked and mulled over this for a few seconds, but gave you a playful smirk. “Bear… Yeah, I like it.” 

The start of the school year was quickly approaching. You sat in your brother’s room as he was packing his bags for college and with a now slightly larger Bear chewing on a toy beside you. The next day, he was going to drive with your dad to College Station, where he was going to start his first year. You watched as he begrudgingly packed his clothes into bags, asking him questions about it. “Are you nervous?” “What classes are you taking?” and most importantly “How often are you coming back to visit?” You couldn’t deny you were going to painfully miss him. You were glad he had gotten you Bear to keep you company in his absence, but it wasn’t the same.

“I’ll try to drive back home every few weeks, okay?. And I’ll definitely be back for Thanksgiving.” 

When he started packing his video game discs, you froze for a few moments, before asking him. “Hey, is Phil going with you too?” You now wondered why your dad didn’t mention also driving him to College Station with Matty.

Matty stopped packing and looked at you with a small frown, puzzled. “No, of course not. He shipped out last week.”

It was your turn to frown now. “Shipped out? What does that mean?”

He grimaced . “ Oh, he never told you…” He paused and ran his hand through his hair in frustration now. “What the fuck, Phil,” he mumbled under his breath. With a heavy sigh he looked up at you with regretful eyes. “What I mean is… he left to start boot camp with the Marines a few days ago, Y/N.” 

You leaned away and stared in confusion “Wait, w-why would he…” you stammered, unable to finish the question. “He… left?” You felt your heart shatter but you were still so confused. A thousand thoughts ran through your mind. Since when did Phil want to join the military? He never did mention college to you, you suddenly realized. But when did he decide to just get up and leave? And why did he never tell you? 

Your brother sighed again, “Yeah, that’s why he got here late as fuck on your birthday. ” Annoyance flashed in his eyes for a brief second. “He was at the Marines’ recruiting office, getting the paperwork done, setting up dates and… finalizing his decision to join, I guess.”

Your eyes were watering. You fought so the tears that were gathering behind your eyes . “Why… wouldn’t he tell me ?” 

Matty opened his mouth to answer but he couldn’t find the words. “I don’t know, to be honest. I told him he should, but he didn’t say anything .”

You stood up from his bed and headed towards the door. Your heart ached at knowing Phil didn’t trust you with this information, or worse, you fear that he didn’t care about you anymore to tell you anything . “ Why did you keep this from me…?” you asked as you gripped at the door frame. You felt betrayed, ignored, small once again. You felt like the dumb little sister once more. 

Your brother stood up and gently held onto your shoulders. “Listen, if I know Phil like I think I know him, he’d surely have a reason.” ‘What reason would have been big enough for him to hide about his enlistment?’ “Don’t forget, he cares a lot about you.” ‘Does he?’

You felt like your knees would give up , you leaned into his chest slightly as you tried holding back your cries, but ending up staining his shirt with your silent tears . “I didn’t think… I didn’t think he would actually hide this from you . He said something about not wanting you to worry about it. ”

On the bed, Bear nervously whined seeing you in tears. Matty wanted to guide you back to his bed to sit you down, but you removed his hands from your shoulders as you started to leave the room. Bear trailing behind you. 

In your room, you sat on the bed as it became gloomy all of a sudden. Whenever something plagued your mind with concern or a wave of depression hit you, the atmosphere changes drastically in your room. Bear’s cold, wet nose poked your hand. You slowly raised it to gently caress the dog, feeling your cries grow into quiet sobs . Sniffling and your vision blurred from more tears gathering in your eyes, as you slowly laid down on the bed . Curling up on your side you cried into your pillow. You breathed deeply as you realized now: Phil could in a matter of months be in a warzone tens of thousands of miles away from home. The heartbreak and sense of betrayal that had stunned your senses were now inundated and replaced with fear. You didn’t know if you’d ever hear back from him. Knowing him, he maybe didn’t even have plans to come back to your town because his parents were never home. His house was never really his home.  

“Oh, god, please ,” you thought to yourself, “please stay safe Phil. ”

[jasontoddsdarling]

barbecue day (feat damian)

— aurora todd verse

"Well it's not."

"It is, Todd. I know it's kind of hard for you to understand, but it is."

"It's not—"

She is in the kitchen, cutting some condiments for some sambal to go along with chicken thighs and tomahawk steaks that Jason is currently roasted over portable grills in backyard.

But he's apparently bickering with Damian—who is visiting from his university's summer break, who's helping here and there but mostly supervising Aurora, which she has provided with entertainment in the form of her inflatable pool and her baby toys.

The thing is, they've been bickering for like ten minutes straight. She's pretty sure their closest neighbor know what they are arguing about already—meanwhile she only caught something about latest episode of some sci-fi show and latest video game update because she was chopping garlic with her new chopper and it drown their voices for her.

She needs to make sure that they get along.

And oh, how she has an idea.

As she wash her hands, she can hear them becoming more louder.

When she is finally opened the kitchen door towards the backyard, she finds out Jason's making gesture with his free hand and his other gripping kitchen tongs and Damian, which is inside Rora's inflatable balloon, making gestures with his hands holding some of her baby girl's toys.

If this isn't comical.

She clears her throat.

"Jay."

Jason instantly stops talking and Damian too—but not without drawing out his last syllables.

Damian immediately sits down on inside the pool.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

Jason is back facing the grill, flipping some of the chicken thighs. You want to roll your eyes in affection.

"I need you and Damian to buy me some Thai chili and lemongrass."

"I thought we already have all the ingredients."

"Well, we actually were underestimating the need of several sambals."

Jason basically can't say no to her request, so he just drops the kitchen tongs and cleans his hands on the nearby outdoor faucet. Then, he picks up Rora from inside the pool.

Damian gets up, eyeing the grill—probably about to take over Jason's work. But she claps her hand seemingly to surprise her brother-in-law.

"Damian, why don't you go with Jay and Rora? I can handle the grill."

"How much she said she needs the lemongrass again?"

Damian asks when they're at the last traffic light before the grocery store. He's the one driving. Jason's shotgunning and Rora is on her baby chair on the backseat.

"Five stalks, but she also said just pick one plastic wrap building."

"And—"

"Ten ounces."

"Ons!"

Rora mimics, which surprised Damian.

"Thank you, Rora."

When it's green, he starts talking again—while Jason is currently turning to face Rora, giving her grubby little hands her a baby biscuit.

"I cannot believe she's your spawn, Todd."

"Me neither."

Jason looks ahead—back to the street in front of them afterwards, but Damian can see from the corner of his eye that he sports a fondly smile because they're talking about his niece.

"I actually think she acts more like her mom and the biggest evidence that she's yours is because she literally have your eye color, which is improbable for it to come from her mom's genetics because her eyes are dark and her heritage; but now I can see that she behaves like you, too."

Jason definitely isn't prepared to hear his little brother saying all of that, but he turns his head to the

"Really?"

"Yup. Believe me or not, before we were bickering—which I am sure why your wife sent us away, if you haven't noticed yet—I was inspecting how you and Rora interacts."

"Of course you did."

Damian dismisses his older brother.

"And from that, I can see that she's your mini you. I mean, she's obviously her mom's mini me, but it's not without you."

"That's genuinely the nicest thing you said to me today, little brother, and I appreciate that."

The twenty-one years old man shrugs.

"Don't thank me. I was just saying facts. Anyway, we're here."

Damian stops the engine and opens his car door. He goes to the backseat door to release and hoist Rora from her seat.

Jason definitely can see his smile before opening his own door, though.

"What's this sambal called again?"

Damian points his fork at the chopped herbs and Thai chili bowl of sambal.

They already finished cooking and are sitting together in a round backyard dinner table.

"Matah. M-a-t-a-h."

"Matah," Damian nods, "it's so fresh and fragrant from the kaffir lime leaves and the lemongrass. I like it. It's unlike anything I have ever tried."

"We can put it in a jar if you want to have some when you're going back to to uni, right, Jay?"

"Of course. You should send him your recipe too, so if he runs out he can make it himself. It's quite easy to make."

"Thank you."

Damian smiles gratefully at her and Jason. She almost cannot believe these two were bickering like teenage boys awhile ago. That's just what being siblings like, she guesses.

"Easy! Uncy!" Rora giggles. She's perches on her baby high chair beside her mom and face to face with Damian. Her little fingers holding a piece of cucumber that she's chewing.

(She is pleased she picks up "uncle" when she's talking to Damian)

"Thank you, little Rora."

mariea's notes: another writing out of aurora todd universe. randomly, "cannot believe she's your spawn" line came into my mind and then the rest is history. i know this series(?) don't have much readers compared to my regular fluff or especially regular smut (lol) but i really love exploring the dynamics of this family throughout my writings. also, trying the third person now. probably going to stick to this. as always you can drop a request (any) or a question and thanks for reading <3

[moiteneia]

The Federation Children:

I would love if the QSMP admins connected the lore of the island's cubite residents to each other, especially q!Jaiden, q!Baghera, q!Quackitiy, and q!Cellbit. And I would love it so much that I even have a headcanon in mind :D

Well, let's review the lore of our cubite, who is stuck in Purgatory and suicidal, shall we? q!Cellbit doesn't remember much. Apparently his memory was erased, as the first memory he has is from the age of 12/14, when he was in the Hunger Games and had to eat bodies if he wanted to survive. A child who ended up in an arena and had to do everything to stay alive, seeing himself as a monster. So, after escaping from the prison from which he was sentenced after the war, he ended up in Quesadilha, already close to his thirties, he sought to redeem himself, but not only that, he sought to know what it was to truly live. And he found his own life in a family, q!Tazercraft, q!Felps, Richarlyson and, of course, his husband q!Roier, who showed him countless times that he was more than an investigator and was not a monster. q!Roier showed what love was, what it was to want the good of another person and who he was.

That is, until he discovered that the Federation was not only causing his life now, no, q!Cellbit discovered that his entire life could be different if it hadn't been for the organization that kidnapped him as a child and separated him from his biological family and his twin sister. As a result, revisiting memories, being overcome by trauma, tiredness and anger, he couldn't take it and succumbed to emptiness and despair. Now, after seeing what he thought was the death of his own son, q!Cellbit tried to kill himself in Purgatory, separating himself from those he loved who were left, trying to spare them and thinking that he only did them harm - that he it was bad for q!Roier (which we know is not true).

Now, let's move on to the lore of the other cubes.

What made the Federation arrest and take q!Cellbit was that he saw something he shouldn't have. Something so terrible that he wrote in his diary that q!Bagi, his sister, should run away and not trust anyone. Something so scary that a child tried to escape the island, even if it was by swimming.

Well, I think there is a possibility that at this point, we connect his story with that of the other three.

In the lore of q!Baghera, she discovered that she was an experiment by the Federation, being transformed or made to be a hybrid and even having her feathers plucked out in the tests that the organization carried out.

We also know that both q!Quackity and q!Jaiden have a connection to the Federation. Q!Quackity having a twin brother he was unaware of who personally plays the Federation's game, doing missions and filling in for his brother when necessary to accomplish what they want.

And q!Jaiden who talked amicably with Cucurucho countless times and has the specific nickname of Blue Bird, even having wings, like q!Baghera's.

(I would like to analyze more, but unfortunately I don't watch the three of them that much. I really apologize for that, because I love the rp of the three and their respective stories - if you want to analyze and connect them better, feel free! I would love to read it!)

However, I believe it is possible to think of little q!Cellbit, as a child, playing research while watching children from a distance, in the backyards of the Federation - a place his parents banned him from going.

So, alone and wanting to make friends besides his sister, he enters the building and sees q!Baghera being hurt. He sees q!Quacks taking tests and, upon failing, being taken to a pool to drown, as punishment. And q!Jaiden doing everything perfectly and receiving sweets that make her "happy" but unaware of where she is.

