#I like early morning classes but the commute is so cold and awful

[farfromsugafanfic]

Heartbreak Weather

Genre: Weatherman!Jin, Metropolis/loosely based off comic books, Rivalry, soft Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Jin/Male Reader

Warnings: all the sexual tension lol, hurricanes

Synopsis: The rival weatherman at Channel 5 just so happens to be Kim Seokjin who you just so happened to have had a thing with in college. Sort of. When a hurricane brings the two of you back together again, the forecast calls for love and dredged up feelings.

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"Will you please turn that off?" you asked, taking a sip of your coffee. Normally, you took it with a little vanilla-flavored creamer, but much like that morning's coffee, you were bitter.

"Aw, why? Seokjin looks so cute in his turtleneck this morning," one of the writers said, fawning over the Channel 5 weatherman. "Maybe you should start wearing turtlenecks. It might boost our ratings." 

You rolled your eyes as the red light came on indicating that you would soon be on camera. You set your coffee to the side and stepped in front of the green screen. 

"Good morning, Metropolis," you said. "You can expect some light rain on your commute today. It should clear up by lunchtime though and it will be partly cloudy for the rest of the day. You watched as the map viewers saw at home shifted as you shifted the topic. "As you know, a hurricane is forming a few hundred miles off the coast. We are currently predicting landfall early next week. I will be traveling to Diamond Beach as the storm approaches to give you the most recent updates. Thanks for watching Channel 4 News, now here's Andrea with traffic."

The red light switched from you and onto Andrea's camera on the other side of the studio. You let out a sigh and walked back to your desk away from the main set. 

"You went to school with him, right?" the same writer asked, still watching Seokjin on the screen. His station gave him more screentime because he was so well loved in the city, often they pan to him coming back from commercial breaks and whenever there was a view question or poll. 

"Yeah," you said. There was only one university near Metropolis that offered a robust meteorology program and most of the city's weather people came from it. You and Seokjin had gone through together, even graduating at the same ceremony. 

"Wow, was he still so stunning in college? Like, I don't think I could've focused if he was in my classes."

"Depends on who you ask."

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5 Years Earlier

"Having trouble focusing?" you asked Seokjin as you noticed his dark eyes were no longer looking down at the computer screen. 

"Hmm, it's a bit hard when you look at the screen like that," he said, smirking and turning around to lean against the desk. "Tell me, what's a guy gotta do to get you to look at him like that?"

"Be a warm front." You watched as a warm front moved towards the city while a cold one moved simultaneously from the other direction. 

"What if I'm a hot front?" He turned to face you, his hip still leaning against the desk, but his body was close enough that it brushed yours as he moved. 

"Seokjin, stop." You clicked a few more times and turned to flip through your textbook. "It's a storm for sure. A thunderstorm or tornado. Shit, it could be anything, how are we supposed to figure this out."

"Its the weather, not heart surgery. We can be wrong fifty percent of the time and still good at our job."

"But, if we're wrong fifty percent of the time, we'll fail this class."

Jin sighed and crossed his arms as his eyes lingered down your body. "Listen, Y/N. We both know that you're going to stress about this for twenty minutes and then figure it out like you always do. Now, come on, let's take a break."

"And do what?" you asked, letting out a breath between your teeth, not tearing your eyes away from the screen.

"I don't know. I have a few ideas though" His breath was against your ear and his body heat radiated against your own. 

"Seokjin, this can't happen."

"Why not?"

"Cause I need to focus on school. I'm here on a scholarship. I can't risk distractions."

Jin sighed and looked down at the weather map on the screen. "It's a thunderstorm," he said. "The currents aren't strong enough for a tornado and based on the patterns, its the most logical." 

You quickly wrote down the answer and his reasoning, realizing that he was right. How he surmised the answer so quickly, especially when he was barely paying attention baffled you. 

"All right, now, come on," he said. "I'm taking you out for lunch and you can't deny me that. I know you're hungry."

"Fine," you said, shutting your textbooks and allowing the computer's screensaver to come on.

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Just hours later that same night, you found yourself looking up at the ceiling of Jin's bedroom. Soft cotton sheets wrapped around your torso and they felt softer than even the best sheets you'd ever owned. His shirtless form was turned away from you and you resisted the urge to reach up and run a hand through his dark hair. He'd let it grow long recently, the ends of his hair beginning to grow onto his neck.

"Stop staring at me," Seokjin said, you could hear the smirk in his voice. He turned around to face you. His eyes were calm and soft like the sheets, but you couldn't help but feel the sadness. The knowing.

"How'd you know?" Your voice was small.

"I could feel it. Your eyes hurt, you know?"

You did know. You knew how much it hurt Jin to see your eyes wander down the shape of his torso. That the way you always reached to push his ill-fitting glasses up the bridge of his nose hurt. That knowing he couldn't reach out and sneak his fingertips underneath the hem of your sweater.

"I'm sorry."

"I know, it's okay."

"It's not, Seokjin. We need to move on. Forget about each other. It's best for our futures."

"You know that's not true."

"Seokjin, we both want the same things in life. We'd be competing with each other for every job. We'd rush to get the story before the other. It wouldn't last."

"We don't know that unless we try."

"Seokjin, I don't want to give myself the chance to hate you."

You got up from the bed and buttoned your shirt, pulled on your trousers, and tied your shoes. Seokjin watched you, didn't try to stop you as you headed towards the door. Gripping the doorknob, you walked out and back down to the sidewalk below. 

Following that day, you didn't see Seokjin again. Sure, he still sat a few rows in front of you, he still presented in class, you glanced over his name in the paper when it was announced he was taking over the weather position for Channel 5. You saw him on billboards and on Reddit posts. Yet, you never met allowed your eyes to meet his again. Unless it was through the warm, freshly printed Metropolis Daily.

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Nearly no one was heading east towards Diamond Beach. Westbound traffic was full of cars heading into the city to weather the storm, while eastbound only consisted of a few cars. Mostly media and others who couldn't drop everything and run from the hurricane. 

You could just make out the Channel 5 van ahead of you. Focusing down on your laptop which was tracking the conditions minute by minute, you tried not to focus on the fact you would likely run into Seokjin. 

This certainly wasn't the first time a hurricane or tropical storm caused you and Seokjin to collide like convergent fronts. Every year you found yourself at Diamond Beach trying not to watch his broadcast from a few meters down the beach.

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Two Hours Later

"Hello, this Y/N Y/L/N reporting for Channel 4 news. Hurricane Roke is expected to make landfall later tonight. Most of Diamond Beach and the surrounding areas have been evacuated as Roke is currently a category four storm. I will be monitoring the storm and providing updates through Twitter throughout the night and I'll be back on the beach at 5am. This has been Y/N Y/L/N covering Hurricane Roke. Now, back to the studio."

You felt Jin's eyes on you as you gave your report. He was about two hundred feet down the beach. He wore a similar coat to your own and even with his hood pulled up you could feel the way his eyes cut through you. 

Once the red light on your camera went off, the one on Seokjin's came on and he began his report. It was nearly identical to yours, Seokjin adding his own flair and charm. Like you wished you could. 

Seokjin finished his broadcast and your filmographer began to pack up. "I'll see you bright and early in the morning?" she asked, her hair catching in the wind and obscuring her face. 

You nodded and helped her pack up the camera and other supplies, working quickly to prevent it from getting damaged from the wind or rain. Walking up the beach and back to the hotel felt like it took forever, especially with the heavy filming equipment. 

Your filmographer had already checked in earlier and headed to her room, carrying the camera and filming equipment. You kept the portable meteorological tools, already anxious to set it up in your room. Jin and his filmographer came in just as you got to the front desk. 

Giving them your name, you handed them your ID and the company credit card. The receptionist furrowed her brow and glanced up at you. 

"It looks like your room was accidentally double booked," she said. "I apologize, but due to the current situation, would you mind sharing?"

"Uh, sure, that's no problem. Who am I sharing with?"

The woman squinted at her computer. "Kim Seokjin."

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"You're not even going to look at me?" Seokjin asked as the two of you set up your computers. He'd let you have the desk while he took the counter of the kitchenette. 

"Not until I get this setup."

Seokjin sighed and pulled out his phone. Service was already finicky, but he managed to pull up Spotify and got music to play. It was soft, as not to disturb your neighbors in the packed hotel. 

You smiled as you heard the familiar tune "Dancing Queen". Jin was a fan of older music and the two of you used to listen to ABBA's Greatest Hits when studying together. 

"You still listen to this?"

"Of course," he said. "It makes me happy."

It made you happy too and when you finished setting up your computer you peaked out the window. The storm was still a couple of hours from landfall, but the trees were already swaying wildly. 

"It's going to be a big one," Jin said, glancing at you and catching your eye. It was the first time you'd truly looked at each other since the day you'd left him on his own. It felt like a lightning bolt skewered you in half. 

"Yeah," you said, sitting down on the bed. "It is."

You traced the seams of the comforter with your index finger. The song switched and this time it was "Can't Help Falling In Love With You". 

Jin finished setting up his computer. Your screen and his looked nearly identical showing a map of the coastline and the storm approaching. He sat down beside you, closer than you would've thought an acquaintance would sit. 

"We should go to bed. Early start tomorrow." His voice commanded you to look at him. "Let's not fight over the bed." Placing down the two extra pillows down the center of the bed, he went to the bathroom to change.

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The storm was in full force when you made your way outside. The four of you: you, Jin, and your two filmographers tried to get onto the beach, but the sand cut your skin. Various debris already littered the beach. Mostly seaweed and tree branches, although you noticed a few shoes and patio furniture from the nearby condos.

"The hotel said we could report from outside," you said. "It'd be safer."

Jin chewed on his cheek and glanced out at the beach. The two filmographers began to set up their cameras and you did you best to ensure your hair didn't fall into your face. You stood away from the wind, finding it hard to breath with it blowing onto your face. 

"Seokjin! Stop!" His filmographer yelled, abandoning his equipment, he rushed towards the other man. You turned to see that Seokjin had taken off towards the beach, seemingly want to report from there no matter the circumstances. 

You looked over at your coworker and she gave you a curt nod, ensuring that she would watch over the equipment. She dragged both cameras inside the lobby one at a time. Giving her an empathetic look, you took off running towards the beach, hoping to catch up with Seokjin before he got entirely soaked. 

When you came to the edge of the beach, you saw that Seokjin was already halfway out, his filmographer not far behind. You sighed and continued out, knowing he was determined to give the report from as close to the middle of the storm as he could.

The filmographer neared the middle of the beach, fearing going any further. When you caught up to him, you stopped to catch your breath, even though it was nearly impossible with the wind. Your breath was swept away as soon as you drew it in. 

"He's crazy," the other man said. "I have no idea why he's doing this." 

"He always has to go the extra mile," you said, rolling your eyes. "Even if it's stupid and dangerous."

Seokjin turned back to look for his camera operator, only to see him halted halfway up the beach. Seokjin was three-quarters of the way up the beach now, reaching dangerously close to the rough tide. He noticed you still running towards him and smiled before a gust of wind knocked him off his feet.

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Your chest constricted when you saw Jin get thrown off his feet. He landed a few feet away in the sand. You ran as quickly as you could, falling to your knees beside him. 

"Are you okay?" you asked, looking him over. 

His eyes looked up at you, obviously taking in your features. Yet, his lips said nothing. 

"You crazy bastard! What the hell were you thinking? Rushing out here like that? You of all people should know how dangerous that is." You could barely catch your breath between words as you placed your hands on his arms to help him sit up. He didn't budge, however, his eyes just locked on your face. 

"What are you doing?" you asked, sighing and dropping your hands from his hands, looking down to meet his eyes for the first time.

He smiled when you finally met his eyes and leaned up to connect his lips to yours. It was brief due to the circumstances, but it felt like lightning coursing through your veins. 

"I ran cause I knew you would chase me."

[atlafan]

My Everything - Part Twelve

A Take it Slow Sequel

What happens with Harry and Y/N after he proposes? How will the two navigate the engaged life while also continuing to juggle their jobs, friends, and families? Let’s find out.

Warnings: Fluff and Smut! 7.6K

Masterpost

It was sad putting your two weeks in at Mark It, but everyone understood. You were extremely grateful for every single opportunity they had given you. But sometimes a bird needs to leave the nest. You promised you’d talk up the company to any undergrads you come across. You were able to get onto the university’s insurance right away, and you added Harry to your plan.

One night Harry was rubbing your feet while you were both sitting on the couch.

“So do you need to go to campus a bunch? Or can you do a lot from home?”

“I’m going to be on campus for as long as I can, set up my office and all that. It’s nice, I even have a window! I feel like I’ll be able to concentrate in the space a little easier.”

“My mum was wondering if we wanted her and Gem to come here for Christmas this year instead of us flying out.”

“Oh.” You frown. “No, I want you to be able to see your friends. This is when you usually get to see Louis. I can still fly, the doctor said it was okay.”

“Are you sure you can swing that? I mean, you have so much to do with your new job.”

“We only go for the holidays, the school won’t even be open. We’re only gone for seven days. I’d rather go to London, but that’s very sweet of her to offer.”

“If that’s the case, she was wondering when we’re going to set up a registry. I think she wants to throw you an early baby shower since they probably won’t be able to come here for that.”

“Oh, um, this is sort of awkward, but we don’t do that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, Jewish people, we don’t do baby showers.”

“Why not?”

“It’s bad luck.” You shrug. “You’re not supposed to buy gifts for the baby or bring anything into the home ahead of time. My mom said we could put things in her basement.”

“So we can’t even set up the nursery? I mean, I was ready to start gettin’ the bed out of there. I was thinking of turning the loft into the guest room.”

“What about your desk and all of your things?”

“I don’t really work from home much anymore, and I’d like to still have a place for my family to sleep when they come visit.”

“Alright, and we can set up the nursery, like we can paint and stuff. We can put the crib in there, but maybe not the padding or the blankets. We can get the registry set up and just put my mom’s address on there. I know she was thinking of doing a combined mommy shower for myself and Erica.”

“Mommy shower?”

“It’s sort of a loophole to the baby shower thing. Everyone brings gifts for the parents to be.”

“Ohhh, I like that. I’ll tell my mum to do that instead. I’m sure she’d love the idea of buying you a ton of things.”

“She doesn’t need to.”

“I know, but this is her first grandchild and she feels far away from it, you know? She wants to spoil us, you.”

“Alright, then I won’t argue.”

“Come here, come sit in my lap.”

You get up and climb on top of him. He holds you close to him. He gives you kisses and you give them back. He feels a wetness on his neck from where you’ve buried your face.

“Are you crying?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” He can’t help but chuckle.

“I’m just so happy.” You look up at him. “I thought starting a new job and rearranging all our furniture and stuff would be stressful. I thought with our friends living further away we’d never see them, but we see them all the time still. Things are good, Harry.”

“They’re very good, darlin’.” He kisses your forehead. You roll your hips down on him.

