#but I’ve got a long weekend due to shitty scheduling

[voiidart]

@woofcaaat ( @whosafraidofthedjd ) I’m so so sorry this is so late, but happy SUPER belated birthday!! Your work is always amazing, and a huge inspiration to me!! Keep on doing what you’re doing ❤️❤️❤️😻

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 2) - Baseball Caps & Stroller Naps

Summary: The reader gets into the swing of things around the Ackles household and starts having more one on one time with Jensen. He even offers to set her up with a friend of his. When he invites her to a family outing as a friend though, she gets another glimpse that he might not be as put together as he appears...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Square: Daddy!Jensen

Word Count: 5,900ish

Warnings: language, mention of death of a spouse/death of a parent

A/N: Things are starting to happen! This was also written for @supernatural-jackles​ Tell Me A Story Bingo!

________

“Good morning,” you said the next day as Jensen walked into the kitchen covered in sweaty workout clothes.

“Morning,” he said, going to the fridge to grab a drink. “Get the kids to school okay?”

“Yup,” you said, Jensen sniffing the air and humming as he walked over to where a loaf of banana bread was cooling in the rack. “Ah, it’s still too hot. Wait another half hour.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “It smells amazing by the way. I don’t think anything’s been baked in this house in six months.”

“I’ve always enjoyed it,” you said, Jensen taking a seat on top of the counter. He chugged down the cold bottle of water, some of it dripping down the corners of his mouth. “Enjoy sleeping in today?”

“You don’t know the half of it. I feel amazing.”

“You look rested for the first time since I’ve met you,” you said. “You should sleep in on the weekends more too. The kids don’t need to be up at dawn.”

“No, they don’t,” he said. “I do love sleep too. You do okay with getting the three of them going on your own today?”

“Yeah. JJ’s old enough to get herself dressed and make her bed and do a few things on her own. The twins are a balancing act but the trick is to give yourself double the amount of time you think you need and you’ll never be late.”

“Not a bad tip,” he said as you finished wiping off a glass and picked up a pad and pen. “Whatcha working on?”

“Ideas for crafts and that sort of thing. You guys have a lot of supplies already so I was thinking of some ideas to do this week,” you said.

���You know...you can stick them in front of a TV too. They have their shows they like. We aren’t big on tracking screen time,” he said. “As long as they play and do some kind of creative thing everyday they can watch TV for a few hours in a row if they want. Our parents didn’t worry about that shit when we were kids, you know?”

“No, they didn’t do that,” you said. He lifted up the bottom of his muscle tank and wiped off his face, your eyes going straight down to the pad so you wouldn’t risk staring. “Any work scheduled for today?”

“I gotta wash up, head to the brewery for a few to check on things. I have some voice acting work I’m doing right now so I go to a place downtown and record that. That’ll be my afternoon. I can handle making dinner tonight. I should be back around four thirty, maybe a hair after,” he said. 

“Alright,” you said. “Anything you need at the store today?”

“Nah, we got plenty here,” he said. He wiped off his face with his shirt again, using his collar this time. You handed him a dish towel and he smiled, rubbing it over his neck and head. “Sorry. I’m dripping aren’t I.”

“A little. Do you work out a lot?” you asked. 

“No more than the average person. Try to do thirty minutes in the morning most days of the week. It’s sort of been my only alone time lately,” he said.

“Are you a runner?”

“God no. I’m not built for that. I like boxing and HIIT, weights, that sort of stuff. Part of my job is to look a certain way so if I’m gonna be the tough guy…”

“You gotta look like a tough guy?” you asked. He smiled and you looked him up and down. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re a strong guy, that’s pretty obvious. But you’re not a tough guy.”

“Oh I’m not?” he asked but there was a lightness to his voice.

“Tough guys tend to be assholes. You’re too nice for that,” you said. 

“I suppose you have a point,” he said, sliding off the counter. He stepped over to the banana bread and picked up the knife nearby, slicing off a piece for himself and popping it in his mouth. “Hot. Hot.”

“I told you so,” you said with a small laugh.

“Tastes delicious though,” he said with his mouth full. You shook your head as he ate another piece and turned to go upstairs.

“Jensen,” you said, pointing at the sweaty dish towel. 

“Ugh, yes mom,” he said, swiping it away with a smile. 

“Thank you,” you said, tapping on your notepad. You felt his presence beside you, not to mention the smell, and turned your head up, Jensen smiling back. “Yes?”

“Aren’t you due for a break?” he asked.

“You don’t really get how this nanny thing works yet, do you.”

“Yeah well...I’m not a shitty boss so I guess you’ll have to get used to that too. Take a break Y/N. Have some coffee on the balcony. It’s a sunny January day. Enjoy it,” he said. You rolled your eyes and he pointed at the back door before he headed upstairs. You bit your bottom lip and glanced at the clock. You had been going for over three hours non-stop and one of those had been spent trying to convince a four year old he had to wear pants to daycare.

You turned to leave the kitchen when you heard a tsk. You jumped and slipped on the rug in front of the sink, falling backwards straight down to the hardwood floor.

“Sorry! Sorry!” he said as he rushed over. “I’m always tripping over that thing.”

“I’m fine,” you said as you sat up with his help. Your ass hurt but you knew you’d be alright. “Maybe we move the rug from the very trippable area?”

He swallowed and stared at you for a long moment before you smiled.

“How about we put it outside your office?” you asked softly. He nodded and you picked up one end of the long strip of fabric. He went to the other end and picked it up, backing up as you walked it over to the other side of the house. You laid it out in front of his closed door, smiling as you straightened it up. “There we go. Safe and sound.”

You headed back to the kitchen, Jensen lingering behind you.

“I was...gonna say you can make...you can use my coffee machine,” he said quietly. 

“Okay,” you said quietly. “Jensen.”

“Hm?”

“Stuff is stuff. This isn’t a museum. It’s a home. It’s gonna change over time.”

“I know. It’s just that rug...it is so damn ugly and I hate it,” he said with a smile. “I wanted to get rid of it the day she brought it home.”

“Wives have a way of getting the last word in,” you said. He chuckled and you got out a mug for yourself. “Tell me to shove it if this is too personal but are you sure you want to get back out into the dating world? It’s rough out there.”

“It is. Until it isn’t,” he said.

“You’re a hopeless romantic, aren’t you.”

“Guilty as charged.” He rubbed the back of his neck and his cheeks flushed for a brief moment.

“Women like hopeless romantics,” you said. “Just don’t get taken advantage of for that. There’s some not so nice women out there too.”

“Afraid I’ll fall for some ditz?” he asked.

“No, I don’t think you’d do that. But someone might hurt you and you’ve been through enough. Maybe just...don’t fall in love at first sight or something like that,” you said. “Alright?”

“Never was much good at that,” he said to himself while you grabbed your coffee mug. “You believe in that sort of thing?”

“I’d like to. But you’re more of the expert on falling in love than I am,” you said.

“Maybe it’s not first sight but within a few days, a week, yeah I knew I was in love,” he said.

“Well if that happens again let me know and I’ll make sure this chick is good for you,” you said.

“I didn’t know my nanny came with bodyguard services,” he chuckled.

“That was under special skills on my resume,” you said as you headed over to the door to the balcony. “You should wash up. Don’t want to be late.”

“No I better not be,” he said. He turned to head upstairs, pausing on the first step. “You know, no one’s an expert at falling in love. Even those of us who were once married.”

“Oh don’t be a hopeless romantic for me getting my shit together too. We’ll be here for years,” you laughed. 

“Just sayin’...maybe we’ll both find somebody. Not that we need anyone to be happy but...you know what I mean,” he said. 

“Men don’t really talk about love like that you know.”

“I do,” he said. You smiled and he returned it. 

“That’s why all the good men get taken early, the ones that talk like that,” you said.

“I was older than you when I got married. Maybe I’ll get married again someday. We’re out there. I promise.”

“Go shower,” you said, waving him off. You slipped outside, closing the door behind you. You leaned over the railing with your mug and let out a sigh. “You have to a be a fucking hopeless romantic too don’t you. Fucking perfect at everything.”

You lowered your head and took a deep breath. 

“It’s a crush, it’s a crush,” you said, closing your eyes. “Just a crush. He’s your boss and a widow and he bought a birthday cake for me.”

You opened your eyes and glanced into the mug, taking another deep breath.

“He’s just nice. That’s it. Even if he’s…” you trailed off. You took a long sip of the hot liquid, not caring you were burning your tongue. Jensen was simply a nice person and that was that. You had a crush on the attractive single dad you were nannying for. There was nothing wrong with that and you knew for a fact it’d be gone by the end of the week tops.

“Ow,” you groaned a few days later. You opened your eyes and heard a knock at the door to your suite. “Yeah?”

“You okay in there? I thought I heard a crash,” said Jensen. 

“I’m fine,” you said, sitting up with a grunt, leaning back against your bed. “Shit.”

“Y/N, are you sure you’re alright?” he asked again.

“No,” you said with a sigh. “The door’s open.”

You peaked through your open door down the hall, Jensen opening the one to the suite and offering a friendly smile. You nodded and he walked inside, frowning at your cut up knee. 

“I got blood on the rug,” you said. “Do we have bleach?”

“I thought we agreed earlier this week a rug is just a rug,” he said, squatting down and looking at your knee. He looked up and saw your overturned garbage can in your closet where you’d been trying to reorganize a few clothes. “Next time use the step stool in the garage?”

“Yeah,” you said, your face hot. “I’m fine really. Just want to clean up the blood before it sets in.”

“It’s a few drops,” he said, helping you stand with a wince. “You got any first aid stuff?”

“Yeah,” you said, Jensen crossing his arms. “No.”

“Come on,” he said, putting his hands on your shoulders and walking you down the hall. “Scraped up knees are my specialty.”

“Jensen,” you said, stopping at the kitchenette island and bending your leg a few times. 

“I’ll be right back,” he said. He left and you hopped over to the couch, stretching your leg out. The bleeding had stopped, just a thin cut on your knee cap where you’d hit it, but you knew you were in for a nasty bruise. He returned with a bottle and cotton ball in one hand, a bandage and ice pack in the other. 

“Sorry,” you said, Jensen setting the items down on the coffee table.

“Why would you apologize for getting hurt?” he said.

“I should have my own first aid supplies,” you said. 

“Ah. So you’re as stubborn as I am when you’re not feeling great,” he said. You looked down at your lap and took a deep breath.

“Am I fired?” you asked. 

“No? Why the fuck would I fire you?” he said. 

“I don’t know,” you said, picking up the bottle of rubbing alcohol.

“Have you been fired for getting hurt before?” he asked, watching you hold the cotton ball against the open bottle top and tip it over, soaking the liquid in. You pretended to not hear him and put the bottle back, wiping the ball over the cut, a deep red mark already on your skin. “Y/N.”

“Yes, I have,” you said. You set the ball on the table and picked up the bandage, trying to angle it over your knee. He rolled his eyes and took it out of your hand, bending down and turning it around, pressing it gently over your skin. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal,” he said as he looked up at you.

“Do I look like I have an HR department I can go to? They were dicks anyways,” you said.

“If you’re ever hurt, big or small, just tell me,” he said. He rested the ice pack over your knee and you sat back, throwing it up on the couch for you to lay there. “Promise I won’t fire you for it.”

“Well if I can’t do my job I’m not much use to you,” you said.

“Are all wealthy people assholes that act like that?” he asked. You shook your head and smiled. “Good.”

“I’ve nannied for eight different families, nine counting yours. Some were very good people,” you said.

“But you were just the help to them, even the good ones,” he said.

“I am the help. That’s the whole point of me being there,” you said. 

“Do me a favor? Don’t assume just because you’re someone’s employee that they think of you as just the help,” he said, picking up the first aid supplies.

“Sorry.”

“Why do you apologize for…” he said, muttering to himself as you looked down. “If I ever make you feel like that, smack me in the head, alright?”

“Alright,” you said quietly. He nodded and left with the items, returning a moment later with some cleaning spray, ducking into your room for only a moment before exiting.

“It’s all clean,” he said. He lingered at the door and put a hand on it. “Leave that ice pack on for fifteen minutes and pop it back in the freezer. Put it back on for a bit before bed.”

“Thanks,” you said. 

“It’s no problem,” he said. He still lingered and you took a deep breath.

“You should call someone, talk to them,” you said. He looked over his shoulder and you smiled. “You seem like you want to talk to somebody tonight is all.”

“I think I’m gonna go for a drive, maybe stop at a friend’s. The kids are all in bed,” he said. “If that’s cool.”

“Yeah go take a second for yourself,” you said. “I got everything here.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night, Jensen.”

One Week Later

“Y/N,” said Jensen as you washed your car in the driveway on a Saturday morning. You dropped the soapy sponge in the bucket and straightened yourself out. “Got plans today?”

“Uh, I was gonna run to the grocery store in a minute but other than that, no. Need me to watch the kids?”

“No. We were going out to lunch and then going to a little car show was all and we were wondering if you’d like to join us. Totally up to you. My treat.”

“You don’t want me to watch the kids?” you asked. He laughed and crossed his arms at you. “I’m confused.”

“Do you want to hang out with us today? For fun?” he asked.

“Oh,” you said. “That’s okay. You enjoy your time with the kids.”

“How do I make this clearer,” he said, walking over to you and looking down. “I want you to come with us, as a friend, to do something fun, like friends do. This is not work. Come if you want to.”

“You sure you want me to come?” you asked. He rolled his eyes and plopped his baseball cap on your head as he walked away.

“Yes. And wear sunscreen,” he said. “We’re leaving at eleven thirty.���

“Alright, alright. I’ll see you guys then.”

“There’s something about a burger that’s been cooked in a greasy pop up kitchen that just adds to the flavor,” you said as you took a bite of your cheese burger at the car show.

“It’s probably the grease,” he said, walking one hand on his burger, the other holding Arrow’s hand. She wiped her own little hand on his leg and he sighed as he looked down. “Arrow. I got napkins in my pocket.”

“Oh,” she said, wiping her face against him.

“No one mentions this part,” he chuckled. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulders once he was done with his food, humming as he pushed the stroller with a sleeping Zeppelin inside. 

“Dad, I gotta go to the bathroom,” said JJ. 

“I’ll take her and we can catch up with you guys?” you said. He mouthed a thank you to you as you headed over to the women’s room. You used the bathroom as well, finishing before her and waiting outside for her. “All set?”

“Yeah. Can we get fried dough?” she asked.

“Sure,” you said. You let her lead the way in line and got a plate for the two of you, taking a seat at a picnic table so she could dig in. “Taste yummy?”

“Oh yeah,” she said. “Dad likes fried dough a lot too.”

“Everybody does,” you said, taking a piece off the corner.

“Y/N, you don’t have a mom either right?” she said. “That’s what dad said.”

“Well that’s a funny question. I got a mom and so do you. They just aren’t around anymore is all,” you said. “What’s up?”

“I’m happy you stay with us I guess is all. I know you’re not mom and you work for dad but you kinda are and I like it when dad’s happy again,” she said.

“Me too. You doing okay, kiddo?” you asked. “It’s okay if you still miss your mom.”

“I do but I’m not sad anymore. Dad says when I get real old I can see her again so that’s cool,” she said, taking a big bite.

“It definitely is cool,” you said. “Maybe our mom’s are hanging out right now.”

“You think so?” she asked.

“Maybe. I bet they get up to some fun stuff up there,” you said. 

“Me too,” she said. “Dad’s really happy you came with us. He’s been cranky lately.”

“Your dad’s gonna be just fine,” you said as she finished off her food. “So do you like having a nanny? I know that’s kinda new and funny, huh.”

“Yeah but I really like you being home. Dad gets flustered sometimes.”

“Flustered?” you asked with a little laugh.

“He works on a lot of stuff and he didn’t pick me up on time from school and stuff a few weeks ago. Too many chickens in a basket,” she said.

“Too many eggs in one basket,” you said.

“Isn’t an egg gonna be a chicken though?”

“I...never thought of it that way,” you said. You nearly jumped when you felt some hands on your shoulders but JJ was smiling as Arrow climbed up next to you.

“Ah. I see you ladies found the fried dough. Twins you want some?” asked Jensen.

“Yes please,” they said and he chuckled as he went off to buy some more.

“Look at her,” said Jensen twenty minutes later, pausing at a deep blue Impala, the twins both conked out in their stroller. 

“Isn’t that the same car you have?” you asked, lifting up the brim of your baseball cap to get a better look.

“Mine’s a 67. That’s a 63. I love that color though,” he said. “Blue’s my favorite but it looks good on that car.”

“I think it looks good in black,” you said, walking again when you saw JJ a few cars ahead of the two of you. “Where’d you get your car?”

“Work,” he said with a quick smile, hiding behind his sunglasses and hat. 

“Aren’t you an actor?” you asked.

“You have very obviously never seen an episode of my show,” he chuckled. “Which is totally cool by the way. I drove that car in the show for well over a decade. She’s one of my true loves.”

“Ah, gotcha,” you said. “So you’re a car guy.”

“Kinda. I don’t know everything but I enjoy them. What about you, you like-JJ! Stay closer,” he called out when she kept walking ahead. “So do you like cars?”

“I guess so. This is kinda neat, walking around and looking at the old ones. They had more style back then,” you said, walking past a pair of guys your age, one of them looking you up and down as you went by. “Did that guy-”

“Yup,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder, throwing his arm over yours for a few moments. “Looks like he got the message.”

“Jensen,” you laughed. “I wasn’t offended. It’s not like he was gonna come up and ask for my number.”

“I don’t like the look of him,” he said.

“Neither did I,” you chuckled, Jensen dropping his arm from around you. “You’re that guy friend girls have that will do shit like pretend to be a boyfriend and all that stuff, aren’t you.”

“At your service,” he said with a mini curtesy. You giggled and he straightened up, JJ rushing over.

“Dad can I get an ice cream?” she asked.

“How about some apple slices,” he said, reaching under the stroller and grabbing a cooler. He pulled out a little baggie and handed it to her, JJ shrugging and walking ahead of the stroller again. “Shit, that probably means I can’t get ice cream now too.”

“We can always get some on the way home for later,” you said. “I won’t tell on you.”

“I’m putting this on your performance review,” he said. You shot him a side glance and he smirked. “I’m joking. I don’t want to do that as much as you don’t.”

“Thank you for that,” you said, stopping and looking at a red challenger for a moment.

“You like that one?” he asked.

“It’s nice,” you said before you started walking again. You fixed your hat and caught back up with him, Jensen slowing down as JJ took her time ahead of you. “So I should probably know this but what show were you in where you were driving around a muscle car?”

“You really haven’t looked me up online yet?” he chuckled. You shrugged and he laughed to himself.

“I may have peeked at your IMDB page but that was it. Was it that show you were on a long time? Super something?”

“Supernatural,” he said, a big smile on his face. “Yeah, I drove it for that.”

“Oh yeah, that was the really scary show, wasn’t it,” you said. 

“You’re too sweet,” he said, chuckling to himself. “It’s not that scary. I promise. Give it a try sometime. You might like it.”

“I’m sure someday I will. If I’m brave enough.”

“I think you are,” he said, JJ running up ahead again before he called for her to hang back. He sighed and threw his head back. “It never ends, does it?”

“I’m sure someday when she’s older you won’t have to worry so much.”

“I’m gonna worry about that kid when she’s forty years old,” he said.

“That’s cause you’re a good dad,” you said. 

“You haven’t known me that long,” he said.

“Do you love her? Worry about her?” you asked and he nodded. “Well any dad that does that and tells his kid that someday they’ll get to see their mom again to help her grieve when he well and truly doesn’t know the answer to that...you get the picture Ackles?”