And approaching the glass, he meets the gaze of q!Baghera, who asks for help as she bleeds and, desperate, he just runs away, without noticing the security cameras that have always been watching him.

It's good to remember that Cucurucho always makes excuses for q!Cellbit and is currently and never seems to believe his confessions as a traitor to the Federation. It does missions personally for him. And as a child, q!Cellbit taught his sister about codes and messages, riddles and puzzles...

What if, the Federation used this moment as a chance to have another test subject? What if from the moment he returned to the island, being stronger, more dangerous and intelligent, the Federation just became happier? And if the "perfection" that the Federation seeks so much is in the cubits of Quesadilha Island and that's why it wants it, it fights for them to follow the Order, for them to follow what makes the organization happy? Because it's good to remember, Cucurucho's mission, at the beginning of the series, was always to make the island "happy", but the bear already said that it's not exactly for the island's residents to be happy, but his mission is for the Federation.

The happiness that is important to him does not come from them, but from the rules, from perfection, from the guinea pigs.

[strangerstilinski]

stiles girlies if you're still here would you perhaps like a teeny tiny little sneak peek of Selenophiles chapter 10 in honor of me surpassing 12,000 words and it still not being finished

if your answer was yes, then here you go 👀

Matt sighed in irritation, “He had this first edition Spider-Man.. Or.. Was it Batman..?” He scratched at his temple in thought before shaking his head, seemingly deciding that the specifics didn’t matter, “We were gonna make a trade. But then I’m over there and I hear music in the backyard.. And when I go back there, everyone’s having a good time. I see Sean, and he throws Jessica in the pool. And then Bennet goes in-”

Each of their faces flash in Amber’s memory as he says their names — The team photograph from the 2008 yearbook was practically burned into her brain by now. That group huddled together in the front row, smiling faces pressed close, championship medals hanging around their necks.. Those had been Lahey’s favorites-

They were all dead now.

“-And then Camden..” Matt continued, “Isaac’s jarhead brother? He grabs me. He thinks it’s funny.”

“He threw you in.” Scott deduced.

Amber loathed the brief flash of pity that swirled in her chest, “Matt, he couldn’t have known-” She said as gently as she could manage.

“I yelled that I can’t swim,” Matt interrupted her sharply, “But nobody listened. I went under. I swallowed water.. And no one cared.” His words are barbed, sticky rage coating every one, “I see these bodies, under the water. I see Jessica’s got a hand down Sean’s swim trunks. Tucker’s grabbing Kara. And I’m drowning. I’m dying and they’re all laughing. And then all of sudden I was just.. Laying by the pool. And Lahey is right there above me and he says: You tell no one! He tells me: This.. This is your fault!” Matt’s voice cracks around the words even as the anger in his eyes intensifies, “And, What little bastard doesn’t know how to swim? He told me to say nothing. To tell no one.. And I didn’t. I didn’t tell anyone. But then I would see them around town, at school, and they wouldn’t even look at me.”

Amber looked into Matt’s eyes, saw the way they had darkened and clouded over with his building rage, and realization set in inside of her with a sort of finality. There was truly no getting through to him. Nothing they could say would ever be enough to talk him down from the ledge he’d dragged himself onto. Trauma was a tricky thing, like that. It wedged itself deep inside of you, manifested itself in ways you couldn’t predict or rewrite. And Matt’s trauma had buried itself so far down that angry thorns had twisted their way around it, sharp barbs pricking at the scabbed over memories whenever he moved just right. Those thorns had caused all that pain to bleed internally. It bled, and it bled. Until that pain and fear had fermented into something worse, something ugly, something dangerous.

Blind fury.

“I’d wake up in the middle of the night gasping for breath,” Matt continued in a rush, words tripping over one another in his haste. Tears shone in his eyes, big and welling at his waterline even as his lip pulled back in a snarl, “And my parents? They thought I was asthmatic. Th-They even got me an inhaler. They didn’t know that every time I closed my eyes I was in that pool. Every time I closed my eyes I.. I was drowning.”

Amber swallowed down around the lump that had suddenly found a home in her throat, and the bile on the back of her tongue tasted an awful lot like chlorine. She blinked once and she was back in that pool with Stiles and Derek. She felt the cloudy pool water stinging at her eyes, felt the way the pressure had built up and pressed against the insides of her skull when her lungs screamed for oxygen. She remembered the defeat of taking in that first gulp of water and the way it burned in her chest. She remembered the ache in her tired muscles finally relaxing as her spotty vision went dark. She remembered gagging and retching around the water as it came back up and then the coughing that immediately followed as she fought to bring air into her lungs. She remembered Stiles saving her the first time around, and then Scott an hour or so later when she very nearly had it happen all over again.

“I drowned that night at the school pool.”

Her voice was so hollow, Amber almost didn't realize the words came from herself. When she shook her head, the world around her spun for a moment, but when it cleared, so did the worst of the memories. She looked up again and found both boys looking at her with differing expressions, though they both displayed underlying confusion.

…

[losfacedevil]

Let Me Love You // Jake Kiszka

a/n~ Let’s try this again SHALL WE?! Either tumblr did me dirty or ya girl doesn’t know how to simple copy and paste lmao. Repost as last nights copy was missing literally half of the damn fic!  Word Count: 3K

Backyard barbecues were not your thing - especially if the Kiszka boys were involved. But somehow you had let them convince you to come hang out because ‘food and drinks would be involved’ and ‘Bree said she’d come too!’ Rolling your eyes you looked out over their backyard - somehow the one to run inside for a drink refill - as Josh and Sammy rough housed in the pool. 

“They’re gonna kill themselves.” You sang, no one around to hear you as you tucked three coronas between your arm and rib cage, gently grabbing the other two as you pushed your way out of the door and onto their back patio. 

“Boys I’m not gonna be the one to call 911 if you drown. Cut the shit.” You giggled, watching as the boys came to a complete stop, Josh’s hands on the top of Sammy’s head as he attempted to dunk the younger boy under water for the fifth time. 

“Always the mom.” Jake chuckled, putting his book down as you placed the round of drinks down, sliding a cold Corona in front of him.  “Well I’m definitely not going to be the one to call your mom when they kill each other, are you?” You quipped, popping open your beer, taking a swig and making a face, definitely not a favorite.  “No way, she might kill me for letting them kill each other.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle as Josh got his way, dunking his younger brother under the water once more; a scream sounding like that of a banshees erupting from his chest. 

“Joshua!” You yelled, stepping closer to the railing that surrounded the patio, his laugh echoing off of the trees that stood beyond their back yard. Your book lay discarded on the lawn swing down by the pool where you had originally been sat next to Jake; Bree now sitting there watching as her boyfriend was effectively being drowned by his older brother.  “Babyface you better go get your man before you don’t have a man anymore.” You yelled, placing your beer down on the railing as you leaned over trying to get her attention.  “Nu uh! That’s his battle to fight, Josh might get me next.” She giggled, throwing a lone football that sat on the ground beside her feet into the pool; almost hitting Josh in the head. 

Another giggle slipped past your lips, picking the beer back up and making your way back to the table, perching on the edge of the chair next to Jake. His eyes wandered a bit, dancing up the expanse of your bare legs; a blank expression on his face as his thoughts ran wild. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and rest a hand on your knee, to let his thumb dance over the crest of your knee; but held back unsure of how you would react. Your eyes landed on his shoe of choice, quirking up an eyebrow before pointing down at his feet. 

“Chelsea boots? For a cook out? Living on the edge there, Jake.” He chuckled, kicking his foot out and looked down, tapping the back of your flip flop as he did so.  “Perfect footwear, wouldn’t have it any other way.” You rolled your eyes, he always had some sort of smart remark. 

Leaning back in the chair you got comfortable, crossing your legs at the knee as your eyes danced over the boys who were clambering out of the pool. Josh’s entire body shook as the cool afternoon breeze blew past him, snatching the towel Sam had picked up off of his shoulders. The younger boy whipped around, hands thrown up in a fighting stance as Josh laughed, running out of Sam’s reach. 

“What the hell, where’s yours?” Josh shrugged, laughing as he toweled off his damp hair.  “I never grabbed one, sorry Sammy boy.” He taunted, dancing in front of Sam as he wrapped the towel around his waist.  “Children! Babyface get yo boy a dang towel, please.” 

You couldn’t help the laughter that erupted from your chest as the boys chased each other around the yard, always kids at heart when they’re around each other. Jake cleared his throat, tossing back the last of his beer before sliding the empty bottle across the table, watching as it collided with the spine of his book. 

“What’re you up to later?” Jakes voice was soft and airy, dancing away on the midafternoon breeze as quickly as it left his mouth. You cocked your head to the side, turning your attention to him as he reached up pulling his shoulder length hair into a faux bun at the nape of his neck.  “Hmm?” He nodded, jutting his chin out to indicate the group now sitting on the lawn swing with Bree.  “After this, what’re you up to after you leave? I know this isn’t really your cup of tea.” You shrugged, tossing back the rest of your beer before sliding the empty bottle onto the table next to his.  “I don’t know, might just go home and try to finish my book. Unless Bree has something in mind.” You eyes wandered down to the group on the swing, Bree sat with her head on Sam’s shoulder, ankles tangled with his.  “I think I heard Sam ask her to stay with him tonight.” Jake shrugged, eyes dancing around the yard, trying to find something to rest his gaze on that wasn’t you.  “Babyface, why you hate me?! You ditching me for Sammy boy tonight?!” You yelled, standing and making your way over to the railing to better see what they were doing.  “I’m sorry! He asked.” She shrugged, turning her attention back to whatever story he was telling.  “Not fair, what am I supposed to do tonight?” You stuck your bottom lip out in a pout, arms crossing over your chest. A mischievous look crossed her face as she sat up, turning her body to face you.  “Hang out with your boyfriend! He’s been shooting heart eyes your way all afternoon.” She called, pursing her lips together and making kissing noises.  “Ew Josh, I thought we had this conversation, not interested!” You giggled, watching as his mouth popped open into a stunned expression as he reached over, smacking Bree in the knee. 

You turned back around, making your way back to where you were initially sitting, eyes falling on Jake as he stood, collecting the few empty beer bottles before stepping into the house. You thought nothing of it as your eyes fell on the latest novel he was reading, picking the book up and reading the summary of the story on the back. 

Jake watched through the window as you thumbed through his book, eyes dancing across the pages as you flipped them quickly not really reading what it had to offer. He couldn’t help but admire the way the late afternoon sun danced across your sun kissed skin, every last freckle on full display across your pink tinted cheeks. How you pulled you leg up like a flamingo as you concentrated on a certain page you had landed on, the words fully engaging you as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth nibbling on the skin. How the corners of your mouth turned up into a grin as Bree passed you, shoving you gently causing you to stumble into your chair. 

“Stop sending her heart eyes and use your big boy words.” Bree mumbled, shoulder checking Jake as she made her way to the bathroom, shooting him a sly smile over her shoulder and she shut the door behind her.  

Jake shook his head, clearing the fog from his mind and he placed the empty bottles in the sink. Rolling his head side to side he rolled his shoulder back in one swift move, shimmying his shoulders before he stepped back outside, eyes landing on you as you continued to thumb through his book. 

“It can’t be that interesting, I’m struggling to get through it honestly.” You dropped the book, a soft gasp slipping past your lips as you turned to face him.  “It’s semi-interesting, I could probably get into it. I didn’t know murder mysteries were your thing.” You shrugged, eyes falling back onto the cover of the book.  “They’re not. The cover looked interesting and has taught me the whole never judge a book by its cover thing works in many situations.” He chuckled, gaze trained on his boots.  “You’re not wrong, the cover definitely piqued my interest. But the summary on the back was kind of a turn off.” You shrugged, making a face at Bree as she made her way out of the house and back down to where Sam sat.  “Cute.” Jakes voice was barely a whisper, almost not there as it danced away on a breeze. You cocked your head to the side, running your hand back through your loose curls.  “What was that?” You were sure you knew what had been said but decided to play dumb, hoping that maybe he’d repeat what he said. He shrugged, looking over his shoulder at the door to the patio that sat slightly ajar.  “Did someone go inside?” You quirked an eyebrow, giggling as you shook your head, turning your back to Jake.  “It’s just the ghost, Jake. I’ll think you’ll be okay.” 