“Will you take me to the bedroom?”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.”

He picks you up carefully, and carries you down the hall. Things were really good.

//

“Let me get a good look at yeh, spin around.” You turn around in your maternity outfit for him. You still weren’t that big, but you were carrying a lot of your weight in your lower stomach, so normal pants were no longer an option. Instead you opted for leggings and a long sleeve flowy dress to wear over them. “What time’s your first class?”

“9:30.” You beam.

“Have a great first day, I can’t wait to hear all about it.” Harry kisses you and sends you off into the cold.

Your commute to school wouldn’t be a long one, which was nice. Since you weren’t hired as a research faculty, and since you couldn’t start your PhD yet, you did have to work Monday through Friday, but most days you’d be home around 3PM, which was really nice. You’d be teaching a couple of intro communication courses, at two sections each, and then two sections of an upper level film criticism course. You were thrilled.

You go to your office first to drop off your coat, and change your shoes. You didn’t need to wear your boots all day. Your friends had sent you good luck texts and other well wishes. You make your way to the elevator and head upstairs. There were a couple of early birds there, and you smile at them as you get your laptop set up with the computer.

You wait until 9:35 to get started, letting any stragglers come into the room. Once everyone is seated, you close the door.

“Good morning everyone, lucky you, we get to do this three times a week. I know 9:30 is early so coffee and other snacks are fine with me. I know some professors don’t allow that, but I don’t really care. Just make sure your neighbor doesn’t have any allergies.” You take a deep breath. “Right, so, my name is Y/F/N Y/L/N, feel free to call me Y/N, or professor, or whatever you feel comfortable with. Just know that I am not a doctor, so you don’t need to address me as such.” The students hum their response. “As you may or may not be able to tell, I’m pregnant.” You turn to the side and cup your lower stomach. “Thank you, yes, very exciting. I’m due at the end of May, and if all goes according to plan you shouldn’t need a substitute. This is my first time physically teaching in person, but I have taught before. I’m very excited to be here. Oh! I will say, my husband owns Styles Photography not too far from here, so if you ever need a good picture taken, or if you’re looking for an internship, don’t hesitate to ask me. And before you ask, no, I did not take his last name.” You look at their droopy eyes. “Okay, before we get into the syllabus and class expectations, I want us all to do an ice breaker.” You hear a few groans. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you to say your name or where you’re from, I already have all that info. I want you to turn to the person next to you, take out your phones, and show them your most recently liked tik tok.” They all look at you. “We all have tik tok right?” They all say yes. “Okay then, have at it.”

You lean back against the desk as you hear people laughing and giggling.

“Anyone have the same one liked?” A couple students raise their hands. “Too funny. Okay, okay, let’s settle back down. See, isn’t that a better way of getting to know someone?” You go over to the computer and pull up your syllabus. “I want these classes to be real open discussion. As long as you’re not talking over someone, don’t even worry about raising your hand.”

You give the same shpeal in each class all week. By the time Friday rolled around, you were drained to say the least, but you were happy. You felt accomplished. You knew things might get more difficult as you started assigning projects and such, and getting bigger, but you tried not to think too far ahead.

You loved having students visit during your office hours, some of them really took a liking to you. Harry would bring Buster by when you could take your lunch breaks. You were a lot closer to him now which he liked.

“Professor Y/L/N?” A student knocks on the door and gasps when she sees Harry. All of your students knew what he looked like by now because they begged to see pictures. “Sorry, I’m interrupting your lunch.”

“It’s okay, Molly. This is my husband, Harry.” He smiles and shakes her hand. “What’s up?”

“I was just wondering if you could look over something quick for me? I selected some music for the background in my video, and I just wanted to know your thoughts.”

“Sure!”

“I can step out if yeh want?”

“It’s okay Mr. Styles, six ears are better than four.” The girl smiles and he nods.

Harry watches as you explain things to your student. How understanding you are, and how you give her a few tips. She thanks you before leaving.

“That was pretty cool. Wish I had a teacher like you back in the day.”

“Oh, stop.” You smile. “I’m really having a lot of fun with them.”

“Good, I’m glad. So…we have a doctor’s appointment on Friday.”

“That we do.”

“We’ve been holdin’ off on something…”

“You wanna know the sex of the baby, don’t you?”

“I do, I really do. I know it doesn’t really matter because it could decide it wants to be the complete opposite, and I know we’ve painted the nursery grey and yellow, but I mostly wanna know so we can start calling it its name, instead of it or Baby Styles.”

“Aw, but I like Baby Styles.” You pout and he leans in to kiss you. “I see what you’re saying though. Okay, I suppose at our next appointment we could finally let Dr. Johnson tell us.”

“Consider it another birthday present.”

“Harry.” You sigh. “Your birthday was two weeks ago.”

“I know…but you made it such a good birthday.”

“Please.” You whisper as your cheeks heat up. “I can’t discuss that here. This is one office that will stay pure.”

//

Dr. Johnson was giving you your ultrasound, making sure everything was good. The baby’s heart beat was excellent, and everything was the way it should be.

“Does its head look large to you? Harry has a pretty big head.” You smirk and he nudges your shoulder.

“We may have a larger head, sure.” She laughs. “So, Harry mentioned to the nurse that you’d like to know what you’re having. Are we sure? A couple of weeks ago it didn’t seem like you were ready to know.”

“We talked about it and we’d like to know.” You tell her.

“Alright…” She moves the ultrasound over your stomach so you can really see the baby’s side better. “You two are having…a boy!”

You both gasp and tear up. You look up at Harry and he leans down to kiss you.

“We would’ve been happy with either, but I was hoping for a boy.” You say. “I kind of had a feeling since he’s sitting so low.”

Dr. Johnson cleans up your stomach and prints you some new sonograms. You couldn’t help but stay glossy eyed as you get down to the car. Harry takes your hand and kisses it.

“Harry…”

“Yes, my love?”

“We’re having a Jack Edward.”

“We’re havin’ a Jack Edward.” He leans in to kiss your teary face. “Can we FaceTime my mum when we get home?”

“Of course. We can tell everyone.”

//

Your mother threw you and Erica a conjoined “Mommy Shower”. Her husband’s family wanted to do something traditional for her. So of course they broke the rules and bought things for her soon to be baby, which you found out was going to be a girl. You were happy to have her to go through this with.  It made you a lot closer. You could call her and compare weird cravings.

You were having fun munching on food, and talking with your friends. You and Erica didn’t really want to play any of the baby shower games. The decorations were really nice that were put up, though. Eventually came time for you to open gifts. Harry sat on one side of you while Mike sat on Erica’s other side so you two could sit in the middle.

You each opened up your gifts, and thanked everyone for coming. You talked with Sarah about her wedding planning. Her and Niall would be getting married at a Temple in Milton, and the reception would be at a nearby hotel. Well, the ceremony would be outside of a Temple, but either way, more religious than your ceremony.

Isaac and Seth would be going to the courthouse at the end of March, and having a party at their apartment for close friends and family. Rachel and Mariah had recently got engaged as well. Everything was falling into place for all your friends, and you couldn’t be happier for them. You were happy that even though you were all sort of growing up and moving on with your lives that you still made time for each other. You felt like you had this whole other family with them, and they felt the same way.

//

It was your one year wedding anniversary, and you were very pregnant. Harry wanted to take you to the Cape for the weekend, to the inn you got married at.

“Are you excited for your weekend away, Professor?” One of your students asks. They loved when they could get you going on a tangent on a Friday. You were too tired to care at this point.

“I’m very excited.”

“What’s being married like? I can’t even imagine being with one person.” Another student says.

“That’s because you’re in college.” You chuckle. “Being married is really nice, actually. To be honest, it’s not that much different from being just in a normal relationship, but there’s a whole other level of trust and understanding.”

“How did you and Harry meet?”

“Have I never told this story to this section of class?” The class all says no. “I don’t believe you, but I’m too pregnant to care, and it’s Friday.” You sit on the edge of the desk. “We met on a blind date. Our friend Niall set us up. We went to a dinner. I was twenty-four at the time.” You smile.

“And you two just hit it off?”

“Mhm, it was like we went on that one date, and we just kept seeing each other like every weekend. I think it was like three weeks in when he asked me to be his girlfriend.” The class gasps. “I know! And then we moved in together after like five months.”

“Ohhh, he really liked you huh?”

“Very much, and I guess I liked him too.” You giggle.

“Is it weird that next month you’re going to be a mom?”

“Well, I’ve been a mom to my dog, Buster, you guys know that. But…it’s not that it’s weird, it’s more like nervous and excited. Everything’s going to change.”

“Ahem.” You look over and see Harry leaning against the door frame, smiling, with a bouquet of flowers. The class ooo’s. They knew Harry well by now.

“You’re early.” You smile.

“Only by five minutes. It’s Friday, think yeh could dismiss ‘em early?”

“What do you say class? We did some good work this week, yeah? Go on, enjoy your weekends.”

“You too!” A few of them say.

“I like freshmen.” You tell Harry as he hands you your flowers. “Thank you, these are lovely.” You kiss him quick.

“Bags and Buster are in the car, you ready?”

“Mhm, just need to pee quick. Long drive.”

You waddle down the hall to the bathroom, and Harry waits for you. He goes down the elevator with you and helps you with your things in your office. You liked that the two of you took these sentimental trips. It was the perfect way to celebrate an entire year of marriage. It would also probably be one of your last weekends away as you him, and Buster before Jack comes.

“So, I was thinking we could have dinner in the restaurant tonight, and just relax in the hotel room. Then tomorrow if you felt up to it we could go for a walk on the beach in the morning, and then go to the spa in the afternoon. Get pedicures and all that.”

“Sounds wonderful, baby.” You take his hand and kiss it. “Thanks for planning this. It’s the perfect getaway.”

Harry checks you in while you use the bathroom in the lobby. You get Buster up to the room and give him a biscuit before changing into some dinner clothes.

“Do you think I’ll lose all this baby weight?” You say as you look at yourself in the mirror.

“Hope not.” He pinches your bum and wraps his arms around you from behind. “Kinda like havin’ a little more to hold onto.” He kisses your cheek.

“Harry, stop. I’m all…plump.”

“It looks good on yeh, babe, trust me.” He gives your bum another squeeze and lets you go. “Ready to eat?”

“Yeah, I’m starved. Be a good boy Buster, mummy and daddy’ll leave the TV on for you. We’ll have to take him for a good walk tomorrow.”

“Agreed.”

You two are seated at a table. You remember when you had brunch with everyone the day after the wedding. There was space to dance near the bar, other couples having a good time. When you’re done eating, Harry brings you over to the dance floor and pulls you close. The music was slow and nice.

“My bump’s in the way.” You look down at your stomach and back up at Harry.

“Not at all.” He has you lean your head on his chest, and he dances with you. “See, isn’t this nice?”

“Very.” You nuzzle into him closer. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

After a few songs you both decide it’s time to go upstairs, you had been on your feet all day. You both greet a sleepy Buster and start your nightly routines. You rub some cocoa butter on your belly and get onto the bed. Harry’s routine now involved getting between your legs and talking to Jack. He’d tell him about your days and what he was looking forward to once he was born. He did this every night because sometimes Jack would kick, and Harry loved feeling his kicks. He’d give your belly a ton of kisses and then he’d give you a ton of kisses.

The next morning you put on some leggings and a three-quarter zip fleece, and put your hair up in a cute, messy bun. Harry puts Buster’s leash on and you two head out and down towards the beach. It was a nice spring day out, but you were happy you had your fleece since it was still a bit chilly.

Going for a long walk was good, according to your doctor. Not to mention Harry loved seeing your ass in your leggings. The three of you stop so Harry can take a selfie. Someone sees the three of you and offers to take a photo.

“When we get back tomorrow…” He says as you make your way back to the inn to go to the spa. “I have some things set up for you.”

“Like what?”

“You’ll see.” He grins. “We haven’t done a maternity shoot yet.”

“Oh!” You beam at him. “And you already set it up?”

“Mhm, I didn’t wanna waste any time when we got home.”

“I’m really excited. You’ll be in them too, right?”

“Um, usually the dad isn’t…do you want me to be?”

“Yeah! Definitely.”

He kisses your temple and you head inside. Buster gets a little luxurious experience at the groomer the inn has while you two get pedicures. You nearly pass out in the chair while getting your feet massaged. Harry kept his hand in yours the whole time.

You both decide to order room service for dinner and a little lemon cake for dessert. You take a relaxing bath with him in the Jacuzzi-tub. Once you’re all dry he gets you on the bed. He has you sit in his lap where he knew you’d be most comfortable. He gets his lips on yours and kisses you softly. You lace your hands through his damp curls. He rubs his fingers along your slit before pressing inside you. You groan against his neck as he curls his fingers up. He retracts them and sucks them into his mouth.

“Jesus.” You moan as you line his throbbing tip up with you. You sink down on it and groan. “Babe, what if, what if I’m never this tight again.”

“What?!” His eyes snap to yours. “What would even make you say that right now?”

“I don’t know! I mean, I’m gonna push this kid out of me, and his head is gonna rip me open, and-“

“Baby, baby…” He cups your cheeks. “Listen to me, none of that matters. I don’t care about that.”

“But you’re always saying you love how tight I am, and-“

“I know, and it’s true, it feels really good, but it would feel good with you no matter what because I love you. As long as it’s you, it feels good, okay? Do you believe me? Please, don’t worry about something like that.”

“Okay.”

“You believe me, don’t you?”

“Yes, I believe you.”

“Good.”

He kisses you and your tongues mold together. He grips your ass and helps you move on him. You were at a point where you didn’t have much strength on your own, but this was the only position that worked for you these days. His teeth sink into the crook of your neck and he sucks on you.

“Harry.” You groan.

“I love you so much, Y/N.” He says into your ear as thrusts up into you. “You’re giving me everything I ever wanted and more.” Your nails rakes down his chest and around to his back, sinking in.

“I love you too, thank you for making a mom.” You start tearing up as he fucks up into you faster.

“Jesus, fuck.”  He grunts. “You’re gonna be the best mum.” He makes eye contact with you and smirks. “The fuckin’ sexiest mum on the block.”

He snakes a hand between the two of you to rub your clit as fast as he can. You cling to him harder, your body laced with sweat. He had you moaning pretty loud until you let out a breathless gasp as you came.

“Fill me up babe, need to feel it, please.”

“God, I love it when you beg me like that, shit.” He groans and releases inside you. He kisses you before lifting you off of him.

He gets up and grabs a towel to clean you up. Once you’re both all set, you snuggle up and fall asleep.

//

“Oh wow!” You exclaim when you get into your apartment the next day.

“Happy anniversary, dalin’.” He kisses your cheek.

“This set up looks beautiful! Wait, I have something for you.”

“Y/N.” He sighs. “We said no real gifts.”

“I know, but I couldn’t help myself.” You pout. “I got you a new chain for your cross.” You hand him a box out of your purse. He opens it and smiles.