“I could be better,” he said.

“Everyone could be better. They don’t need the best dad ever. They just need the best dad for them and you seem like you’re doing a good job of that from what I’ve seen so far,” you said. “You’re gonna screw up but so does everyone. Try to just enjoy it and not be too hard on yourself.”

“You’ve spent a lot of time with kids haven’t you,” he said.

“I’ve been in the mom role more than once as a nanny,” you said. You kicked at the dirt and shrugged. “It’s how I know the difference Jensen. You don’t need me or want me to be their mother. You just need help sometimes. That’s an important difference. Asking for help, especially when you don’t want it but need it, that’s a good dad move.”

He was quiet as he walked, stopping at a yellow mustang. He stared for a moment and swallowed. 

“Thanks, Y/N. That means a lot. Really.”

“Come on dad,” you said, walking away and up towards where JJ was. “Let’s go see if we can find one this one’s gonna be asking for on her sixteenth birthday.”

“Those three are finally down and out for the count,” said Jensen as he walked downstairs to catch you in the kitchen wiping up the pan from dinner. “Thanks for eating with us tonight.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” you said, putting the pan away. He looked out the back window and bit his bottom lip. “Everything alright?”

“You’re not like, hanging out with us cause you think you have to right?” he asked.

“Trust me. If I didn’t want to, I’d be down in my room,” you said. “Besides, I’ve thought about it and you know what, why don’t you set me up with that friend of yours.”

“Really?” he asked, a little alarmed.

“Why not? The age thing doesn’t bother me at all. Unless you think it’d be a problem for him?”

“No, he doesn’t really care about that sort of thing. I think he’d prefer it’s just someone he clicked with, had a connection, you know?” he said.

“Perfect. Why don’t you set us up for next Saturday night then?” you asked.

“I need you to watch the kids next Saturday night. I have-”

“The gala. Sorry, I forgot. Um, just, I’m free whenever. You know my schedule so you can set something up and just let me know?” you said. He smiled and nodded. As you were starting to leave he grunted. “Yeah?”

“I have some friends coming over for a drink in a bit. Small backyard fire. Whiskey and smores. You’re welcome to join.”

“Jensen. You’re not asking because you feel like you have to right?”

“No, not at all. I like hanging out with you. I’m sure whatever you’re binging on TV will be there if we bore you too much,” he said.

“Alright. I’ll be out in half an hour or so. Just wanted to freshen up from the show earlier,” you said. You ducked back to your room, taking a quick shower and changing into some leggings and a flannel. By the time you were out you could hear a slight mumbling and walked downstairs, catching Jensen with some guys on the patio pouring some drinks.

“Hey,” said Jensen when you stepped out of the slider door. “Guys this is Y/N.”

“Ah we get to meet the world’s best nanny,” said the tallest one. “I’m Jared.”

“Rich.”

“Rob.”

“Hi!” said a redhead that slipped out of the door behind you. “I’m Ruth.”

“Y/N. Your hair is kinda amazing by the way,” you said.

“This is what happens when you invite the girls,” said Rich.

“Normally we just talk about Jared’s hair,” chuckled Jensen. You grabbed a chair and helped gather up some snacks to bring over to his firepit, Ruth hanging back to help you.

“Jensen said you live here with him and the munchkins?”

“Yeah. He works so much it makes things easier on him. Are you an actress?” you asked.

“We all are. Only Jared lives close by. The rest of us haven’t been down here since…” she said and you nodded. “I really am happy you’re here. It’s nice to see a smile on our boys face again.”

“He’s a great boss. He’s very kind. We’re becoming friends,” you said. “He’s trying to set me up with his friend actually.”

“Oh which one?”

“Dunno. He just said he’s 42, an actor and is single. Age stuff doesn’t bother me.”

“Rob is a bit older than myself. It really doesn’t matter in the slightest, especially when you’re a little older,” she said. “Jensen says you’re great with the kids.”

“They’re pretty easy going. Normally the parents are the hard part of my job but he’s been great. He really loves his kids,” you said.

“Yes he certainly does,” she said.

By the end of the night you found yourself really enjoying Jensen’s friends. It was clear they cared for him at more than a surface level, especially Jared. You’d heard Jensen speak to him on the phone a few times and call him his brother but it really was apparent they had a special bond that went beyond a typical friendship.

“I’ll catch you guys for brunch before you head home,” said Jensen, waving night to them all as you helped pick up. You were just about finished and heading back for your room when Jensen caught you in the kitchen. “You have fun tonight?”

“Yeah. Your friends are great,” you said, a small pair of footsteps coming down the stairs. You both turned and saw Zeppelin there with tears in his eyes.

“What’s wrong, honey?” asked Jensen as he walked over and squatted down.

“I had a bad dream and I want mommy but she’s gone,” he whined. Jensen instantly scooped him up and held onto him tight, kissing his head. “I want mommy.”

“I want mommy too, baby,” said Jensen quietly. You mouthed go and he nodded, taking Zeppelin upstairs while you finished cleaning up. 

You got up early the next morning and made a big batch of chocolate chip pancakes, plenty leftover for breakfast the next morning. Jensen padded over from the hall where you knew the home gym was, sweaty and tired but a smile came onto his face when he saw you.

“What’s all this,” he asked, getting a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Chocolate chip pancakes make everything better,” you said. He put a few on a plate for himself and sat down at the counter as you made up some more, stealing a few for yourself.

“These are delicious,” he said. You stored away some for when the kids got up, making up your own plate before you dug in. “Sorry about last night. I feel like I ruined the fun.”

“Not at all. He’s a toddler. I literally can’t imagine being in your position. I’d have fallen apart instantly,” you said.

“No you wouldn’t. You care about those kids,” he said. “You push on for them.”

“I know it’s not really my place to say so but-”

“Y/N. I’d prefer if you just talk to me like a friend, really,” he said.

“You made it sound like you were ready to try dating again. Last night you seemed kind of...maybe not so ready.”

“I’m ready. I will always miss her. I’ll always love her. But that doesn’t mean I can’t love anyone else ever again like that too, you know? I don’t believe there is a limit on how much love a person can give,” he said.

“Your wife was a very lucky woman,” you said.

“I was lucky. She was patient with me,” he chuckled. “You guys would have gotten along really well.”

“Can I offer a bit of advice?” you asked.

“What’s that?”

“Keep telling your kids about her, all throughout their lives. They’ll still get to know her that way, you know?” you said. “Tell your future girlfriend too. That’s how you’ll know if they’re a good one for you.”

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

“You’re a kind soul. I would expect your partner would be as well,” you said.

“I hope so. Mine kinda has a permanent handle with care warning label on it,” he chuckled.

“I don’t think so. Just need somebody that understands, not try to fix you. There’s nothing wrong with you in the first place,” you said, taking a bite of your pancake.

“Thanks, kiddo,” he said.

“You’re not that much older, bucko,” you chuckled.

“Nah, I’m keeping kiddo,” he laughed. “You good to watch the kids for a few hours around eleven?”

“Sounds good. Go have a mimosa with your friends for me,” you said.

“Will do, Y/N. Will do.”

______

A/N: Read Part 3 here!

[libraryofloveletters]

Dad & Uncle Luke vs The Troublesome 5

Matt Simmons/Luke Alvez 

for @cmpocsource​‘s cmcocaw2 // day 2 (june 22): favourite platonic ship 

Warnings: none

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 2.1k

Author’s Note: this is my first cm piece in a while so do forgive me if it’s a bit shitty :) also I didn’t proof read so go with it :) 

---

Friday

Kristy headed up to see her grandparents on Thursday afternoon, promising to be back on Saturday, which meant Matt was at home taking care of the kids. He loved when he got to spend time with them because he felt like he missed so much of their lives due to work.

He was used to 4 kids but now that Rose was born, he had his hands full. The two boys, Jake and David were troublemakers. They were never quiet and if they were, you knew something was up. LIly and Chloe loved to colour and draw - on anything they see, including the walls. Rose was only a few months old and she didn’t cause much trouble unless she decided to cry - she had a strong set of lungs.

It was only a little past 6pm when Matt called in reinforcement.

“Hello ?” his voice rang through the phone as Matt rocked Rose back and forth.

“Hey man, I know it’s our weekend off but I was wondering if you’d be able to come over and help me?”

“Is everything okay?” Luke asks him, voice filled with concern.

“I- technically yes. Kristy went up to see her grandparents for the weekend and I've got all of the kids here with me and I underestimated how much work this was gonna be” Matt sighs, setting Rose down gently in the crib.

Luke laughs, already tossing some clothes into a duffle bag. “I’ll be there soon. Do you need me to bring anything ?”

“No, I'm good. Thank you”

They had each other’s backs in the field, surely Luke would have his back now. How hard could it be for 2 grown men to take care of 5 children ? 

Can’t be that hard.

It wasn’t long before Luke showed up at his doorstep, duffle bag over one shoulder and box of pizza in the other hand. 

“I wasn’t sure if you had made dinner yet” Luke smiled at his friend when he opened the door.

“You’re a heaven sent” Matt chuckled, stepping aside and letting Luke come in. “I really appreciate you spending your weekend here. I’m sure you have better things to do with your time.”

“No worries man, really didn’t” He laughs, setting the box on the table. “Where’d you leave Roxy ?” Matt goes to get the plates from the cupboard after calling for the kids.

“Penelope was more than happy to watch her. She also said to tell you that she sends her love” he smiles.

David and Jake were the first two into the kitchen. “Uncle Luke!” they shouted together, tackling him in a hug. The 2 boys were on the floor on top of Luke who was laughing and hugging them.

“Hey guys, I brought pizza.” The boys perked up at the mention of pizza, the way to a boy’s heart really was through their stomach. The twins came running in next, clothes covered in marker and crayon.

“Dinner ?” Lily looked at her dad, he lifted her up onto a chair and then repeated the action with Chloe.

The kids were all seated and eating, Matt and Luke sat on opposite ends on the table. David and Jake were telling them about the fire drill they had at school.

“So we got to go in the truck and press the sirens” David says between chews, Jake nods. “Yeah! And- and we tried to roll the hose and it was so heavy dad!”

Rose begins crying just as Matt goes to answer the boys. He lets out a deep sigh and goes to get up but Luke beats him to it. “I’ve got her, finish eating” he tells him, patting his shoulder as he passes by him and heads up the stairs to her nursery.

Rose was still in her swaddle, crying her lungs out. Luke picked her up carefully and set her on the changing table before undoing her swaddle. He watched as she stretched, her little arms raising above her head.

“Hi mama, how was your nap?” he cooed, smiling at Rose as he picked her back up. He returned downstairs with her in his arms, watching as the kids ran out the back door and into the yard.

“Half an hour! Then I want all of you inside and getting ready for bed!” Matt shouted, propping the door open. Matt turned to see Luke behind him, “hi my love” his hand reached out and rubbed her back softly.

She made a little sound before Luke sat on the couch with her. Matt steps outside when Jake calls him to help set up the soccer net they had. Matt then gets roped into playing with them and next thing you know, it’s 9pm and the 5 of them are running inside as the rain comes down.

“Alright, go wash up and change. I’ll be up to tuck you in” he smiles at the kids as they make their way up the stairs.

It was unusually quiet in the living room, an odd occurrence in the Simmons’ house in general. Matt was just about to go check on Luke and Rose when his phone chimes.

From Kristy: Hey babe, how’s everything going ?

To Kristy: Fine for now, called in reinforcements

From Kristy: Who’d want to get roped into helping you watch the kids for the weekend ?

Matt was texting her back as he made his way over to see Luke passed out flat on the couch with Rose who’s also asleep against his chest. He smiles to himself and snaps a photo for Kristy.

To Kristy: *1 Image Attachment* He did

From Kristy: Oh my god adorable

From Kristy: Give the kids my love, I love you.

To Kristy: I love you too

Matt left Luke on the couch with Rose, heading up to tuck the 4 kids into bed.

Saturday

Saturdays were always busy in the Simmons house. Both Jake and David had soccer practice at 10am while Lily and Chloe had to be at dance class at 10:30.

Matt looked at the schedule Kristy had left on the fridge in despair and fear. “Okay, how am I gonna do this?” he mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Anything I can do ?” Luke’s voice startled him for a second. Of course Matt knew he was in the house but he didn’t think he would be up already.

“I don’t know how Kristy does it,” Matt admits, facing his friend. Luke gave him a smile while pouring himself a cup of coffee. “What’s on the schedule for today ?”

“Jake and David have soccer at 10 and the girls have dance class at 10:30.. on the opposite ends of town” he sighs, glancing back at the schedule.

“I have my car, you know. I could take the girls if you want ?” Luke offered, Matt paused- Luke did come over to help him but he felt bad to ask him to do that.

“Are you sure ?” “Yeah man, it’s no problem”

The sound of footsteps filled the house moments later, the 4 kids coming down the stairs and began asking what was for breakfast. Matt and Luke got them settled in for breakfast, explaining to them what the plan for the day is.

Matt headed up to get Rose changed and ready for the day seeing that she can’t do it herself.

“I’m taking the girls to dance class and your dad is taking you two to soccer practice” Luke explains as the two boys help him clear the table. Jake and David were bickering about who could kick the ball from one end of the field into the goal.

“Go grab your gear, we’re leaving in a few.” Matt smiles, stepping back into the kitchen. “See if your sisters are ready too!” he shouted after the running boys.

Within a few minutes, everyone was out the door. Lily and Chloe strapped into their seats, Matt giving them a quick kiss to the cheek each before letting them go off with Luke. Jake, David and Rose were with him, on their way to soccer practice.

---

The day went by pretty quickly. From soccer practices to dance class and then home to shower and head back out because Matt had promised to take them to the park. By the time they finally got home from the park, the kids were coming down from a sugar high due to the ice cream and junk food Luke had bribed them with while Matt wasn’t looking.

They had stopped for something to eat mid way through their park trip, meaning that none of them were hungry except for Rose who needed a bath and a bottle before bed.

“Can we watch a movie?” Jake asked his father, and his siblings joined him. The 4 of them looking up at their father, their best puppy dog eyes and pouts in their little faces.

Matt chuckled, smiling at his kids, “what would mom say if you tried that ?” a chorus of “yes” and “yeah” filling the house. Matt paused, he knew Kristy would send them up to get ready for bed but he was the cool parent or so he thought. He felt like he should say yes just because he didn’t spend as much time as he wanted to with them.

“Fine but only one movie. Go pick while I get Rose ready for bed. If you need help with popcorn, ask Luke”

“Uncle Luke!” Lily and Chloe shout, running towards the kitchen as the boys go in the other direction towards the couch.

When Matt returns, the house is quiet. He swears he wasn’t up there that long. “Guys?” he calls, making the way through the house. Luke whispers for him to be quiet as he steps into the living room.

The kids are all passed out on the blanket fort they made on the floor. Matt smiles, letting out a sigh as he sinks into the couch next to Luke. “How long have they been out ?”

“15- maybe 20 minutes” Luke hums, scrolling through his phone. “Who are you so into texting right now ?” Matt asks him.

Luke glances up at Matt over his phone, a slight red tint on his cheeks. “Oh, um- it’s just- it’s Garcia”

Matt hums, “Huh, how are things with Roxy ?”

“Roxy ?” Luke questions, mind obviously blank for a moment.

“Your dog?”

“Oh! She’s fine” he trails off, like he wasn’t sure about his answer.  

Matt chuckles, smiling at his love struck friend. It has been a few weeks since Penelope left the BAU and everyone had heard about their date, so it was only itne until they officially became a couple. Matt knew Luke and Penelope were mostly definitely not talking about Roxy based on that blush on his cheek.

“Your wife is superwoman by the way” Luke mumbels, eyes still on his phone.

“Hm ?”

“Taking care of 5 kids while working and being by herself for most of the time ?” Luke drops the phone on his lap. “She’s superwoman.”  

Matt smiles, “yeah, she is.”

“Glad you both think so” a voice says behind them. Both men jump,their reflexes kicking in as they stand and turn towards the voice. Kristy is standing behind the couch, her hands up playfully.

“Didn’t mean to scare you two” she smiles, making her way over to give Matt a hug. “Thank you for helping him,” Kristy smiles at Luke, “you’re more than welcome to spend the night if you’d like but we have it covered if you want to go.”

“I think he’s got somewhere to be” Matt pipes up, Luke’s brows furrowed looking back at Matt. “I do ?” he questions.

“I believe there’s a blonde technical analyst waiting for you somewhere.”

“You know ?” Luke smiles, the amusement evident on his face.

“I figured it out first,'' Kristy says proudly. Matt laughs softly, “it’s true, she did”

Luke smiles at the couple, saying goodnight to them before picking up his bag. Matt walks in outside to his car, leaving Kristy inside with the kids.

“Tell the kids I said goodbye, okay ? i’ll come by another say and hangout with them or if you and Kristy need a night, I’m more than happy to take them”

“Think you can handle all 5 of them ?” Matt’s brow raises, his arms folded across his chest.

“I’ll probably get some help from a blonde technical analyst.” Luke laughs.

--- 

taglist: @tenemily​ @mac99martin @aaron-hotchner187 @fanofalltheficsx @luke-alvez @iconicc @kidmulaney @pumpkin-stars @captainxholmes @multixfandomwriter @sluttytears @thelukealvez @scandinavian-punk @taralewiz @morcias @shotarosleftpinky @mrs-dr-reid @hqtchner @averyhotchner @willlemonheadsupremacy @mggsprettygirl @simxican 

[purplesurveys]

1159

survey by -egocentricity-

Describe the last time you...

Went swimming: It was in Nasugbu with Angela, Sofie, and Gab nearly a couple of years ago. We wanted to go to a nearby beach before the semester started, so we planned the trip at the last minute and literally just right after we enrolled for our classes.

Went on a date: It was at BGC at this nice, romantic French restaurant. Then as we headed back to the car we spotted a jazz bar that had a live band performing, so we took a detour there to have drinks and nachos.

Were hurt by someone you love: My mom says a lot of hurtful things all the time I’ve stopped keeping track of them and letting them affect me too much, but I’m sure she’s done it recently.

Did something nice for yourself: I got myself a night lamp to improve the ambience in my room and make it feel even more homey. The lamp I had before it was just something I borrowed from my parents and it had white light, so it didn’t feel the most calming. The one I have right now emits this soft yellow shade that makes me feel infinitely more relaxed.

Did something nice for someone else: I ordered KFC at like 1 AM last Wednesday because I was feeling hungry and there was nothing at home that could meet my cravings, and aside from getting orders for my parents I also got a Zinger for my delivery driver as a way to thank him and lift his spirits for working that late into the night.

Were injured: I always sport some sort of scratch or gash somewhere on my body these days from playing with Cooper. This morning I got a new wound on one of my knuckles since he was pulling on his leash way too hard when I was walking him.

Went to the hospital: I had to take blood and urine tests last May to figure out what was wrong with me since I had been sick for a week by that point. That was also during the peak of the pandemic, so there was a lot of anxiety about me catching Covid. It turned out to be a UTI, and even though that technically sucks the whole family was relieved it wasn’t Covid.

Understood something that previously confused you: I had my dad explain to me how buying and bidding for houses works. Hahaha I am sooooo not equipped to be a fully-functioning adult.

Faked sick to get out of going to class: I don’t think I ever did this. If I had wanted to skip class, I just skipped it.

Hung out with your friends: I went to Perfy’s with 7 friends shortly before it shut down for good as a result of the pandemic. We had some beer and bar chow, and to be completely frank it felt quite nice to have that one night where things felt normal again, as ignorant as it was. We vaped until we were dizzy and some of them smoked too much that the smell ended up clinging to me and my clothes, but luckily I got home when my whole family was already in their rooms so no one was able to smell me.