He watched you as your sauntered over to the railing once again, leaning up against it and resting your head in your hands. His eyes traveled along your body, dancing slower the closer he got to your bare legs taking in every inch of them. You spun quickly, hands coming to rest on the railing as you jumped, swinging your body to sit up on the railing, legs crossed at the ankles. 

“Take a picture it’ll last longer. But like I mean they’re just legs, you have a set of them too.” You giggled, shaking Jake out of his thoughts as a deep red blush crept up his neck to his cheeks. Jake shook his head, stepping a little bit closer to where you now sat, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.  “No idea what you’re talking about, Bug. I think you’re imagining things.” The giggle that escaped you sounded almost manic, one that let everyone know the alcohol may be dancing a little heavier though your system.  “And I’m the Queen. Question!” You turned your head, eyes dancing through the trees and greenery that sat just beyond their property line a whole different adventure seemingly right at their fingertips.  “Answer?” Jake side stepped, resting his hands on the railing dangerously close to your hip, leaning over the railing to see the others had taken off elsewhere.  “Where’d they all go?” He asked, eyes dancing around the yard, hopeful they hadn’t left the two of you alone. “That sounds more like a question. But listen, have y’all ever explored out there? Gone on a hike?” You asked, turning your head so your face was right next to his, your eyelashes could have tickled the apple of his cheek had you leaned forward a centimeter more.  “Yeah, we used to go out there all the time as kids. There’s a rope swing out there somewhere. But we haven’t been out there in years.” Jake shrugged, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear as his eyes danced up the clearly worn footpath. 

Jake turned his head not realizing how close in proximity you were to him. His breath caught in his throat, eyes growing wide as he realized how his nose brushed against yours gently, your eyes fluttering shut at the sudden contact. Jake swallowed hard, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, he let the intrusive thoughts win as he leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours as his eyes fluttered shut.

“Let’s go on an adventure.” Jake whispered, rubbing his pinky against the side of your bare thigh. You didn’t realize that you had been holding your breath, your chest starting to burn with the lack of oxygen.  “Into the woods?” Your voice was barely a whisper as you fought air into your lungs.  “Let’s go find the swing we put out there, it’ll be fun.” He chuckled, pushing off of the railing, holding his hand out to help you jump down off of the railing. 

_________________

You sighed as you followed Jake up the hill and into the trees, watching as he reached a hand out to run across the trunk of the nearest tree. A smile danced across his face as the memories started to play in his mind, eyes dancing up to the leaf covered sky. 

“We used to lose Sammy in here all the time when we were little, but don’t tell mom that. She might kill us for that even now.” Jake chuckled, spinning on his heel. He continued walking backwards, eyes fully on you and your eyes danced around the woods, focusing on a hole in one of the trees. You pointed upwards, a smile on your face as your eyes found Jakes.  “Betcha a raccoon lives up there. It looks big enough for a whole family.”  The excitement in your voice was endearing, warming his heart as you spoke about the different animals you imagined lived out in the woods. He chuckled as you ran ahead of him, pointing out a wood pecker sat high up on the tree hammering away.  “Look how cool! Is that what we hear all the time? Jake look how cool!” 

Your eyes found his for the first time since entering the woods, a look of curiosity and adoration dancing across his face. He had stopped walking, leaning against a tree with his hands shoved in his pockets as he watched you, the awe and enchantment in your demeanor enough to make his heart explode. You stopped in your tracks, hands bunching up in the bottom of your tank top as you suddenly became self conscious. 

“What?” You asked, eyes suddenly cast downward as if his stare was too much. He couldn’t help the smile that played on his lips, pushing his sunglasses back up his nose as he kicked off of the tree, walking closer to where you stood.  “What, what?” He retorted, shrugging his shoulders as if to shove his hands deeper into his pockets.  “You’ve been looking at me like that all day. Something on your mind?” Your tone was inquisitive, cursing the sunglasses he donned on his nose for hiding his chocolate button eyes. He shrugged, jutting his chin out over your shoulder.  “Found the swing, cmon.” He chuckled, changing the subject as he reached out for your hand. Carefully, you slipped your hand into his, letting him guide you to the swing.  “Dad built this for us when we were like six, let me push you.” You slid onto the wooden seat, hands wrapping securely around the rope that held the swing together. 

Jake let his hands rest against your shoulders briefly, thumbs rubbing against the sides of your neck before letting his hands travel down to the middle of your back, pushing gently to give your the momentum to get the swing going. You let your mind wander, giggling as butterflies erupted in your tummy; both from the height you were starting to gain as well as from his hands gently caressing your back with each gentle push forward he gave you.

“Answer my question, Jake.” You called on a down swing, watching as he walked in front of you.  “What question?” He quipped, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you swing, losing momentum on every downswing. Pushing your legs out in front of you, you tried to slow the momentum even further.  “ I said, you’ve been looking at me like that all day. Something on your mind?” You asked again. 

Jake stepped fully in front of you on another downswing, pointing towards the ground in a silent signal to drop your legs. Doing as you were asked you bent your legs at the knee as he came closer, gripping the ropes of the swing and bringing you to a halt. A gasp escaped you as you came to an abrupt stop, sliding forward of off the seat into his body. 

“Looking at you like what?” He asked, his voice light and airy as he walked forward, leveling the swing before letting go of the ropes. You chuckled, shrugging your shoulders.  “I think Bree called it heart eyes? I knew she wasn’t talking about Josh but he’s easy to rile up and his reactions are hilarious.” You crossed your legs at the ankles, too short to rest your feet on the ground as you gauged his reaction. A deep red began to creep up his neck once more, settling in the apples of his cheeks as he looked away, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.  “Let me love you.” His voice was barely a whisper, eyes trained everywhere but your eyes. 

Your breath caught in your throat, unsure you had heard what he said correctly. He turned to face you, sunglasses perched lower on his nose. His eyes spoke what his mouth couldn’t, eyes lust blown as he tested the waters, reaching up and running a thumb along your cheekbone. 

“What was that?” Your voice just above a whisper, threatening to crack as you pushed past the lump in your throat.  “I said, let me love you, like you deserve to be loved.” Jakes eyes never left yours, reaching both hands out to cup your cheeks, thumbs running soothingly along your cheek bones.  “Jake.” You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, cocking your head to the side as he leaned forward, noses gently rubbing for the second time. He pulled a sharp intake of breath through his nose, deliberately brushing his lips against yours causing an electric shock to shoot down your spine.  “Kiss me?” It was more of a demand than a question, hands finding purchase on Jakes side and pulling him to stand between your legs.  “Gladly.”

[fantastica-daily]

Who’s Watching Who Short Film Review

When a single mother is forced to bring on her no-account brother in for the weekend to watch her ten-year-old son, Trevor, she has her doubts but she also has no choice. Trevor is mature for his age… or any age, really. He seems to run the household, making breakfast by himself and getting the house in gear for the weekend. Mother leaves, rushing off with her briefcase in hand, and Uncle Nick steps in.

Before long, Uncle Nick has raided the refrigerator for all its beer and is nearly passed out when Trevor decides to go for a swim in the backyard pool. Trevor is a bit of a brat and he puts his uncle to the test by pretending to drown but in spite of his inebriation, Uncle Nick is wise to the trick.

The pair start to bond, even though they don’t know each other very well—in fact, young Trevor says he loves the uncle because they’re family. Nick has been feeling unloved which has led him to some dark places in his recent past and while Who’s Watching Who only covers a day in their lives, you get the feeling that things are going to turn around in life and that Nick and Trevor will stay close.

Chris Levine, who plays Uncle Nick, also wrote and directed the short (which is less than 7 minutes long). Alex Lizzul plays Trevor, and this is his first film but he trains with the Will Wallace Acting Company and I’m sure we will see lots more to come from him.

Who’s Watching Who has been racking up awards on the film festival rounds and will no doubt be available to stream soon. Whether you see it on the big screen or small, Who’s Watching Who is worth your time and attention. I could have lived without some of the fart and boob jokes but I guess that’s for the kids. Other than that, it’s a smart and charming film with two likable leads that you are rooting for.

= = =

P.L. Cohash

[slackalaureate]

Diary Excerpt (2020)

Every now-and-again, I’ll get this little ‘twinge’. I can feel it, deep in my chest, under my ribs, between my lungs, and in the space behind my teeth. It always makes me want to shut my eyes. Sometimes I think my mind could cry, but my heart won’t let it-

“Sugarfoot”.

That’s what the title says. I open up my cavity to peruse it on occasion. Sitting on the couch at 1730, smoke blowing out our mouths, filling the air around with the pungent aroma of ‘watermelon menthol’ or ‘tropical kiwi’. The television plays in the corner:

“I went on craigslist and found a used Dolphin. I bought that shit, put it in my backyard pool-”

Laughing came easy as the coughing that followed. A world disconnected from the harshness preceding. I used to think back on these same memories with glasses of a different tint.

The pain is for the people who walked in and out the living room door more times than I could count. The pain is for space, in opposition to time, reflecting from then into today. Time gives me no warrant to enter that space; in its nature forward moving. Yet I batter the walls, chancing a crack at the barrier; hoping once again to meet those who battered my own soft walls, my impressionable self. 

They took my wholeness in relief and I took theirs, scratching along their bumps and curves with a piece of paper and some charcoal. That is what formed the memories, as well it has formed me, full of new impressions through casual glances and imitations. Even though the moments passed by with a ringing tinnitus that drowned out all sentiment, I still long for the purity of each hour I spent talking to my friends, who I’d call my brother’s friends, but who were mine too- without me having to understand. As I stood in fear of abandonment, something strange to me took those things I wanted to keep. Jamaal put his silence in the form of a pack of grape blunt wraps. I threw them away this week, years after they lost their scent- for them, he won’t come back. Devon departed with a video left on a youtube wall beside an over-bright thumbnail of a plane ticket that sent him up north. My Taylor, who taught me who I would try to be while I watched him play outside the warped front door, has lost his special title. Taylor lives just shy of ten miles, but three months away. I fear that nostalgia has taken my stagnant ship with the current somehow- caught in the tide of memory as it drags me with the breeze, eastward- against the passage of the day.

Yet time moves only when I step into the waves, cold and warning. They lap strongly against my fragile self at first, as if throwing me back into the calm behind. But slowly, steadily, they begin to tire of the game. Who exists when the current wanes but a piece of stone so smooth that, even if the brutal tide reaches for it again, will not be pained by the crashing breaks. And when I finally do find the sands someday, they will not be those with which I am familiar, but will, hopefully, welcome me just the same.

[stegrossaurus]

Soul Angler

Soul Angler

by Trevor

People like to tell their kids that there’s nothing in the lake. They’re right…during the day. At night, he wakes up, lurches his massive, blubbery body onto land and pulls himself towards the house, moaning and wailing all the while. It doesn’t sound pleasant, but it’s not exactly scary, either. After all, the thing can’t even make it up the hill to the yard before sunrise. He knows that if he tried, he would get caught in the sun and dry up. 

Still, I can’t wait until I can leave town again.

Summer’s just started and Amber and her friends are obsessed with that stupid lake. More power to them, I’d say, but Mom and Dad apparently decided that watching their own kids was too gauche, so I have to watch her. I end up using my afternoon to herd four 13 year olds to a bunch of water and make sure they don’t drown. Because public pools don’t exist.