“It’s beautiful, thank you very much.”

He gives you a quick kiss and changes the chains out quick.

“Okay, go do your hair how you like, and get naked while I set the cameras up, yeah?”

You go into the bathroom and blow out your hair. You put some makeup on as well, and come out in your robe. Harry had his white sheet hung up in the living area, and a fan to blow your hair back.

“Harry…?”

“Yes?”

“Um…my…well…could you help me shave? I don’t want my bush in the pictures. It’s one thing with just you and me, but when I look back on these, and I can’t reach, and-“

“Go stand in the tub, I’ll come in in a second.” He smiles. Harry comes in a few minutes later.

“I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing.”

“It’s not, really.” He shrugs. “You’d do the same for me if I couldn’t reach my balls.” You burst out laughing.

He gets you all shaved after ten somewhat awkward minutes, but you’re grateful to feel fresh and clean.

“Thank you so much, I’m sorry.”

“Please, stop apologizing. I’d do anything for you.” He kisses you. “Now come on, it’s all set up.”

You come back out. He gets the fan going to blow your hair back. He tells you what positions to stand in. He gets some beautiful ones of you from the side. Really holding your bump.

“Don’t people do this wearing clothes too?”

“Oh, sure, but we have plenty of pictures of us like that, don’t we?”

“I suppose that’s true. Take your shirt off now, I want you in the pictures too, remember?”

Harry gets the camera set up on the tripod, and takes his shirt off. He gets on one knee and kisses your belly in one. He stands back up and takes your hands in his. You both lean in to kiss each other. He gets behind you in one, and you both make heart shapes with your hands over your stomach.

“I’ll zoom in on that one, it’ll look really nice for an album cover.” He says. “Look at how beautiful you are.” You put your robe back on and look at his camera.

“Thank you so much, I’m happy we’ll have these memories.”

“And then once Jack’s born, Mariah said she’d do a newborn shoot for us.

“She’s the best, the absolute best.”

//

You were able to make it through the end of the semester without having the baby in your classroom. You felt grateful that you’d be teaching online sections of courses in the fall so you could stay home with Jack a little longer. Erica had her littler girl, and you waddled into the hospital to say congratulations. She was a beautiful baby, and you were excited that Jack would have a cousin so close in age, other than Michael, to grow up with.

The weather was getting warmer and you were getting more uncomfortable after each day passed. Harry did his best to keep you calm, but you were at a point where everything annoyed you. He had you walking, eating spicy food, and you two were definitely still fucking, but nothing was helping you induce.

You had finally fallen asleep when you felt something wet underneath you. You pull the blankets back and see a huge wet spot. Your eyes grow wide.

“Harry!”

“What?!” He comes bursting through the door, he had stayed up to read in the living room so you could get some sleep.

“I think my water broke!” You beam.

“Oh my god, it’s happening!” He helps you out of the bed and gets you into the sweats you had picked out to go to the hospital in.

“Call my mom, I want her with us, okay? I need her.”

“Okay, once we’re in the car alright?” He smiles. “I need to text Rachel to come by to be with Buster.”

“Alright.”

He gets you into the car, and he calls your mom letting her know you were on your way to Boston Hospital. Luckily, Dr. Johnson was on call for you, and you were told she was on her way. A nurse gets you into a room, and gets you hooked up to whatever you needed to be hooked up to.

“Okay, so you’re not looking for a natural birth, correct?”

“Nope, give me all the drugs.” You laugh.

“We’ll do our best.” She smiles.

Eventually your mom shows up giving you lots of hugs and kisses.

“My little girl, my baby about to have a baby.” She smooths your forehead. “How are you doing, Harry?”

“M’alright, just wish I could take all the pain away. Her contractions have hurt really bad.”

“That’ll happen.” Your mom chuckles. “I’ll go get you some coffee.” She smiles and leaves.

“I’m glad she’s here.” You say to him.

“Me too. Nice to have family here for this.”

“Do me a favor, if the doctor asks you if you want to look while he’s coming out, say no. I do not want you looking. You’ll never get that image out of your mind.”

“Alright, I promise.” Your mom comes back shortly with the coffee.

“Mum, you’ll have to call the cantor for me so we can get Jack circumcised.”

“Of course, I’ll call first thing in the morning. I know he’s been waiting for you to call. And I’m going to have your brother and dad get your crib and everything over to your apartment first thing in the morning as well.”

“Oh, thanks mum.” You feel the sharp pains return to your stomach. “Harry!” You gasp. He rushes to your side to hold your hand.

“Remember to breathe, like in the classes.” He strokes your cheek as you squeeze his hand.

//

After twelve hours of labor, it was finally time to push. Harry was on one side you and your mom on the other. You had been given the epidural, but everything just felt cramped and uncomfortable. You were screaming and cursing as you pushed.

“You’re almost there, Y/N.” Dr. Johnson encourages you.

Harry thought you were going to break his hand off, and honestly, he felt like he deserved it watching you go through all this. Luckily, you weren’t cursing at him or screaming at him that you’ll never do this again, because honestly, you would. Despite how sick you felt in the first trimester, your pregnancy was relatively easy. You’d turn your love with Harry into another baby in a heartbeat, but he didn’t need to know that right now.

“I can see his head! Give me another good push, Y/N!”

You do ask the doctor says, and you nearly feel like you’re going to faint as she pulls Jack out of you. You weren’t sure, but you had to have torn open, there’s no way you didn’t. You hear the baby cry and a wave of relief sweeps over you. They clean him quick before resting him on you for skin on skin. Harry lets the doctor cut the cord, too afraid he’d mess something up. There were tears in your eyes and Harry’s as well. They let Harry hold Jack skin to skin as well before taking him off to weigh him and clean him up further.

“Do we have a name?” One of the nurses asks.

“Jack Edward Styles.” Harry says. You were too exhausted to speak. He leans in and gives you a kiss on the forehead. Your mother was also at a loss for words.

“He’s beautiful, honey, you did great.”

“Okay, Y/N, we just need to take care of a few things down here, I need to stitch you up.” Dr. Johnson says as she cleans up what she can.

“Oh god.” You groan and you start sobbing.

“Nothing to worry about, happens all the time. His head was a little larger like we thought. Long body too.” You look up at Harry and glare as she stitches you up.

“You and your big head.” You seethe.

“M’sorry, baby, really I am.” He can’t help but smile.

“Alright, all done. The nurses will help you the rest of the way.”

One of them shows you the mesh underwear you’ll be wearing and you grimace. You never felt less attractive in your life. After a little while you’re wheeled into your hospital room where you can relax. Your mom stepped out to go home and change. She said she’d come back during visiting hours. She also wanted to give you and Harry some time to relax. He laid on the bed with you and you rested your head on his chest as you finally slept. You were so fucking tired. It was like your entire body had been tensed up for days and now you could relax.

“Mr. and Mrs. Styles?” A nurse coos as she comes in with Jack. Harry sits up and beams at the baby. “Someone’s hungry, does mommy wanna try to feed?”

“I’ll give it a go.” You say as you try to sit up a little. Harry adjusts your pillows for you. “Ten fingers, ten toes?” You ask the nurse.

“Yes.” She chuckles as she hands him to you. “Perfectly healthy. Almost nine pounds.”

“Good god, you came outta me?” You coo to your new bundle of joy. Harry helps you move the hospital gown out of the way.

“He may not latch on right away, just give him a minute to get acquainted.” The nurse explains.

“I brought a pump with me in case he has trouble. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about breast feeding.” You explain and she nods. “Oh! Look at him go, Harry.” Jack latches on so he can feed.

“Does it hurt, love?”

“Not really, just sort of feels weird. It can tend to hurt, right?” You ask the nurse.

“Yeah, it can. You’ll want to pump so you don’t get sore and tender. For now you’ll be fine since we’ll be bringing him in for his feedings. I’ll leave him with the two of you for a while and come back in an hour or so.” You both thank her before she leaves.

“He’s beautiful, Harry. Can you believe we made him?”

“Absolutely gorgeous. I took your picture when they first put him on you, but I could take a better one now.”

“Please do, I’m all cleaned up now.” He takes his phone out and takes your picture. “What’s your eye color, Jack?” He looks up at you slightly. “Oh! Green, duh.” You laugh.

“Be a bit weird if he didn’t since both of ours are green.”

“My dad’s eyes are brown and my mom’s are green, but my brother ended up with blue eyes. Both of my sisters have brown eyes, and I have green, so literally anything could have happened. I hope he has your curls.”

“Looks like he’ll have your nose, which is nice. Your nose is way cuter than mine, s’like a little button.”

“Oh stop it, I do not have a button nose. His ears look bigger like mine.”

“Seems like he’ll be a good mix of us, huh?”

“We’ll find out once he grows in a bit. I think he’s done.” You hold him up against your shoulder so you can gently burp him, and then you hand him to Harry. “So natural.” You tell him as you smile at your boys.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“For what?”

“Makin’ me a real Daddy. I know we have Buster and all, but this…” You lean in and kiss Jack’s head.

“Mm, he smells so good, smell his head.” You giggle. “He’s got that new baby smell.” Harry dips his head slightly and he smiles as he smells his child.

“He does smell good.” He chuckles.

A nurse comes in for you a little while later.

“Time to go to the bathroom, Y/N.” She sighs.

“No, please don’t make me.” You whine. “It’s going to hurt.”

“I know, but we need to have you try. I’ll be right in there with you.”

“Oh, wonderful.” You roll your eyes.

“Go on, honey, I’m sure you need to go with all the fluids you’ve been given.”

The nurse helps you onto your feet and you cringe as you take a step. You look back at Harry and he gives you an encouraging smile. It broke his heart to see you like this. He knew in a few months you’d be perfectly fine, but right now he knew you were in a ton of pain, and he hated it. The nurse helps you use the toilet, and you swore at her up and down, then you apologized of course. She helps you back in the bed afterwards.

“Okay…so the next time I come to help you use the bathroom, you’re going to hate me even more.”

“Why?” You ask, taking Jack back from Harry.

“You need to try to have a BM.” Your eyes widen. You had read up on this, and you weren’t looking forward to it. “We need to make sure you stitches don’t rip open and get cleaned properly. I’ll be back in a couple of hours, okay?”

“Please, take your time.” You tell her as she leaves. “That’s going to suck.”

Nurses continued to come in and out to check on you and Jack. They took him away for a while to let you and Harry rest. Harry had let everyone know to just come to visiting hours tomorrow. You needed more time to recover, and you really didn’t want to see everyone just yet. Your BM was painful to say the least, but you got through it.

“It’ll get easier, Y/N.” The nurse says. As you lay down in the bed she braces you for something much more painful. “You may want to hold your husband’s hand for this. I have to give your stomach a massage, and it’s going to hurt.”

“Wonderful.” You take a breath. “Ow! What the fuck?!” You squeeze Harry’s hand.

“I’m so sorry, I’m checking to make sure there’s no internal bleeding or air pockets.”

“This is worse than giving birth, I swear to god.” You grit your teeth.

“Okay, all done.” She smiles. “Take some time to rest. We’ll bring the baby in for another feeding soon.”

“Alright? Want some ice chips?”

“No, because then I’ll need to pee again.” You pout.

“Y/N.” He sighs and hands you the cup of ice chips.

“It burns, Harry. It’s terrible.”

“I know, I’m sorry. It’ll get better soon, this is the hardest part.” He strokes your cheek. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You pucker your lips and kiss him.

//

The next day people trickle in during the different visiting hours. Your family came first and took turns holding the baby. Your friends came in the afternoon, many of them shedding tears. It was wonderful to have so many people around.

Harry had made sure to take time off from work to be home with you. Not necessarily a paternity leave, though. He told you he’d take two weeks off form going to the studio, and then he’d do half days or every other day from there. He promised he wouldn’t work weekends as well. You knew he had to work to make the money you both needed. You had a good paycheck from the school, but you weren’t working this summer, so that extra cash was nonexistent.

You were grateful your dad and brother were able to set up the nursery the rest of the way for you. Everything was in its place. You and Harry agreed Anne and Gemma, and Nannie, could fly in, in a month or so to come meet Jack. You just needed some time to adjust and heal before you started having a ton of visitors.

You and Harry couldn’t help but laugh when he helped you set up the breast pump. It was extremely awkward, but you couldn’t figure out how to do it yourself. You also needed his help going to the bathroom at various points, also extremely awkward and embarrassing, but that was marriage. You were grateful for him.

Buster took a liking to Jack right away. You knew they’d be great buddies. You and Harry barely got any sleep the first couple weeks, which was to be expected. You constantly needed to feed Jack. He was a big boy, and he was hungry.

“Why are you crying?” Harry sighs as he comes into the nursery to see what’s going on.

“Because.” You sniffle. “Because what if my breast milk doesn’t have enough stuff in it and that’s why he’s so hungry? I know nothing’s wrong with formula, but like, I’m his mother, and I can’t even give him what he needs.” You sob.

“Okay, okay.” Harry takes Jack and the bottle from you to continue feeding him. You wipe your tears. It was hard to be sad whenever you’d see Harry effortlessly hold your child. “You are giving him what he needs. He’s just…large.” He chuckles. “He’s hungry a little more. I was talkin’ to Lou, and he said Freddie was the same way. Constantly hungry, and Bri used breastmilk. You’re makin’ plenty of it. If you were havin’ trouble producing, I’d say yeah let’s switch to formula, but I think we’re fine.”

“What am I gonna do when you go back to work.” You tear up again.

“Your mum’s comin’ to be with you, remember? She’ll be here when I can’t be. Believe me, I’d rather be here with you.”

“I know, I don’t mean to make you feel bad. You just always know how to calm me down.”

“Luckily your mum’s done this four times, so she’ll know what to do too.” He smiles. He turns Jack over to burp him. “Here, wanna rock him to sleep? I’m gonna take Buster out quick.”

“Okay.” He hands him back to you. You rock him slowly and set him down in his crib. “Mummy loves you very much, Jack.” You coo as you leave the room.

You go out to the living room to sit on the couch. Buster comes trotting in and sits at your feet. You pat the top of his head, and Harry comes to sit next to you. He puts an arm around you and pulls you in close.

“Love you so much.” He kisses your hairline.

“I love you too.”

//

You were never so thankful to have friends who didn’t work in the summer in your life. Your mom was a big help, but she was also trying to help out Erica. Sarah and Rachel came over often to hang out and make sure you weren’t bored to shit while Jack napped. They’d go out for walks with you while he was strapped to your chest.

“You look great, Y/N.” Sarah says.

“Seriously, Y/N, it’s been what? A month? Barely even have a tummy anymore.” Rachel says.

“Oh stop it.” You shake your head at them as you walk down the street. “I’ve just simply deflated. Dr. Johnson said I could start doing more cardio next month, do some strength training too, but for now she just wants me walking.”