Met someone new: There’s this girl who recently got onboarded to one of our client brands and we started working with her about a week or two ago. She’s honestly been a bit over the place, but I’m giving her the benefit of the doubt because she’s fairly new at a particularly hectic time in her workplace. My first impression of her was that she gave such a strong UP vibe so I looked her up on Facebook, and it turns out we went to the same college and the same high school.

Did something that you were afraid to do: A couple of months ago I had a one-on-one video call organized by the CEO of my employer so that she could get to know me better. She was super nice and listened attentively to my answers to all her questions, but it was easy to tell she wanted to see what I could bring to the table and how well I could mesh with the team especially since I’ve never met her and everyone else in person, so I made sure my social game was maxed out for those 15 minutes haha.

Did something you promised you would never do: I vaped literally half an hour ago. I never expected to form a habit out of it especially after being vehemently against any form of smoking for most of my life. Not particularly proud of it but then again I’m here for a good time and not a long time lmao.

Regretted something: Lazada had this huge app-wide sale last week and their Hydro Flasks were like ₱600 cheaper, but I didn’t buy it because I was feeling stingy that day haha. Now the products are back to their normal price and they’ll probably never get to be that cheap again :( There’s another sale happening tomorrow but the discounts aren’t as big, but I’ll probably place an order this time.

Went shopping: I went to H&M last January to get Andi a late Christmas present. I asked Leigh what they would appreciate as a gift, and she told me they’d wanted to start experimenting with feminine clothes so I got them a nice black skirt and this really elegant dress (that I honestly wanted for myself). I heard they cried once they opened the paper bag, and making people cry with the gifts you get them will always be one of the best feelings ever haha.

Asked someone out/were asked out: Idk, it was 5 years ago and nothing I want to remember anymore.

Broke up with someone: I’ve never broken up with someone.

Had someone break up with you: It was terrible and the stuff of all my nightmares combined, and it happened in the middle of an already-shitty month to boot so I had little hope for myself to come out of it alive. I had everything planned and ironed out and all that was left was for me to leave. 

It’s been 7 months and I’ve never felt emotionally and mentally better and healthier.

Were heartbroken: I follow this animal rescue NGO on Facebook and they regularly post about dogs who’ve lived through awful situations and need urgent care and forever homes to live in. Fortunately the page has a wide reach and regularly gets support, and I try to donate to their bank account as often as I can.

You were angry with someone: Haven’t directed my anger towards anyone in a while.

You felt "in love" with someone: It was during the time I was still reeling over the breakup and was caught in an endless loop of still being in love with them and forcing myself to finally detach.

You wanted something unrealistic: I was at the rooftop this morning and I could feel the temperature getting warmer every hour, and when I finally couldn’t tolerate the heat and was forced to go back indoors I felt super annoyed because all I want is to live somewhere with a chilly climate all-year round hahaha UGH

You made someone angry: It was when I spilled a tiny drop of soup onto the dining table and my mom had a complete meltdown about it. After 89457843957 years of her getting mad at First World Problems I wasn’t intimidated by her anymore, but it still irked me at how something so little can piss her off so I just decided not to speak a word for the rest of the night.

You made someone's day: I hope I made my delivery driver’s night when I got him his burger as a surprise. I hold so much respect and appreciation for them considering they’ve been working very hard to get people’s goods to their doorsteps in the midst of a global pandemic.

Tried something new: When I bought my lamp it was the first time I got something to decorate my room. I usually spend all my money on food, so that was a nice change to try out.

Tried your best: I always try my best at work and to make each day more improved than the last.

Didn't try at all: A couple of nights ago I asked my dad to light up my scented candle and he challenged me to try lighting up a matchstick by myself for once. I was all primed and ready to go, but backed out at the last second :(( I told him there was a big chance I could freak out, drop the lit matchstick. and set something in the dining room (where we were) on fire, and that’s when he gave up and just lit it up himself hahaha

Got nothing for your efforts: I’d gladly refer you to my big waste of a 6-year relationship.

Had a serious talk with someone: I always have deep conversations with Andi and they’ve been about various topics over the last few months.

Told someone how you really feel: It was when Bea scheduled a quick one-on-one catch-up call with me to check up on how I was doing with work and if I was doing okay with the everyday craziness of it all. But I didn’t say anything grave; I just told her I honestly like the work we do and that it’s nice that it keeps me excited everyday, so there’s little to complain about.

Hid what you felt from someone: One of my co-workers, Denise, is honestly a little challenging to work with. I always have to pick up after her and remind her of stuff we need to do together, and even Bea has let a few comments slide between us about how difficult she can be. But considering I’m a lot newer than her and we’ve never met each other I’ve stayed quiet for now.

Took something that didn't belong to you: I got the matchbox from my parents’ room to ask one of them to light up the aforementioned scented candle I have.

Borrowed something from someone: I borrowed one of my sister’s cords the other evening to charge my vape pen.

Lost a game: This was when my orgmates and I played a couple Jeopardy games over Zoom about a month ago and I lost to Robin.

Won a game: Not sure, I don’t really play a lot of games.

Told someone you love him/her: Jo, after she shared that she tested positive for Covid.

Went on vacation: It’s been a year and a half and the world has changed a lot since then, but my family and I went to Tagaytay and Cavite for a quick weekend getaway; it was Tagaytay on Saturday then we drove to another hotel in Cavite the next day. We played Heads Up, ate Jelly Belly jellybeans, had a lot of nice food, took some walks, but then I also had to work on a Powerpoint in between because I had a presentation that was due that Monday lol.

Went on a roadtrip: Last January we drove to Tagaytay (again) for my dad’s 50th birthday. Before heading to our accommodation we had brunch at La Creperie where we happened to be seated beside Larry Gadon – bleck – and his wife. Then we headed to the condo unit where we stayed the night at, ordered a samgyupsal set, and I watched GMM’s Let’s Talk About That into the night until I fell asleep.

Flew on a plane: That would be over two years ago and it was during our vacation to Bicol. That also marks the last time I ever spoke a word to my brother, because on our way home my family got into a heated argument and he ended up slapping me in the face. I don’t tolerate physical acts of violence, and especially not from someone younger than me, so I was more than glad to cut ties with him moving forward.

Were annoyed with a family member: My mom is politically incorrect 24/7, and it grinds my gears 24/7.

Took something too far: Idk, maybe cutting off ties with Gab. A part of me wanted to reconnect at some point, once I’ve healed; but I’ve reached a point in my life where that doesn’t seem so necessary anymore. Life just works funnily sometimes, I guess. I haven’t completely cut her off; we’re still mutuals on Twitter (though she also never uses it so it barely counts), and also still Facebook friends (though I’ve unfollowed her and I’ve also blacklisted her from seeing my posts – thank god for that feature), so now it’s really just a matter of pressing some buttons and finally disconnecting for good.

Gave up too soon: I wanted to learn riding a bike during the early days of the pandemic last year, but I gave up after like two days of being unsuccessful.

Listened to a band you had not heard before: I started exploring some of BTS’ music earlier this week after weeks of just knowing Dynamite.

Judged someone: Some of the bloggers that I regularly correspond with for work, and who’ve recently added me on Facebook, have opinions I don’t necessarily agree with.

Asked a "stupid question": I ask a lot of newbie questions at work that maybe some people would consider dumb, but I’d rather get answers to do my work correctly than take guesses and end up doing the wrong thing.

Got "a stupid answer": Not sure.

Took a picture of something/someone: I recently took a photo of my work desk setup so I could show off my new pretty lamp, hahaha.

Told a lie: I told my mom my Hydro Flask is still with Angela and that I should be getting it soon, but I really lost it a few years ago and would have to buy a new one.

Told the truth: Idk I tell the truth all the time.

[theastrophilearchitect]

I started writing a book.

And I’m mad about it, because I just started this post, brought up a new tab and lost it because I didn’t save my draft.

Anyway. That’s a thing I did. Wow.

As of this moment, this post won’t be going up until April 19th, but I’m starting writing this at 10.30pm on Sunday, February 21st, 2021. I’ve done a lot in the last couple weeks, and I want to have some record of all I’ve accomplished without just letting most of it fade over the next two months.

I’ve always wanted to be an author. From when I was reading under my covers with a torch past bedtime, through the years I wanted to be an artist, through the years I wanted to be a lawyer. It’s always been there - no matter what primary career path I went down, I wanted to be an author. The last few years, I’ve been invested in becoming a biologist, and that dream really took a backseat.

In the start of this lockdown, my mental health went downhill, and some advice my therapist gave me was just to prioritise myself. It sounds simple enough, but, even in my free time, I’d been focusing on schoolwork - revising constantly for exams I’m still not sure are actually happening. (Boris Johnson is apparently making an announcement tomorrow about beginning to ease lockdown, but we’ll see) So, on Saturday, February 6th, I started an attempt to coalesce the ideas I had floating in my head into something tangible.

I’ve tried to write books countless times (not technically countless - I have all the documents on my laptop, so I could if I wanted to), but mostly, I’ve never gotten further than a couple bare plot points and some characters, maybe some ideas for subplots, before I’ve stagnated and given up.

Three times, I’ve finished a skeletal outline. Twice, I’ve started to go back over those outlines only to realise they made no sense or just seemed week, and simply not cared enough to fix it. Until now, I guess.

February 6th, 7th, and fast-forward to my week off beginning the 15th, up until the 19th, I kept developing this concept I’d managed to form, but I was struggling to establish a coherent plot. I had up until and including a midpoint (which was later condensed into just a first act), but everything after that was just a void. I began searching for some skeletal structure I could apply to it, both to work on pacing and fill in the blanks. I tried several, and got a little further, but was about to give up hope.

Then I remembered a video by Katytastic I’d watched years ago about the 3-act, 9-block, 27-chapter structure she used, and couldn’t see the harm in giving it a go. And something clicked.

You can find the video here - the structure’s detailed and easy to follow, plus she even gives an example of using it to generate a plot.

I started binge-watching her writing vlogs in the background, and even started using her same writing program, Scrivener, which just made every a thousand times easier by taking away the need to juggle a billion Word documents. It’s fairly pricey, but I’m currently using the 30-day free trial - it’s 30 days of use, not of ownership, too: if you use it every day, it lasts 30 days, but if you use it once a week, it lasts 30 weeks.

Where Kat used the 27 parts the structure broke down into as chapters, I chose to refer to them as beats, and separate chapters later.

On Saturday the 20th, I finished defining my scenes and started writing an actual draft. I wrote two scenes, putting me at a collective word count (not including notes, synopses, etc.) of 2,580 words.

This morning, Sunday the 21st, I started over. I hated my opening. I’m not going to go through the mess of today’s process, but I currently have around 80 one-line-outline scenes, split into 3 acts. I wrote a draft of my prologue and detailed-outlined (which I’m mentally referring to as zero-outlining because it’s similar to how Katytastic does what she calls a zero draft, but is very much outlining, not a draft) two and a half other chapters. Scriver also tells me how many words I wrote in total, across notes, character profiles, location lists, a document I’ve named ‘Train of Thought’ for my ramblings as I go etc.

Today, I wrote a grand total of 4,141 words, which, rather counterintuitively, puts me at a draft total of 2,598. That makes sense. Anyway.

There are a lot of unknowns in the world right now, and I have no idea how much time I’ll have in the next six months to invest in this project, but I’d like, at bare minimum, to have one complete draft by the start of the next school year in September, which gives me just over 6 months. Which is probably too much time to actually motivate myself, but that’s not the point.

A manuscript needs to have a minimum word count of 50K words to be considered a novel, so, even though my ultimate goal for this project is around 80K words, 50K is going to be my goal for this draft.

I’m being optimistic about sticking with this.

Tuesday 23/02/2021 - Word Count: 3,099 I wrote nothing yesterday; planning to focus writing solely on days off rather than work days, but last night, watching through the incredibly long queue of Alexa Donne writing videos, I came to the conclusion writing every day, even just a little, would be the best way to ensure I keep working on this, so I set myself a goal of just 500 words a day.

Wednesday 24/02/2021 - Word Count: 5,350 After doing a little bit of maths as to how long this outlining and draft would take me if I were to only write 500 words a day, I decided to boost that goal to 1,000. I got started around 1pm today, online school draining me so much I couldn’t face another two hours. I worked on and off until 6pm, and around 4.45pm, I finished outlining Act One!

Thursday 25/02/2021 - Word Count: 7,022 I continued my scene outlining into Act Two, but I hit a brick wall around the midpoint. I have to write chronologically - some people jump around, but I have to write linearly, or it feels like I’m trying to make something in a void. It just doesn’t work. I didn’t know how to get from one scene to the next - there were so many things I needed to establish to get there, but I didn’t want to backtrack. I decided to re-jig the whole thing, but, after dinner, I realised I didn’t have to, and instead, decided to just start a draft, conscious of the things I need to establish as I go.

Friday 26/02/2021 - Word Count: 8,208 Starting draft one, I rewrote the prologue I’d already written, technically putting me to my second draft of it, because I’d been thinking about it for days and just wanted to revisit it, and it was so much better. Then I moved on to chapter one, but decided I wanted to re-jig my chapters. While outlining, I’d split the whole book into only about twenty chapters, but decided to go for shorter ones for more effective divisions of the story. I got most of the way through the first scene of chapter one, but basically ran out of both time and motivation, since I hadn’t heavily outlined that scene. in total, I wrote over 2000 words today, but because I only increased the prologue word count by about 100 words, it didn’t do that much to the total count.

Saturday 27/02/2021 - Word Count: 11,050 I got some chores done Saturday morning and focused on finishing my book so I could include it in my February wrap-up, but I still had time to get some writing done around mid-day. My goal was just to hit 10K this weekend, but I though I could do it in one day. I wrote about 1,000 words before feeling a little word-drained, but took a break for lunch, got back to it and wrote 2,400 words. Though that only added a little over 2,000 to the word count, it took me to 10K! I’m 20% of the way to being able to call it a novel! We’re in quintuple digits!

And then eight hours later, I wrote another thousand words and got to 11K.

Sunday 28/02/2021 - Word Count: 13,722 I spent most of my Sunday morning writing, though it took me more than two hours to write about 1500 words, though it only added about 1100 to my count. I decided to set myself an overall and weekly deadlines to hold myself accountable. Due to the fact I don’t yet have a clue how many words this will work out as, I decided I wanted to have either a complete first draft or 100K words (which I doubt I’ll reach, but it seems like a good way to make myself finish the draft before my deadline) by the end of April. Which works out to a little under 1500 words a day, or just under 11K a week, which is perfectly doable. Bearing in mind my current word count is including outlines, but I still believe in myself.

I wrote another 1600 words later, which took me to 14K, until I deleted the 300 word outline I wrote for one scene, but I worked out my words per day for the next two months with the assumption of a 10K word count as of March 1st and a target of either a complete draft or 100K words by the end of April, so I’m nearly 4,000 words ahead of schedule. Which gives me 6,606 words to write this week, instead of 10,328. (If you couldn’t tell, I like numbers. They just make sense to me.

Monday 01/03/2021 - Word Count: 15,005 I didn’t quite hit my daily goal, but I was completely leached of motivation today, I’m ahead of schedule anyway and I was only under by less than 200 words. It’s alright. But, hey, we hit 15K! Two days after hitting 10K!

Tuesday 02/03/2021 - Word Count: 21,119 This was an insane writing day. My end-of-day target was only 16,480, and that was still ahead of schedule - if I was sticking to the 100K by April 30th, I’d only actually need to be at 12,950 today. This was the best writing day I’ve ever had. I wrote before school and during breaks, which kept both my writing and working momentum up.

I didn’t read a page of my current read, but I wrote a total of 7,681 words and increased my wordcount by 6,114 words, or literally an additional 40.75%. I hit 20K three days after hitting 10K, and am 42.238% of the way to being able to say I wrote a novel, be it a shitty first draft that won’t be complete at 50K words.

I also finished chapter three, which I’ve been working on for three days and came out ~5,000 words, and wrote chapters four and five in their entirety.

Note to self: this is day 10 of vaguely outline-drafting this project.

Wednesday 03/03/2021 - Word Count: 23,364 I've only written 490 words today, as of writing this update, but I just wanted to make note of the fact I've done some calculations, and can reasonably finish my draft this month. I'm still not completely sure how long it'll work out to be, so I can't quite work out my daily words to finish on the 31st, but if I stick to my current 1,475 words a day, I'll hit 63,894 words by the end of the month, which is a little less than I imagine this draft will be, but if I stick to that as a minimum, my first draft won't have to go into April.

I'd like to post this later this week, but I already have a post for this Friday, so God only knows how long this will be by the time it goes up. So far, I've written 1,900 words today, and I don't think I'm out of fuel yet, but I'm stopping because I need to read today, and I'd rather not burn out. I'm over my goal, anyway.

Oh, also, I'm nearly at 25K, which is halfway to a novel, but I haven't broken into Act Two yet, which means this book will be 75K minimum. I'm going to do some maths and work out how many words a day to hit 80K by March 31st. 2,030. That's doable. So I haven't read, but back to writing for like ten minutes.

I've now hit an additional 2,245 words for the day, though I wrote a total of 2,663

Thursday 04/03/2021 - Word Count: 25,415 I've decided to work out how many words I need to write each day to hit 80K by March 31st, and watch the fluctuations. (I like statistics). It should steadily go down throughout the month if I surpass it each day. Today's minimum word count is 2,023, already seven words less than yesterday's. How exciting.

The last scene of Act One was very heavy on world-building I haven't yet figured out, so I stuck what was meant to happen in brackets and just moved on, meaning I have now broken into Act Two!

I think, during the week, I'm going to focus on just meeting my minimum word count rather than exceeding it, just to save fuel for the weekends, when I can write so many more words.

And, we hit 25K! I'm halfway to a novel!

Friday 05/03/2021 - Word Count: 26,693 In complete honesty, I'm beginning to lose momentum. Maybe it's just today, but I don't really want to write and feel like I need a break, but I'm going to make myself write anyway. I'm going to make myself keep writing until this draft is done, however shitty it may end up. I really hate first drafts.

When you say 2,000 words is only 7-8 pages, it doesn't sound like that much to write per day but my god. Luckily, most of the stuff I've had to save to a Pinterest board called 'Writing Motivation' says if you write when you don't want to, it should pass instead of worsening. I wanted to hit 35K this weekend, but I'm not sure I'll have the momentum. I'll at least hit 31,270, though, which is my minimum goal for this week. I'm still over 700 words off my goal for today, but I'm taking a break because my head is foggy and there's still eight hours left in the day. Besides, 700 after dinner is easy. She says, realising she's probably jinxing it. Oh, well. 80K by March 31st would be difficult, even if I weren't going back to school soon, but that's a stretch goal. 100K by April 31st is my minimum, and I'm 9,000 ahead of where I need to be for that.

I think I’m stagnating because I’ve hit the ‘Fun and Games’ section, which I find really boring. I’m going to try to keep going with it, but I may just skip it and come back later.

Saturday 06/03/2021 - Word Count: 28,150 So, I did not get the extra 700 words in. Before dinner, some stuff I had to deal with came up, and by the time it was done, I just wanted to go to bed, so I did. Today, I'm going to try to make up for it, which I think is reasonable because it is now the weekend. I'm still kinda exhausted this morning, but I'm going to do my best, and my wrist hurts, but I'm not sure why. You'd think it would be from all the typing, but only one wrist hurts - you know what? Never mind. They do both hurt. I'm just not sure why, but it doesn't hurt typing this, so that doesn't make any sense. Anyway, to hit my word count for the day, I need to write 2,555 words, which doesn't sound like too much, but it kinda is because I'm primarily writing Act Two at the minute, and for every thousand words I write, I lose like 400 from my outline. You'd think I'd just not include my scene outlines in the word count, but it's too late for that now.