Once we get close enough, I hang back and let the girls run ahead. Even in the daytime, with a few other people and nothing to fear, the lake makes my stomach turn. The large lake has no piers, no plants growing on its beach, not even any fish, not near the surface anyway. Birds won’t even fly over it; that’s how instinctively nature wants to quarantine this place. It’s perfectly round and dark like a hole at the bottom of the ocean. Speaking of which, everyone knows there’s a crevice on the lake bed, one so deep no one’s ever fully mapped it. Even if you don’t believe the legends, letting your kids swim there just feels stupid.

I know exactly what sleeps in that crevice and I’m not keen to see him again before I have to.

“Hey, Trev,” Amber shouts as she walks up to me. “I just called Mom and she said we can camp out here tonight.”

Are you kidding me? “Hell, no,” I say, settling back into my chair to enjoy the sun.

“Hell, yes. Mom says you have to come with us,” Amber says smugly.

“Well, Mom’s in for a disappointment. You idiots can stay. I’m not.”

“You’re not afraid of the Soul Angler, are you?” she taunts, trying to bait me. “You know there’s nothing in the lake, right? It’s just a story.”

“There’s nothing between your ears if you think that,” I snap at her. I know it shouldn’t matter, but it’s always annoying when people say it isn’t real. “If you want to stay near this place at night, be my guest. Leave me out of it.”

Amber starts throwing a fit, threatening to tell the parents. I was planning on running away once school starts so it hardly matters what kind of punishment they think up. Still, if the Soul Angler gets to Amber, things will be awkward at home. It might make it harder to get away.

“We don’t have to sleep in the lake, you know!” Amber hollers, snapping me out of my thoughts. “We’ll just be in the woods nearby. Please, Trev. I already promised the girls.”

Amber’s three friends have wandered over and they join her in pleading like a pack of crippled Labradores. At least one of them, I think, is new to the area. I think for a second and let an idea form. 

I sigh and say, “Alright, if it means that much to you. I just hope you know what you’re getting into.” Amber and two of her friends are delighted. As I’d hoped, the newer one looks a little confused and curious.

As promised, the campsite Amber selected is in the woods and in the perfect place, too. If you went up the nearby hill and about a quarter mile, you’d be in our backyard. The girls gossip and giggle and watch stuff on their phones and (badly) experiment with lip gloss and eyeliner, before the sun starts to go down. Finally.

“Hey, Amber’s brother,” one of the girls calls to me. It’s the new one. “Can you tell us about the Soul Angler? None of them will give me any details.”

“It’s just a stupid urban legend,” one of Amber’s friends says dismissively. But she’s too slow to hide that worried glance at the glassy, still lake. Even in the orange of the setting sun, it looks dark and cold.

I get closer to the fire and tell them the story of the Soul Angler.

“No one really knows where this thing came from. An easy guess is the crevice at the bottom of the lake; since nobody’s ever found the bottom, maybe it leads all the way to Hell. But as for why the Soul Angler is here, we can thank the Fair Folk for that. They didn’t appreciate the Native Americans using their resources. Or maybe they were just in a particularly cruel mood. Either way, they threw slaughtered human after slaughtered human into that crevice to lure up the fish. Once they knew it was eating the bait, they sent down a very special sacrifice; one loaded with magic and attached to a rope. The Folk pulled, the fish pulled back. It got away, but the Fair Folk pulled away more than just the fish’s dinner. They got its soul on the end of the rope.” The girls don’t look terrified, but they don’t look bored, either.

“Now lacking its own soul, the fish became what we call the Soul Angler, luring in others and stealing theirs. It started with the Natives, attacking any of them who came close to the lake once the sun set. But when the Fair Folk moved out and the Europeans moved it, the Angler preyed on them instead. Then the puritans who hunted witches. The whites who enslaved blacks. Fundamentalists who oppressed the suffragettes or tormented AIDS victims. Parents who abused children. Whenever one side has too much power, the other side always learns of the Soul Angler and starts the legends. They talk about gold and jewels, magics and machines. Whatever’s coveted at the time, the Soul Angler has it in its lake. The Angler hears these rumors and leaves something on the beach or near the fissure for them to find. It’ll swim away when it sees them coming; distracted by something, they’ll think. They’ll grab their prize with minutes to spare. But the treasure is always a little heavier than they anticipated, and the Angler is always a little bit faster to come back.” Now the girls look intrigued.

“If you’re wondering how anyone knows about the Angler’s hunting tricks, it’s very simple. Having your soul removed doesn’t kill you. Not at first, anyway. They lose their inhibitions, their memories, their love for anything but their base desires, and then their sanity. They die soon after that, but before they do and their souls in the Angler’s gut are extinguished, the fish becomes a bit rambunctious. It will actually leave the lake at night and hunt. About fifty years ago, it had a serious case of the munchies. The whole town was driven insane for months before the military had to step in. It’ll attack anyone in its way, but their souls are never what it really wants.” It’s getting darker and the girls look wary. They haven’t gotten out their phones to check, yet, but that anecdote from fifty years ago intrigued them. None of them have heard that part before and it’s something they can actually verify.

One of them asks, “What happens if the Soul Angler gets its soul back?”

I honestly hadn’t thought of that. Wasn’t even sure that part was real. “It goes back to Hell, I guess. It won’t have a reason to stay here.”

With my story over, I step back and let the girls ruminate. They pull out their phones and confirm the mass insanity from 50 years ago. They’re a little spooked, but it doesn’t take them too long to forget about the Soul Angler. They start talking about guys, gossip, and other nonsense.

Then the sun fully disappears. The fire’s still burning and the girls are still talking. The sound of a flabby, tire-sized fin hitting the sand almost escapes us. Not quite, though. The second, louder thud unambiguously grabs our attention, as does the nightmarish wailing that follows. All eyes go to the lake and the monstrosity dragging itself onto the beach. On land, much of his glassy, navy-colored body hangs soft and gelatinous from his almost visible skeleton, with his teeth, claws, and bones the only rigid parts. His wide mouth, rimmed with unblinking white eyes, opens for another bellow. The inside is walled with glittering gems and contains no throat, just a long, lamppost-like lure that extends as it sees us. It picks up the pace.

Bags, tents, food, and fire are all forgotten as we all bolt up the hill to safety. I linger a bit, knowing he’s too slow to catch me.

“Thanks for the help, asshole,” I say under my breath. “They won’t want to come back here for the rest of the summer.” Then follow the girls up the hill as the creature bellows after me. I hope his fuzzy eyesight’s good enough to see how gracefully I run through the trees.

For a minute, I’m worried that no one will want to go back to the lake ever. But the girls have no proof and even if they did, people would still come. After all, this kind of stuff has been happening for centuries; noises in the forest, tracks leading to and from the lake, people running off out of the blue. No one ever seems to stay away. Curious, greedy, or just skeptical, they’ll always come.

As predicted, the girls say they saw something in the lake (although they wisely leave out any overt mention of the Soul Angler) and the parents don’t believe them. They alternate between blaming me, a bear, and a trick of the light. When Amber’s friend returns her torn and filthy sleeping-bag, I think they might believe her. Luckily nothing comes of it. 

The parents bitch me out for the story and for not holding their hands as we ran. If this is how they’re alway going to be, I might not wait until school starts to split. Don’t get me wrong, 10th grade sounds delightful, with all the high school drama and the lessons I’ll never need, but a change of scenery might be more fun.

I plan to spend at least a month gathering money and planning my escape before I actually do anything. I want to make the most of my few months of freedom once I’m out and getting dragged back by police is not on the to-do list. But after about a week, I’m almost ready to just up and leave. The parents are being exhausting, the noises from the forest are getting louder, and Amber will not leave me alone and will not shut up.

“Can you believe it’s real?” “Is that what’s making the noise at night?” “What’s the Wi-fi password?” “How’d you hear about the stuff from fifty years ago?” “Should we help find its soul?”

Finally, I shout at her, “Jesus in a racecar, Amber! Do whatever you want just leave me alone, please!”

For a merciful second, she’s quiet. Then she asks softly, “Trevor, did the Soul Angler get you? I know Charlie dared you to go down to the lake at night a few weeks ago. Is that why you’re acting like this?”

She looks like she’s about to cry. I swallow my revulsion and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Amber, the Angler didn't get me,” I say, more-or-less truthfully. “I saw it that night, but it didn’t leave the water. And I did some more research on it after I knew it was real. That’s all.”

“But how did it leave the water last week?” Amber asks. Oh damn, I didn’t think about that. “It must have gotten someone. And I know how to get your soul back. Or Charlie’s or whoever’s it is.”

“You can get my soul back?” I ask, too quickly to realize that I confirmed her theory.

Amber perks up immediately. “My friends and I found the Soul Angler’s original soul. The one the fairies stole. If we give it back, it might spit up yours.”

I just gape at her. Is she serious? I might be able to get my soul back? “How did you find it?”

“I figured the fairies would have left it here and that’s why it comes onto land whenever it can. Then I remembered about the sacrifice they used to pull it out; the guy they stuffed with magic. Brindy’s dad works with the Native American cultural center. We did some checking and we found a Native American burial site. The soul was actually buried with him.” 

She pulls out her phone and shows me a picture her friend sent her. Dirt-smudged fingers are holding a brain-sized blue diamond inlaid with gold filigree. There’s upturned earth and a gray stone in the background. I can’t believe it. They actually dug up a Native burial site for me? And that diamond; could that part of the story actually be…wait, what’s that? I flick the screen up and expose the rest of an earlier picture. A shoebox containing clips of 100$ bills, golden necklaces, at least one diamond ring, a silver goblet that has to be an antique, and more. And a message saying: What we have so far. What R U bringing?

When I ask, Amber looks sheepish. “This was our first idea. We figured the Soul Angler had to get its hoard from somewhere. Maybe people gave up their own treasures to bribe it for souls. I was going to get some of Mom’s jewels and Dad’s antiques, but now that we have the original soul…” She’s about to text her friends and I rack my brain looking for a way to convince her not to. 

“Are we sure any of this will work?” I try to sound hopeful and a little anxious. “Maybe we should try everything. And a few weapons, just in case. If we can’t get my soul back, we can at least make sure this never happens again.” Now I try to look brave and determined. 

She looks so relieved. “Anything to have my brother back.” 

We hug and cry and she texts her friends the plan. We’ll all go tonight with the treasure, the soul, and the weapons. Amber steals some artifacts from Dad’s study, taking anything small enough to go unmissed and valuable enough to matter. I get some knives and a shovel. I doubt they’ll hurt the Angler’s tough, gelatinous body, but they’ll definitely kill four little girls. After that, I’ll either have my soul or a heap of money. Or both.

When we meet the girls in the forest, we have Mom’s entire jewelry box, antique masks and statuettes from Dad’s study, and a few thousand dollars to add to the suitcase full of valuables. The soul Brindy pulls out of her backpack puts it all to shame. It’s clear and blue like moonlight at the bottom of the lake. It’s not perfectly round and the golden wires don’t form any designs that I can see. But the stone looks like it fits into something. And if it doesn’t, I can sell it.

“Jade, Felicia, Amber and I will be hiding nearby with the weapons,” Brindy says, selecting a butcher knife. She hands the soul and suitcase to me. “If all goes well, the soul will be enough.”

“Thank you,” I say, trying to make my smile look genuine. “For everything. Now, let’s get my soul back in my body.”

The sun is setting as we trudge down the forest trail so I’ll have to be quick if I want this done before night. The suitcase is heavy enough that I can swing around and bash Jade’s skull. Then I can nab her shovel, kill the others, kill the parents when they come home from date night, take the car, then I’m home free. Maybe I’ll stash the loot somewhere and come back as an adult, so the cops can’t recognize me. There’s a ridge coming up. Jade will be off balance a bit as she skids down it. Just a little further. 

A little further.

And…

“Now!” Amber shouts.

The forest floor nearby explodes with dirt, twigs, and water. A webbed claw slams into the dirt path in front of me and tries to heave the rest of the body out of a shallow pit of water. 