“Having that little guy strapped to you has to be some kind of strength training.” Sarah smirks.

“You have no idea! He looks tiny, but he gets heavy after a while.”

“When do you think you guys will do your newborn shoot?”

“Probably next month once I feel a little more comfortable being photographed. Oh! You guys should see the album we put together from the maternity shoot, the pictures came out so nice. I had a couple framed and put into Jack’s room.”

“Definitely! How’s Harry been with going back to work?” Rachel says.

“He feels guilty, and like he’s missing out on things. I’ve brought Jack to the studio a couple of times, but I think it makes it worse for him. That’s why Buster’s been going to work with him. He’s such a good dad, not that I ever doubted he would be. It’s never a contest, like he’s just always jumping into help.”

“That’s what he’s supposed to do. He’s a dad, not a babysitter.” Sarah points out.

“Exactly.”

“Do you feel like you’ve had any post-partum stuff?” Rachel asks.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m not doing enough? Like when I feed him and he gets hungry again almost immediately after, I feel like I’m not giving him what he needs. But Harry seems to think he’s just genuinely hungry. I’m excited for Anne and Gemma to come visit soon, and I think Nannie’s gonna come up in August.”

“That’s great! It must be difficult knowing you have a grandchild so far away.”

“Since Anne’s retired, Harry was saying she might rent a small studio and stay here for a while longer this summer to be with Jack, and to help us out a bit. I’m all for it, she’s the best, and it would take some pressure offer my mom. I know she’s trying to balance out time with Jack and Melissa.”

“Oh yeah, how’s she doing?”

“Good! Erica’s kind of dealing with the same things as I am. Although, she went right to formula instead of breastfeeding.” You shrug.

“Do you think you’ll ever put your piercings back in?”

“The second my stomach goes back to normal, that’s going back in for sure, but my nipples I’m not so sure about. If I get pregnant again I’ll just need to take them out, it was really annoying. I’m fine with just my nose for now.”

You were grateful your friends didn’t mind talking about this stuff, and even more grateful they were checking in on your mental state. You were the luckiest person in the world.

[iwritesickfic]

boy who cried flu

(yes I am aware of how stupid this title is leave me alone)

Peter rarely - if ever - got sick. Nobody who didn’t know him well would believe it though - he had a long track record of absences and missed assignments, despite being a 3.9 GPA student. He’s flaked from social events and parties countless times, always citing he’s not “feeling well.” It’s not technically a lie, though he does lie sometimes. 

People understand physical illness - they know what it feels like to be stuck in bed with a bad cold - but mental illness? Not so much. So...he bends the truth. A professor won’t be very forgiving if you say you spent all weekend in bed because you couldn’t find the motivation to move, but say you had a bad cough? No one bats an eye.

So most people assume Peter has an awful immune system. That or he’s just a pussy who won’t leave the house with so much as a sore throat. Everyone except a select few - Simon, Ashlynn, and Alex. 

Simon’d been his friend since undergrad, and they’d been roommates for a time, so he knows exactly what Peter means when he says he “doesn’t feel well.” Ashlynn is the type to show up unannounced with a quart of homemade soup. And Alex...Alex was there when things had gotten out of hand. 

But just because they knew he was lying when he said he was sick didn’t mean he stopped using it as an excuse. Ashlynn, despite herself, would usually not question it. Simon wouldn’t think twice about the lie, almost taking it as a direct confession. Alex would usually get pissed off and demand some kind of proof.

They were supposed to go to the beach tomorrow - get up early and take the train together to rockaway. But somehow, for the first time in years, Peter has something more than some congestion. Something way more.

It started a few days ago, a runny nose and swollen sinuses. He slept like shit, and the next morning his throat was raw and he absolutely could not breathe through his nose. But he had class, so he took the train in and sat in his lecture and tried to keep his sniffling to a minimum. By the time he was headed home, he’d long since run out of clean tissues, so he tends to his nose with a damp scrap of napkin he found buried in his bag, his nostrils red and irritated from the abuse. 

By the time he gets home, his congestion has gone from a clogged, static brick in his head to leaky, runny mess, but he’s well aware he can’t take a day off from work on his thesis, so he sits in bed working until 2 AM, one hand wiping the mess from his upper lip, the other scribbling notes in his worn out pad. 

He wakes the next morning not sure when he fell asleep, his head pounding heavily behind his eyes, sinuses throbbing and inflamed. His throat feels swollen and hot, and the relentless sneezing that started the night before isn’t helping any. The two days prior, everything seemed to be concentrated in his head, but now it’s clear it’s migrating into his chest as well. Halfway through his day at work in the library, he starts to cough, wet and harsh. 

It doesn’t help that his body aches like he ran a marathon, and chills are coursing through him like ice water in his veins. By the end of the day he can’t wait to finally sit down and rest. His body’s been screaming for it since the moment he got out of bed, and all day shelving books has really taken its toll.

Unfortunately, he’s got an hour long commute and lucky for him, it’s standing room only. He grips the subway pole like a lifeline, his head spins every time the train rocks. He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the darkened window - he looks awful. Bags like bruises under his eyes that are rimmed in pink and half lidded, his nose irritated and red. A coughing fit tears through him, and he tries his best to catch it in his sleeve. His knees start to tremble as he tries to take deep breaths, and he’s startled when someone taps him on the shoulder.

“You wanna sit?” the woman asks, and it takes him a minute to realize she’s offering her seat. Normally, he’d suck it up, but he’s too miserable to refuse. He mumbles a thanks, and sinks down.

It takes all his self control not to fall asleep then and there.

By the time he’s back at his building, he’s seriously doubting he can climb four flights to get to the apartment. Part of him would rather just lay down in the lobby but he knows this is the final stretch before he can climb into bed and sleep.

He’s interrupted by several fits of coughs, and by the time he’s reached the fourth floor he’s practically gasping for air, and soaked in sweat. The chills he had all day have swapped with an oppressive heat that makes him feel almost lightheaded. 

Somehow, he’s quite sure, he manages to stumble to bed, stripping off his damp clothes, the cool air on his slick skin throwing him back into shaking chills. Just as he’s about to let himself be sucked into sleep, his eyes fly open. Tomorrow. 6 AM. He’s supposed to go to the beach. There is no fucking way he is going to the beach.

He texts their group chat with trembling fingers.

hey im real sick i cant go tomorrow

There’s an immediate reply from Alex.

don’t fuckin do this man. we’re going.

A text from Simon.

you’ll feel better if you leave the house, you always do.

He sighs, cursing himself for using this shitty excuse so much now no one will take him seriously.

im serious i feel like trash

Alex answers immediately.

PETER. youre not sick youre being a pussy. we’re going to the fucking beach and we’re having a good time.

Simon responds.

chill alex.

if youre depressed thats fine but maybe consider coming still it might help.

i mean i’d feel better if you came

Peter groans.

im sick. like sick sick. like flu sick.

Alex shoots back quickly.

ok then what are your symptoms?

Peter rubs his eyes, trying to relieve some of the throbbing. 

fever, chills, aches, cough, runny nose, headache, tired.

There’s a moment of silence and he places his phone on his bedside table with a sigh. He’s about to go under when his phone starts to buzz. Once. Twice. Three times. He swears, grabbing it. Three texts from Alex. The first is a screenshot of the symptom list that appears when you google “flu” which just happens to be in identical order.

you need to be more creative

seriously man im not letting you miss this. we planned this months ago. dont be a dick.

Finally, Ashlynn chimes in.

you dont need to lie p, its ok if you dont wanna come.

While Peter would like to further argue that he’s not in fact lying, he just doesn’t have the energy. At this point, it doesn’t matter what they think. He’s not going - who gives a shit why? He’s able to fall asleep almost immediately, but unfortunately, he doesn’t really stay asleep.

He wakes up about every 45 minutes, coughing or shivering or burning or all three. After his fourth or fifth jolt awake he can’t for the life of him seem to get any rest. Every time he’s about to drift off, another coughing fit explodes from his chest and leaves him trembling. He’s hot, but he’s not sweating, which he realizes vaguely must mean he’s dehydrated. As the night wears on and his condition continues to worsen, he wonders if he should call an uber to take him to the ER. He can’t afford it, not in the slightest, but he’s not sure he’s ever felt this terrible before. Somehow, he remembers there’s an old thermometer in the kitchen. An old roommate had bought it thinking it would work for deep frying but didn’t realize the range only spanned from 95 to 107.

He needs to take his temperature. See how serious this actually is. He can’t remember the last time he actually ran a fever, so he’s not sure if this is just par for the course or whether this level of misery is cause for alarm.

He stumbles into the kitchen, and for once he’s glad to live in such a god-awfully tiny studio. He lands heavily against the counter, and rummages through the drawer to find the small device. After what feels like an eternity, he manages to grab it with shaking hands, fumbling with the buttons for a moment before flipping on the small kitchen light. 

He sticks it under his tongue, it feels like ice. He tries to coach himself on what he’s going to do. If it’s over 100, he’ll go to the hospital. No, that’s too low. 102?Still maybe too ambitious of a goal. It’s then he realizes he’s really just trying to justify what he’s going to do anyway - save himself an ER bill and stay in bed. He’s jerked out of his thoughts when the small device beeps and he removes it carefully from under his tongue. 

The display flashes 103.2. He doesn’t really know what that means but after a quick google search it’s not exactly any clearer. It’s bad, but not bad enough to cause brain damage, supposedly. Fuck it, that’s good enough for him. He climbs shakily back into bed, the small excursion has left him absolutely exhausted. 

He needs medicine. He knows that. Some tylenol at the very least, but if he can barely walk to the kitchen he doesn’t know how in hell he’s getting out the door, down the stairs, to the pharmacy, and back again. So, he’ll just have to live with it. 

He spends the rest of the night in and out of half-sleep, each coughing fit seeming to drive the illness deeper into his lungs. His nose has started to run again, and each rub with the already-used tissue makes his poor sensitive nostrils burn in protest.

The next morning he wakes to the harsh, deafening drone of his apartment’s buzzer system. He cracks his eyes and checks the time. 6:42 AM. Whoever the fuck it is can wait, he’d like to suffer in peace. Still, as he tries to slip back into the sleep the buzzer continues to go off and after about five minutes, he sits up in bed, fighting the wave of dizziness that washes over him. He stumbles to the keypad and presses the button that opens the lobby door, and the buzzing finally - mercifully - ceases. 

He grabs a t shirt from a pile on the floor and pulls on a pair of boxers - he doesn’t know if he’d be able to stand anything more with the way his fever is raging. He sits on the edge of his bed, trying to catch his breath, quickly breaking down into another awful fit of coughs. Just as he’s finished, he hears a heavy knock on the door. Sighing, he forces himself up, padding slowly over to the door, trying not to aggravate the dizziness any further. He pulls open the door and is confused to see not an overzealous delivery person, but his three friends. 

He stares dumbly for a moment before a breath catches in his throat and he breaks into thick, wet coughs. He sniffles, wiping his nose with his wrist, before looking back up at them.

“What?” he mumbles, and there’s an awkward silence. 

“Shit,” Alex finally says and Peter sniffles.

“What do you want?” he repeats, surprised at the hoarse, broken quality of his voice. Does he really sound that bad? Ashlynn pushes forward, wrapping him in a tight hug. She’s short, so her face is pressed into his chest, and he stumbles back slightly.

“Oh Peter,” she whispers, and he swallows, closing his eyes. She pulls away, and he has to force them open again. She she presses a hand to his forehead. Her palm feels cool but uncomfortable against his oversensitive skin. “You’re burning up.”

“I know,” he murmurs, wishing the conversation could be over so he can go lie down and not have to explain himself to his friends. He sighs, and narrowly avoids another coughing fit. “Are you gonna come in or you just all gonna stand there?” They exchange looks. “Well?”

Ashlynn pushes past him, followed by Simon and finally Alex. Peter shuts the door and tries his best not to look as fucked up as he feels walking to sit in one of his kitchen chairs. 

“What do ya’ll want?” he asks Simon and Alex, Ashlynn already digging through the medicine cabinet.

“We don’t want anything we were just concerned,” Simon says.

“Then why do you look so fucking shocked?” Peter snaps, even though he knows Simon is only telling the truth.

“Because I was 100% sure you were bullshitting,” Alex says. Peter is far too tired to get into a verbal sparring match with Alex, but he tries halfheartedly anyway.

“Still sure?” before Alex can reply Ashlynn is back with a damp washcloth and the thermometer he’d used the night before. She lays the cloth on the back of his neck, and he can’t help the small whine that escapes. 

“Open,” she says, and he does. She places the thermometer under his tongue gingerly, and strokes some of his hair off his forehead. “You don’t have anything? For this?” Peter shakes his head. She presses her lips into a line. “Simon and me are gonna go out and grab some stuff, ok?”

“That’s not necessary.” His voice is almost slurred with the fever, and as if on cue the thermometer beeps. Ashlynn frowns at the reading. She shakes her head.

“Christ, Peter.” She touches his forehead again, this time with the back of her hand. “103.6 and it’s not necessary?”

“I don’wanna be lectured.”

“I’m not lecturing.” She spends another moment fussing with his hair before getting up, grabbing Simon. “We’re going to get some stuff, we’ll be back. Alex, make sure he doesn’t die, ok?” It’s clear Alex is about to protest, but Ashlynn levels him with a glare. They leave, and then it’s just Peter and Alex.

Alex stands by the door, hands in his pockets. It’s a while before either of them speaks.

“What was I supposed to think?” he finally says, and Peter tries to swallow his anger.

“I don’t know, man.” He runs a hand through his greasy, sweat damp hair. He starts to shiver again, wrapping his arms around his torso. Alex takes a careful step forward.

“You get why I wouldn’t believe you, right?”

“Yes, Alex.” The chills are now back in full force, he’s sure he must be shaking like a leaf. He wants nothing more than this conversation to be over, but Alex doesn’t seem to be getting to message.

“You never get sick. Ever. So what am I-”

“I get it. It’s fine. Just...stop talking. Please.” He’s shaking so bad he can feel his teeth chattering. He pulls his knees to his chest. He closes his eyes, praying something - anything - will warm him up. He hears footsteps and fumbling, then feels a dry, warm blanket being tucked around his shoulders. He looks up, and Alex is standing there, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Do you wanna lay down or something?” The thought of climbing back into his sweat damp sheets makes him cringe, so he shakes his head. “Why not?”

“S’gross, I sweat a ton.” 

Alex nods.

“Right. What about the couch? You can lay on the couch and I can do your laundry.” 

Getting horizontal sounds heavenly, so he nods, and Alex touches his shoulder, quickly pulling his hand back.

“What the fuck - dude, you’re like...on fire. Shit.” He tests the side of his neck and winces. “Fuck.”