I'm thinking this over, and I really don't think trying to write 80K by the end of the month is going to be good for either my motivation, mental health, or ability to function back at school, so I'm going to stick to 100K or a finished draft by April 30th, and re-work out my goals from there, based on yesterday's word count, so I'm not making myself do catch-up today.

So, to hit 100K by April 30th, I only need to write 1,309 words each day (which will decrease over time because if that's my minimum now, I'll probably surpass it, decreasing the amount of words left etc.). That's so much less pressure.

God, I really don't want to write today. I just want to watch YouTube and Netflix and read.

Okay, so here's the thing. I've been working on this story straight for three weeks and I'm kinda exhausted of it. I'm not done with it, not at all, and I want to keep working on it because it exists, which makes it workable.

I watched a writing vlog by ShaelinWrites yesterday, and she said she writes different projects at once, alternating in week- or multi-week-long blocks. I think I might try that.

My plan with this post and the following updates was to keep updating it until the day it goes up, the day after which is when I begin drafting the next, but, since I may be switching projects for a while and this is really about the project I've decided to dub 'Bay Tree' (which is just, I guess, a pseudonym for here because while I have no idea what it would eventually be called, I know that's nothing like the title I'd want to give it) so I'd want to start a new post for a new project.

I'm now doing a little outlining instead of actually continuing writing, but I think this will help me, though I'm still not certain about whether or not I'm going to directly continue with this specific project for the minute. Instead of setting daily goals based on a target, I'm also just going to say 1,000 words a day, and see where that takes me.

I've just been outlining into Act Three, and I've met a major plot stumble, but I'm going to work that out and explain what I'm doing in my next writing update.

So, go drink some water, eat if you haven't eaten in the last few hours, stand in front of the mirror and tell yourself how wonderful you are and how much happiness you deserve, and, if you want to write a book, stop thinking about it, and go write.

[miaa4tez]

Season 3, Episode 1 or so help me god... Also available on AO3.

Finally // beautiful stranger 

He sort of thought she’d maybe... say something, after everything. He’d walked home that night a bundle of uncertainty and self-doubt, but for the first time, he actually felt a bit hopeful. He and Maeve couldn’t seem to stop missing one another, and he was damn near determined that this time, it’d be different. 

 

But then the weekend came and went, and he hadn’t heard from her once, and he found himself growing more self-conscious by the second. Had he been too late? Did he miss his chance for real this time? Was she really... over him? 

 

He nearly races to school come Monday morning, a ball of nerves and pent up energy. He tries being happy for Eric as he recounts endless details about his weekend with Adam, really he does, but all he could think is whether Maeve had truly heard his confession of love and felt... nothing. That might just be the thing to do him in for good. 

 

It takes him a few laps through the school but he finally finds her in the library, a book perched on her lap and her thumbnail between her teeth. He nearly loses his nerve, can’t help but stare at her like this for a moment - unguarded, serene - but then he reminds himself that he’s done being an asshole, damnit, and pushes forward. 

 

“Um, Maeve?” Fucking loser. Man up. 

 

He sees her jaw clench, her teeth biting the inside of her cheek, her eyes shut briefly before she flips a page. He hates that he elicits that response from her now. “Studying, dickhead.” 

 

He watches her swallow and her eyes seem to be going over the same line over and over. 

 

He clenches his hands at his side. “Can we talk?” He unclenches his fists, stretches them in the silence. “Please.” 

 

She’s so good at masking her emotions, but he catches a slight hitch as she clears her throat, shuts her book with a definitive thud and stands abruptly. She meets his eyes, cool and steady, and he feels himself shrink under the weight of her gaze. “I’ve got to get to class.” 

 

She pushes past him then, out the door, and for a moment he considers letting her go. Surely she deserves better than him, better than the hurt he’s caused her. But then he spies her jacket left dangling over the couch and his body is moving without his consent.

 

“Look I know I said some stupid things but I really think we ought to talk it out so I could tell you how sorry I am,” he pleads, her jacket draped across his arm as he strides behind her. 

 

She speeds up, forcing him to trail after her. “Not much to talk about then, is there? You’re sorry, so that’s it. We’re good then.” She bites the corner of her thumb, refusing to turn and face him as she weaves through the halls. 

 

“Well I just thought...” He stops short. What did he think, really? “I hadn’t heard from you this weekend,” he mutters instead. 

 

She stops in front of her locker, flicks her eyes to his briefly, searching. He lamely extends her jacket to her and she snags it from him a touch too harsh. “Yeah well. I’ve been busy. Not everything is about you, you know.” 

 

He buries his hands deep in his jacket pockets. He’s a little ashamed it’s taken him this long to congratulate her. “Yeah, no, of course. Sorry. Congratulations, by the way. I saw you on TV.”

 

The corner of her mouth turns up in the barest hint of a smile, but she ignores his attempt to meet her eyes and reaches for her Maths book. “Right. Well it wasn’t just me.” 

 

“You should be proud of yourself, Maeve. They couldn’t have done it without you.”

 

If he’s thawing her at all, she won’t let on. She bites her bottom lip anxiously and slams her locker in a hurry, but he presses on, hands extending then retracting back to his pockets. 

 

“And I just thought we could clear the air, you know. Be friends again?... I’d really like to be your friend again, Maeve. At least.” He shakes his head. This isn’t going well. “I’ve let you down and I know that. And I understand if you didn’t lis-“ 

 

“Otis.” She interrupts him, exhaling his name almost as if she’s got no energy left. He sucks in a breath and looks at her. Sees the hurt swimming in her eyes. “Forget it, okay? We’ve tried being friends but all we do is hurt one another.” She wraps her arms tight around herself, her eyes boring holes into her shoes. “I’ve got enough people in my life to hurt me. I don’t need another.” 

 

She meets his eyes then and he couldn’t save this if he tried. He opens his mouth anyway - foolishly - but whatever he intended to say is drowned out by the class bell. 

 

Her eyes flicker to his once more - pleading him to fight back? Maybe, but she’s pushed past him and out of sight before he can find the words.

 

...

 

She’s basically a ghost for the rest of the week, slipping through the halls in silence and keeping her eyes to the ground. She‘s forgotten how easy it was to go unnoticed in this school, and she both loves and hates how easily she slips back into it. Fleetingly she thinks that she hasn’t seen Otis once, even from the corner of her eye, and it’s not like she cares or anything - she hardly noticed, really, fuck off - but the clinic has been almost nonexistent and she’s got rent due Monday and this spat between them is really fucking with her source of income.

By Friday she’s said maybe ten words total to another human being (three of which being “Piss off, Isaac” when the wanker insisted on perching himself at her doorstep after she refused to answer his calls), but she found herself somewhat comforted by still having people around her. The fact is she hates the idea of going home to an empty trailer almost as much as she doesn’t want to be at school, so she sucks it up and makes plans to ask Aimee if they can walk home together. Thinks maybe she can spend the night there if she asks, too. God, she hates asking for things. 

 

It’s not just Otis she’s avoiding. It’s everything. Her mom, her shitty fucking luck, the reality that of all the Quizheads, she’s least likely to get a full ride scholarship to Uni even though that’s the only way she can realistically afford to go. She knows she‘s destined for more than a shit job at the mall and a double wide with no heat, but she’s certain she was born in the wrong dimension, because in this one life is determined to fuck her over. 

 

Her mind is a tangle of self-doubt but she’s trying her fucking damnedest to silence it all as she waits for Aimee by the school’s entrance, perched against a tree and attempting to focus on Silas Marner - she finds it far superior and the more relatable of George Eliot’s works, no wonder it took her so long to finish Middlemarch - but she’s been standing here for over an hour and Aimee is nowhere to be found. In fact, the front lawn is basically empty aside from a couple stoners and some horny couple grinding on a bench in the corner. She checks her phone, shoots a text to Aimee, waits five minutes for the three dots to pop up and when the message comes through, she feels her heart fall to her feet.

Steve wants to try hugging. Raincheck?

The sun is setting as she walks home alone, a crisp in the air that wasn’t there last week, and she’s trying to match her steps to her heartbeats but it’s proving harder than she’d like. Who says her breathing’s more ragged than usual? Sod off. 

She wishes she hadn’t lent Erin her headphones - she’ll never see those again either - because she could really use something right now to drown out her racing thoughts. She focuses instead on the faded crescent moon rising in the sky, and by the time she walks onto the lot the sky is dark and the only thing she wants is to curl into a ball in her bed and not leave until Monday morning.

She sees the bag from far away, hanging from the door handle of her trailer. She looks left and right on impulse, wonders if it was Isaac before she feels certain it wasn’t. If her steps quicken, she’ll never admit to it.

She snags the bag quickly and slams the door behind her, fingers itching to find out what’s inside. Her hand wraps around a binder and she pulls it out slowly, suddenly nervous. A note flutters out with it and falls to her feet, and her jaw clenches as she recognizes the familiar scrawl.

 

You deserve better than all of us.

She stares at the message a moment more because she collapses into a seat at the table, binder spread out before her. She opens the first page and her throat tickles with the emotion of it all.

It’s a collection of paperwork, brochures and articles and informational pamphlets. Schools she mentioned, universities she’s named in passing conversations when she thought they were just killing time before his next session. He compiled them all by the areas of study she might be most interested, and she smirks despite herself that each school is color coded. He’d always busted her for organizing the clinic schedule like that. He’s even taken the time to highlight new places she hasn’t considered, places that offer creative writing programs and financial scholarships for independents.

She feels the smile on her lips but it’s like her brain catches up, stunned for a moment by the gesture, and she’s suddenly furious.

 

Who does he think he is? He doesn’t know what she needs, what she wants, what’s best for her. All he’s done since he came into her life was cause her pain, and now he’s trying to be some fucking savior for her? She snags a sweater strewn over the couch and is out the door before she even knows where she’s going. All she knows is that he doesn’t get to make some grand gesture and have her forgive him. It’s bullshit. She’s going to storm over there and tell him exactly where he can shove his fucking charity. He’s -

-standing in the middle of the bridge. Waiting for her.

Her breath catches in her throat and she absently notes that he looks terrified. There are so many things she wants to spit at him but for some reason she can’t find words just yet. He shocks her by speaking first.

“I didn’t want you to have to come all the way to me again,” he shrugs, the corner of his lip curling up just slightly.

She crosses her arms quickly, petulant as a child as she scoffs at him. But despite herself, she feels lighter standing before him. Damn it all to hell. “How’d you know I’d even come to you?” She’s trying for offhanded but knows she doesn’t manage it.

He scratches his ear and looks to his shoes. “I didn’t?” He has the decency to sound sheepish. “I figured I’d give it an hour or so and see if you called maybe.”

“Oh, only an hour then?” She deadpans. She gets way too much satisfaction from his rosy cheeks.

He cocks his head just so, offering her a half smile. “Maybe two,” he relents.

She feels her mouth pulling into a grin but she bites the inside of her cheek before it erupts. Instead she nods once and wrings her hands together by her chest. The silence sits between them and it’s colder out here than it was an hour ago.

“I’m sorry,” she hears him breath, and he must realize how quiet he said it because he clears his throat and meets her eyes. “I’m really sorry.” Louder this time, more conviction.

She can see the sincerity in his eyes and he always did know how to get to her. She nods this time, her mouth twisting in a wry smirk. “Yeah you should be,” she jokes, but it doesn’t feel much like a joke once it’s out of her mouth, and she feels the frustration seep back in. “You know, you can’t go around trying to manipulate me by doing something nice. Doesn’t work like that. You’re not charming, you know.”

Otis blinks. “Is that what you were coming to tell me?”

“What?”

“You were headed to my house, weren’t you? Was that what you were going to say?”

Her eyes widen, indignant, and the anger mounts. “Yes,” she demands. “You can’t just hurt me and expect it to all be okay just like that. It’s not. I trusted you, Otis, and you let me down. Everyone else is shit but I never thought you’d...” her voice catches and a small sob fills her chest but she won’t let it out. Refuses. Instead she stops, catching her breath and turning her head to the side as angry tears threaten to pour over. She digs a nail into her palm to stop them. She won’t let him do this to her again.

He takes a tentative step forward and reaches out for her slightly, and she finds great satisfaction when he retracts his hand, until she follows his gaze and realizes he must notice that she’s wearing his sweater. Shit.

It seems to embolden him though and he looks to her again. “I know, and Maeve, I know I hurt you and I was a dickhead -“

“Massive dickhead,” she elaborates.

“But I don’t think it’s all my fault.” He finishes.

She’s certain she heard him wrong.

“Excuse me?” She gapes, incredulous.

“We’ve been tiptoeing around each other for months,” Otis argues, arms up for emphasis. “All year, really. And then Jackson -

“Are you seriously turning this around on me?” She can’t believe him.

“No but -

“‘Cause it sounds like you are -“

“I’m not!” He insists. “It’s just that...you’re you! And I’m ME and, and we were friends. Such good friends, Maeve, and then you... And it just made me so angry that you didn’t tell me you liked me until things with Ola.... it’s just... I had no idea someone like you could have possibly liked someone like me.”

 

Her nostrils flare with her anger and she’s trying not to strangle him right this instant. She’s not sure if it’s because he doubted her or that he’s so fucking sure he’s right (and so what if he is a little?) “Right well it’s probably for the best you didn’t know. I’m the most selfish person you know, after all.”

 

He sighs loudly. “Maeve, of course I didn’t mean that.“

“It sounded like you did,” she quips.

“I was so drunk. I ate a whole roast chicken that night! And I was confused and I was trying to hurt you like I was hurting when of course you didn’t deserve it.” 

He’s got her there.

She sniffles and crosses her arms, choosing to count the railings on the bridge rather than meet his eyes.

 

He sighs and reaches toward her, palms open. “I know I can’t take back what I did. And I know things are still broken between us. But... I like you, Maeve. I really, really like you.”

She looks up then, against her own will honestly, but he’s got his eyes closed. Either because he can’t look at her either or he’s mustering up the courage, she can’t be sure.

He rubs a hand over his face and chuckles ironically. “Hell I think I even love you. You’re brave and you’re resilient and you’re honest and you’re good. Life should have taken you out dozens of times already but you never let it. You’re too good for every fucking one of us and we just keep letting you down over and over. But I want to be there for you. I want to be the one you turn to. I don’t want you to feel alone or scared or hurt. And I hate that I’ve already done all those things but if you let me, if you give me a chance, I promise I won’t hurt you again. And I know, I know so many people have said that to you before, but I’m going to prove it. You don’t have to believe me, but let me prove it to you. Please. I -“

She’s not sure at what point in his speech her arms drop to her sides, when her brow smooths and her gaze softens and her lip drops just slightly. She feels the heat pool in her chest, warm and bubbling and even a little uncomfortable, blooming its way up her neck to her cheeks and face. And in her haze she really can’t remember when she steps forward and brings her mouth to his, soft but hard all at once, but she knows when she does that she’s never quite had a kiss like this in her life.

That is, because he doesn’t quite kiss her back.

Her lips are tingling but his body is like a statue before her, and she’s sure he’s unconscious but she can feel his heart thrumming beneath her hands atop his chest, and has she killed him? She pulls back slightly, exhaling a harsh breath, not daring to meet his eyes but seemingly incapable of putting more than an inch of distance between them. The barrier’s been broken now and she finds she’s never been warmer in her whole life. She’s about to say something, anything really, when his hands come up to cup her cheeks, coaxing her to look him in the eyes. Nerves grasp her now - it was so impulsive, she didn’t give it a second of thought before - but she has no time for them. She hears him swallow just as he pinches her chin and brings her mouth to his once more, and this is what their first kiss should have been. His lips are tender on hers and she wants to be closer to him all at once, so she wraps her arms around his waist and opens her mouth, feeling his breath on her tongue before his follows along. She was sure he’d be timid but it’s like his body is reacting all on its own, and she can’t help herself. Her lips curl into a smile against his mouth, and she nearly melts into a puddle when his thumb comes to the corner of her lip, the pad of his finger tracing the outline of her smile.

When they properly pull back for a breath, she can feel his eyes on her, blue crystals boring into her soul, and for the life of her she has no idea why she meets his gaze. She wants to look away but somehow she can’t, and he’s smiling at her and by God if she’s not absolutely fucking in love with this dickhead.

“You kissed me.” He tucks her hair behind her ear as he says it and she hates him even more. Her life will never be just hers again.

She licks her lips. “Tell anyone about this and I’ll bite your dick off. Okay mouth breather?” There isn’t the slightest trace of malice in her voice. It’s barely above a whisper.

Otis nods once, brow creased in mock seriousness. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m still angry at you,” she murmurs, eyes fixated on his bottom lip as she grips the ends of his shirt tighter.

He swallows hard and nods. “I know. I’m still angry with me too.”

She wants to keep the banter going but she’s got no fight in her, just butterflies wrecking havoc on her stomach and fire in her cheeks. She can’t stop staring at his lips - it’s like he’s cast a spell on her or something - and then she remembers she can do it again if she wants. This is going to be a real problem, she can tell. She’s on her tiptoes when he seems to remember the same thing, and he’s wearing the goofiest smile when he brings her face to his and leans down to kiss her again.

(It might take him a few hours to calm her down after he tells her about the missing voicemail - she could fucking murder Isaac - but he quickly finds exactly how to shut her up. If they don’t sleep that night, it’s entirely his fault.)

...

Note: this was shit but I wrote it in the notes on my phone because please let them be together next season PLEASE. It’s my first tumbler post too so sorry the format is weird as shit.

[ilovemyschool]

Teaching through COVID???

Bless you if you actually make it to the end of this post, lol.

I teach high school science- specifically Chemistry and AP Chemistry.  I absolutely love teaching and I love my students.  I especially enjoy getting to talk to them about what they want to do when they graduate, where they want to go to college, what kind of jobs they want to do, and all of that fun stuff.  Finishing high school is an incredibly exciting time in life for a person, and I feel privileged to get to re-live the excitement and apprehension and hopefulness and all the other feelings that come along with having so many possibilities for your life laid out in front of you.  I don’t know any other kind of work that allows you to feel those feelings year after year like I get to through my students.  I also try to support them through the hard stuff.  I listen when they cry and tell me that they feel alone in a room full of people, I hug them (if they want a hug) when they tell me their mom moved out over the weekend, and I feed them and get them additional support when they tell me they are hungry and don’t have enough to eat.  I spend hours on tutoring, grading, and lesson planning outside of my “contract hours.”  It never bothered me because I knew I was doing something that mattered to my kids.  If you’ve never gotten to see a kid gain self-confidence in their own ability by practicing with you one-on-one- let me just tell you it’s magical.  When they know you’ll sit down and work with them again and again when it’s still tough for them, they can see that you believe they’re worth the time and effort, and they start to believe it too.  When you get a note from a student about how they never thought they’d be able to understand chemistry so well, but aced a state final exam or got a 4 or 5 on the AP exam, it feels like you’ve done more than teach them your subject- you’ve taught them to believe they can do hard things.  

I’m sick to my stomach right now, because I am so torn on whether to go back this year.  My students are set to come back in two weeks.  There are so many things going through my head and this has been whirling around for the past two weeks, so I’m writing it out.  To quit or not to quit.  That is my question.

To Quit:

*My district notified parents of the plan just two weeks ago at the same time as the teachers- teachers actually just got a quick email that said something to the effect of “oh hey- check out this stuff we’re sending to parents about next school year.”  