“How the hell?!” I gasp, scrambling back. “The Soul Angler’s here!”

“Yes, it is,” Amber says, dangerously quiet. She and her friends are gripping their weapons tightly. “And I want it out of my brother’s body.”

Oh, damn.

In front of me, Amber and her friends block my way back to the house with deadly weapons. Behind me, Trevor’s finished shaking off the branches and leaves that kept him hidden and out of the sun. The tree cover and the late hour works in his favor, but I can still smell the sizzling of fish flesh burning in the sunlight. He extends the lure from his–well, my mouth and advances.

I don’t bother asking how the catfish got out of the bag. I pick the clearest direction off the trail and bolt. Trevor was a track runner, so his legs can carry me faster than the girls and certainly my old body can follow even with the treasure and the soul. But it isn’t long before I run into a downed tree limiting my options. 

I try another direction, but it’s blocked, too. There are grooves in the ground that I know were created by my body’s bulk and I realize the felled trees are his doing, too. His most recent stomping and smashing in the forest weren’t just tantrums; he arranged these trees to block me when I ran.

“We’ve been planning this for a week, Angler,” Amber shouts as they all start gaining. I kick and shove my way through the branches, logs, and pricker bushes at their least dense: facing down towards the lake. “Ever since I knew what you really are. Now give up and make this easy. Just let Trevor switch you back and you can go back to your lake.”

“And try not to drop that soul,” Brindy chimes in as I finally break through. “It took my 3D printer hours to make it.”

The girls and Trevor actually laugh as they pursue. I didn't even know my body could laugh. If Trevor figured out how to do that, I’ll bet he knows how to work my lure. Those idiots 50 years ago managed to do it so he definitely can. 

All of Amber’s questions, her prying. Was Charlie even real or was that just a test to see what I got right about Trevor’s life? I’ve never felt so stupid and, trust me, I’ve had plenty of chances to be humiliated throughout the centuries. I’ve been to high school thousands of times, after all. 

I ignore my embarrassment, drop the phony soul, and pump my legs. For a second, I’m grateful that I don’t have to carry the treasure uphill. But the heavy weight makes it hard to keep my footing. I end up going slower just to keep from falling. But once I get to the lake, I’ve got a plan.

I’ll just jump into the water and take a deep breath. This body will croak, I’ll get shunted back to my old one, kill those four little heifers, then just keep the treasure with me until I can find a new body to play in. Simple stuff.

The forest thins out and the lake is in sight. There’s crashing behind me, but I ignore it. My old body can’t run worth a damn, but Trevor’s sure can. I get ready for the home stretch into the water when I realize the crashing is getting louder and closer. Very quickly. 

I turn just in time for a glassy, navy blue boulder to roll downhill an inch from my shoulder. My old body may not be able to run, but curling up and letting gravity do the work is easy enough. He doesn’t hit me, but it’s the last straw for my balance. My hand slips away from the loot and I tumble the rest of the way to the beach. Where Trevor’s waiting with my massive body.

Before I can get to my feet, his flabby tail, now sizzling and baking in earnest under the setting summer sun, comes down on my back and pins me to the ground. I hear the girls coming up behind us.

“Amber, please!” I beg; one last desperate effort. “You don’t know what you’re doing. He didn’t switch our bodies. He stole my soul. That’s what he does!”

She scoffs with disbelief and points to something on the ground. “That’s not what he says.” 

I follow her finger to a large strip of bark on the ground next to a black scorch mark. It’s the campsite we used a week ago. I can just barely make out the word HELP scratched on the inside of the bark. All those bark pieces in the girls’ sleeping bags…

I don’t resist as the lure extends and glows with a light that pierces me to my bones. Trevor eased my tail off of his body before the transfer, but there’s no point in running. I just let my consciousness settle into a familiar large, strong, durable body. The sun’s drying rays aren’t drying fast enough for it not to painfully boil my organs beneath my translucent skin. Could really stand to have eyelids, too. But you know…as the kids enjoy their little reunion next to me, I think I can muster the strength to roll over to the water and just maybe crush��

BLAM!!!

I watch Mom and Dad (well, I guess I should call them Mrs. and Mr. Price) join the party from in the grass. Good thing some squirrels are too dumb to steer clear of a giant fish monster at the edge of the forest. Apparently, Amber left a note in Mr. Price’s study and those goofy coke-bottle glasses of his really help his aim with a shotgun.

I’d always wondered what would happen to me if my old body died while I was in another. As the unfortunate squirrel screams, sizzles, burns, and bleeds itself to death, I get my answer: I’m stuck as a friggin’ squirrel.

But I can still feel a connection to my lure. Even as Mr. Price saws the large, white lump of glass from the tip of the stalk, even as he hauls it up to the house, I know the power to switch remains. I’ve only got a week or two before this squirrel body dies under the weight of my soul, so I start planning. I station myself near the house, wait for any opening inside, and…wait is that a hawk up there?

Damn.

[emotionlcss]

ungodlvhour​:

he   knew   that   sooner   or   later   he   would   let   her   in   anyway   ,   but   noticing   the   blonde   walk   past   him   and   enter   on   her   own   brought   a   chuckle   to   jake's   lips   .    “   wow   .   .   .   very   polite   ,   blondie   .   i'm   sure   you'll   manage   to   stay   out   of   trouble   just   fine   .   ”    following   his   best   friend's   sister   to   the   backyard   ,   dark   hues   studying   every   detail   of   her   as   hadley   got   ready   to   get   in   the   pool   .   sitting   on   one   of   the   chairs   by   the   pool   and   pulling   his   phone   out   of   his   pocket   ,   his   gaze   soon   moving   from   the   screen   to   the   blonde   in   the   pool   .    “   i'm   gonna   stick   around   ,   make   sure   you   don't   drown   or   some   shit   ,   the   last   thing   i   need   is   to   be   wanted   for   your   murder   .   ”

hadley had just stepped into the pool when she heard the footsteps of the the male behind her, causing a smile to form at the edges of her lips. ❝ thought you weren’t gonna babysit? ❞ she’d teased him, moving towards the edge of the pool, letting her arms rest up on the edge. his answer for being there was enough to cause her to laugh, but she wasn’t opposed to the company at all. ❝ so if i start to drown you’re going to jump in and save me? mouth to mouth, a real baywatch lifeguard moment? ❞ the blonde couldn’t help but to tease him, it was like second nature. growing up jake had just always seemed be around, palling around with her older brother and she was comfortable letting her guard down around him. ❝ if you’re going to be out here anyways, you could always get in the water, or at least pretend to enjoy my company. ❞ sticking her tongue out at him it had only lasted a moment before she was shifting her position into a backfloat.

[topguncortez]

Day 26: No One Left Behind ➢prompt: "Why did you save me?" ➢character: Robert "Bob" Floyd ➢warnings: hazing, underaged drinking, toxic parents, near drowning, fear of water ➢word count: 3.3k ➢masterlist | whumptober | library

Bob never liked large bodies of water. He grew up in a landlocked town in the middle of nowhere Wyoming. The only things to do in the summer were to run in the backyard through a sprinkler or to go to the pond. Everyone went to the lake, it was the place to be during the unforgiving summers. Kids, teens and adults would spend their days on the sand shores, fishing, sunbathing or playing in the water. Bob didn’t like the lake because of what lurked underneath the surface. He had seen the pictures of the large fish that fishermen pulled out of there. He had heard the rumors and the legends of different ghouls and demons that supposedly haunted the waters and would pull unsuspecting swimmers into its depths. But what really sealed the deal for Bob hating the lake, was when his younger brother pushed him off the family pontoon. 

His parents didn’t realize Bob had gone overboard for several moments, he usually was behind them in the back, silent and holding on to his lifejacket tightly. But it was Bob’s older sister who shouted that the then six year old Bob was in the middle of the lake. 

“Mom! Bob fell over!” She shouted. 

“Oh my god!” His mother shouted and his dad quickly turned the boat around. Bob was luckily wearing a life jacket, but was kicking and splashing around, trying to get the lake grass off of his legs. His glasses had fallen off and were sinking towards the bottom, which caused more panic as he couldn’t see what was going on. When his father got close to him, he jumped into the water and swam over to where he was. Bob clung to him, his hands tightening around the shirt he wore. 

“Kick your goddamn legs, Rob,” His father cursed as he swam them back to the boat. He lifted up the little boy into his mother’s arms and Bob clung on tightly to her. 

“Oh my baby boy,” She cooed, and dried him with a towel, “I’m so sorry we didn’t notice.” 

“Well maybe if he would fucking talk,” His dad cursed again, stepping up onto the platform of the boat, “Fucking say something next time or swim your ass back to shore.” 

“David!” 

“Well?” His father shrugged, “Kid needs to learn to do something for himself. Quit fucking babying him.” 

Ever since that day, Bob did all he could to avoid water. But that seemed to be a bit of a paradox when he joined the Navy. His dad even laughed at him when he came home with his enlistment packet in his hands. 

“You can’t fucking look at water without panicking. The fuck did you join the Navy for?” 

“To help pay for school,” Bob said softly, “And they’ll teach me at boot camp.”  

Which was true. His father had told him from a young age that they would never be able to pay for his college. That he would have to figure it out by himself. His older siblings didn’t go to college. His two older sisters MaryAnn and Elizabeth both married local ranchers. His brother Michael was set to take over the family ranch. But Bob was determined to not be stuck in no named Wyoming for the rest of his life. 

And Bob was right, they did teach him how to swim in boot camp. It wasn’t beautiful, but he could pass the swim test and keep himself above water. But Bob knew that he wasn’t going to willingly jump into the pool and go for a swim. It also helped that he was wearing a life jacket the whole time, which gave him some comfort. After boot camp, Bob had gotten his acceptance letter into the Naval Academy. His mother cried when he told her, and didn’t stop crying until after they dropped him off in Maryland. Bob had never been to the east coast before, nor spent this much time away from his family. What kept him going in boot camp was the fact that he would be home in ten weeks. Now he was moving across the country. 

Bob had three roommates in his tiny four person dorm; Geco, Tank, and Hermes. They were almost the polar opposite of Bob. Each of them were nearly 6’2 and built. Hermes currently holds the class record for fastest PT test. Though Bob couldn’t compete with them physically, he competed with them in the classroom. They envied the way Bob just understood everything that was being taught in their classes, and hardly had to study for exams to do perfect. Bob had offered to help them study, but they all shot it down. Most people in the class had envied Bob, and labeled him as the enemy, except Y/N. 

Y/N, like Bob, was also on the outskirts of their class. She was a legacy student, her dad being the current commander of the pacific fleet. She had gone by her mother’s maiden name, so she could make a name for herself fair and square, but it was unmistakable who’s daughter she was, with her bright blue eyes and blonde hair. Oh, and the way she was ice cold. Unlike Bob, she didn’t let the whispers and the jokes bother her. She let them bounce off her back and continued on with her studies. 

“Hey, Frost,” Hermes said. Bob was currently in the library, sitting att a table across the room from where Frost was. She had been there as long as Bob had been, her nose in a text book, “We’re having a little party this weekend at the SigEp house. You should come.” 

“And why would I do that?” Y/N asked. 

“Cause I’ll be there,” He smirked and held his hands out. Bob watched as Frost rolled her eyes and turned around, “Come on, don’t be so cold,” She continued to ignore him, which was something Hermes couldn’t stand. Bob watched as he clenched his jaw, “Fine. Just so you know, the only way you’re here is because your dad is fucking Iceman Kazansky. He probably couldn’t stand having a fuck up as a daughter and had to do some chairty work.” 

Bob’s eyes widened at Hermes' words, and waited to see what she would do. He watched her body shake as she gripped her pencil in a vice grip, causing the wood to splinter. Hermes also watched her, and let out a laugh seeing no response from her, and advised his little posse to leave her table. Bob waited for them to leave, before standing up from his own table and walked over to her. 