“Can you just help me?” Peter is embarrassed at how small and sick his voice sounds, and the fact he’s asking Alex of all people for help, but he knows if he tries to do it on his own he’s going to fall and crack his skull.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” He wraps an arm around Peter’s waist, and supports him the few feet to the couch. It’s not very far but his knees go weak about halfway there and he’s glad Alex is holding him. As soon as he gets onto the couch, he curls on his side and closes his eyes. “You’re ok?” Peter nods, and Alex pats his shoulder awkwardly. “Ok. Cool. Just...stay there, I guess.” Peter can hear him starting to strip the bed.

“I was maybe gonna go for a run,” he mumbles, and Alex laughs softly. 

“Definitely. Then I’ll enroll at NYU for my bachelor’s.”

“You’re just jealous you don’t have all my debt.”

“You’re right. I’ve been trying to rack up some credit card bills but so far no luck.”

Peter opens his eyes to see Alex with the bundle of sheets in his arms and the bottle of detergent. He pauses for a second, shifting from foot to foot.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Peter swallows hard.

“I know man, it’s ok.” Alex smirks.

“Alright. Don’t die while I’m gone.”

[cloudy-coyote]

Necessity

A/N: Welcome to chapter 1 of Necessity! This Supernatural fic is super plot twisty, I like keeping it chill in the beginning and then switching it up when you least expect it! If you love lots of drama, mystery and intense conflicts, here you go. There will def be some romance blossoming, slow build to smutty goodness, it's a good fic, I swear. 

Chapter 1: The Last Day

April 5th, 2019

"Eva!" Her mother, Eleanor hollers.

Her eyes shoot open at the sound. It usually takes her a few minutes to actually get up. Whether it's scrolling through Instagram on her phone or stretching her body out, she takes her time. The sunlight was pouring in through the curtains; there was a gentle breeze from her ceiling fan. Then she begins to smell the sizzling bacon and her legs kick into gear.

During the fall semester she despised getting up early for classes, so this semester she got only afternoon and evening classes. Still reveling in the feeling of waking up later, Eva gracefully clothes herself in a pair of sweatpants, keeping her oversized sleep shirt on. She grabs her phone, leaves her room and heads on downstairs, passing all the glowing windows. She's not typically a morning person, but waking up at 11:30 is much nicer than 7:00 AM, not to mention that spring has always been her favorite season.

Spring is jam-packed with blooming flowers, singing birds and soaring butterflies. As soon as you walk outside you're met with beautiful colors and scents of greenery. It's amazing walking weather; you usually don't have to wear coats because it's never too hot or too cold. Everything is absolutely perfect, except-

"Rain," Her father sighs, "It's going to be pouring by the time your classes end."

She enters the kitchen, the smell of breakfast overwhelming her. She takes a seat next to her Dad, Augustus, also known as Gus.

"Well I can't pick her up, I have to go visit my Mother today," Eleanor says. She hands Eva a plate, as well one to her brother Charley.

"It's fine, Mom, I can just walk."

"You're going to have to bring an umbrella with you," Charley comments.

"I know Charley, that was pretty obvious," Eva rolls her eyes, 'such a simple-minded man,' she thinks to herself. She serves herself some bacon and eggs before filling up a glass of water.

She's the youngest of three, only 18. Her oldest brother is Charley, who is 24 years old, her second oldest is brother is Oliver, she calls him Oli for short, and he's 21.

Her mother finishes serving herself as well; Gus, Charley and Eva already diving into their meals. Just as she sits down she recognizes the empty seat.

"Where's your brother?"

To this Charley snorts, "Where do you think?"

"Stayed up all night again?" Gus asks.

This was a common occurrence. And I know what you're thinking, must be a hard partier, huh? No, that's not the case. In fact, it's quite the opposite. Her brother, Oliver, has a really hard time getting sleep. They're not sure exactly what it is. Perhaps he's a light sleeper, or maybe its nightmares, maybe anxiety—could be anything. If there's one thing Eva knows for sure, it's that his sleeping habits are a popular subject of gossip in her house. They always talk about him when he's not around, complaining about how concerned they are. Sometimes he'll even be in the same room and they'll still talk about him to each other as if he's not there. She'd be lying if she said it didn't make her feel guilty.

"At least he's asleep now," Eva comments.

Gus nods. He has bright blue eyes and jet-black hair. Well, used to be jet-black, now it's more like salt and pepper. Eva didn't get his eyes, or his hair, or his height, but she got his personality. There's something about her, that all of her older cousins and Aunts and Uncles comment on. It could be their face shapes, their smiles, nobody knows what it is about the two of them that is so strikingly similar, but it's there.

Her mother, on the other hand, she has big, chocolaty doe eyes, which is exactly what Eva inherited. She is also the same height as her Mom and almost same hair color. Eleanor has a light; hazel colored hair whereas Eva's is a much darker brown. She's sweet, she's caring but she's also incredibly timid. Charley and Oliver take a lot after their mother. They can be shy, can be sweet and could do with a little more assertiveness, exactly like Eleanor. But despite all of their passiveness, they are the most welcoming, warm people on the Earth.

It's funny because the whole family looks unrelated-- like a mismatched bunch. Charley has his mother's light feathery hair, her eye color, but Gus's eye shape and height. Oliver has the jet-black hair, just like his father, but his mother's height and his mother's eyes. And while Eleanor is more on the shy, dependent side, Gus is assertive and sovereign. He has the reputation of sometimes overstepping boundaries—maybe being a little too controlling. And unfortunately, in this family, most of them just go along with it due to their passive nature. That is until Eva came along.

Eva is a little firecracker and a straight copy of her dad. She's always been over-cautious like him, very honest, very assertive. They tend to have the same opinions, but on occasion when he's overstepping, she's the one to hash it out with him. They have a strong relationship.

"How's your modern poetry class going?" Gus asks Charley.

"It's..." He pauses, "Interesting."

"That bad?" Eva asks. Charley majors in Philosophy and Poetry. These are actually his last few classes before he graduates.

He rolls his eyes, "I didn't say it was bad."

"So you like it?" His mom asks. Instead of nodding, he shakes his head. Finding his words, his hand naturally finds his chin as he plays with the light stubble.

"It's just not my style of writing," He re-words, "Kind of weird to be honest."

They all fall silent, concluding the conversation. Eva finishes her food just as fast as Charley. Being both fast eaters, they scarf their meals down and usually leave the table before everyone else.

"So, how did you sleep?" Her mother asks her. Eva looks up from her empty dish to find her Mother's warm eyes.

"It was okay, how about you?"

Her mom sighs, "I stayed up watching tv until...what, like 3 in the morning?"

"Was Oli up too?" Eva asks.

"I think so, I saw the hall light on."

Eva only hums in acknowledgment, not really finding words. It's only a moment of silence before her Mother goes on to tell her about the movie she was watching. Reflecting on what she thought was such an inspiring story. It was a film about the world, it's culture and all the things we could do better.

"Did you know that in Finland, there's no college tuition?" Eleanor exclaims, "But of course in America, every single student is in debt,"

"Including me," Eva adds.

Both of them give a little laugh at the absurdity. 'It really is ridiculous,' Eva thinks to herself. Eventually, Eleanor goes back to finishing her breakfast and Eva silently listens to her brother ramble.

Once Charley finished he had quickly brought his notebook to the table. He pulled out a little packet full of poems and began making his last touches to his assignment. Once he finishes, he slides it back into his bag and grabs his dish.

"Analyzing the poetry is pretty awful, it's nothing like Emily Dickenson," Charley says as he starts cleaning up, "But I do like it when we have discussions about them in class."

"Why's that?" Their dad asks.

Charley continues to wash his dish over the sink before stacking it in the dishwasher, "I don't think anyone else can take the poems seriously either, so it's funny. Plus, all you have to do is raise your hand, say 'I interpreted this to be very self-deprecating', and then the Professor gives you a point, so easy."

"-Sorry for interrupting," Eleanor interjects,  "I have to head out, bingo starts at 1:00. Can you wash the pans too?"

"No need to rush, you know your Mother's never ready on time anyway," Gus comments. Eleanor gives him a sarcastic dry laugh, 'always making jokes about Grandma,' Eva thinks to herself. Her Mom gives her Dad a quick peck on his cheek. She hugs Eva and hurries out the door.

Charley steadily grabs both pans, bringing them to the sink and loading them up with soap. He continues to talk with his dad. Charley muses about his Philosophy courses as usual, and Eva begins to drown them out. She picks up her phone, unlocking it. The first thing she notices is a bunch of texts from her friends she seemed to miss.

Sliding on the notifications, she reads, 'I hope she's ok'. This prompts her to scroll up; whom could they be talking about? She finally gets to the beginning,

'Did you guys hear about Amber?'

'No what happened?'

'it hasn't been 48 hours yet, but her parents think she's missing,'

'holy shit,'

'they said she didn't come home last night and nobody could get ahold of her this morning. Nobody's seen her either,'

"Oh my God," Eva whispers. Her brother and dad both pause their conversation, fixing their attention on her.

"What's wrong?" Her Dad asks.

"Amber Shirley is missing."

Her dad immediately jumps from his seat. As mentioned before, he's a very cautious person. He constantly watches the news, hearing about all the bad things that occur. It only feeds his anxieties but now-- now he has something to actually worry about.

"It's only been like, 20 hours," Eva continues, "But she's not home, nobody knows where she is,"

"Oh God," Her dad sighs, "I should call the Shirley's." He picks up the home phone to dial their number. As he talks to them, she goes back to her phone to anxiously read more texts.

'do you think it was a party?'

'nobody party's that hard on Wednesdays,'

'plus she was commuting'

'you guys I think she was doing drugs,'

'really?'

'why do you say that'

'yea did you hear that from somebody?'

'idk these past few weeks she'd been acting so weird'

'what do you mean?'

'she thought her house was haunted,'

'we all knew that, her house is a bit creepy tbh,'

'no, she legitimately was becoming paranoid. she thought something was trying to kill her,'

'like she even started skipping bio because she wasn't sleeping'

'did her parents know?'

'I think she tried to talk to them, im not sure'

'but she was like really scared you guys, she must've been on something really hard'

'shit'

'that's terrifying'

'I really hope it's not heroin,'

'I hope she's ok'

'me too' Eva sends the quick text.

Now Eva finally catches up, she's even more scared. It's very surreal to have something like a friend go missing. She's never dealt with crime in her life, so it all seemed so far away from her until now. The idea that Amber could be gone is frightening. For once in her life she was nervous to go to classes, and not because of exams.

From the moment she read that Amber was missing, an eerie shiver blew up her spine. Even after trying to hope that Amber was safe, that she was okay, praying she wasn't hurt-- that creepy feeling just won't shake off. Her mind won't stop frenzying over what could have possibly happened, what she could have done or even worse, what someone else could have done to her. The idea that someone dangerous could be walking around the streets of Willow only magnified her anxiety.

She checks the time, 12:25 pm. Her classes start soon, so she begrudgingly pushes herself up the steps to get ready.

"Eva, where are you going?" Her dad calls from the kitchen.

"To get ready for class."

"Ok, but you're not walking home tonight, not with Amber missing,"

She nods her head in agreement, "But who will pick me up?"

"Ask your friends, or take an Uber I guess," He says.

"Sounds good."

She makes her way up the stairs to her room; ridding herself of the saggy sweatpants and worn out black tee. She moves rather slowly. Her brain still in frenzy and her body seemingly rusted. It just didn't feel right today. Studying herself in the mirror, she slowly grazes a hand over her necklace. It's probably the most pretty and most precious thing she owns. It's a family 'hand me down', if you will. She got it as a baptismal gift from her Godmother and hasn't taken it off since. The dainty silver chain and tiny blue jewel can compliment almost all of her wardrobe.

She makes note of the extra windy and rainy weather today. Taking a nice pair of true denim overalls, she slides them over her legs. She finds a thick, cropped pullover that was a baby pink and dresses herself in the fleecy garment. She picks a nice pair of wooly socks, grabs her black rain boots. She twists her hair into a messy bun, before throwing on her matching black raincoat.

She sends a quick text to her friends, 'My dad is talking to the Shirley's rn. I still can't believe she's missing.'

'Same'

'My mom wants to bring them some muffins.'

'I think we should start a search party or something'

(Eva) 'That's a good idea. Also, can any of you give me a ride back home later?'

'Don't think so.'

'I can't!'

'Still don't have my license.'

'Maybe take an Uber?'

(Eva) 'Yeah, sounds like that's what I'm gonna do.'

She makes her way downstairs, seeing her Dad still on her phone and Charley at the dining room table studying. She looks to the kitchen to gratefully see Oliver groggily getting a bowl of Cheerios.

"Morning Oli," She greets while looking for an umbrella. He looks in her direction mumbling a gentle 'hello' back. She finally finds a large umbrella buried in her closet. It has a big wooden staff and a simple brown fabric. She sets it by the front door.

Oliver sits at the table watching YouTube on his IPad, while slowly but surely eating his Cheerios. It's the usual routine for him, he's either asleep when she's awake, or he's on his IPad. She grabs her glass from earlier this morning and refills it. She has a couple of minutes before she has to leave, so she decides to get extra hydrated. Walking to campus and all the way around it can be a little of a workout.

She plops down next to Oli, "So how'd you sleep?" He pauses the video, shifting his attention to her. His black hair is clearly disheveled from just being asleep, his eyes still heavy as well.

"It was fine," He shrugs. He's always been one to downplay his problems. Oliver hates being overwhelmed with everyone else's anxieties, so he tends to be vague, and always calm.

"Could've slept more?" She adds.

"Yeah," It's silent for a moment, "You know, I heard about, uh, Amber,"

Eva forces out a breath, her mind circling back to the fearful subject. It's as if all of a sudden her mouth is dry as a desert. She reaches for her water.

She doesn't really want to talk about Amber unless it's about her being found. She can't stand the nerve-wracking sensation of thinking about her—of where she is, of how bad it is, or if she's even still alive. Her mind just seems to go straight to that place, the extreme yet not so crazy idea that Amber could be in a life or death situation. Not to mention, all that they can do is rely on the police at this point. Talking about her—trying to unearth where she is just from guessing does nothing, like literally—nothing. It's helpless, she... Amber, could even be helpless. They're just frozen in a waiting period, can't do anything about it.

"It's just so scary," Is all she manages to say. She glances at her phone, at 12:43 pm.

"Oh, I need to head out," She gulps down the last of her water. Standing up from her seat, she gives Oli an awkward half-smile. Not really being able to conjure up enough energy to fully smile, or keep a conversation going. Throwing her backpack over her shoulder, she picks up the umbrella and as she's walking towards the door she sees a big, cardboard box just a few feet behind it.

"What's this box for?" Eva asks. She hears some shuffling from the dining room before Charley pops his head in the hallway to see.

"Oh, Dad's going to get the old family videos restored," He responds.