*Since they released their plan, I got in to see a doctor.  I have an autoimmune condition.  It’s not a big deal in general, just a pill everyday, but it does affect my risk- although in the grand scheme of immuno-issues, thankfully mine is on the low end of the COVID risk spectrum.

*The district’s plan is for all students to go back to school 5 days/week, unless they opt for the virtual option.  The hours will be shortened so that the district doesn’t have to do a deep clean at the 4 hour mark as would be required if we were in school for the usual 7 hours.  Instead, teachers will all teach 4 class periods and also have to teach an online class.  If you’ve never taught, teaching online is a whole separate thing, so even if you teach chem both online and in person, it’s likely that most of the time you’ll have to set up your lessons completely differently for the two.  It’s not a deal breaker, but it’s extra work for sure.

*Teachers are responsible for sanitizing the classrooms between classes, which means we’ll have to pee some other time, although every teacher is teaching all 4 classes, so we won’t have anyone available to cover us?  I guess they’ll figure that out?

*According to the FAQ document our principal sent out, if we are told to quarantine or isolate, we have to use our sick days.  If we go through our sick days or run out we can apply to the sick day bank.  They don’t say it in the FAQ, but once you’ve used up days, they dock your pay.  

*However, that might not actually be a problem, because in a virtual staff meeting they held on Friday, the assistant superintendent shared that the health department here is now defining “exposure” as 15 minutes or more within 6 feet of a person who has tested positive without a mask.  That means that we could be in the classroom with kids who later test positive for COVID for an hour and neither the teacher nor the parents of the other kids in that class would be notified or asked to isolate because we were all wearing masks and therefore were “not exposed.”

*Since all kids are going back at the same time, thats nearly 1800 kids (minus the ones who signed up to take all their classes virtually).  Based on early estimates, less than 20% are going to opt to go online.  There are no plans to stagger class changes, which means our hallways will be full- it will not be possible for students to social distance.

*Currently, I have a class with 33 students in one of my face-to-face classes.  That’s a fairly big class anyway, but in COVID, they’ll be packed in there.  It is not possible to keep that many kids 6 feet apart in my classroom.

*We are relying on parents to do temperature checks every day and keep their child home if their temp is 100.4 or above.  If you’ve ever taught, you know that while most parents are responsible with things like this, there are some that will send their child in no matter what because they have to work or (in some very sad situations) want the time to themselves.

*In our state’s official COVID school plans, they outlined “Required,” “Strongly Recommended,” and “Recommended” measures.  My district seems to be reading “Strongly Recommended” as “Not Required.”  This means that they are okay with us running labs, sharing equipment, and working in close proximity because they think that parents understand that if they’re sending their child to school, that they know their child will be in close proximity to others.  They say that parents know that their kids will be 2/bus seat anyway and that they’re going to have to be changing classes in a full hallway.  I’m not so sure I agree with that.  I think parents are probably very unaware of that because I think it would be reasonable for parents to think that the “Strongly Recommended” guidelines would be implemented.  I’m not a parent, but I think that I would assume that?  Unfortunately, things like 6 feet of separation, doing on-site temperature checks, and not sharing materials are in the “Strongly Recommended” category, which means the district will “do their best.”

*Our district’s Union President wrote a letter to the board on our behalf regarding the strongly recommended guidelines.  The superintendent was dismissive of those concerns, stating that schools in other countries saw negligible spread upon reopening, which is like comparing our shitty COVID apples to European oranges.  Shortly after his response, two other board members went on to praise the administration for putting together a “safe” plan and quickly approved it to send on to the department of education.  I wish that those board members would come and sit in our classrooms for the first few weeks of school.

*We won’t know which class(es) we’ll be teaching online until the week before (best case scenario), so we can’t prepare very much that is specific to our class until the week before school.  We won’t know our final schedule in general until next week.  To not know this with only a week and a half to go is insane.  My anxiety is in full gear.

*Financially, we could handle it if I don’t work.  

Not to Quit:

*I have one student who had me for a science class his freshman year, then requested to take my chemistry class during his sophomore year, and is signed up for AP Chem this year.  I don’t want to miss it.

*Lots of my former chem kids are signed up for my AP Chem class this year.  I’m newer to the school, but I’ve been really working on growing the AP Chem program.  We even had enough students sign up to make 2 sections of AP Chem this year, which hasn’t happened in a long time at this school.

*I don’t want to quit with only 2 weeks before school- granted, they just announced the district plans 2 weeks ago and in that time I’ve had to talk with my husband and family, consult a doctor, and look at our finances and upcoming expenses to gather the information I need to make a decision. However, with only 2 weeks left before kids are in my classroom, it would be extremely tight to hire and have someone in place for those kids.  I would hate to leave students in that spot where they might start school with a sub.

*I LOVE my classroom and my lab.  I put so much time into organizing and cleaning it out.  I decorated it really nice and made it super functional.  I would hate to have to move everything out- I doubt I’d ever have a classroom that epic again.  All my desks match, too!

*A bird in hand is worth two in the bush.  I have a job I really love at a school I like and with kids I like and it’s close to my house.  If I resign, they’ll have to hire someone else for my job, and I won’t get it back next year.  There is no guarantee that I get hired again next year at another school nearby either.  With budget cuts, who knows?

*In a new job, I could be teaching anything in the sciences- I love that I have a specifically chemistry teaching job.  Those are rare and hard to come by.

*One of the “Required” measures in the state’s plan is to wear a mask.  That’s helpful.  All students and staff will have to wear a mask unless they are medically exempt.

*I’m still youngish, especially by COVID risk standards.

*Maybe nothing bad will happen- hopefully it won’t and the year will go relatively smoothly and staff and students will stay healthy and get through unscathed.  If that ends up being how it goes, I’d regret resigning and second guess my decision.

*I would feel guilty for calling it quits when so many others don’t have the option and may be at higher risk than me due to age or underlying conditions or taking care of loved ones that are either older or immunocompromised.  I know so many teachers who have to work this year because their spouse/partner is unemployed, or they are the sole breadwinner for their family, or they are going to retire soon and need their income to stay high to maximize their social security benefits.  

*I don’t know how I’ll take it if I go from teaching full time to being a stay at home wife.  I did stay at home for a year when we moved to another state, and it was HARD on me.  I developed a bit of a depression, exasperated by some other things that were going on.  I got on medication and did some therapy and it eventually resolved, but that SUCKED.  I would really miss my students and my fellow teachers and having a clear purpose/mission for my days.  

In conclusion...

I’m not generally a hypochondriac or a “Nervous Nelly.”  Most stuff rolls off my back fairly easily.  This scares me.  I get the flu or an upper respiratory thing almost every year.  There’s no reason to think that somehow I’ll manage to miss COVID if it comes into our school.  I am beyond anxious about teaching in person with so few precautions being taken.  I’m also angry that my choices are to resign and lose the job I really want or to go in and feel anxious and angry about the lack of care and respect that teachers and students are being shown by district and building administration for the foreseeable future until COVID is over.  I have had a stress knot in my gut for the past two weeks over this stuff, and I highly doubt it’s going away if I decide to stay and teach.

Since the pandemic started I have stayed at my house with few exceptions over the summer.  I wear a mask when I go out, I usually use a pick-up option for my groceries, a drive-thru option for my pharmacy, and I just avoid gatherings.  We do occasionally see my in-laws and my parents, usually outside and observing social distancing. In my state restaurants can’t fill to more than 50% capacity and movie theaters are just plain closed, but schools are about to open at 100% capacity.  I honestly can’t imagine putting myself in an enclosed space with over 30 kids or into a hallway with close to 1800 of them.  Even more than that, I can’t imagine not sitting down at a desk next to them to help them or watch them work a problem to see what they’re thinking.  I can’t imagine not getting to hug the girl who’s mom left or sit with the boy who doesn’t feel connected with his peers so he comes up to sit with me and do his homework after school.  Even if I do teach this year, I worry that my kids won’t get what they need from me- whether that’s homework help or emotional support.

If you are so inclined, please send up a prayer for state leaders, school administrators, teachers/school staff, and students this year.  We could all definitely use some wisdom, some grace, and your good vibes.

[motleycrueroadie]

Along for the Ride (pt. 6)

Author’s Note: It has been a while, so thank you to anyone who is returning to this story! I will apologize for the delay, going back to work has been hectic. With everything going on right now, if reading this and consuming this kind of content helps you to take a break then I’m very glad to provide that. Enjoy xoxo. 

Previous Chapters: One I Two I Three I Four I Five I

A lot of time has passed since I’ve been to a party, let alone a party with a horde of strangers. The last time that I was ,what might be defined as, “partying” was during high school. Even though varsity sports were a large commitment, there were always athletes who made it part of their weekly routine to get as hammered as they possibly could on Friday and Saturday night. The football players were the main ones to spend copious hours belligerent, and they turned to the other fall athletic teams to join them. A lot of my teammates were skinny little things who were borderline obliterated within two cups of foamy, cheap keg beer but no other sport could beat them and myself at the beer mile. The athletes were pretty much the only people I partied with because they were the only people I was seeing throughout the year. Yet here I am four years later, having not attended a party since graduation and I was set to attend some random stranger’s party to scope out Tommy’s suggested lead singer. 

When Tommy had suggested Vince at dinner last week he went on to explain that he knew him from high school and not from Suite 19 or any other band he played for - which to me was a good starting sign considering that Greg hadn’t worked out. I had not realised I was Tommy’s senior by four years up until he was talking about him and Vince’s high school days.  Tommy admitting his age to me really had put things into perspective for myself.

 Four years have passed since I graduated and I still had yet to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. Upon finishing high school, all I knew with regards to my future was that I needed to be on my own and find myself. To begin, finding out who I was meant that I needed to start from my roots and make my way up. Despite not being completely fit parents,  my mother and father were incredibly passionate people. Before the haze of drugs and partying had blinded them, my parents were both madly in love with one another and with music. None of their life was mapped out and planned tediously, otherwise I wouldn’t have been in the picture. When they were seventeen and seniors in high school, my mom found out she was pregnant with me. Even though this put a delay in their goal to travel with the music, it never stopped them. We lived in a 1959 Volkswagen Van and put thousands of miles on it as we traveled from venue to venue following the voices of the 60′s. Of course, we settled down come the fall when the summer tours and festivals died down and I needed to go to school. We would live right here on the Sunset Strip in a shitty little one bedroom apartment. I slept with my parents on a mattress on the floor. During the week I would attend school and they would work at whatever odd job they had found, then come the weekend they would put me to bed and head out for the shows. After their death, I moved in with my grandparents a few hours north of Los Angeles for 7 years until I turned 18. That’s when I set out to find myself. Funny thing is, it’s almost been four years out here and I’m no closer to finding out who I am than the day I left home. 

“You’re not that much older than me Janis,” Tommy had said while we were talking about my age, “Mick, when did you graduate high school?” This was another of his attempts to figure out Mick’s age. 

“Before your balls even dropped.” Mick was quick to shut Tommy down every time. I smiled at Mick and held out my hand for a fist bump, which to my surprise Mick had returned. Mick was older than the rest of us, but none of us were sure by how much. Even though Mick fronted a bit of a tough exterior, he liked to joke around and have fun like us - He just wasn’t as young as us anymore, it was a different kind of fun. 

That night, after the guys had gone back to practicing, I went back to my usual nightly routine. Being that it was Sunday, I didn’t have to go in for work but it also meant that I had to keep my regular sleep schedule since I was due for another 11-7 shift the next day. That left me from the time I woke up at 3:30 pm until 7:00 am to pass the time. This meant that I would have a smoothie and go for a run, come back for a shower and more food and the rest of the time I spent cleaning every nook and cranny in the apartment and reading. Days off though, was time for grocery shopping. There was only one supermarket in the nearby area that was open 24 hours and I was one of the only people who tended to do their shopping at midnight. However, on this night I had company. Nikki came along with me despite the fact that he had work in the morning. It wasn’t until the walk home that I learned the true motive behind the company on the trip. He wanted me to come with them to this party to scout out Vince. At first I was confused. 

“Why do you want me to come? It’s your band.” He nodded in agreement, acknowledging that it seemed like an odd request. 

“You’ve kind of been along for most of this, so even though it’s not your band I feel it’s only right you come along for the ride.” My continued confusion must have read on my face because he spoke again, “I met Tommy at your diner and you called Mick when I wouldn’t.” 

“You would’ve eventually called him yourself, and I’m sure you would’ve met Tommy after your show anyways.” He shook his head at me while we continued walking. 

“Janis, I was only in that diner because I was there to see you. Tommy was there by coincidence. I wouldn’t have called Mick either. I would have just let myself be happy I had Greg and went along with it until we became another Suite 19 or London.” I had opened my mouth to reply to him and he cut me off, “I’m trying to say you’ve helped me form this band whether you believe it or not, and I want you there when we’re looking at what could be our lead singer.”

“Then I’ll be there to make sure you get your skinny blonde fucker.” He laughed with me and we continued in comfortable silence back to our apartments. That was almost six days ago, today I stood in the living room of Nikki’s apartment at 4:30 on a Friday waiting for Mick to come so that we could all go to this party. Up until now, I hadn’t really seen Nikki’s apartment, but now that I was in it I realised why. The fact that there were roaches infesting this building was not beyond my knowledge, however I managed to keep them at bay by keeping my apartment clean and the food sealed. The garbage left out by Nikki and the mess all over the place was a haven for all sorts of bugs, evident by the ants and roaches freely roaming the brown carpet (which is supposed to be white). Despite this, I wasn’t assuming that Nikki was 100% a slob - more or less 50% a slob, and the rest I can chalk up to him not knowing any better. I know Nikki hasn’t always had or accepted the type of discipline and skill that a parental figure would instill to keep a tidy home. However, even though I was understanding, it didn't mean that I could bear the smell any longer. Moving out of the apartment, I joined Tommy out on the balcony where he was having a cigarette while Nikki was still getting ready.

“Tell me more about Vince.” I spoke, Tommy turned his head from the view of the Strip to acknowledge my presence. Leaning against the railing next to him, Tommy put his arm around my shoulder. Since our initial encounter at the diner, I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know Tommy a little bit better when hosting dinners and talking to him. He reminded me of the little brother I never got to have, full of energy and youth. We balanced each other out well in conversations, he was able to get me excited and rambling while I reigned him in but listened intently to everything he had to say. 

“Why? Trying to see if he’s worth getting into bed with?” Tommy winked at me, I knew he was trying to frazzle me. “Jeez JJ, you haven’t even seen him yet.”

“Looks are just a small slice of the pie, I need to know if he’s got brains or not” I replied. 

“Vince’s brains are in his pants. The thing about Vince is that he’s a great guy to be around if you’re a guy.” He took a drag from the cigarette before continuing, “So just make sure he knows you’re one of the guys.” The red car I knew to be  Mick pulled up in front of the complex, so I turned back to the apartment where I had left the door ajar and yelled for Nikki.

“Sixx! Mick is here!” I heard something hit the floor behind him as Nikki emerged from the apartment and closed the door behind him. “You don’t lock your door?” I asked him, genuinely confused considering the equipment they kept there for rehearsing. 

“Why would anyone want to steal from me?” He answered my question with another question, which was something I was notorious for doing and he knew it. 

“Your equipment is in there though.” 

“And? Are the people who won’t even talk to me, who live here, going to steal it?” Being that he was a little snarky today, I figured he needed a reminder of who he was talking to. 

“Well I guess whoever wants to take your shit needs to get past all the garbage and the smell first.” I replied, walking down the stairs with Tommy towards Mick’s car. His silence was quite audible and I knew I had struck the right chord. 

“It’s not that bad in there!” Tommy was quick to come to his defence, especially considering he would be moving in with Nikki at some point. The two of them had discussed this over dinner not long ago.

“You boys have just been spending enough time in it that you’ve become used to it.” I said. In that moment I realised how badly these two boys needed a voice of reason and guidance around. They thought that it was quite acceptable to live like that. “You’re lucky I’m around, I’ll be the one to stop you from being evicted by the L.A Health Department.” 

“Get off your fucking high horse.” Nikki scoffed as we grew closer to Mick’s car. I lifted my foot and pressed it into the crook of Tommy’s knee while pushing my hand into Nikki’s chest to throw them both off balance. They both stumbled slightly as I took off into a run, swinging open Mick’s car door I slid into the passenger seat.

“Let’s go!” I yelled, leaning out the window and laughing as Tommy and Nikki fumbled into the backseat. Despite the fact that Nikki had seemed to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed, today he had a smirk on his face as he and Tommy squished their body’s into the backseat of the Mazda. Knowing Nikki, only a little bit, I could maybe conclude he was nervous about whether Vince would work out of not. They sounded good without a lead singer, and I know he wants someone to match the rest of their talent.

“Mick Mars, you ready to go get a blonde fucker?” I asked him, sticking out my hand for a fist bump. He returned the gesture before shifting the car into drive. 

“This kid better be good, drummer.” Was the reply that Mick offered as we took off towards the house party. Arriving on the street, the first thing we noticed were the dozens of cars lined up and the second was the noise from down the block. As we got out of the car, Tommy let us know that the noise was Vince. Nikki had commented that he sounded good for now and everyone’s spirits were high. As we entered the backyard, the third thing that we all noticed was how easily these guys stood out in the crowd. The people at this party were very obviously preppy, the colour palette was very warm and looked just like the people I would have hung around with in high school. In fact, if these guys weren’t here then I would blend in quite well. The four of us were stopped in the entrance of the backyard, and I felt a hand on the small of my back as Nikki started making his way into the sea of strangers. 

“I want a shot of Jack already and we’ve been here for two seconds” He whispered in my ear as the four of us made our way to the makeshift bar in the middle of the backyard. As we approached the table, Nikki took a bottle of Jack Daniels out of the hand of someone passing by. They turned in protest but then decided against it once taking in the sight of us. Leaning against the table, I was paying attention to the band on stage. The four guys on the stage were playing a cover of Billy Squier’s My Kind of Lover and though it was nothing special compared to the original, I would say the lead singer was using the song to his advantage. The women were flocking to the front of the stage, infatuated with him. Tapping my foot along to the beat, I felt a hand on the small of my back again as the bottle of Jack appeared in my vision. Shaking my head, I gently pushed the neck back towards Nikki. Even though the offer was denied and he didn’t need my attention anymore, Nikki’s hand remained and I was hyper-aware of the fact. 

“Fucking cover band?” Mick questioned, sounding displeased. 

“Yeah but I’m telling you, I went to high school with this guy.” Tommy continued to vouch for Vince, attempting to convince Mick to see past the exterior. Unlike Mick, I was hearing a voice that could go with the heavy metal these guys have been playing. 

“You’re telling me you haven’t played covers to make a cheap buck Mick?” I questioned, looking back at him as he took the bottle of Jack from Nikki. His scowl softened ever so slightly, which served as the silent reply I needed. Tommy and Nikki stepped forward a little away from the table to talk and I stayed there with Mick.

“I know what you mean though Mick,” He glanced his eyes over at me before returning to watch Vince, taking a sip from the bottle. “You want to know if the guy is serious about the music or in it for something else. I get it” He nodded appreciatively, a man of few words. I couldn’t tell if I was on the right track, but when he stuck his fist out towards me I knew I had been right. Quickly bumping my fist against his, I caught his smile as he took another sip from the bottle. 

“This isn’t our style.” Mick called out to Nikki and Tommy. The two looked back at Mick before Nikki motioned his hand out to the crowd in front of the stage. 

“I don’t care if he can sing or not, look at what he’s doing to those chicks” He replied. Tommy turned his whole body around and came walking towards me with a grin, which I knew was not a good sign.