“You deserve to be here,” Bob said softly. Y/N looked up at him and his heart faltered a bit, seeing the tears in her eyes. His jaw dropped and he quickly dug in his backpack, looking for the packet of kleenex he usually kept on him. Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as she watched him dig around in his bag, before stretching his shaky hand out and offering her the kleenex. She smiled at him and took it. 

“Thank you, Bob,” Y/N said. 

“You know who I am?” 

“Of course, Bob Floyd, political science major. You sit in front of me during intro to strat,” Y/N said and packed up her books. Bob watched her as she moved quickly, “Thanks again. And I’ll see you at the party.” 

“Y-Yeah!” Bob called out to her. Once she was out of the library Bob cursed himself, “What the hell? You’re not going to the party. You don’t party.” 

— — — 

The music was too loud for Bob’s liking. He didn’t understand how people would like their music this loud. He couldn’t even understand what was being said. The house was hot and stuffy, with people all over the place. Bob found a corner of the kitchen that was somewhat uncrowded and close to the table of snacks. He was nursing a cup of sprite that he had poured himself and snacking on the various mixes. Bob had never been to a party before. 

His eyes scanned the kitchen, looking for Y/N. He knew that she was either already here or showing up late. He had watched Mean Girls before coming to the party, to somewhat understand what to expect. Apparently, you didn’t show up to parties at the time the host said they started, so Bob waited nearly an hour before arriving. He also felt slightly overdressed in his khaki pants, button up shirt, and vans. His roommates were wearing jeans and tshirts, and Bob made a mental note to go shopping for some. 

“Do my eyes deceive me?” Bob turned around and let out a breath, “Bobby Floyd? At a party.” 

“Hangman,” Bob sighed, “How are you?” 

“How am I?” Hangman said, “I am magnificent. How are you? And why are you here?” 

“I was invited,” Bob said. 

Hangman raised his eyebrows in surprise. Jake Seresin was two years older than Bob, and had met him during recruitment over the summer, and was one of the peer leaders in his tactile movement and strategy class. Jake was also the quarterback for the football team, and had perfectly styled blonde hair and a bright smile. Bob had tried to hide in the back of the class, but Jake easily picked him out of the class, and told him he was “taking him under his wing”. Bob took in the sight of Jake’s outfit, dark blue jeans, a fitted black t-shirt, and cowboy boots. 

“So really, why are you here?” Jake asked again. 

Bob opened his mouth to answer, when he heard Y/N’s voice enter the kitchen. She walked right past him, a couple girls right behind her. His blue eyes watched as she greeted some of the other party go-ers and poured herself a drink. Jake followed Bob’s eyesight and smirked. 

“The admiral’s daughter!? Way to go Bobby Boy,” Jake clapped him on the back, “I knew you didn’t just decide to show up cause you were “invited”.” 

“Why is it so hard to believe-” 

“Go talk to her,” Jake said. 

“Oh no, I-I can’t,” Bob shook his head, “She’s with. . . him.” Jake squinted his eyes and looked back up at where Y/N was now being crowded by Hermes. She looked uncomfortable as he put his hands on her hips and tried to pull her back into his chest. 

“The dude trying to force himself on her? Hermes? Nah, she’s not into him.” 

“Well, he looks into her.” 

“Bob, trust me, she’s not into him,” Jake said. 

“How do you know?” 

“Cause she’s walking over here right now,” Bob lifted his head up and his eyes widened as she walked over with determination. Jake took a step back as Y/N put herself by Bob, and wrapped a hand around his waist. 

“Babe! You’re here!” She smiled and kissed his cheek, “I told you, Adrian, my boyfriend is here.” 

“My fucking roommate? Next you’re going to tell me that his crying at night is actually cause you’re giving him head and not cause he misses his mom,” Hermes joked. 

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Y/N sassed. Jake smirked at Bob, who looked uncomfortable. Jake rolled his eyes, and subtly grabbed Bob’s hand to put around Y/N’s waist. He jumped at the feeling and Jake just nodded. 

“Listen, Hermes, how bout you and the freshman jock squad go take a walk,” Jake said, “You guys are fucking wasted. Now go, or I tell Coach Smith and we run Death Hill until someone really dies.” 

The group all agreed and disbanded. Y/N waited a bit, still keeping her arm around Bob until they were out of eyeshot. She sighed and untangled herself from Bob’s side, and Bob had to fight back a frown. 

“Thanks, Floyd,” She said and walked away from him. 

— — —

It was a beautiful night, and Bob could see the stars for once. That was something he missed since moving out East. You could hardly see the stars at night due to all the city lights and pollution. Back home, Bob would lay on his roof and look at the stars until the late hours at night. It helped calm him. He knew all the constellations in the sky, and could tell you their stories, and what season they are most prominent in. Currently, he was looking at Orion, and recalling one of his favorite stories about the constellation. 

He wondered if Y/N liked the stars too. He was surprised how quiet it was outside, most people preferred to be inside the sweaty, hot house. Those outside were couples making out, girls having a drunk heart to heart, or people smoking weed. Bob had been offered a joint, but was too scared to do it. He had smoked weed once with his older sister, and could remember how angry his dad had gotten when he threw up on the floor. Bob swore he wasn’t going to try the drug again. 

Bob’s moment of quiet was cut off by a hand landing on his shoulder. He jumped and looked over his shoulder at Hermes, Tank and Geco standing behind him. He felt his stomach drop and he scrambled to try and get away, but Tank and Geco grabbed his arms. 

“Bob, I don’t think we have properly introduced you to the SigEp house,” Hermes smirked. 

“I-I’ve been here before,” Bob said.

“Oh yeah, with Seresin,” Hermes nodded, “Your little butt buddy? Oh wait. . . that’s Frost isn’t it. Sorry I forget, that you like both of them to fuck you.” 

“I don’t do-” 

“I don’t give a fuck who fucks you in the ass, Floyd. But stay away from my girl.”

“She’s not yours,” Bob sneered. He wasn’t sure where that came from, but he hated the way Hermes was talking about Y/N. She wasn’t an object he could own. 

“No? Then why was she just sucking on my dick and not yours?” Hermes laughed and Bob felt himself deflate a bit, but shook his head. 

“Just let me go. I’ll leave the party,” Bob said honestly. 

“Oh no. . . No can do. Bobby Boy. It’s time for NIGHT SWIMMING!” Hermes yelled loudly, which seemed to get the attention of some of those in the house, because a group came rushing out. Y/N was dancing with Jake when she heard the commotion from outside. Her and Jake shared a look before pushing through the crowd to go outside. Jake saw Hermes first, standing up on a chair and cursed. 

“Shit. . .” Jake said, “It’s Bob.” 

Y/N pushed her way through the crowd and made it down the deck to the pool. Bob looked terrified in Geoc and Tank’s hold as Hermes was taunting him. She had been to enough frat parties to know what was going to happen. Hermes grabbed a random beer as Tank held Bob’s chin open. He dumped the alcohol into Bob’s mouth, not caring that he was fighting against the hold on his arms and choking. The crowd seemed to instigate the brutality even more as the three boys stripped Bob of his clothes. 

“Adrian! Stop, just let him go!” Y/N pleaded. 

“Oh look Floyd, you’re little girl friend is here. Hope you can swim!” Hermes yelled. 

“Throw him in! Throw him in! Throw him in!” The crowd cheered. Bob was frozen in fear, only in his underwear and socks. He tried with all his might to push out of Tank and Geco’s arms, but it was no use as they pushed him into the deepest part of the pool. The crowd all cheered as Bob was tossed in, the boys high fiving each other. 

“Help! Help me!”” Bob yelled as he started thrashing. 

“Calm the fuck down Floyd,” Hermes spat. 

“I can’t swim!” Bob felt his lungs starting to close up as he breathed in water. He frantically kicked his arms and legs, trying to keep himself up. The panic rose in his chest, and suddenly he felt like he was back in the lake as a child. He couldn’t see much other than blobs of people staring at him. 

“Bob!” Y/N ran towards the edge of the pool. Hermes grabbed her waist to stop her, but she kneed him in the balls, “Burn in hell.” She spat at Hermes, before jumping into the pool. 

Bob’s head started to spin as he felt his body being pulled under. He could feel the tears running down his face as fear had him in a vice grip. Y/N swam to him fast, and wrapped her arms around his chest. 

“Calm down!” She yelled, worried that Bob was going to pull her under as well, “I got you, kick your legs with me.” 

“I can’t!” Bob gasped out. 

“You can,” Y/N grunted and wrapped her arms under his armpits. Jake had made his way down to the side of the pool, and knelt down. “Breathe, Bob, I got you.” Bob took a deep breath as Y/N reached the edge of the pool. Jake grabbed Bob’s arms and pulled him out of the water. The crowd around was shocked as Bob laid on his back, coughing up water. Y/N pushed herself out of the pool, and helped roll Bob on his side, so he didn’t choke. Bob let out a sob, as he pushed himself up to his hands and knees. 

“We got you, Bob,” Jake said, rubbing his back. Y/N wasn’t sure what to say, brushed the wet locks of blonde hair out of his eyes. 

“The bitch can’t swim!” Hermes chuckled. 

“You could’ve killed him!” Y/N yelled at Hermes. 

“Just pointing out the weak ones,” Hermes shrugged. 

Y/N clenched her jaw and went to stand up, but Bob grabbed her wrist. She looked down at him and he shook his head. His chest was still heaving up and down, his blue eyes wet with tears. Y/N nodded and knelt back down next to him. 

“Alright. . . EVERYONE GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE!” Jake yelled and the crowd quickly dispersed. Jake was angry and looked down at Bob, who seemed to be doing a bit better, “I’m going to get a towel. You okay?” Bob nodded and Jake looked at Y/N, “Frost?” 

“I will be,” Y/N said and Jake nodded, walking towards the house, “I’m so sor-” 

“I’m sorry,” Bob said, “Your dress is ruined.” 

“Are you really concerned about my dress?” She asked in disbelief, “Bob, you nearly died and you are worried about my dress.” 

“Seems expensive,” Bob waited a moment, sitting down on his butt and running a hand through his hair, “Shit. . . my glasses.” 

“Oh, I think they are at the bottom,” Y/N peered over the edge of the pool, and sure enough, his glasses were sitting at the bottom, “I can get-” He grabbed her wrist again to stop her. 

“Why did you save me?” 

“You needed-” 

“No,” Bob shook his head, “Someone would’ve jumped in eventually when I went passive. But why did you save me?” 

“Because. . . I like you Bob,” Y/N admitted, “A lot. And I should’ve done more to stop Adrian, and I am so sorry for what they did. This is going to be dealt with. They won’t get away with this, I plan on letting my-” Her words were cut off as Bob grabbed her face and kissed her. She froze for a split second, before kissing him back. Bob’s hand caressed her face as her hands went to the back of his neck. Their kiss was split up by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind them. 

“Well, excuse me for interrupting and saving my mentee from pneumonia,” Jake said, and handed Bob a towel, “You going to be okay, Floyd?” 

“I don’t plan on going swimming anytime soon,” Bob said looking up at Jake and then at Y/N, “But yeah,” He grabbed her hand and laced their fingers together, “I’ll be okay.”

[bubble4u]

I had a thought and I'm basing this off the translated info page about taiju

@danni-k @festive @shekan @bontensucker @mianavs @aasouthteranoswife

"Hiro it'll be hard to swim if all your doing is sitting by the edge" taiju was a few feet away from his 7 yr old son who currently was having a silent tantrum with his arms crossed and a pout adorning his face you both knew he wasn't gonna budge. "Hiroooo come oooon your cousin Hana already learned how to swim for her pool party this weekend and your auntie yuzuha couldn't teach you today buddy" you kneeled down eye level with him who still wasn't gonna hear it he made up his mind and he was stubborn just like a certain blue haired male you knew.