"Nice," Eva smiles at the thought. They definitely have some keepers in there, let me tell you. She recalls once when Oli had brought over a cute girl-- which was entirely rare due to his shyness. But of course, the night he brings her over, Eva, 12 at the time, decided to put on some of the old tapes.  It plays, everyone excited to see what it is-- low and behold, a video from when Oli was 4 and was running around butt-naked with Pokemon cards. 'God', she cringes at the memory, she felt so bad about embarrassing him.

She unlocks the front door, stepping out before calling out, "Bye, love you guys,"

Eva hears a faint murmur of 'bye' and 'love you too' from the men of the house before the loud shut of the door. No longer in the warmth of her home; no longer with the sounds of Charley's pencil writing, Oli's slow Cheerio chewing, or Gus's sympathetic worries being spoken to the phone. She can hear the clear sound of birds chirping, a light patter of rain, and the barely audible sound of the wind in the trees.

She plugs her earbuds into her phone, unfolds her umbrella and begins to walk. The old peaceful streets of Willow generating natural, calm energy. She tries to focus on the music, the scenery, not daring to let her mind drift to the blood-curtling subject of Amber.

She commutes to Bartley University. The small neighborhood she and her family reside in is called Willow, and she's lived there her entire life. She only has to walk a few blocks before she enters the campus grounds. The street she lives on is interesting because while it's very close to a college, for some reason only half of the occupants are students. The other half of the houses are elderly people, mostly Italian in fact. But because of that, she has such friendly neighbors. Her parents got to be close enough with some that they'd the old Italian couples would bring them homemade wine and Pizelles.  

One unfortunate thing she's learned with living in Willow is that most of the sidewalks have uneven foundations. You want to be careful not to drag your feet cause you can very easily trip...which she does all the time. 'Always been clumsy though,' She thinks to herself.

Once she reaches Ryter Street, she turns right into the other many traveling students. And before she knows it, she's passing by the big Lion shaped fountain and enters the History building. As she makes her way down the busy halls, she notices her friend Nora holding a thick stack of papers. And when she looks behind her, she sees a trail of 'Missing: Amber Shirley' posters pinned up on the walls. Right beneath the bold red letters, she sees the picture; Amber's face, plastered all around campus, but the real Amber not anywhere in sight.

Boy, today is going to be tough.

~~

"Don't forget to send me your articles, they need to be peer-reviewed, full text, and strictly correlational!" The Professor calls out. Everyone had begun packing up their items, desperate to get out of here as fast as possible. From all the noise, his voice began to get drowned out. All the kids began to file out of the lecture, and before Eva knew it, she was one of the last few kids left. Normally she's right with the crowd, antsy to get home. Especially since her mother makes the warmest, yummiest food. Her friends tend to get jealous of it actually, since they live in dorms and basically only eat ramen and pizza.

She slowly stands up from her seat. Her mouth feels exceptionally dry again, which is ironic considering how heavily it's pouring outside. She can even hear the bash of thunder from inside the building. Checking her IPhone, 6:30 pm. A few months into this semester, and she's regretting putting all four classes back to back. Ancient Greek History is one hour, Bio 101 is a two-hour long lecture, then she has a Bio Lab, then finally her Psych 101 is only an hour and a half—but still, she's beat.

She opens the Uber app and orders a car. As she waits to see the approximate arrival time, she sits back down into her chair. A constant nervous habit of hers, she starts toying with the little gem on her neck, twisting it between her fingers, sometimes even spinning the chain around her finger.

Approximate Arrival: 6:45 pm.

Right as she's about to head out to the common area, she gets a text from her dad.

'The Police are finally conducting an investigation. They want to talk to you and your friends. What time will you be home?'

(Eva) 'Probably 7:00 pm.

'Okay. Love you. Be safe.'

She sends a quick 'love you too' text back before standing up. She zips up her coat, nice and snug. As she makes it into the halls, she can't help but stare at the floor. Not having the guts to look at Amber's face. It's weird, not being able to control what she's feeling. This new experience is entirely daunting. It's such an unfamiliar emotion to have someone gone from your life that isn't dead yet, nor found yet, just inconclusive of her existence.

She enters the main conversational area, to which she finds is vacant. Usually, it's filled with students due to its comfortable seating arrangements and its beautiful architecture. But here she sees only two students and one janitor. The emptiness she finds rather unsettling, so she plops down on a couch and immediately opens Instagram. As she scrolls through her feed she jumps at the occasional blast of thunder, followed by heavy pounding rain.

As the clock rounds 6:45, she gets a message from her Uber driver:

'Pulled in behind the apartments on 5th'

'I guess the rainfall was causing a lot of flooding down here', she thinks to herself, what other reason would he park over there? The apartments aren't that far, just a block or so. She just prays she doesn't have to walk through any puddles that are deeper than her boots. Extending her umbrella, she pushes open the heavy brass doors and is met with the chaotic weather. Because it's coming around 7:00 pm, the sky is getting pretty dark. She makes her way towards 5th, but once she gets to the building, she can't find a car in sight. There's a couple of parked cars, the occasional slow approaching vehicle, but she can't seem to find this 'grey sedan car'. She messages her driver about 5 times, but her phone says that her messages couldn't be delivered. She tries to call him, but it won't even ring.

That's when the panic kicks in. And oh boy, is it hitting her hard. With her only source of light being the street lamps and her phone screen, everything around her becomes eerie, vague. She's clicking the call button to her Dad, her Mom, her brothers, her friends, but the bars in the corner of her phone are completely empty. Through all the dense rain crashing from the night's sky, she could barely hear a thing. Her breath was becoming heavier as the thunder became deafening, the lack of light and lack of any safety sending her into pure, unadulterated terror. Her hands were shaking, her lips were freezing and the tips of her toes were going numb—she couldn't breathe a full breath and every time her heart beat faster- her lungs gave out more, her mouth was painfully dry and her eyes felt like they were being pried open to stare into the darkness, and the sky unforgivingly beat down upon her and the earth around her.  Suddenly she hears a sharp clink. Her necklace drops to the wet, flooded ground, the moment she frantically bends down to grab it, her fingers barely graze the silver chain before she hears thundering footsteps spiriting toward her.

Next, her body feels as if it's being ripped to pieces, there were scratches; deep-cut, gushing wounds being gouged into her flesh, her skin was white-hot and her nerves were screaming, a loud, piercing pain pulsing into her head, before she could even feel the claws rip through her body, she saw gallons of blood paint the rainwater red, she fell to the concrete, doing the only thing she could instinctively do—scream, a blood-curdling scream, as loud as she can. The last image she sees is a loose paper, destroyed by the rushing water, her peripheral begins to go black, her ears ringing with high-pitched bells, she grasps the paper, her hand crunching directly over Amber's smearing face.

And she softly closes her shuddering eyes, the pain clogging up her body was too much to bear, and she begins to cry--hot tears disappearing into the red-stained rushing water, and she bids goodbye to what she thinks is her last day.

~~

Hey, this is my first post ya’ll, tell me what you think? xoxox I NEED to know if this is intriguing?? Should I post the next few parts? Lemme know

[blogsaraisblogging]

1/30 - January 22nd

Okay, so I’ve never blogged before and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t writing and rewriting what I wanted to say in this first post in my head for hours before this current moment. And well, if we’re being honest here I didn’t really like any of the mental drafts I created so let’s just see what happens.

Hopefully, it’s accepted that weather is something we consume. I mean we’re constantly surrounded by it. Today, that fact was very noticeable considering everyone kept talking about the snow that was supposed to hit during the morning rush hour. Being a commuter student, I consumed this weather way too fucking early this morning to get to my 8:30 class. I also consumed the awful cold that accompanied the snow.

Something else I consumed today was food. But literally it was all fucking trash. A cranberry and orange belvita, curly fries, a subway sandwich, and mini oreos. What the hell am I trying to do to myself? Why has it become my habit to buy unhealthy foods when I could be bringing food? And why do even on the occasions that I do bring food from home do I decide that’s not what I want and then go buy something anyway? I feel like I take a lot of things for granted but especially food. I’m so lucky that I’ve never gone hungry because my family or I can’t afford groceries. 

As I’m thinking of my buying food and eating habits, it’s not just me that I know who does this. Quick background, I work two jobs while going to school and one of them is part food service so I have a bunch of food right there in front of me. Hence why eat so many damn curly fries. My boyfriend who is also in college and working two jobs does the same thing. He will almost always eat the food he has at work. Why do we do this? I mean I feel like it’s convenience. And to me that makes sense because consumerism in a very general sense is part fueled by convenience. I think I’m just lazy sometimes too. I won’t call my boyfriend lazy though.

Well I think that’s enough word vomit especially for the first post. There’s so much more I feel like I could speculate about the topic I talked about but I think I need to think about them more too. Maybe I’ll come back to them more later.

[samanthabreedlove-blog]

A few nights later, after class, I walk to the Palladium-- NYU’s athletic center, on 12th Street and 3rd Avenue. As I walk north on Broadway, the Arctic air so cold against my face, snots dripping from my nose all the way to my neck. Once inside the building, though, it's toasty and warm. The smell of chlorine from the Olympic sized swimming pool in the basement of the building is so overwhelming you can smell it even on the 3rd floor where the general exercise equipment is located.

I change in the women’s locker room and walk out into the empty gym. There is hardly anyone here at this hour. It's almost 10pm but I estimate I’ll still be able to get a solid 4 miles in plus a shower before they close at 11. I choose a treadmill, turn it on, set the pace and begin to run. Lately, after my evening classes, I like to come to the gym and run. This helps to clear my mind. My sprints have gotten faster and faster. I’ve achieved a steady 8 minute mile pace. It feels good to accomplish the goals I’ve set for myself-- chipping away at my run-time, resulting in tangible proof of my hard work.

While I run I become hyper-aware of the passing of time, and I am also aware of my physical movement. As I run, I imagine the landscape of Florida. Thoughts come in and are subsequently pushed out of my mind as my feet pound down onto the circulating rubber of the treadmill-- the weight of my body shakes the machine more and more the harder I run.  My mediation through this action repeats over and over inside my brain: “It is over now, it is in the past. The past is behind me, and the future is in my control.”

I imagine JR: I see his face as I saw it for the very last time-- framed by the window of the cab as he shut the car door. It is like a short movie that plays in my head every time I run; after the cab comes the memory of sitting at Reagan International drinking whiskey alone at the airport bar, tears streaming down my face-- so much so that strangers stare but they know better than to ask me what’s wrong. Then the memory of the Washington Monument visible through the oval of my window seat as the plane takes off and flies over the Mall before setting course south towards Florida. In memory, I can see myself in third person: sad aching body as it sobs in near silence for all 800 miles back to Tampa where my mother will pick me up once we land because I can’t stand for anyone else to see me in this state. That feeling was boiling over so intensely inside of me I swear I could taste it in my mouth-- my heart heavy with a new kind of sadness-- aware for the first time with absolute certainty that I meant nothing to him.

***

I’d gone to visit JR in D.C. where he’d moved in early 2008, after shit hit the fan once Margaret found out about not only me, but the other handful of woman he’d been sleeping with after breaking the seal of infidelity in my bedroom that past July. JR had stuck around just long enough for the full force of the crash to whip back from him to me.

Everyone loved Margaret. She was universally lovable. A thing I never considered until after, and under the weight of everyone else’s judgement: how easy it is to slut shame the woman. Everyone expected this from JR. He’d done it before. But, they hadn’t from me; well-- How could I? What was I thinking?

I was a home-wrecker, a whore. A pathetic drunk who ought to gain some self-respect. An elitist bitch who destroyed everything. Funny how quick a town full of miscreants gains a moral compass. Except it wasn’t really funny at all. My spirit was crushed; instead of having him, I had the judgemental eyes of everyone else around me. Wherever I went, there they were looking at me like I was a disease, like I was crazy. Was I crazy? Maybe I was crazy.

First week in January, after she’d kicked him out, JR came to find me at Dirty Nelly’s-- a bar just south of State Theater on 8th street that people would come to when the band at the Emerald was awful. Nelly’s was unremarkable other than the fact that it had a pool table and shag-carpeting which seemed like a really poor choice for a dive bar. But if the Emerald was out of the question that night, you knew Nelly’s was where everyone was gonna be.

I was surprised to see him, further still that he came straight over to my table. We hadn’t spoken since the Christmas Party. The first words out of his mouth were: “We should talk. Alone. She kicked me out.”

When the shoe finally drops, no matter how much you think you’re ready for it, you really just aren’t. I told him okay, that I’d be back and went off to find Quinn.

Quinn was in town on winter break from the New School where she was finishing the last year of her BFA. She’d been staying with me on my couch like she always would. I found her in the bathroom reapplying her lipstick and chatting with Carolyn who was taking a piss. I told her what JR’d just disclosed. She says back to me straight away, “get him out of here-- I’ll find someone to go home with.”

Quinn is my best friend. We were born exactly one week apart, and on each other’s due dates: me one week early, her a week late. Friends since grade 6, she’d moved to New York City in 2005 with Laura before the thought had really occurred for me to leave Florida. They both live in a basement cement loft off the Halsey Stop on the L train where they commute into the City, working together at the Strand Bookstore in Union Square.

Quinn’s tall at 5’11, with curves for days, a body built just exactly like Beyonce. Her eyes the color of dark chocolate with the face like the fawn of a deer, Quinn is both sweet and steady. Her presence in any room feels like the steep, strong column holding up the architecture of everything. I kissed her on the cheek before scooping JR up and driving us both back to my place.

There on my couch, we sat in dark silence for a long time before he says, “You weren’t the only one, and she doesn’t know about you yet. But it’s only matter of time and you should prepare yourself for that. We both should”

I didn’t say anything back. After a while he went on.

“This a mess, and it is going to get a lot worse. I need to figure out how to not live here anymore and fast”

His eyes are wet with tears and I realize for the first time just how much he really does love her. What I feel in return for JR, as he sits in so much sadness on my couch isn’t jealousy, or anger, or fear. But, rather, just an intense desire for him to be okay. It’s really dark in my house, all the lights are out in the living room but the lamp left on in the kitchen casts shadows, creating a pattern across JR’s pale and tear stained face. I’m fixated on him, but he won’t look back at me. He’s looking at the wall with his forehead in his hand. I start to cry too, but I’m not really sure why and I don’t want him to see so I get up to pour us a couple glasses of bourbon. I return, taking a place on the floor, looking up at him in the dark I hand him the glass.  

He sips, and after a while he says, “We can’t be together, it’s a mistake. It was a mistake for me to come here.”  

I don’t say anything but I reach for his hand and he takes it.

“I love her, and--and look what I did, I- I can’t do that to you too. I can’t do that to you, period. I don’t know what is going to happen next but we should stay as far away from one another as possible. For your sake and for the sake of what’s gonna happen once this all comes out.” His voice is stammering.

For the first time I speak: “I’m not going to do that, JR.”

I feel calm as I climb into his lap. Holding his face in my hands, I comfort him the way I know how. I lift off my shirt and put his hands on my hips.