“Yeah JJ, look at what he’s doing to those chicks. You creaming your jeans yet?” He laughed at how uncomfortable I appeared from his statement. I wasn’t ignorant to the stares from both Mick and Nikki as they awaited my thoughts. 

“Blondes aren’t my type Tommy.” I replied, but it didn’t appear that he was letting up on me. Standing next to me as we listened to the tail end of the song, Tommy looked like he had something else to say. 

“They might not be your type, but blondes are Vince’s type. You’re my bribing factor JJ.” Tommy said, he tried to walk away but I grabbed onto the sleeve of his jacket. 

“You are not pimping me!” I whisper shouted at him, he laughed and pulled his jacket out my hand as the song ended. 

“We are Rock Candy!” Vince said into the microphone as he exited the stage. Nikki returned to the table beside Mick and myself, his arm going around my shoulder. 

“Shitty name” mumbled Mick and I nodded in agreement. 

“I heard something about Tommy pimping you out to Vince,” Nikki said low enough that only I was hearing it. Shifting under the weight of his arm I looked up at him. 

“ Not only are blondes not my type, but neither is being pimped out” I replied as we watched Tommy and Vince embrace. “His voice is right for you guys, but you’ll need to help him tweak it. Billy Squier is much different than what you guys are playing.” Nikki nodded in agreement with me. The two of us continued to watch Tommy and Vince talk as Tommy pointed back at the three of us before handing him something. He bounded back to us with the type of energy that I envied. 

“I gave him the tape to listen to, it’s got my number on it so I told him to call!” Tommy sounded excited, so I took it that the exchange between the two of them went well. For the sake of these three guys and all the hard work that I had seen them putting into this band thus far, I was really hoping that this would all work out for them. More so, I was quite excited to leave this party and return home to relax before my shift began and I would be dealing with the Friday night leftovers from the Sunset Strip shows. 

A couple weeks had passed since we had ventured to the pool party to watch Vince, and despite how excited Tommy had seemed, the man with promise had yet to even give them a phone call. With each day that went by, I could tell the guys were becoming discouraged  even though they continued to practice every night like clockwork. I tried to keep things constant for them on my part, and made sure that the door was open to welcome them for dinner every night after practice. 

The more that I was around the guys, the more I got to know them. Tommy had learned to play in the drums from the high school marching band, but was one of the most musically inclined of the bunch. When Nikki had met Tommy in the diner, I hadn’t noticed the drumsticks he had been carrying, but since then I had taken note that he did in fact always have a pair glued to him. He was constantly fidgeting with them to the point where I had threatened to toss them into the trash if he hit me one more time while twirling them. In typical Tommy fashion he had apologized profusely. He also told me he appreciated that I was so upfront with him about the things he did that piss me off - something he said his parents were not the greatest at. Mick on the other hand, was a bit of a harder egg to crack. All I could really tell about him was the fact that something seemed to bother him all the time, he never looked like he could quite get comfortable no matter where we were. Nikki and I remained on the same page. We hadn’t really had the opportunity to hang out, just the two of us since Mick joined the trio and I was okay with it for now. What was becoming of increasing concern to me though was their love of substances. The past couple of weekends, the three of them came to the diner during my shift after having watched someone playing at the Starwood or the Whiskey, being as loud and obnoxious as I had ever seen them. Carlos always made sure to poke his disapproving head over the kitchen window and give me his signature “fix it” stare. I tried to shovel bread and water into their systems to slow them down, and they would soon leave just as quickly as they entered, with shouts of “you have to come out soon JJ!” and “live up to the Janis name!” echoing as they exited back onto the street. I knew drugs and alcohol were part of the music scene, and I  wasn't a stranger to them myself, but I knew when to stop. Since I hadn’t seen them party in person yet, I couldn’t gauge whether or not they knew when to stop, but a gut feeling was telling me that they did not in fact know when to stop. 

Today though, was a Monday which meant a fresh start to the week. Feet to the pavement at 4:30 and I was off. The guys always waited until they heard me going down the stairs before they began playing to make sure that I was awake, it was quite the considerate thing to do. Making my way through the streets of Los Angeles, I noticed that it was absolutely sweltering today and the white shirt that I was wearing would soon become quite see-through. The marquees of the Whiskey and the Starwood adorned names that I don’t recognise but that I’m sure Tommy could ramble on about for hours with the aid of Nikki. Those two could give my parents a run for their money when it came for the love of music. I could turn the radio on or throw in a random cassette and as long as it was rock, those two could name the artist, the song, the album and their thoughts within 30 seconds of the song. I had to admit, it was impressive. Rounding the corner that led back to our street, I was ready for a shower. Glancing down at the white shirt, I noticed that my prediction had reigned true. Crossing at the traffic light, there was a beautiful, red 280Z car parked out front the apartment complex. Knowing the people that lived in the building, there was no one with enough money to own that kind of car. Confused, I headed up the stairs while peeling the shirt off my back and tossing it over my shoulder. There was no music coming from Nikki’s apartment, only lots of voices. Continuing up the stairs, I heard a woman’s voice speak. 

“I’m just trying to make sure these guys are good enough to play with you baby.” Those were some odd words. Walking quietly, I paused at the ajar doorway. Mick could see me through the crack but I motioned for him to stay quiet. He started into a riff, while a voice started singing, which I recognised as Vince. After only playing for no more than 30 seconds, the same voice called out, “This isn’t right!” She wasn’t wrong. They mumbled among themselves about how they could change the song so that it sounded better. Nikki said something about muzzling that I didn’t quite pick up but judging by the outcry of curses from the woman, it had to do with muzzling her. Mick just started back into the song again, at a faster pace to silence her. They sounded a lot better. As they started getting into the song I recognised it to be “Live Wire” whose lyrics Nikki had shown me over dinner a while back. Figuring that they would be distracted while playing, I opened the door further which let in more light and I leaned against the doorway listening to them play. Nikki and Tommy had noticed and smiled at me before Nikki motioned with his head over to Vince who was just coming to the tail end of the song. “Holy shit” breathed the woman on the couch. 

“Holy shit is right, that sounded great!” I exclaimed. Nikki grabbed my hand and shook it enthusiastically while Tommy yelled out in agreement. Mick in his true fashion just smiled and nodded along. Without even looking at him, I knew Vince was staring at me. Sticking out my hand for an introduction I spoke to Vince, “Janis Jade, you must be Vince?” He took the hand and gave it a firm shake, pausing while opening his mouth to speak.

“Tommy said you would be here,” He glanced over his shoulder at Tommy and back at me, giving me a once over. “And I have to say I’m quite glad that you are.” Glaring at Tommy, he feigned innocence and shrugged his shoulders. Damn bastard did try to pimp me out. Dropping Vince’s hand I side stepped him and stuck my hand out for the woman who remained sitting on the couch through all this. 

“Janis Jade, I’m Nikki’s upstairs neighbour.” She looked at my hand but did not return the gesture. 

“Baby, you better not be getting any ideas with her around just because she’s sleeping with Nikki.” Though she was quite ignorant, I kept my cool. I was as covered, if not more, than some of the people he was talking to at the pool party. Glancing over my shoulder at Nikki who was beginning to open his mouth, I stuck my hand up slightly to signal him to stop.  

“My apologies sweetheart, I’m sure my midriff was giving him all sorts of ideas.” Grabbing the white shirt from over my shoulders I pulled it over my head. My sweat had made it so that my cleavage was as bright as day but the rest of my torso was covered. Pulling the shirt taut by the hem so that this was emphasised to her I continued, “There we are.” Letting go of the end of my shirt and turning on my heel, I waved to everyone. “Things are sounding good you guys! I’ll bring down some dinner around 8:30.” The silence in the room was deafening but the thumbs-up of support from Tommy didn’t go unnoticed. Walking out the door, I left the boys to deal with the two blondes. 

“I’ll say what we are all thinking. JJ would win in any wet t-shirt contest.” That was unmistakably Tommy’s voice.

Next Chapter 

[hispeculiartreasure]

All We’ve Got is Time - Chapter Three | B.B.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

AU: If They’d Survived/Post-War/Window Washer!Bucky Barnes

Rating: Teen | Due to language

Word count: 2,930

Chapter 3/24

Warnings: Very brief language

AN: Y’all are getting this chapter a night early because I have had a supremely shitty week and could use some cheering up. So far, this has been the chapter I was most nervous to write because it’s from Bucky’s POV. I have felt so incredibly unworthy of trying to delve into this character because so many fantastic writers I know and love write him flawlessly. It’s been so intriguing for me to explore what Bucky would be like post-war and I think I’m liking where this is going. This chapter has actually turned into one of my favorites and I’m proud of how it came out. Sidenote: Did y’all REALLY think I was going to write something completely void of Steve Rogers???? If you did, you don’t know me that well 😉

Chapter Two

Series Masterlist

Mondays usually were accompanied by drowsiness and wistful thoughts of a weekend passed.

Not for Bucky.

For Bucky, Monday meant he could return to a life where he blends in, where he gets to be the one who observes everyone else. Washing windows is not what he wants for the rest of his life, but for now it felt good to be doing something useful, to have tangible results in front of him everyday. Monday morning means having someplace to be, a set schedule for his day, someone counting on him, and quiet stretches of time alone and away from the worried eyes of his family members.

The pitying glances over breakfast were becoming a bit much for him. Bucky loved his family to death, wouldn’t trade them for the world. But for all their ability to give him space to figure his life out, they sure were clueless that he was keenly aware of the way they looked at him, the way they spoke to him. He doesn’t really blame them, he wouldn’t know how to handle himself either. Most days he pastes on a smile, tells them not to worry, he’d be back on his feet soon. Maybe if he said it enough times, he’d actually believe it too.

Unfortunately Monday also meant dealing with the rest of the boneheaded window washing crew. He was constantly reminding himself to go easy on them, they were just kids. But nothing made him more aware of his age and veteran status than being around them. Compared to their carefree countenances, he realized how much he’d been through, how much he’d seen, how much he’d survived. He should be grateful they were able to be total idiots instead of being shipped off to war. But most days he was tempted to share the number of his confirmed kills so they would leave him alone.

Bucky scales down the building, wind tousling his hair as he looks up to count how many floors he’s finished.

That makes this. . . six.

He peers through the window, pretending to be checking the glass. Scanning the office, he doesn’t see you - his disappointment surprising him.

In the week in which he’d been working on the east side of the building he’d seen you every single day. The way you carried yourself was what first caught his eye - you were confident, poised, not demanding attention but not morphing into a wallflower. You cared about your work, always looking intense and focused. And you saw him. Not in the way people usually saw him - as a figure in the window, someone to be ignored and walked past. In the smallest of ways you were kind to him. You waved every single day, always had time to spare him a smile. There was something about you that was calming. Granted, your interactions were minimal and nonverbal. But you didn’t make him nervous. Which was a rare occurrence these days.

Something in him just wasn’t working lately. Every girl he took dancing, he stepped on her toes. Try to share a meal, he couldn’t find anything to chat about. Dating was easier before he left. Or maybe everything had gotten harder since he’d returned home.

He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit it. Bucky knew he’d changed, he just hadn’t realized how much. Steve had echoed the sentiment a few nights ago.

Reluctantly, Bucky had allowed his idiot friend and Peggy to drag him to a bar after dinner - how the times had changed. It wasn’t one of their old haunts from before the war. Neither Bucky nor Steve could handle the cacophony of noise a club filled with energetic people brought. They bumped into several groups of those kinds of people, including a raucous group of slightly inebriated young women. Suddenly they felt old, weary, uneasy in a place where they used to belong. Or at least where Bucky used to belong, Steve always argued.

This place was quiet, refined even. Conversations were at a dull murmur while a band played casually. No one was here to drunkenly drown their sorrows or celebrate being alive wildly. Almost like everyone here knew the patrons just needed a rest.

“You realize you two don’t have to invite me on all your date nights, right?” Bucky huffed as the three settled at a table near the back.

Peggy smiled coyly.  “Don’t worry, James. You aren’t welcome for the entire night.” Steve choked on his drink, coughing violently while his ears burned pink. Bucky’s response had been something along the lines of “gross”.

After the usual chit-chat, Steve had waited for Peggy to excuse herself to refresh their drinks before broaching the subject.

“Doing okay, pal?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky responded, rolling the last sip of his whiskey in its glass.

“You sure?”

Bucky recognized that voice. Eyes flicking back to Steve’s guilty face, his suspicions were confirmed. “Alright, who’s been in your ear this time? Ma? Becca?”

“I’ve got my own eyes and ears.” Steve waited a beat before adding, “But your ma did mention-” Bucky groaned, not hearing the rest of the sentence. “Don’t be like that. They just care about you, Buck.”

“I know,” he snapped. Then he repeated quietly, “I know.”

“You’ve been dragging a lot. Gotta admit you haven’t been yourself.”

Bucky leaned back, leveling Steve with a hard look. “To tell you the truth, Steve? I don’t know who I am. Nothing that mattered to me before means anything anymore. Once I got to Europe. . . I stopped making plans. Didn’t seem to be much use in dreaming about things that I’d never come home to. But then you, being the punk you are, saved my ass countless times - even caught me falling off a damn train - and somehow I’m back in New York. I didn’t plan on having a 29th birthday or hugging my family again.” He idly scratched at an itchy patch of his beard. “Yet here we are.”

“We’re all lucky to be alive, Buck.”

“But for what?” Silence hung thick in the air at Bucky’s question.

“You know. . .” Steve started, then paused. “I do know where you’re coming from.”

“Don’t try to sell me that bullshit. You’re literally a god-damn hero. There are comic books written about you, movies carrying your name, and you have job security for the rest of your life. You had dinner at the White House on your birthday and bagged a kickass partner in crime. If that’s not purpose, what is?”

Steve had the nerve to look embarrassed. “It may be purposeful. . . but it’s not normal. You know better than anyone else that all I wanted was to do my part in the fight. To say I got more than I bargained for is an understatement.” Bucky could only respond with a snort. “But none of us thought I’d survive the scarlet fever, the arrhythmia, or the anaemia. I was lucky to make it as long as I did. The chances of me surviving the serum injection were laughably low.”

Memories of many days spent at Steve’s bedside float over the table, somehow sobering Bucky even more. “But each year was a surprise. My ma would’ve called it a blessing. I never knew what to do with myself, especially when the war started and I was the only man not being shipped off. . . I was desperate to feel normal. What I got was a hard swing in the other direction.” Steve’s eyes shifted to Peggy at the bar, a whisper of a smile on his lips. “I’m grateful for it, don’t get me wrong. But sometimes I wouldn’t hate it if I had ended up with a stable job, a calm life, and a happy home.

“So I get it. Purpose, normalcy. . . we’re all struggling to find what we lost the last few of years.” Steve clasped Bucky’s shoulder, “But Ma taught me that we always have to stand back up. I don’t care if I have to drag you to your feet, Buck, we’ll get you back up. Whatever we have to do to make it happen.” Bucky knew the stubborn fool in front of him wasn’t going to let him wallow much longer. The tables had turned harshly.

Peggy returned to her seat with three drinks in hand, instantly catching on to the shift in mood that had happened during her absence. Misty-eyed, Steve and Bucky cleared their throats and shifted in their seats.

“And while the pair of you are gallivanting around saving the world, I’m washing windows and living with my family, who don’t know what to do with me.” Bucky had meant it as a joke, but it came out much more bitter than intended.

“Still haven’t heard back from the VA?” Bucky just shook his head at Steve’s question, tossing his drink back in one gulp. “You know you’ll always have a job waiting for you at the SSR as long as me and Peggy are there.”

“Eh, that’s not the kind of normal I’m looking for.”

“What are you looking for?” Peggy asks softly, even gently, for her.

“Guess that’s the million dollar question, huh? A coupla years ago, all I cared about was having a good time and getting through school. Dancing with pretty dames. Maybe get hitched, have some kids.”

“And now?” Peggy prompts in a way that allowed no room for a vague answer.

“I wish I could tell ya, Peg. I really do.”

Peggy’s voice echoed in his mind again.

And now?

Bucky shakes that night from his mind, still not spying you anywhere in the office. Deciding you were either taking a late lunch or were sick, he gets on with his job. Halfway through cleaning the window he notices someone sit at your desk, which was strange. You’ve kept your workplace meticulously tidy since the first day he saw you - surely you wouldn’t appreciate this. Out of the corner of his eye he kept track of the stranger’s movements as he continues to work. Part of him wants to tell the lady to buzz off for you, another part of him can’t wait to watch you take down the person scrambling up your desk, the other part of him. . . . is definitely attracted to the Desk Invader.

He only catches glimpses of her during his task and her chair is angled away from him to tend to a filing cabinet adjacent to her desk, so he can’t see her face. But Bucky could tell she was graceful. Ruby red nails carded through the mounds of files, curled hair shined in its rolled-back fashion. Her dress was a bold blue - and fit in all the right places if he let his mind wander.

Right when he was getting desperate for a look at her, she swivels her chair back to the desk - revealing half of her face. Fine powder, bright red lipstick, nothing he hasn’t seen his sister don at the beginning of her day.

She’s made up like every other girl he’s seen pass through the office. Well, not every girl. You seemed to prefer a utilitarian approach to your appearance, which he didn’t ha--

And then the stranger turns fully towards the window, smiles, and waves at him.

It was you.

Is that actually her?

Bucky leans back in his rigging and takes you in fully. Yeah, looks like the utilitarian approach was out. In was a dame on-trend and truly pulling it off. Before you were beautiful, charming. Now? With the makeup only serving to highlight your features? You were stunning. Shaking his head, he can feel the heat in his cheeks with the realization that he’s been ogling you while you watch. Your smile falters, shoulders drop ever-so-slightly. Not very gentlemanly of you, Barnes.

Bucky touches his own face and hair, raising a brow. Making it obvious that he was looking you up and down, he quirks his head to the side in question.

You roll your eyes so far into your head, a chuckle escapes from him. After a surreptitious glance over your shoulder at the rest of the bullpen, you point towards the office he assumes belongs to your supervisor. He nods. Quickly, but clearly, you raise a certain finger in the direction of the office door.

A laugh emanates from deep in his chest, Bucky’s shoulders heaving. He can’t remember the last time he’s laughed hard enough that his eyes are forced shut. When he opens them again, a similar smile is echoed on your face, definitely pleased with his reaction. You’re sassy. He likes that.

With a remnant of a easygoing-Bucky he’d almost forgotten about, he sticks out his lower lip appreciatively while nodding towards you. Accompanied by a wide grin, he knows you’ve gotten his point. You look good.

You duck your head, but he catches the smile you aim toward your lap. A little something stirs in his chest.

And now?

Then and there, he decides he’s going to allow himself to be impulsive.

Just this once.

Bucky knows for certain he has never completed his job so quickly -and probably never as sloppily. He checks his watch as he smooths down his hair. Just as planned, he’s finished earlier than usual - much to the confusion of the rest of the window washers. After stashing his supplies in the outdoor service closet designated for his team he rounds the building, the front entrance being his destination. The remainder of the team was still cleaning several floors up.

From above Bucky hears his boss shout, “Where you going, Barnes?”

“Don’t worry about it, Harrison,” he shouts back. “I finished. Got something to take care of.”

“You better be here early tomorrow!”

Tucking the tail of his shirt into his slacks, he favors the stairs for the elevator as he climbs to the sixth floor and is met with a giant bullpen of desks and offices.

That’s when it registers exactly how many women work in this office - funny how he hadn’t noticed before you walked in. He’s become accustomed to having little attention paid to him due to the nature of his job but now at least a dozen sets of cat-eye-lined eyes are set on his every movement.