You gave taiju a look for help hoping maybe he'd jump I'm anytime to help, he grumbled to himself he wanted to help his child he did but he knew just like him the minute he said no he meant it. Taiju swam his way to where his child was praying to God maybe he could get through to him "Hiro, you need to learn how to swim if you even want to attend Hana's birthday party" the child shook his head "I don't wanna my brother doesn't have to learn then I don't wanna either". Taiju rolled his eyes at the excuse his son gave "hiro your brother is 6 weeks old he's smaller your 7 years your alot older than him" but again the child shook his head "I don't wanna! It's scary and i could drown like uncle hakkai!!" taiju didn't mean to laugh a bit at the memory of hakkai falling of the boat he rented for his 35th birthday party he just wished his son didn't have to witness his uncle being overly dramatic with the whole "drowning" bit. You lightly smacked taiju shoulder snapping him back to the present "hiro your not gonna drown mommy and daddy are here, plus your daddy is a great swimmer" you looked at hiro who just kept his head down kicking his legs in the after still didn't budge with going inside.

You and taiju shared a look of concern you two knew hiro will feel left out with the other children swimming in yuzuha backyard pool and it's not like you two are telling him go without floaties you two just wanted him to go further than just the stairs. Taiju eyes perked up he got out of the pool not even caring that he was wet walking back through his house to the garage. You were confused about to scold taiju for walking into the house soaking wet but he came back with an object in hand out of hiro view. Your eyes lit up with excitement hoping this would help your child get over his fear, all the way at other side of the pool taiju slipped on said object to his back and tightened the straps, put on some swimmers goggles and jumped in.

This made hiro look up and all he saw was dark blue shake fin swimming around and within an instant he's clapping, jumping around at the fake fin, it was then headed towards you two and up taiju head came hugging his son. "Daddy is a shark! daddy is shark! I wanna be like daddy!!" The child was climbing off taiju ready to start swimming with his dad having him hold up while he kicks and paddles just so he can get the basics down in shallow water.

[unbridgeabledistances]

ian + mickeys neck (was thinking of the drunk ian fic and wondered if you would be interested in pursuing this idea further?) <3

anon i am CRYING thank u so much for this!!!! i have been feeling like i need to make my contribution to the “mickey’s neck” discourse for a while lmao and this is my opportunity (esp bc ian holding mickey in the 11x12 stills wrecked me)

in the spirit of following up 11x10 i decided to write this based on an amazing post @mickey-millagher made/a prompt that @pombby sent me about ian teaching mickey to swim at a public pool during lockdown at some point early s11- i hope u enjoy<3

(this is the tiniest notch steamier than what i usually write but it isn’t smutty fyi- tw for descriptions of choking😌)

--

There was no one at the park— the air hung heavy and humid over the empty picnic tables and wooden benches that punctuated the fields of dying grass. As much as people on the Southside were definitely not taking any part of this lockdown shit seriously, it didn’t surprise Ian how silent the public park was— there was still a scarcer number of people out on their stoops or lounging on street corners this summer. Ian guessed that the few people who didn’t think that this was a hoax realized that this COVID shit was serious enough that they couldn’t afford healthcare if they got it, or whatever— but regardless, that meant that this Southside summer was weirdly stagnant somehow, and felt different from the noisy and crowded rhythms of summers past.

It was the late morning, just as the air started heat like a convection oven as the sun rose over the skyline— and Ian had his heart set on teaching Mickey to swim today. The conversation had come up last night at dinnertime, when Debbie was complaining about the heat wave— and they had all started reminiscing about the rickety, tin-sided pool they used to put up in the backyard years ago until Carl had taken a hatchet to it when he was 11 when he was trying to tear it down. Sitting next to Mickey at the kitchen table, thighs pressed where their chairs were scooted close together, Ian had suddenly remembered his words from their road trip to the border, years ago now:

“You could try swimming across the border.”

“I never learned how, man.”

And he’d immediately opened his mouth, not catching the words before they moved from his brain to his mouth, and asked Mickey in the middle of the dinnertime chatter: “Hey Mick, did you ever actually learn to swim?”

It was funny, and arbitrary, and stupid; they were married now, but for some reason this small fact about Mickey, the fact that he used to not know how to swim and by now he might have learned without Ian’s knowledge, made something warm pool in Ian’s stomach. He’d known Mickey, and had been itching to be closer and closer to him, for a full decade—and there were still so many things that he didn’t know. And this was proof, this question that Ian still didn’t have the answer to about some weirdly fundamental aspect of Mickey’s identity— he was always going to want to keep asking things about Mickey. And he was always going to get to.

Mickey had looked him with daggers in his eyes, then flickered a defensive glance at all the smirks growing on Ian’s siblings’ faces. “Fuck you. I was doing plenty of other shit in Mexico, didn’t really get the chance to lounge on the fucking beach.”

Ian had reached under the table and placed a hand on Mickey’s knee—a peace offering, an apology for whatever Mickey-can’t-swim quips Carl and Lip would inevitably think up as a low blow the next time they all butted heads at breakfast time— but as the chatter about backyard pools and heat waves continued at the dinner table, Ian felt an idea stirring.

Which is why the next morning he’d woken his husband up by pressing a tender kiss to his jawbone, both of their skin damp and clammy from the heat in the stuffy bedroom, and whispered into his neck:

“I wanna try something today.”

Mickey’s mind had immediately veered in… other directions, his eyebrows raising in vaguely disappointed disbelief when Ian had explained his idea to go to the public pool and teach Mickey to swim with an exuberant grin on his face; but after some very enticing morning persuasion that had a lot to do with the fact that Mickey was still half asleep while Ian had pressed kisses down his spine and dragged him out of bed and handed him a pair of swim trunks, now they were at the public pool in the nearest park at midday, with Ian leading the way and Mickey dubiously and sleepily straggling behind him.

Ian slid open the lock on the chain-link fence that surrounded the pool, the same pool that was usually crawling with groups of teenagers smoking weed and toddlers in floaties who were sticky with melted ice cream on a summer day like today. And maybe he was just all hopped up on nostalgia, but Ian was feeling cheerful— there was a lightness to the blinding summer sunshine, radiating through him as it pooled on his skin, that made him feel weirdly exhilarated and giddy about teaching Mickey to swim in this grimy Southside pool, just because he could.

“I still can’t believe you never learned how to swim.” Ian said it over his shoulder as he strode through the gate, holding it open for Mickey.

Mickey just flipped him off, following behind him and setting down two towels and the 6-pack of beers he’d grabbed from the fridge as they’d shuffled out the door minutes before. Ian grinned. He knew the beers would be warm and syrupy in minutes—the air was muggy and humid, without any hint of a breeze for relief. Ian could already feel the sweat dripping down the back of his t-shirt; he peeled it off as he walked over the sunwarmed concrete towards the pool’s edge, crumpling the shirt and throwing it on top of the pile with the beers and the towels. Mickey was hesitant, not following Ian to the border of the water just yet.

“Seriously. I can’t count the number of times I was shoved into our bacteria-infested backyard pool when I was a kid. I’m pretty sure that Frank tried to drown me in there at one point.”

Mickey just shrugged noncommittally, his fingers slack around the bottom hem of his shirt and his eyes zeroing in on the pool of water. Ian thought Mickey would say something in reply— but the only sound in the air was the faint shouting of kids playing a basketball game the street over.

Holy shit. Ian had been so buoyant and excited about his nostalgia-fueled idea of going to the public pool on a summer day and teaching his husband to swim, dragging Mickey out of the house without a second thought, that he hadn’t realized it until now— Mickey was scared.

Ian swallowed down the grin that was threatening to overtake his face— one he knew that Mickey would immediately notice and hate, because he it drove him crazy when people gave him shit in vulnerable moments like this, when Mickey couldn’t do something. So instead Ian kept talking, hoping his chatter would loosen some of Mickey’s nerves.

“Didn’t you and your brothers ever go down to the other pool over on Trumbull?”

Mickey met Ian’s eyes then, raising an annoyed eyebrow. “Clearly not.”

And, okay. This was understandably bringing up some childhood shit. Ian tried to snap Mickey out of his head— he strode over to where Mickey was standing, a good six feet from the poolside, and snaked a hand onto the back of his neck, squeezing gently in what he hoped was a grounding and comforting touch that would drain the trepidation from Mickey’s defensive stance.

“One summer Debbie was so afraid of getting drowned at the public pool that she learned how to hold her breath for 4 minutes.” Ian grinned at the memory of Debbie dunking her head in a tub of water in the kitchen, making him and Lip time her. “Honestly, it was probably for the best you never went to the public pool. It was a shit show.”

Mickey scoffed, but the lightness was back in his eyes. “If I knew how to swim back in the day I probably woulda been the one doing the drowning.”

Ian barked out a laugh— and why did he immediately turn back into his 15-year-old self, with a god-awful crush on Mickey Milkovich, whenever Mick said shit like that? He pressed his lips into a smile, squeezing Mickey’s shoulder once more for good measure.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, king of the Southside. You ready to get in the water?” Ian’s hand trailed down from its grasp on Mickey’s shoulderblades, dropping to encircle Mickey’s wrist and guide him towards the water.

Mickey immediately recoiled, yanking his hand from Ian’s hold and taking a step back, squinting and holding up a hand to block the bright rays of sun out of his eyes now that he wasn’t standing in Ian’s shadow.

“Fuck d’you mean? I’m not just gonna fucking hop in there and drown. You gotta show me what to do.”

Ian grinned again, without being able to hold it back. He knew what Mickey was like when he was afraid of something— defensive and grumbly and avoidant to touch. He rolled his eyes. “Can’t really teach you to swim when we’re not in the water, Mick. C’mon.”

Ian walked over to sit on the edge, then slid his torso down into the pool. The water was lukewarm and tepid, barely providing any relief from the sticky air— but it felt nice. Ian let out a little breath of relief from the heat as he waded over to the shallow end. Mickey was still standing by the mound of the towels the ground, watching him warily. Ian raised his eyebrows.

“You coming?”

Rolling his eyes, Mickey aggravatedly pulled off his shirt, tossing it behind him— sunrays bounced off of Mickey’s pale skin, owing mostly to the fact that Mickey had barely left the house in the last few weeks because of their prolonged “honeymoon.” He slowly walked to the very edge of the pool and, in a movement that made Ian’s heart grow ten sizes, hesitantly dipped a toe into the water like a cat trying to paw at something. A corner of Mickey’s mouth flickered downwards almost imperceptibly, a worry line sprouting on his forehead.

“I don’t know, man.”

Ian breathed out a laugh. Leave it to Mickey Milkovich, shit-talking king of the Southside, to be afraid of the shallow end of a public pool. Ian reached out a hand in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, still smiling like a sappy motherfucker at his painfully endearing husband.

“C’mon Mick, just stand here with me first.” Ian was waist-deep in the shallow end, the water pressing against his upper thighs— he knew that at this height the water would be at Mickey’s waist, right where his swim trunks met his hipbones.

Mickey’s brows furrowed from where he was still perched on the concrete lip of the pool ledge, his two feet firmly rooted. “Explain what I gotta do first. To swim, or whatever.”

Ian blew out a breath, still grinning like an idiot. “It’s not that hard, Mick. You just gotta circle your arms and circle your legs. But you have to get in the water first.”

Ian treaded over, pushing through the water to where he could rest his upper arms on the edge of the pool beside where Mickey was standing, staring up at him with what he hoped was a convincingly pleading face. Mickey’s eyes were still fixated on the water, lapping at the pool’s edge from where Ian had rippled through it. And suddenly Ian had an idea.

With a teasing grin, he reached a wet hand out from the water and encircled it around Mickey’s ankle, splattering the concrete with drops of water. Mickey immediately jerked like an electric shock had jolted through his body.

“You gonna come in, or do I have to make you?”