“Everything will be okay, no matter what happens, everything is going to be fine. ” I tell to him, my voice full of strength from a source I can’t identify but feel with conviction.

His body presses hard to mine in recognition. We made love in the middle of the living room floor and wake to the sound of Quinn coming in the back door the next morning.

Within the month JR’s left, nevering having said good-bye. He took me to the Hold Steady show a couple days after we made love in the living room. They were playing the Skatepark of Tampa Anniversary show hosted at Czar-- a communist themed Russian club in Ybor that has thick red velvet curtains, tiger striped carpeting, an excellent vodka selection and a huge stage in its ‘Imperial Theater’ where bands would play. He’d bought my ticket and my drinks, and even helt my hand at one point but after that night JR stopped taking my calls.

One night a couple weeks later, at the Independant-- a fancy hipster bar in St. Pete with over 70 international beers on tap, I spotted him there with a pretty girl in a pixie cut. Because God must hate me, our two parties combined and there I am sitting across from him with the new girl’s hand in his, all this visible to me just under the metal table where we sat. It’s her birthday, I’ve gathered. She is 23 and her name is Jenn. JR avoids eye contact with me until, at some point, his gaze searches then finds mine. We are sitting directly across from one another and a million miles apart. Across the distance, his eyes say to me ‘I’m sorry you’re seeing this’ but not ‘I’m sorry this is happening’. The inflections of his facial movements tell me ‘I told you I’m bad news. I wish you would had listened.’

That February, Sarah told me he’d moved. I pretended like I could give a shit, but my heart was broken. JR had moved to D.C. to take a contract job until the position he’d really been gunning for would come together: front end web design for XM Radio where his sister worked and had arranged for an interview. Back in St. Pete everyone had found out that I was the one he’d cheated with and everywhere I went the gossip followed. Even people I considered friends looked at me like I was pathetic and not a good person. Ill equipped to deal with this feeling, I was drinking a lot. That April, just after my 24th birthday, I ran into him at the Emerald-- he’d come down for his baby sister’s wedding and was out on the town showing off how he didn’t live here anymore. At the bar I mentioned wanting to come visit and he said I should. I justified it as professional development: The Women in the Arts Museum had just opened, for which my company was a sponsor, and Raymond James would pay for the trip if I wrote a piece about the inaugural exhibition. I wrote that piece, but I went exclusively to see him.

I went to D.C. because I wanted JR to give me something I knew in the back of my mind he probably never would-- some indication that I mattered to him, that all of what had happened was real. That it transpired, that I wasn’t losing my mind. Or, conversely, that I meant nothing: I needed closure and I naively thought he’d give it to me of free will. But instead, all I got was the knowing that I was just be a mistake he made-- a thing he had come to regret.

We spent the weekend in the Beacon Hotel on Capitol Hill because he was freshly kicked out of the apartment he was shacking-up in while taking advantage of a 39 year old woman who thought he loved her. Terri was also who he’d been interviewing with for that position at XM, and once hired she would be his boss. But he didn’t love her. In reality, he just couldn’t afford rent for his own place until after saving up a few paychecks and he desperately wanted that job-- those saved up paychecks JR subsequently blew on our hotel room because he was completely hitting rock bottom and lacked all semblance of self-control.

He’d seemed excited for my visit at first but once I was there, JR was different-- nothing felt right.  His intense desire for me to leave him alone was perceptible the entire time I was with him, even when we were having sex. When JR put me in that cab and slammed shut the door, I knew we’d never speak again. The relief that I was finally going plastered across his face clear as day.

Hand written on hotel stationary, and pressed in the palm of his hand before putting me in that cab:  

“You should know that I really believed that I could forgive you. Though I know now that I can’t. Wilde says those who are faithful know only the trivial side of love: it is the faithless who know love’s tragedies. And I’m better for that; for having loved you despite the fact that the esoteric nature of our relationship has finally knocked the wind out of me, and I’m resolved to the fact that whatever the reason, you and I are over.

Maybe in another lifetime we’ll get it right.

-Samantha”

Back in St. Pete, once the reality had really set in, Carolyn, Diane and I went to the ocean in the middle of the night because being in the salt water was the only thing that would calm my aching soul. We stripped all our clothes off and swam far out into the Gulf. Carolyn was the first to notice the phosphorescence, she pointed it out and we both looked down to see the shimming greenblue of the bioluminescent tides as they rolled over our bare breasts.

“It’s the color they make when they announce to the world, letting each other know ‘I exist, I am here!’, so they can find one another and reproduce.” Carolyn tells us. “Isn’t it magical?”  She is dipping her hand down into the water and scooping up a handful of the shimming water.

I let my body float in the Gulf as I watched how the colors looked just like thousands of fireflies all over my skin. I looked up at the full moon and I saw how the world was so big and full of so much beauty. I knew then that my story wouldn’t end here in Florida, I was destined for something more and I was free now from the power JR had held over me. I would find my magic, I would cast my life like a net into the great expanse of the sea-- I would be open to whatever would come of it.

***

While I’m running late at night at the gym, I confront these memories head on: this sacred space, with the full force of my body in motion, is the only place I let these thoughts seep in.

I concentrate on how every mile completed is a mile further away from him and closer to the promise I’d made to myself that night we went swimming in the ocean. This thought helps me run farther, and run faster. Despite what’s transpired, my love for him persists. It bubbles up in my torso, so I push it down deep into the recesses of my soul. I lock it down inside of me and I imagine that I’ve thrown away the key. This becomes the fuel from which I draw upon as I make my way in the world outside of where I’ve come from. I am dedicated to my successes not for him, but in spite of him. I am my own keeper: my body will never be broken for JR. He will no longer drink from my blood. My love for him reinvents as a way by which I make sense of myself, and I put that self at the forefront of everything.

[keywestlou]

MORNING STEW #24

So much to share this morning. Calls for a Morning Stew.

Welcome to Morning Stew #24.

At a Trump rally in Tupelo, Mississippi last night, the President described impeachment as an “attack on democracy.” Impeachment is not the attack. The attack is the President himself.

At the same rally, Trump discussed Beto O’Rourke. O’Rourke announced yesterday he was withdrawing from the race for the Democratic nomination. Trump said Beto “quit like a dog.” Plus it is reported the President used words that could not be printed.

A class act, our President!

Dresden was and still is a major German city. The Allies bombed the hell out of it during World War II.

Dresden as with all other German communities, quickly adapted following World War II to a way of life similar to that of most Allied communities. Nazism was totally and absolutely rejected.

Things have changed.

Dresden has a “Nazi emergency.” “Nazinotstand” the term. Means Dresden has “a serious problem…..open democratic society is threatened.”

A neo-Nazi mayor has been elected. Does not mean Dresden has become a Nazi bastion. The City Council voted in favor wednesday night 39-29 in support of a resolution reflecting and showing their dismay for the neo-Nazi mayor and the wave of neo-Nazism which is creeping over Dresden.

The resolution is intended to show the City Council’s position in opposition to neo-Nazism and their opposition to the growth of anti-Islamism in the Dresden. The resolution reflected the City Council’s commitment to fostering “a free, liberal, democratic society that protects minorities and resolutely opposes Nazis.”

Anti-Islamism is on the rise. Sometime in October, demonstrations began. Weekly, every monday night. Described as” an anti-Islam Pegida movement.” Pegida stands for “Patriotic Europeans Against the Islamisation of the West.” Islamophobia at its worst.

Most of the world is moving to the right. Not a healthy situation.

Tomorrow (Sunday) is National Sandwich Day.

Last year many of the chains gave out free sandwiches. This will not be the case this year. Most are advising customers how to sign up for apps. that will assist in ordering.

Subway is doing something . I think a buy one, get one free deal. McDonald’s is giving out coupons directing customers to go to McDonald’s apps and take advantage of any benefits available therfein. McDonald’s is returning to Happy Meals in a limited fashion also. Described as retro Happy Toys from 1988.

All confusing this year. Last year was much easier when most of the chains invited a person in for a freebie.

Syracuse/Boston College at noon. Boston College a  3 point favorite. Hope Syracuse wins. I am screwed once again. The game is being carried on ACCN. ACCN and Comcast have not made their dollar deal yet for Syracuse games. Ergo, we Syracuse fans are left out in the cold.

On this day in 1948, Harry Truman defeated Thomas Dewey  for the U.S. Presidency.

Much amusement involved in the result.

Dewey was predicted winner by political analysts and polls. Truman was going to get buried. The Chicago Daily Tribune went to press early election night putting newspapers on the street bearing the headline: Dewey Defeats Truman. H. V. Kaltenborn was the radio man of the day. No TV back then. A much respected radio commentator. He had a very distinguishable voice. Before the results were all in, he went on national radio and announced Dewey the victor.

Truman got them all!

Truman the farm boy who became President. No college education. However a man of honesty and integrity as the nation knew.

After his victory, Truman announced he was going to Key West on vacation.

My life was fortunate to cross paths 3 times with Truman. The most memorable occurred my last year of law school at Syracuse.

Truman was coming to visit the University. Two days. Don’t be shocked. Syracuse was known as a Democratic bastion at the time. The visit was several years after Truman finally left office.

A private luncheon with Truman was scheduled for the purportedly “twelve outstanding students on campus”. As luck would have it, I was selected to represent the law school.

Even better, seating for the 12 plus the former President was at 2 round tables. Six at one, 7 at the other.

Seating was at the discretion of the University. My name card was immediately to the right of Truman. I got to sit next to him for a good 2 hours.

Most of Truman’s comments had to do with the 1948 election. He had a copy of the Chicago newspaper which he had exhibited to us. He also had a recording of Kaltenborn’s words that Truman had lost. He talked about both with a chuckle in his voice. He got ’em!

On November 1, 1950, an attempt was made on Truman’s life. The President and his wife were living in Blair House at the time. The White House was being remodeled.

Around 2 in the afternoon, 2 Puerto Ricans who supported Puerto Rico independence ran up the front steps and reached the front door of Blair House. Shooting along the way.

One assassin was killed as was 1 Secret Service officer.

Mr. and Mrs. Truman were upstairs and never in danger.

The assassins’ acts did not make sense. Truman was openly for Puerto Rican autonomy.

The surviving assassin was tried, convicted, and sentenced to death. Truman commuted his sentence to life imprisonment.

Trump has become a Florida resident. Cut the ropes that bound him to New York.

No one seems unhappy. The Mayor and Governor in effect said good riddance to bad rubbish.

I can understand Trump wanting to leave. He has been for many years unpopular in New York. The City only gave him 10 percent of  the Presidential vote. Additionally, he has never been accepted by the elite, socially, or those in politrics on a personal basis. His reputation and personality make such understandable.

Even as President, he has not been assimilated by New York City’s bigwigs.

Can you imagine, not wanting the President of the U.S. as a friend!

There will be no unhappiness in Mudville that Trump has opted to become a resident of Florida. His residence Mar-a-Lago.

I do not see any social benefit to Trump living full time in Mar-a-Lago. Palm Beach is a seasonal community. A warm weather venue. Otherwise, the homes are empty. Who will he socialize with?

Many retire for tax reasons to Florida. With his income coming from many areas and sources, it will not be easy for a good portion of his income to go tax free.

The Sistine Chapel. Beauty beyond description. As if the hand of God painted the ceiling rather than Michelangelo.

The Sistine Chapel with its newly painted ceiling was opened to the public on November 1, 1512.

Thirty five years ago, I was fortunate to visit the Sistine Chapel. My then wife, children and my parents with me. I was in awe!

The Sistine Chapel was crowded. Shoulder to shoulder, body to body. Heads tipped up.

Michelangelo’s ceiling frescoes took several years to complete. The most famous The Creation of Adam. The arms of God and Adam stretched toward each other almost touching.

God is in His Heaven in the ceiling as conceived and painted by Michelangelo.

At one point, my father and I were standing in the middle of the Chapel. My father look at me and told me, did not ask, “What’s the big deal?” I smiled. I had no response.

I could not blame Dad. It was hot with all those bodies crushed together, painful for the neck, tiring to be on one’s feet since it took forever to reach the Chapel through a long narrow crowded hallway.

Many years ago, I wrote an article for KONK Life spelling out how prisoners were entitled to the very best medical care. Some what difficult to understand when you realize how many persons in the U.S. cannot afford health care. Yet we provide it free to those who have broken the law.

The scenario is the result of the U.S. Supreme Court case Estelle v. Gamble decided in the 1960’s.

The situation comes to mind this morning because of Steven Hayes. He is serving 6 life sentences in a Pennsylvania jail. Sentenced because of his part in the murder of Hawke-Petit and her 2 daughters. He and an accomplice perpetrated a home invasion and brutally killed the three. First with beatings. Then dousing with gasoline. Finally setting the whole house on fire.

Hayes has been receiving hormone therapy in prison as part of a gender transition. He says he is in reality a female.

A Pennsylvania statute limits medications per inmate to $600 a month. It prohibits/refuses to pay for any surgery related to gender modification.

I am not aware whether the statute not allowing any payment for gender modification has been tested in a federal court. I would assume the Estelle decision would override it.

The reason behind the Estelle decision is that prisons/the state is required to provide the “very best medical care.” Translated means a right to adequate medical care. Failure to so provide constitutes a violation of the “cruel and unusual punishment” clause of the 8th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution.

The filming of the Rose Tattoo began this day in 1954 at a house on Duncan Street. Two doors from Tennessee Williams’ home. Tennessee Williams wrote the play which was the basis for the movie.

Change the clock again. Do not forget to turn your clock back one hour tonight before going to bed.

Enjoy your day!

  MORNING STEW #24 was originally published on Key West Lou

[neubauje]

BEGT ch. 14

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 AO3

Five minutes in the basement of the apartment complex is all Yagi needs to swap the two loads from washing machine to dryer. It’s not as much time as he would like in order to compile his thoughts, but he’s not about to dawdle and leave Aizawa waiting upstairs any longer than necessary. Steeling his nerves, the weary host climbs his way back up the three and a half flights, and slips back into his apartment. “Aizawa... we should talk.” He glances around the small living room, not seeing the erasure hero there, and is about to duck into the bedroom, when he hears the other’s voice.

“I’m out here.”

Toshinori turns his head toward the voice, and is surprised to spy the balcony door cracked open, leaving the blinds rattling softly in the breeze. He lets himself out onto the balcony and slides the glass door shut all the way, turning apprehensively to join Aizawa in the night air. “Aren’t you cold out here with no shirt?” (more under the cut)

Aizawa lifts one shoulder in a careless shrug as he tips his head stiffly to the side, keeping his back to the apartment as he leans forward against the railing. His eyes sweep out across the orange and blue lights of the city’s skyline, which casts an odd glow to make the pink track pants almost seem like a dusky lavender instead. “So talk,” the gentle command is almost lost to the wind.