Oh boy.

Trying to be as nondescript as possible he begins to head to your desk when the abrupt clearing of a throat stops him. Sitting at a huge desk immediately in front of the elevator is the most intimidating woman he’s ever seen. Tall and rail-thin, her features seem to be pulled tight with the fastidious bun resting at the nape of her neck. A gold sign affixed to the front of the desk reads: M. Flannery, Office Manager.

“May I help you. . . sir?” Scrutinizing him behind thick-framed glasses, she somehow dons an expression that makes her more severe.

“Umm. . . I’m just looking for someone. . . ma’am.”

“May I inquire who it is you have business with?”

He waves a hand, warding her away from the chock-full appointment book she was reaching for. “No, I don’t have an appointment or anythin’ like that.”

“Then what exactly is the reason you are here?”

“There’s a typist I was hoping to speak with.”

“What is her name?”

Shit.

“Umm, I- we’ve only exchanged pleasantries. I was hoping to catch her name today.”

Mrs. Flannery hums disapprovingly.

“I know where her desk is,” he points to the furthest corner of the office, “she had on a blue dress today. Can I pop over there and say hello?”

“I am afraid unauthorized persons are not allowed past the front desk.” An argument bubbles in him, but he swallows it down after her stern gaze tells him that it was a lost battle.

“. . . Could you ask her to meet me out here, then?”

“The woman you are looking for has already left for the day.”

“Oh.” All his nervous energy deflates and the letdown weighs heavy in his gut. He turns to leave when Mrs. Flannery speaks again.

“You may leave a note with me and I will deliver it to her when she arrives in the morning.”

“I would appreciate that, thank you, ma’am.” He looks down at his empty hands, then scratches the back of his neck. “Got a pad and pen I could use?” She sighs heavily, as if his request is the most inconvenient part of her day. Once she shoves the utensils in his direction, he stares at the paper. In the heat of his impulsivity he hoped he’d see you and know exactly what to say. Now the blank page mocks him. Mrs. Flannery’s pointer finger taps on the desk, urging him to hurry up.

Bucky glances up at the office manager again. “I’m guessing I can’t convince you to give me her name, huh?”

“I am not in the habit of giving out young women’s personal information to every dandy that walks in. I will make sure it gets to the girl in the blue dress.”

Becoming increasingly uncomfortable under her gaze, he scribbles the only thing he could think of and folds the paper twice. Holding out the note Bucky asks, “For her eyes only, ma’am?”

Mrs. Flannery’s eyes narrow as she takes the note from him. “I am offended at the implication that I would violate the privacy of a person’s correspondence.” With an upturned nose she swivels away from Bucky, promptly dismissing him.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

With a spring in his step he returns to the stairwell, whistling a happy tune; purposefully ignoring the room of women still watching his every move.

Chapter Four

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[sweetgubler-blog]

Coffee Run - Spencer x Reader

A/N - Hi shisters so this is my first piece of writing I have done in a while so i do apologise in advance if it’s shitty, believe me, it will be lmao :))

Words -  1151

Warnings - None

Y/N - Your name

E/C - Eye colour

H/T - Home town

______________________

You have recently been job searching for the past six months. Life has been a mess and it seemed to be falling apart. Previously, your partner had broken up with you due to them being long distance at a university across the country, flunking out of college because of low grades, and being behind on paying rent in the apartment you lived in. Luckily, in these six months passed, Y/N had been offered an internship at the BAU in Quantico, Virginia. So far, the job consisted of coffee runs, filing paperwork, always being by the phone whenever it rings, and just usual secretarial work. You didn’t mind, it was good to try something new and out of your comfort zone.

Monday. The worst day of the whole week. The weekend seemed to fly by for Y/N, since you were so busy preparing for your start first thing Monday morning. Dragging yourself out of bed, you showered, got dressed, had breakfast, and managed to arrive on time to the BAU. You were greeted by none other than Aaron Hotchner. Hotch had previously interviewed you for the role, and by first impressions, he seemed quite serious. Well, yeah. It is the FBI we’re talking about, of course he would be serious.

“Y/N, thank you for arriving on time this morning. I have sent to you the required tasks for today and I expect them to be done by the time you have finished.” Hotch said, a stern look on his face before turning around and walking back to his office.

Walking over to your desk, you pull up your emails to look at the item he had sent.

Make coffee’s for everyone on the floor

Organise mail into the correct pigeonhole

Schedule meeting for 2pm

Answer calls

Okay, not so bad. You had this in the bag. Closing the window, you stand up from your desk to go get started on the first task. Walking over to the coffee machine, you make one Latte for a girl named Emily, one Espresso for Derek, one flat white for Jennifer and one mocha for a man named Spencer. Placing the lids carefully on top of each cup, you put them in a cardboard tray and make your way to their offices.

After delivering JJ’s coffee, you are greeted by a bubbly blonde girl.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Y/N! My name is Penelope Garcia and I am the technical analyst for the BAU. Are you starting to get the hang of things around here?” She asked. She seemed like the type of person you’d get along with.

“Yeah, so far this morning I’ve just been making coffees for everyone. Nothing too exciting. Hotch seems a bit… uptight.” You laughed. Garcia snickered and nodded in agreement.

“Don’t worry, hun. You’ll get use to his ways. Anyway, I must be off. Lot’s of things to do and lot’s of people to see! Well, actually, I don’t really have anyone to see. I’m just going to be sitting at my desk and watch cat videos. I’ll see you later and it was a pleasure to meet you!” She sang before walking away. It was nice to have company, especially in a new work environment. Getting back on task, the next person to deliver coffee too was… wait. Already forgetting the name of your co worker, you pull out your phone to look at who to go to.

“Dr. Spencer Reid, there we go.” You mumbled to yourself making a mental reminder.

Picking up where you left off, you found yourself wondering the halls of the building which seemed like forever just to find Spencer’s office. Eventually, you made it to his office. Putting your phone back in your pocket, you hesitantly knock on his door. Patiently waiting for him to open it, there was no response. Knocking once again, you stood at his door until you decided to give up. Before turning around, you hear a males voice behind you.

“Can I help you with something?” He said.

Jumping at the sudden voice, you accidentally drop the coffee on the floor.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” You said empathetically, before kneeling down and trying to clean up the mess.

“No, let me. Please I insist.” You heard him say again. He knelt down next to you and grabbed the cup from your hands. Looking up you meet the eyes of a young man, probably in his early thirties, smiling at you with happiness in them. Feeling yourself weaken by the attraction he had you stumbled to find the right words.

“I-I’m so sorry, it’s my first day and I was on my way to deliver a coffee to Spencer Reid. By any chance do you know where I can find him?” He chuckled at your comment, before helping you up to your feet once again.

“Yes, I do know where he is.” A playing smirk on the man’s face caught you off guard and a bit confused.

“Um, okay. So can you tell me where to find him?” You asked, a hint of laughter in your voice.

“You already have. Spencer, pleasure to meet you.” He greeted, holding out a generous hand to shake. Staring into his hazel eyes with your E/C ones, you get lost in them as you continue to shake his hand, forgetting to let go until he clears his throat.

“O-oh, sorry, um, I’m Y/N. I’m the new intern here.” You told him. A blush on your cheeks, you hang your head low in embarrassment.

“Well, I think it’s obvious that you are new around here. Alas, welcome to the BAU.” Spencer said happily. God, you could just melt at the sight of him. You never expected someone this young, and let’s be honest, really attractive, to be working for the FBI. But you didn’t mind, it would be nice to get use to seeing him everyday.

“So where did you work originally?” He asked again.

“Well, I moved from H/T after I broke up with my boyfriend, I’ve been looking for a job for ages but never had any luck, until now.” You explained to him as he was listening eagerly.

“Well, the BAU is a great place in my opinion to start off an internship. This place really helped me come out of my shell. It’s an amazing experience.” His fondness made you genuinely happy, which you haven’t felt in a long time.

“Well, thank you for the advice. I’ll definitely keep those words in mind.” You said, a smile on your face to match his. “Hopefully we can bump into each other again soon. Well, besides the coffee spilling incident, maybe I’ll actually manage to get it to your desk next time.”

‘We just might.” Spencer finished, a smirk on his face as he turned around and walked away.

[heartsofstrangers]

What has been one of the most challenging things you’ve experienced or are currently experiencing?

“Probably drug addiction.”

Tell me about that.

“Since I was fourteen years old, the first time I ever tried it, I’ve been intermittently addicted to crystal meth. The past four years, it’s been pretty consecutive other than the four months that I spent in jail two years ago. I guess that’s the gist of it.”

When did you start using it?

“I was about fourteen years old. I used to do it every other weekend with a group of shitty friends that I had made.”

What was going on in your life at that time?

“I had just lost my best friend, who was like my brother; we grew up together. He died from complications due to diabetes. I saw that they were using it and I had taken Adderall before. I thought it was like Adderall, except you could snort it or smoke it, and I thought that’s always fun. I recognized that they were carefree on it, and I wanted to be like that, so I did it.”

What was it like the first time you got high?

“It was sketchy and I was on edge. I don’t know if you’ve done any sort of upper, but it’s intense. It actually made me feel disgusting for a while. I felt really gross the entire time and then coming down was awful, but something inside me wanted to do it again, so I did. It disconnected me from the world. All that really mattered was scribbling on a piece of paper for hours on end. I guess it was really getting lost in reality.”

How did your life unfold—were you in school at that time?

“It kind of caused me to ‘fail out’ of high school; I didn’t drop out, but failed out pretty bad. I had to retake my sophomore year on the computer and graduated at the bottom of my class because of it, or the choices I made while on it. I don’t really know if I was in control or not then.”

You talked about jail—how did you end up there?

“I got arrested leaving a drug deal in June 2015 and then, after my parents bailed me out, I stopped going to court for the probation sentence and a year and a half later, they picked me up at my older brother’s apartment at 11:00 p.m. Six bounty hunters apprehended me and  then I spent the next four months in Montgomery County. I was there for Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, Christmas, New Year’s Eve, New Year’s, and almost my birthday, all behind bars.”

What was that like?

“Honestly, it wasn’t that bad. It was pretty shitty and I was very confined. I was in a sixteen-man room for the most part. It was me and fifteen other people, all in a big-ass room full of bunk beds, having to stare at each other all day.”

Where did that lead you to mentally? Did you process anything in your mind about where you had been, where you wanted to go, where you were?

“I just wanted out. It kind of made me feel like an animal. In Texas, I don’t know what it’s like anywhere else, but you become state property when you’re incarcerated; you lose all your rights. Basically, you’re a body with a name. You’re not a human in there. It’s weird.”

How long ago was that?

“It was January 2017.”

Where did you end up when you were released?

“Back to my older brother’s, and he does dope too. I went right back to where I started, or stopped at midway.”

So, you were sober and clean in jail?

“Yes, while I was there.”

Did you go through withdrawal?

“I slept for the first four days. I didn’t eat or use the restroom; I just slept.”

So, you get out, move back in with your brother, and get right back into it?

“The night that I got out, I used.”

What’s your relationship like with your family, aside from your brother?

“I don’t talk to them, only whenever they speak to me and, even then, it’s usually just my mom, and it’s like once every two weeks, sometimes twice.”

What are those conversations like?

“I love you, I miss you. I love you too, I miss you too.”

Do they live locally?

“They live about two hours away.”

Do they kind of push you away due to your addiction?

“I alienated myself because I knew I’m not anyone a parent could be proud of—that’s how I feel. Because of my problem, and I don’t want them to see me like this and I won’t let them. So, I pushed myself away from them.”

Have you done that with close friends as well?

“I’ve done it with everyone.”

So, who are you associating with, dealers and other users?

“Yeah. I dated this dude for almost a year and he basically isolated himself away from me recently because of it. That really fucked me up a little bit because I feel like I put so much into it, but really it was just me high as hell, overthinking everything, all the time, slowly dissipating into nothing.”

It’s got to be a pretty lonely feeling to be that isolated.

“Yeah, but you’re never really alone when you’re a drug addict.”

Because you’re connecting with your substance.

“I’m perfectly fine with being alone, but I’m not okay with how lonely I am most times.”

Are you scared at all to continue down this path?

“Yeah, because I don’t know where my life’s going. So, I just get high and it’s like ‘where are you going now?’ to go get high.”

How can you afford to get high?

“My best friend sells it. My only friend just happens to be a drug dealer.”

Are you performing any sort of acts or anything in exchange?

“No, no, no; we’re just really good friends and misery loves company. He’s basically in the same spot I’m in.”

What are some of the things you’ve lost along the way through these years of addiction?

“Honestly, I lost my sanity, a lot of good friends, and a close tie with my family. I lost my car. I lost my license. Somehow I lost my social security card, but I don’t think that had anything to do with drugs. I lost my apartment, but that was at the beginning so that’s not a big deal.”

Where are you living now?

“I live with my friend, Pat, who is also a drug addict, but he’s a more functioning one, I should say. He’s held a job for four years and his addiction is kind of new and, ironically enough, I’m the first one he ever tried it with, which is kind of funny or fucked up.”

Have you ever been in any situations where you felt like your life was being threatened?

“No, not really. Not that I can think of, but I don’t know . . . no.”

How’s your judgment when you’re high?

“You can rationalize just about anything. For the most part, I would say it’s pretty good. There are dumb people who get addicted to drugs and there are people who are addicted to drugs who already have a good grip on reality and are able to make the right decisions or rational ones at least, but I’ve done some pretty stupid stuff.”

What are some of the stupid things that you’ve done?

“Not put the filter on a vacuum cleaner and small things like that. I’ve never done anything really stupid like rob anyone. I did, however, one time throw a brick through a window. I was super pissed off at the person who lived at the apartment and, in a fit of rage due to addiction or substance use, I picked up what was closest to me, which happed to be a chipped piece of concrete by the curb and chucked it threw the window. I don’t know how’s that going to fix it, but it made me feel better. It was really stupid.”

Prior to losing your friend, had you experienced any sort of obstacles early on in your life that taught you some coping skills to deal with grief, pain, or challenging experiences?

“To isolate; that’s all I’ve ever really known. Get over it and, if you can’t, shut up about it. That’s what I was basically taught.”

Do you want to stop?

“Yes and no. Crystal meth is the only thing that’s kept a roof over my head while, at the same time, it’s kept me on the edge of losing that. It’s the only thing that sort of keeps me connected with the real world because I have friends and acquaintances who use and who keep me from going insane living alone. At the same time, those people come and go. Those people aren’t necessarily friends you want to keep around; they’re people who are just going to bring you down because they’re going to keep you high. I’m aware of that but, at the same time, I can’t stop. So, yes and no. I was sober for about a month and moved to New Mexico with my ex. That didn’t turn out well, obviously. He flew me back here on a last-minute, overnight flight and I started using again.”

How old are you now?

“Twenty-four.”

So, you’ve been using for ten years?

“Just about.”

Any issues with your health?

“No, not that I know of. I probably have shaky hands, but so does everybody.”

Do you sleep?

“Yeah, every night, which is kind of an achievement really if you’re a crackhead like me. I’ve kind of plateaued. I’ve reached a level of tolerance that makes me have a normal sleeping schedule, which is something you really don’t want to be but, at the same time, I’m glad I’m there because now I’m normal-ish. I don’t look cracked out.”

What’s your biggest fear?

“Dying—not from drug use, though I guess that would suck too, but just dying in general, because I don’t know what’s going to happen after that. Maybe my biggest fear is actually not knowing and being unaware.”

In contrast, do you feel like you’re living?

“I feel like I’ve been dead since I was about twelve, but I don’t think that had anything to do with drugs, but the realization of how fucked up the world really is. I think I’m living in a way—I get to do shit that not everybody gets to do, like not have to work, I’m able to explore the city, and that’s what I do every day. I go to different parts of the city and sketch around, but I’m probably not really living, not in a way that’s (I guess) savory.”

Did you grow up here?

“No. I grew up two hours northeast, in a little town, Cold Springs, with about 900 people, and that’s consolidated because it’s a bunch of small towns put together.”

What brought you to Houston?

“Drugs. I bounced from circle of users to circle of users to circle of users until I ended up in Kingwood. Kingwood is right on the outskirts of Houston. I just migrated over here, made friends wherever I could, and now I’m here.”

When you agreed to do the interview, did you have any idea that you’d be talking about this?

“No, not at all. I honestly had no idea what it would be about. I was just like ‘an interview, okay, that’s fine.’ I thought maybe it was going to be ‘how do you feel about Houston’ or some sort of typical bullshit interview, but I didn’t think it would make me open my eyes to shit I’ve been closing them to or haven’t said out loud in a while. I’ve said this stuff before, ‘I don’t want to do this.’”

How does it feel to hear yourself expressing these things?

“It kind of pisses me off.”

In what way?  You’re pissed at yourself?

“Yeah, because I know I’m just going to go get high afterwards.”

Are you high now?

“No. I used, but I’m not high. I guess that’s high; I don’t really know. The last time I used was about six hours ago. I get high and then there’s other days where I just get by and, today, is a just a get by day because I didn’t do too much of it.”

What happens if you don’t use?

“I sleep and I’m dead to the world basically, which is probably what I am now, but in a different way because I’m asleep. I’ve slept for thirty-six hours straight before and my friends have asked if I had a bladder infection, and I said that I was good, just tired. When I woke up, I had muscular atrophy, where I couldn’t really feel much, and then I’d just waddle around until I found food, and then I was good.”

Would you say you’re depressed?

“Probably clinically. I used to take Pristiq, but it didn’t mix well with my meth use, so I cold turkey stopped taking it after about six months. It’s a serotonin replacement or something, but I thought it was kind of bullshit. I’ve been told before by friends that I’ve been manic; they would say ‘wow, you’re pretty manic’ and I’d say ‘yeah, I know.’”

Do you think you were like that before the drugs or has that manifested since?

“Half and half. I’ve always been kind of bipolar-ish, but this has really intensified it or brought it to a meniscus versus overflowing. If it was overflowed, I’d probably be in prison, but it’s definitely got to that point.”

What keeps you in that elevated state?

“Being aware that I’d probably go to prison, so to stay at a constant ‘that’s okay.’ It’s not necessarily the way anybody would want to live.”

What were you like as a child?

“I didn’t take ‘no’ as an answer. I wasn’t a spoiled brat or handed everything I wanted, but I didn’t have to ask for much. I never really had to go without anything. My parents weren’t wealthy, but they were comfortable, and have been that way as long as I can remember. For the most part, I’d say I was a pretty happy kid.”

How did you meet your friend who died?

“We were neighbors. He was like my brother. I don’t have close ties or close relationships with anybody like I did with him. He was the first person I could ever really say was my best friend. When you’re a kid, grandparents, aunts, uncles, parents’ and grandparents’ friends die, and  you say ‘oh, that’s sad.’ But, when your fourteen-year-old best friend dies, basically out of the blue, he just wakes up one morning and then he’s dead . . . That shit really happens, people die, people who you know die, people you’re close with die, and it’s hard. It sucks pretty bad, especially when you’re that young and you don’t really know how to take it in. You know how you’re supposed to take it in, you know how people do it, and you see it in movies, but there’s something inside of you that dies too, and you can’t wake it up. Josh was my best friend and was like a brother to me. We did just about everything together.”

What would you say to him if he was here now?

“That I’m sorry. I would tell him that I’m sorry because, at this point, I would have probably alienated myself from him too. I guess given if he had left and came back. Yeah, I would tell him that I was sorry because I’m sure he wouldn’t have wanted to see me like this.”

What do you think he would say to you?

“I don’t know. He’d probably call me an idiot, but I’m not sure.”