Mickey tried to shake his ankle out of Ian’s grasp, but Ian had hold of him with an iron fist. Mickey leaned over and tried to swat at Ian’s arm without losing his balance on the pool’s edge.

“Cut that shit out right now, Gallagher.”

Ian just grinned, squeezing Mickey’s ankle like he was about to tug him in. “Come on, Mick.”

Mickey’s eyes widened and, just as Ian had imagined he would— he started to freak the fuck out.  

“Ian stop that shit right now, I swear to god I will fucking murder you if you—”

They were at the 6-foot marker in the pool, right where it was deep enough for Mickey to stand on the very tips of his toes; and with this knowledge, Ian tugged at Mickey’s calf— causing him to falter, his arms circling like a cartoon character before he lost his balance and crashed into the water on his side.

Ian immediately placed his hands on Mickey’s hips, standing him upright before his head even fell under the water— but Mickey was still sputtering and splashing, like the drama queen that he was. Once Mickey regained his composure and realized he was easily standing on the bottom of the pool, his head bobbing just above the water, he swiftly splashed healthy burst of water into Ian’s face, the chlorine stinging his eyes and nose.

“Fuck you, Gallagher!”

Ian coughed at the water that had shot up his nose, but immediately splashed Mickey back—and then, because there wasn’t any way this whole pool situation was going to go anyways, he and Mickey were immediately engaged in a life-and-death splash battle, circling each other in the middle section of the pool.

Ian was laughing so hard he felt a stitch in his side— and Mickey was finally grinning again, water dripping down his cheeks and clinging to his hair. After a few minutes Ian threw his hands in the air in surrender, the water cresting at his shoulders.

“Truce!”

Mickey splashed one more surge of water at Ian’s chest for good measure, grinning like a kid in a candy store— then he took a step closer to Ian, eyebrows raised.

“Truce.”

Ian beamed down at him, pressing a quick peck to the top of his damp hair. “Sorry for throwing you in the pool.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

“But in my defense, it had to happen eventually.”

Mickey shoved him squarely in the chest, taking a step back. “You ruined the fucking truce.”

Ian gave a smug smirk. “Do you wanna learn how to swim, or not?”

Mickey flicked another burst of water at him, just enough to cast a slew of droplets onto Ian’s cheeks. “Alright. Get coaching, Michael Phelps.”

Ian hadn’t really considered how he was actually going to teach Mickey to swim— but it couldn’t be that hard, right? He tried to think back to when Lip had taught him how to tread water, on an equally as sweltering day in the backyard pool, when the yard was packed with lawn chairs and drunk neighbors and smelled of ashy barbeque smoke.

“Okay. So you’ve gotta move your arms in circles, kinda, to stay floating. And your legs too.”

Ian swam over to the deeper end of the pool, just an arm’s length away from where he and Mickey’s feet could touch, and tried to demonstrate how to tread water. “I feel like the easiest way for you to learn is just by doing it. C’mere.”

Mickey looked at him reluctantly, brows furrowed again in an outward display of his bundled nerves. “No fucking way.”

Ian sighed in exasperation. “C’mon, Mick. I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let you drown, you can hold on to me the whole time.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow— but then hesitantly took a step towards Ian, the water reaching up to the bottom of his chin.

“Alright, good. Now step where you can’t reach and try to tread water like I did.”

Mickey stepped forward again, then started to circle his arms under the water— and he was doing great, for a second, before he seemed to get too in his head about the mechanics and started to grit his teeth.

“Little help here, Gallagher?”

Ian grinned and stepped forward. “Here, you can hang onto me.” He stood where Mickey could reach and grab onto his shoulders if he needed to— but Mickey seemed to regain his confidence, and was starting to steadily, if a little bit clumsily, tread water.

He kept it up for a while, until Ian could see that he was overexerting himself— waving his arms under the water with a little too much gusto, brows furrowed and his teeth digging into his lower lip in concentration.

“Mick, you’ve got it. Chill out for a sec.”

Ian reached an arm out, a branch for Mickey to grab on to— because he had been joking before, yes, but he really didn’t want Mickey to fucking drown— and when Mickey grasped onto it, Ian pulled Mickey towards him in the water, kicking backwards so they were suspended in the deeper end of the pool with Mickey clinging to Ian’s neck.

Mickey looked nervous as Ian veered them towards deeper waters, his eyes darting from side to side where they were floating, his fingers digging into the back of Ian’s neck— and Ian smirked at how freaked out he seemed, standing only a few feet from where they could both confidently stand on the tiled pool bottom. But Mickey didn’t resist, or try to propel himself back into the shallower waters— he let himself cling on to Ian, fingers interlaced behind the tops of Ian’s shoulders, as he kept them afloat. Ian laughed softly in a warm, wet gust across Mickey’s cheek. “You okay?”

He could feel the heat radiating off of Mickey’s body, squeezing up close against him— and Ian couldn’t help it, the wave of fondness that came over him as he looked down at where Mickey was pressed against his chest; trusting Ian to keep them above the water, trusting Ian enough to go along with his stupid plan to teach him to swim in a public pool on a random morning just because Ian wanted to. Ian couldn’t help but feel warmth in his stomach at this simple moment, at the two of them bobbing in the pool— at teaching his husband to swim, something Mickey’d never gotten to do as a kid but something that they had the rest of their lives to do together.

“Maybe we could teach Franny to swim next summer. If we have our own place.”

As he said it, Ian hoped that Mickey could see the flood of hopes that he had for them in his eyes— that he wanted a place with a pool, and a balcony, maybe a backyard, and maybe even a fucking garden—he’d always wanted to grow tomatoes. More than anything he wanted to build something sturdy, that could stand up to whatever ground would inevitably shift beneath them in the years to come— he’d been thinking about that a lot these days, especially with all of the pandemic shit that had pulled a rug out from under this entire neighborhood.

Mickey’s gaze flickered up from where it had been boring a panicky hole in Ian’s sternum, meeting Ian’s eyes at the phrase “our own place”— and Ian instantly knew that he got it, that he could see the dreams that Ian was building for the two of them right in front of their eyes. That after months and years of obstacles and chaos and other voices infiltrating their heads, now it was just them— now it was just Ian and Mickey, clinging to each other and drifting through the calm, chlorinated waters.

And maybe it was their proximity, or the intensity Ian knew he was pouring out in his gaze, but instantly the air between them shifted as Mickey looked up— starting to hang heavy like the press of the humidity in the air. Their faces were centimeters apart— and Mickey’s lips parted slightly, his eyes now cast downward at Ian’s lips. Ian could smell the sweet, warm beer on Mickey’s breath, mingling with his own; he looked at Mickey, whose arms were still wrapped around his neck, water dripping down his face from the hair that was fanning over his forehead—and Ian just had to pull him in, had to place a hand in the damp hair at the nape of Mickey’s neck and tug him closer, backing them against the tiled wall of the pool.

Ian could taste the faintest bitterness of chlorine on Mickey’s lips, from the water droplets lingering there, as he took Mickey’s bottom lip between his teeth. Mickey’s hands were still limply wrapped around Ian’s neck, keeping himself afloat— even though Ian had backed them against a wall in the shallow end of the pool again, and Mickey could probably touch his toes to the ground if he wanted to.

Ian raised his hand from under the water, wanting Mickey closer— he pressed a hand to the side of Mickey’s neck, slick with water, and slid a thumb over Mickey’s collarbone, pressing down with the pad of his fingers.

And Mickey gave a little involuntary noise from the back of his throat, sending a jolt down Ian’s spine.

Ian’s hands circling Mickey’s neck was definitely not a foreign concept while they were kissing—  it was something they did a lot these days, especially as their hours in bed had taken a turn from the crazed, I-missed-your-body-so-fucking-much sex they were having in the beginning days of being in prison together and those early months after Mickey had gotten released— but both in prison and during this fucking quarantine, they’d gotten a bit more experimental, and a bit more reckless—especially before Ian had gotten his warehouse job and they were still on their structureless “honeymoon,” spending entire days lounging in bed.

It was those days of lazy, languid kisses, after years and years of already knowing each other, that Ian realized that he was maybe a little bit obsessed with Mickey’s neck. He’d always joked about liking Mickey’s legs, and that was true too (if he was being honest, there wasn’t a part of Mickey’s body that didn’t make his blood run hotter)— but the first time Mickey had grabbed Ian’s hand and put it up to his neck while they were tangled together, pressing down until Ian’s hand covered most of his throat, Ian knew that they’d opened Pandora’s fucking box.

By this point, Ian’s hand was pretty much always on Mickey’s neck at some point while they were fucking or even just making out— if he was being totally honest, Ian’s hand was on Mickey’s neck more often than not in lots of contexts these days, once they realized how much they both loved it. But there was something about this current moment, of Mickey wantonly desiring a point of contact there, right now, while they were very randomly and decidedly making out while floating in a public pool on a lazy weekday afternoon, that made Ian’s blood run hotter than usual, and rush quicker through his veins.

Ian let the pads of his fingers creep up the velvet skin of the side of Mickey’s neck, pressing a little deeper, a prelude— he could feel the vibration of Mickey’s heartbeat starting to flutter from where Mickey was still pressed against his chest, still clinging to his neck in the water.

They’d already extensively discussed limits and everything, Mickey would tap his wrist twice if shit got too intense— but even with that in mind, Ian pulled apart from Mickey for a second, trailing ghosts of kisses up the side of his neck and nipping at the underside of Mickey’s jaw. Mickey stretched his neck back and gave a little involuntary sputter of a moan, bubbling out of his mouth before he could stop it. He fisted a hand in Ian’s hair, at the nape of his neck, and leaned forward again to press their lips together with more fervor.

Ian pulled back again, his upper back resting against the concrete lip of the pool. Mickey looked disheveled and wrecked, half-dry chlorine-crusted hair sticking up from where Ian’s other hand had been cradling the back of his head, his blue eyes gleaming and catching the over-bright summer light. Mickey was still clinging his arms around Ian’s neck, holding on— they were in a fucking pool, and Mickey still couldn’t really fucking swim yet— and even though they were standing in a place where Mickey’s toes could certainly touch the ground, the whole thing felt weirdly insular and intimate, like they had to cling to each other.

Mickey raised his eyebrows at Ian, like he was daring him to keep going.  

Ian leaned forward, breathing heavily into Mickey’s mouth, but not pressing their lips together yet—and he reached a hand up again, against Mickey’s tender skin. Mickey’s legs were wrapped around Ian’s hips now, locked like a vice to keep himself upright in the water— and he pressed a little harder, gently pulsing at the sides of Mickey’s neck, in tandem with their lips pressing together over and over again as the warm waters surrounded them—the whole thing, the whole combination, made Ian feel indescribably floaty and weird and warm and blissed out; his skin stinging like ice and fire at every point of contact, electricity  zapping his nerve endings wherever his fingertips met Mickey’s skin. Mickey fisted his hand harder at the back of Ian’s hair, nodding slightly—and they were definitely not going to fuck here, in the filth of a Southside public pool, but this insular closeness, the knowing what they both wanted to right now, was equally as thrilling and fulfilling to Ian in the moment. He could almost feel his own heart beating, reverberating as it pressed against Mickey’s chest, vibrating straight through Mickey and back to him as they clung to each other in the water.

Mickey’s body was thrumming, letting out little gasps of breath between kisses and touches—and Ian pulled back and dragged his lips down the side of Mickey’s neck, inhaling the sunwarmed skin. Fuck. He was never, never going to get enough of this.

**

Later, they’d dragged their water-heavy limbs back through the still summer streets to the Gallagher house, their skin pink and their bodies exhausted from soaking up the sun— and they’d collapsed into bed, feeling the dried chlorine coating their skin.

Ian reached a hand up, rubbing a thumb over Mickey’s cheek, their bodies pliant and fatigued— and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Thanks for letting me teach you how to swim.”

Mickey had smirked. “Yup, that was definitely the only highlight of today. Swimming.”