Yagi draws closer and steps in against Shouta’s back, fitting them back together again as neatly as they’d been on the subway the previous day. Reaching in with his right hand, he carefully works it in under the straps of fresh gauze acting as a sling, then gingerly curls his left arm around the shorter man’s stomach, keeping him close while framing his still-healing arms with stronger, whole ones. Aizawa starts to tilt his head back to look up at the taller hero, but Toshinori rests his pointed chin atop the other’s crown, just holding him against his chest for a few minutes while keeping his expression out of sight. The heat which seems to constantly radiate from Yagi’s body is enough to counteract the slight chill from the late night breeze, and Aizawa leans back against him to relish the embrace against his bare skin.

Eventually, Toshinori gathers the will to speak, his voice rumbling softly against the back of Shouta’s head. “Aizawa, this past week has been... I’m thankful for the opportunity to get to know you better, not only as a peer and co-worker, but as a close friend. When I heard you mention you’d been living alone, I recognized some of the same loneliness and isolation I’ve had since moving back here, and this time we’ve spent together has done a lot to help with that. At least, for me.” He gives a firm little squeeze around the shorter teacher’s shoulders and waist, trying to make his point clear, “But this... You and I?” He sighs softly into the black hair under his chin, “This can’t happen. Not like this, not now. It wouldn’t be right.”

The younger teacher seems to freeze in place, the muscles of his chest tensing up again beneath Toshinori’s grasp, “What do you mean.”

All Might grimaces to himself and slowly strokes his thumb over Aizawa’s shoulder, just the smallest of gestures to add a little reassurance, “Shouta... You’re not of sound mind right now... and not just because you’re full of painkillers, either. It would be unethical of me to let this develop while you’re in my care, when you’re healing and dependent on me for your very livelihood. The power imbalance alone makes my head swim with the ramifications...” He shakes his head a little, those long blond bangs flapping gently in the wind, and glances down at the man in his arms.

“You’re sending some very mixed messages,” Aizawa tensely shoves his shoulder blades against Toshinori’s chest, still careful not to strike him in his weak spot, but firmly cueing him to disentangle himself and back off. The taller hero reluctantly complies, and Shouta turns in place to lean back against the railing, letting the ends of his hair fly free over the edge. He fixes his glare on those heavily-shadowed eyes, trying to keep his mouth from forming a grimace or a scowl or a sneer or anything but the carefully-guarded neutral mask he’s spent so long training it into. “What was I supposed to think?”

Yagi averts his gaze, unable to meet that intense stare this time, and he folds his arms across his chest with a little shiver. “I’m... sorry. It’s just, it’s been so long... I clearly let myself get carried away, despite my best efforts to keep things professional between us. It can’t- I won’t let it happen again.” He glances back up resolutely, but Aizawa brushes past him and shoves a shoulder against the door handle, fighting not to break into a snarl when Yagi reaches to help him slide it open, and closed again once he’s followed back into the relative comfort of the apartment they’ve been sharing.

Aizawa stalks to the couch and attacks it with his knee, trying to pull the cushions off to get it back into the bed formation. He stands back in silence as Toshinori comes over to help, then falls back onto the thin frame, makes a grab for the edge of the blanket between cast and chest, and rolls across the width of the couch, cocooning himself in a make-shift semblance of his sleeping bag. Yagi watches all this with concern, knowing that between the plaster casts against skin, the awful couch mattress, and the pillows lumped unevenly into the fabric burrito, this can’t be comfortable. “Aizawa...”

“It sounds like you need some space,” the encumbered guest cuts him off brusquely, “I’ll ask Present Mic tomorrow if he’s still willing to put me up for the remainder.”

“Ah... I see.” All Might sighs and turns to let himself out the front door, dragging his feet down the hall to go wait out the rest of the drying time in the basement, with the clothes. With a sigh, he settles into a gangly squat, sitting on the last flight of stairs, the soft buzz and flicker of the basement’s fluorescents and the louder, thumping rattle of the dryers quickly lulling him into a shallow sleep, at least until the steady sound of the machines cuts off. Toshinori sits up blearily and takes the time to carefully fold and sort both loads into each respective carrier, then eventually bulks up and returns to the third floor. Ducking into his own door to set the duffel and hamper just inside, he glances at his watch and bites his lip, then knocks at the door across the hall. Thankfully, Mrs. Ogawa doesn’t seem to adhere to most stereotypes about going to bed at too early an hour, or at least, if he’d woken her, she doesn’t seem too phased by it. And sure enough, she replaces the coins from his cargo pockets with a handful of candies to tide him over.

The rest of the evening proves tense, as Toshinori manages to convince Aizawa to at least get into a pajama shirt and a slightly more comfortable position to sleep in, then collapses in bed with his phone, using the school’s messaging system to preemptively send Present Mic a heads-up about the request. Mic, were you okay with taking care of Aizawa while he finishes healing? I can bring his things with us to school tomorrow if so.

The reply awaits him by the time the alarm blares from next to Yagi’s ear, where he’d dropped the phone as he’d fallen asleep. Sure dude, no prob.With that confirmation settling things, Toshinori dutifully goes through the morning paces, this time adding Aizawa’s re-packed duffel slung over his shoulder again during their morning commute. He tucks it into the teacher’s lounge for safe-keeping while the two of them lead their respective classes.

Hizashi seems to be in good spirits that evening as he lugs Aizawa’s duffel to the trunk of his car. “Oh man, Shouta, it will be so much fun to have you over, I can’t wait to show you our new digs!” He slams the trunk lid and climbs in behind the wheel, glancing over with a quick grimace when he spies the other teacher lingering outside the passenger door. “Right.” Dashing around to get the door, he swings it shut as soon as Aizawa is seated, then slides across the hood to get back in place, revving the engine to life before tearing out from the school’s garage.

Aizawa tenses as the rough drive knocks him about, trying to brace against the floor and the glove box with his legs, in lieu of a seatbelt or grab-handle. He glances over at his old friend, catching on to a bit of the chatter, “Our?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, mine and Midnight! Between her paychecks and mine, we managed to get one of the classiest suites you can FIND in this town!” Yamada flashes a proud grin and tilts his sunglasses against the red glare of the setting sun. “You might not see her tonight, though, she usually gets in pretty late, unless her extracurricular schedule has a gap in it. She’s a harsh mistress when it comes to keeping up with household chores, but Worth. It. when it comes to bringing in the hot guys~”

Shouta chuckles softly and shakes his head, thankful for a commute which is less than half the time he’s been dealing with on the subway- any longer as Mic’s unwitting passenger, and he would surely have suffered a stress fracture to the knee keeping him in place against the dashboard.

The apartment suite in question is every bit as classy as Hizashi had described; the penthouse of a thirty-story building, it’s surrounded by exterior walls made of nearly nothing but windows, showing off a fantastic view of the downtown nightlife on every side. The furnishings are sleek and modern, the giant plasma TV surrounded by racks of movies and albums alike, the kitchen large enough to cater out of, and the two bedrooms decked out in tasteful decor with a king-sized bed in each- a four-poster canopy bed, in Midnight’s case. Even the bathroom puts others to shame, with a jacuzzi-jetted tub, an overly-lit mirror above a sink nearly covered in various beauty and grooming products, and a high-tech washlet which features far too many little fiddly buttons and options, a far cry from the basic one Aizawa had been able to use on his own in Toshinori’s modest apartment. “Sooooo, what do you think?” Present Mic flashes another grin and twirls his wrist playfully, indicating the whole suite in one gesture.

Aizawa humors him with one arched eyebrow, “It occurs to me that with as much as this place costs? For the same amount, you two could probably afford a proper house.”

“House schmouse,” Mic quickly dismisses the idea with a wave of the same hand, “That’s no fun at all. Come on, let’s get you settled in.” After a quick snack of red bean dango and a few leftover pieces of sushi, Hizashi digs a lightweight blanket out of the linen closet and throws it over Aizawa, stretched out on the big puffy sectional couch in the sprawling living room. The erasure hero sighs as he listens to his host wash the gel out of his hair for the night and then head to bed, eventually letting his tired eyes drift along the city lights visible through every window wall around him, illuminating the suite quite sufficiently even without the overhead light fixture.

Aizawa groans grumpily and tries to bury his head under the blanket for a bit of peace and darkness, halfway considering calling Mic back out from where he’s probably already gone to sleep. The couch, while seemingly plush and extravagant, is hardly better for sleeping on than the pull-out mattress he’d spent the previous two nights on, the light snack of starch is no dinner, and he’s still dressed in his work outfit without a shower. Shouta squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath, reminding himself that this is about the same as what he’d been living with for a long time now, but... a twist in his gut forces him to admit that at this point, he’d rather just swallow his pride and go home.

Eraserhead takes pause at that thought, suddenly wondering when ‘All Might’s apartment’ had somehow become home.

Chapter 15 (Rated X) - Chapter 16

[johnordinario]

1st week 1st sem of SY 2017-2018

I’ve been anticipating this day to come after the whole summer, and now I’m officially back to school. Honestly, after the few weeks of summer, I wanted to go to school already because I can’t bare the boredom at home. This post shows what a third year biology student do on his first week of school.

Monday

Woke up early in the morning at 3 am (di naman ako excited). It’s too early to go to school, so I decided to talk to my girl since it was afternoon and it’s my first day, but she was not at home (hayy I miss her so much). I don’t live near school so I have to wake up early in the morning. Arrived at school 6:30am, and I saw a lot of people waiting outside the school. It’s the first day of the semester, and security guards are not letting college students to go inside the campus because of the flag ceremony. It’s too early for us to go inside. I don’t want to wait, and stand a long time outside (mainit), so i decided to stay at Jollibee for a while with my friend (ken, whom I bumped into on my way to school) para malamig. On my way there I bumped into one of my blockmates ( zeph), and then I went upstairs at jollibee nandun pala squad ko (kim shin and bogs). We went to school 7:40 am and waited for our professor. We really anticipated there is no professor because there is no one tagged in our SIS, and then our chairperson approached us and asked 3-1? and un na nga may klase. first subject of the day is General Microbiology lab. It’s a 6 hour class and we only spent 30 minutes talking about the rules and regulations, what to bring next meeting, what we need for this subject and many more. hay 2:30 next class Systematic Botany so we ate first then went to the library to chill and read some books. 

Here’s our syllabus nung natapos ni maam basahin napaqod ako ang daming gagawin, but iy felt great because ang daming gagawin being busy because of acads is one of my source of joy. last subject! HIST 1023 ( Buhay, Mga Gawain at Sinulat ni Rizal we call it rizal) walang prof! I rode the bus because my feet is already tired. Arrived at home 8pm ate, and then slept.

Tuesday 

Rode the train arrived at school 7:37 am and the professor is not yet there. kung late man ako pasok parin ako sa grace period. I was sitting and eating my snack at the dome and I saw our prof and the moment we saw each other faces we were shocked (ako shookt ako kasi nakain ako tas nandun si maam e cold coffee, tinapay at boiled egg kinakain ko at alam ko naman si maam prof pero siya di niya alam hahaha) she said “ikaw?! magiging estudyante ko hmm” aw kilala ako ni maam kasi bibo kid ako sa klase niya. She was my professor previous year on CVA (Comparative Vertebrate Anatomy) that means she is delighted that I’m her student, which is a positive thing. One hour is only used for biotec (Biological Techniques), and she is both our lab and lec professor. It’s a 7 hour class and our next class was until 4:30 pm. 8 hours vacant (san abot vacant mo dito sa hong kong joke) , so we went to marikina para samahan bumili ng sapatos sadly walang size niya at ayun dumayo kami Jollibee sa Marikina. We went back to school 3pm sa sobrang init my squad and i hangout at the hallway para naman may hangin at lakas pa ng ulan kaya malamig. speaker/food/kwentuhan/ ok na yun tas maya maya onti may babae na dumaan. Nag joke si Kim “HALA NANDIYAN NA SI MAAM JOKEE” and the lady went inside our classroom I said “qaqo PRE SI MAAM NGA TARA NA”, kim “LULLL, HALA OO NGA HAHAHA” kala niya sinakyan ko trip niya ayun nag madali pumasok ng classroom. I liked our professor in physics she was very inspirational. She told us that if we want something we can get it with hardwork and perseverance “hindi talaga hadlang ang kahirapan sa mga pangarap niyo”. She told us a lot of inspirational stories. 

Wednesday (free day)

sa wakas pahinga i really needed a day off becuase my body is not yet ready for this kind of activities (hindi pa nakaka adjust). 12 hours at school, and long commute is not easy. Woke up at 8am cooked breakfast, did my assignment on biotec, announcement for SBS (my council), read some books and articles for our syste (systematic botany) slept late di ako napagod e.

Thursday

Arrived at school a bit late pero naunahan ko parin prof ko (wow ninja). First subject of the day is Technical Writing. Our professor is so jolly and friendly, she’s 5′8 at siya daw ung pinaka maliit sa pamilya nila. Something I learned from her na tumatak sa isip ko is that writing is a learning process if you get corrected by your grammar, or sentence structure it’s okay.

 After the class me and my friend (kim) instantly went to a shoe store Playground outlet at Marikina. They have this ridiculous anniversary sale where all the things there are buy 1 take 1 so we bought two pair of shoes (shoes are lit right?) and it’s only for 5.2k! nakakapagod rin maghanap ng sapatos nakakataranta dami kasing tao tapos ung mga presyo makatarungan. hahaha after that we ate lunch around 2pm, late sa syste lab pero di naman nagalit si maam kahit may activity pala non (sorry maam gutom na talaga kami sa ngalan lang talaga ng sapatos). May groupings pala at di namin alam group no. namin, so we asked our professor and told us we both belong to group 7. When our other group members returned from getting the plants we were shocked and laughing knowing that me and kim are low key extroverts while the other two are introverts. While we were making our lab activity natatatwa kami because we barely know each other (ung vibe kasi very unsually parang di totoo). Lab activity is  allowed to take home and to be submitted next meeting. Went home early around 6pm usually i arrive home 8 pm.

Friday

Last day of class for this week. Long weekend ahead no classes on monday and only one subject to attend on tuesday. It’s making me think if I should go to school pero dahil good boy ako papasok ako kahit isang klase lang yan cos school is life! 1:30 pm klase ko so i decided to cook my meal for lunch bacon. eggs, nuggets, and mangga. waited for the professor and he didn’t arrive, and later on our class president announced that there is no class also at physics 1 lab so un pumunta lang ako sa school para mag lunch galing no. My childhood yaya was waiting for me at home, because she just got home from Hong Kong missed u so much ate neng! 

My 1st week turned out great! sadly there is nothing much for this week. What can you expect first week palang bwelo muna daw, and it’s okay mag rereklamo rin ako pag may pinagawa kaagad e. I can almost feel the adrenaline for the stress coming and that’s a good thing! For the people who loves school or their program i hope yuu feel the same way! ewan ko ang sarap lang talaga kasi mag aral. For all college students there tiyaga at pag mamahal lang. If you’re passionate enough you will accomplish anything.