If you could go back to your twelve- or fourteen-year-old self in that time in your life, as the adult you are now, what would you say to that child?

“Don’t do it. You’re going to fuck up. Don’t do it, but that twelve- or fourteen-year-old probably wouldn’t listen anyway. He’d probably think that I was stupid because ‘no’ is not an answer and ‘don’t’ is not a reason.”

What were you passionate about at that age?

“I really liked art and liked to draw. I haven’t actually picked up a pen or pencil and drawn anything since I was about seventeen. My senior year of high school was a pretty heavy usage year. I was focused on doing that versus something that made me happy.”

How does it feel when you’re drawing or creating something?

“It’s instant gratification, kind of like vacuuming is to me now. I did it, it’s there, that’s something I did, it’s something I completed on my own, other people get to see it, I get to see it, know that it’s done, know that I did it, and I like it. It’s a successful feeling, but I haven’t felt that in a minute.”

Did you have any other outlets that you felt a connection to?

“I listened to music a lot. Even now, I listen to music all the time. I never played any instruments and I’m not really talented in any other way, but I like music.”

Do you write at all?

“No, not at all. I don’t even remember the last time I wrote something down. My handwriting probably looks like someone trying to write with their left hand. I’m not used to a pencil or pen; it’s unfamiliar.”

What’s the first thing you do in the morning when you wake up?

“I drink coffee sometimes; that or Coke, which is terrible for you. I eat, smoke a cigarette, and then smoke dope (I guess use).”

Have you ever felt hopeless and suicidal?

“Yes, at least twice a week. I feel like I’ve reached a point where there’s no way of turning around. I’m twenty-four years old and I already hold a drug possession felony. No one’s going to want to hire me, so I haven’t tried to look anymore. I have basically no friends, especially if I were to stop. My family and I aren’t really close and they don’t want to help me anyway. I feel like there’s not a good enough reason to want to keep living but, at the same time, I’m kind of too much of a pussy to kill myself.”

So, you’re just kind of slowly and passively doing it through using drugs every day and not taking care of yourself.

“Pretty much.”

Is this what you thought you’d be doing tonight?

“No. I knew I was going to be doing an interview, but didn’t think it would be such a reflective one.”

If there was someone else out there listening to this or reading this who could relate to where you are in your life and where you’ve been, and possibly feeling hopeless or numb, or even just alone, what message would you want them to hear and know?

“That they’re not alone. There are other people just as fucked up as you are. I have a really bad mouth, it’s probably just another side effect of drug use. They’re not the only ones who feel nothing or like they are that.”

Is there any part of you that sees a different future for yourself other than your situation right now?

“Yeah, but it’s all sort of hazy. If I were to try to picture it, I couldn’t put the pieces together. It’s more like an audio clip. I can hear myself ‘all right, you’re sober, you’re good, life’s okay,’ but I can’t actually see it. It’s like there’s someone with my voice telling me that, but I don’t see it with my own eyes or inside my own head. I can’t picture it and to me that just tells me it’s not a thing. If you can see it, you can achieve it, and I can’t see it.”

Is it possible that that’s faith? Do you have faith?

“I have something; I don’t know what it is. I don’t know if I’m pessimistic or I’m realistic, but I don’t think I have faith in myself; that’s what it is.”

Why?

“Why should I? Maybe I just doubt myself more than I have faith in myself.”

All the various skills you’ve developed to sustain what you’re doing today could be used in the opposite direction to sustain you in a way that you might thrive.

“I’ve managed to be able to live without any sort of resources other than the kindness of strangers for the past three years, so that’s good; that makes me something.”

That’s strength.

“I’m probably evil. I don’t think I’m a bad person for it—surviving strictly on the kindness of others. It sounds terrible when you say it like that. I’m just getting by how I can.”

What would give you hope?

“Probably better resources. If I knew there would be something to catch me whenever I fell off this horrible plane ride of whatever it is I’m going through now. If there was a safety net that would give me hope. Now knowing that I would hit rock bottom and fall to my death if I were to stop, I won’t stop because of that. If there was something to catch me, and if I knew it would be okay and there was a better support system other than the people who are constantly throwing dope in my pipe, then I probably would stop.”

It’s hard to see that in any situation. I can only speak for myself, but for me, I could never see what was going to catch me either, whether I continued to perpetuate self-destruction and didn’t want to not feel pain anymore, but didn’t know how to end it without inflicting more pain on myself, or to follow my heart and intuition and move in the other direction. My life started to change when I listened to my heart and moved in the other direction, but it was just as scary because I couldn’t see how I was going to have the resources I needed and somehow (and I’m not a believer in your traditional God or any type of religion) miraculously I had what I needed when I needed it. It didn’t ever come in the way I expected it to, and yet it was there, some sort of ground beneath my feet, and that gave me faith and restored my faith that if I had enough courage to continue to be vulnerable, enough to step out of my old behaviors, to step out of the routine, and step out of the comfort, even if it is perpetuating discomfort—somehow it’s familiar so it’s comfortable—if I had the vulnerability and courage to do that, something would catch me. I remember early on looking for people who were going to save me or thinking that all these various opportunities that presented themselves were going to be the quick fix that would save me. What I continued to learn, and to repeat over and over again through making that mistake of thinking someone else was going to save me, is that I had the power to save myself all the while. All the resources I needed were within me. I had to think them into reality: thought, action, reality. Yet somehow, we train ourselves to think it’s going to come the opposite way, that it comes from the outside in, but that wasn’t my experience. I don’t know if that makes any sense to you.

“It does.”

I can relate to that feeling of being stuck. You know you want to get off that ride, but you don’t know if there will be anything to catch you if you’re to get off. So, you stay stuck.

“I made up this fun little terminology of being plateaued. You’ve reached a level where there’s nothing much around other than the great distance between you and the ground and it’s not high enough to put you up in the clouds where you need to be. So, you’re there, drifting above the surface of rock bottom and normalcy.”

It’s like being in limbo.

“Yeah, or purgatory. I live in purgatory. Actually, it might be hell. I live in gray, very gray, not a whole lot of color there.”

Are there moments where you see or feel color in your life?

“There’s a lot of blue and, when it’s not blue, it’s red but, for the most part, it’s gray. I don’t really feel much but, whenever I do, it’s usually just sadness. I get so sad and I feel like I can’t do much about it, so again, I get angry, then I get so mad that I cry and that makes me even more sad, and then I’m mad that I’m crying, so it’s purple or gray. It’s not really a colorful journey—this life. It’s like an old-school comic book, it’s all grayscale with a little blue and a little red.”

What do you know about the process of grieving?

“I don’t. I know that it sucks. I don’t know how to get over it. You can either sweep it under the rug or you can actually deal with it, and I’ve just been sweeping it under the rug. Anything that I’ve ever lost, I’ve been ‘all right, shut that down, shut that down’ and only ever pick up where I left off, which is having it suck basically, whenever someone lifts that rug up for me ‘thanks.’ So, I guess I don’t know much about the process of grieving.”

I’m not particularly sure about the order, but there are five stages of grief. I think you’ve mentioned a few of them, like the deep sadness, the anger, and there’s a stage of blame, transferring that uncomfortable feeling onto someone else, making them responsible for your suffering. There’s also acceptance, which I think is a hard one to come to; we avoid a lot by repressing. As long as we can keep it stuffed down, we don’t have to look at it or accept that it happened. Until we do that, we’re not truly moving on, whether it’s grief or trauma. I had a woman tell me in an interview, and it’s very profound, she said when she started to heal the trauma, the addictions started to go away, and that really stuck with me. I believe that we continue to connect with whatever our substance is, whether it’s our phones, drugs, alcohol, money, or sex, to avoid looking at the wound, but the only way to heal a wound is to treat it with compassion and kindness.

“Not a big band aid?”

No. I know in our culture and in our families, we’re taught to discharge pain, to move away from it, and stuff it down.

“The sun gives you a sunburn, stay away from it kind of thing.”

Yes, but growth, transformation, awareness, wisdom, empathy, joy, and love are all qualities that are developed through leaning into pain and discomfort, not from running away from it. Everything that we long for—that sense of real meaningful connection, fulfillment, sustenance in our life, and purpose—is on the other side of that pain, and there’s no way to skip over it or go around it.

“You got to go through it and deal with it.”

Yeah. It’s shitty. I don’t know what’s worse, spending your lifetime running away from it or feeling shitty for a period of time, then having some relief, and maybe recognizing that you’re resilient, you do have potential, and there is more to life than this grayscale and constant fear of when is the bottom going to drop out.

“I feel like I’ve hit rock bottom a couple of times, like literally scraping my teeth on its surface is where I’ll probably want to stop but, at the same time, I’ve probably hit that part too. It seems like chilling at the mantle.”

Do you have a favorite song lyric, mantra, or something that someone has said to you, maybe even your friend or your parents, that has stuck with you that you’d like to share?

“There are lyrics to a song that says ‘if you talk me out of my needs and stitch me up at the seams then I can live in my dreams’.”

What’s that mean to you?

“It’s kind of sad, if you think about it. If I didn’t have to do the things I have to do, then I’d be happy. If I didn’t have to wake up and get high, I’d probably be okay or if I didn’t require x amount of blah, blah, blah then I’d be cool, things would be okay, and life would be a dream. But, that’s not how it is and I’m living a nightmare. Yeah, talk me out of my needs and stitch me up at the seams, I can live in my dreams.”

Do you think it’s possible to heal?

“Yeah. You just got to rip off that band aid I was telling you about. I don’t know. I feel like, metaphorically, my band aid is waterproof and I don’t want to pull it off because it really hurts, and I don’t want to deal with it, so I slowly pick at it, but eventually I just stick it back on. Yeah, it’s possible to heal; tons of people do it, right?”

Yes. It’s a matter of surrendering. It’s like showing up and saying ‘I don’t know how this is going to turn out.’

“But doing it anyway.”

Yeah. That’s courage, right?

“Yeah. I don’t think I have much of that. Like I said earlier, the fear of the unknown, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to do it, so I don’t try it.”

What’s worse? It seems like you have more to lose by continuing and knowing that the rest of your life may look like it does right now or there’s a risk that you may feel some discomfort for a while, but there’s a chance that things could get better.

“I don’t know. I should probably stop using, because it’s not helping me. I wouldn’t necessarily say that it’s hurting me either, but that’s probably the drugs talking.”

Who would be the first person you would call, if you were to make that choice?

“I’d probably call my mom. Yeah, that’s probably who I’d call. I’d probably tell her to come get me. I’ve done it before. I’ve told her ‘I need you to come get me. I need you to fuckin’ stop what you’re doing and come get me’ and she has; she would do it in a heartbeat. The last time I called her and said that was about three years ago. I’m not too sure how or if she would be okay with it or how she would go about it, but I’d call her. I need to call her actually.

“Not only for that, but I miss my family a little bit, a lot. I haven’t seen them. I spent that one Christmas in jail, but the two after that—I didn’t go, the one before that—I didn’t go. I haven’t been home in so long. I haven’t actually seen my mom in a year—that sucks. For a long time, she was my best friend. She was always a shoulder and an ear. It’s been a while, a long time.”

I hope you do make that phone call.

“We Snapchat sometimes, which is kind of weird. We’re actually Snapchat friends, but I haven’t snapchatted her in about six months. I sent her a text about two weeks ago, and that’s about it. I haven’t heard her voice in a long time. I can still remember what she sounds like, which is kind of surprising. Usually whenever I cut things off like that, I completely disconnect from it. I don’t know what they look like. I don’t know what they feel like. I remember her and her voice; it’s weird.”

Do you think she would answer the phone now if you called?

“She’s probably asleep right now, but yeah she might answer. If not, she would text me ‘what?’, but I think she would answer.”

I hope you make that call after this interview. How has it felt to talk about these thoughts, feelings, and experiences with me tonight?

“Surprisingly, not bad. Like I said, I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. At the beginning, I thought it was probably going to be annoying, but I didn’t find it that annoying because there was a level of comfort versus judgment. I didn’t feel very judged at all.”

It’s a beautiful thing, you being vulnerable.

“Is that what this is?”

Yeah, and you being met with empathy. It kind of kills shame, which I think feeds addiction.

“Probably, yeah, needing to hide something.”

It’s a heavy weight.

“It will suffocate you. That’s always good.”

It’s lethal; it really is.  Do you think it’s possible by sharing your thoughts, feelings, and experiences so courageously tonight, as you are, that someone on the receiving end gains some hope, inspiration, or at least a sense that they’re not alone?

“I would hope so, because this wasn’t that easy to do. Yeah, I think they probably could if they aren’t stubborn assholes like me, and listen all the way through. Because if I were handed this to listen to, read, or watch, I’d probably stop paying attention halfway through; depending on my state of mind I might say ‘I don’t want to hear that.’ If I actually listened to it or if someone like me listened to it from A to B, they’d probably like it; they’d probably get it.”

Yeah.  Thank you.

“Thank you. You’re welcome.”

I’m really proud of you. This was a really courageous thing to do and you skipped right into it.

“I ripped the band aid off that time.”

You did. I hope you’ll continue to do that.

“There’s a bunch of open blisters and sores here—this sounds so weird.”

Thanks.

[petuniatom]

No. 1 Party Anthem [1] | College!Tom AU

Pairing: College!DJ!Bartender/Barista!Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: You’re coming up on your last year of college, grappling with finally getting ready for the actual “adult” world and being in two majors you’re not crazily passionate about. When you’re in the middle of a stressful essay at your favorite local coffee shop/upstairs bar, Dommo’s, you meet Tom Holland, a barista and bartender. 

You slowly get to know each other over sangria, and soon enough manage to slip your way into his world where the days don’t usually end until about 5 a.m., music is everything, and uncertainty is your best friend.

A story about late night laments, sangria, and a whole lot of growing up.

SERIES MASTERLIST | Ch. 2

Word count: 4.5K (short and sweet for now, but we’ll get in some longer chapters soon enough)

A/N: Welcome to my new series! I’m dropping this chapter a lil bit earlier than expected! I’m really excited for this one, and I’ve been cooking it up for a while. This series is going to be split up into two major parts: fall 2018 and spring 2019. This is chapter one of fall 2018! So we’ve got a long story ahead, and lots of character development to come. In the mean time, leave your thoughts. Chapter two of part one will hopefully be out by Monday :-)

“That’s why I’m standing on the overpass screaming at myself HEY I WANNA GET BETTER!” you sang along loudly in the car, speeding along the street with your best friend Tony in the passenger seat.

You were both on your way back to your apartment complex, enjoying the autumn air as you let your car’s windows stay open just a crack and the tunes of your mutual favorite campus DJ. It was about a month into the semester and the stress was mildly starting to hit you, but you were momentarily celebrating the start of the weekend. For a moment, it felt perfect — a drive, a best friend, and a good song.

“All right everyone that was ‘I Wanna Get Better’ by Bleachers, cos some of the first grades of the semester are coming in and well… it’s not looking too optimistic for us over here in this booth for sure,” the radio host said. You and Tony both chuckled in the car. “I’m afraid we’re about to wrap up. But our good friends Aurora and Quentin are about to take over and you’ll be in good hands. Thanks for tuning into ‘Across the Pond.’ I’m Dutch.”

“And I’m Haz,” the other host said.

“And we’ll see you next week. In the meantime, here’s ‘Learning to Fly’ by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.”

And like that, another song drifted onto the radio, and you and Tony began to relax to the soothing sound of Tom Petty’s voice.

“This is the only radio show I ever listen to,” you commented lightly. “They’re always surprising with their music tastes, but like, never in a bad way.”

Tony nodded his head. “It’s kind of refreshing. Remember when ‘Cum Talk’ had this slot?”

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “Do I ever. I can’t believe they were able to get away with that title.”

“Or their shitty content,” Tony mused. Then suddenly, “Hey are you coming out with Jacob and I tonight?”

You shook your head. “Nah, I’ve got this paper I have to finish.”

Tony frowned. “It’s Friday? Can’t you just save it for the weekend? C’mon dude, there’s gonna be free jello shots!”

You tried not to gag. Though you were always down for a good jello shot, it always inevitably left you incredibly hungover and reeling the next morning. 

“Nah, it’s due at midnight because I’m a lameass who didn’t do it earlier in the week. So, I’m gonna head over to Dommo’s tonight and finish it up.”

Tony shook his head. “Whatever, you suck.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and he waved you off. “C’mon, I know it sucks but I’ll go out with you guys next time.”

“You’re our fellow weekend warrior, Y/N! It’s not the same without you!”

You laughed, remembering part of some of the other antics you and your best friends Tony and Jacob had gotten up to over the course of the past few years. It’d been nice to always be one of the boys, taking vodka shots with them at wild house parties and always managing to come back with one crazy story of the night. It was weird to think that in another year or so you’d all be done with college and off in different parts of the world, where you most likely wouldn’t have as much of the fun stories from the weekend to tell as you would have liked.

“It’ll be all right,” you replied. “Why don’t you invite your third roommate instead? It’s always the quiet ones that are the most fun.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “If he ever comes home. I swear I haven’t seen him in about a week.”

You frowned. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. This guy just has one the busiest and most odd schedules I’ve ever seen. I don’t know. I don’t know too much about him because he’s never home for us to actually get to know him.”

“Well, maybe you should text him and ask him if he wants to come out with you both, then you can get to know him. He sounds cool from what Jacob has told me.” And because you were with Tony, you couldn’t resist throwing in a teasing quip. “And I bet with that busy schedule he’s got some pretty cool friends. We could use more of those around here.”

“Oh shut up,” he said, laughing. “I’m mad you’re not coming out with us though, you gotta come next week for, when we have our first Whine and Wine at the new apartment. We’re going to be griping about our first grades, it’ll be fun.”

Whine and Wines were a tradition in your friend group. The rules were for everyone to bring their own glass and bottle of wine, so everyone could switch around what they were drinking at the party. They were always on a weekday night when things were not incredibly busy for everyone, but it was far enough in the week for everyone to have at least one thing to complain about. While it was always a more calm, laid-back gathering, you enjoyed it, mostly because they got everyone in your friend group to open up with each other. Besides, you didn’t mind all the wine you got to drink.

“I’ll be there for that one for sure. I have a hell of a lot to complain about. Might fuck around and bake a cake too while I’m at it.”

“Oh please get us a cake for the first Whine and Wine. It’s the only good idea I think you’ve ever had.”

You hit him playfully in the arm, and pulled up to his apartment. As he excited you called out, “See you tomorrow loser! Mimosas at mine!”

He turn around and gave you a thumbs up. “That’s not if I’m too fucking drunk from tonight!”

****

Gotta get this done, you’d thought, typing furiously on your computer onto a word document in front of you.

You were slightly aware that everyone in this coffee shop was glancing over at you. You’d been used to your loud-typing inciting some speculative looks whenever you’d study in libraries, but you’d learned to ignore it so much after a while.

This 12-page paper was due by midnight and you didn’t realize earlier exactly how much work you had to put into this thing. It wasn’t the worst assignment you’d ever had; you’d done far longer papers before. But the stress and anxiety was swirling around in your brain and it felt like the end of the world for you.

You already had an annotated bibliography and a rough outline prepped. Now, all that mattered was actually getting it finished.

You were so close to the end, so close to your cut-off point when you’d heard some cheers be incited from upstairs. A group of fellow college students slowly shuffled down the stairs, practically barking at each other.

You should have known that this would happen in Dommo’s of all places. It was a Friday night after all. But this was your favorite coffee shop in town, and yeah, maybe they did have an upstairs bar that could be a little bit distracting at times, but you always came here for the nice, specialty lattés.

You tried to keep your gaze fixated on your screen, blocking out the outside noise.

Of course, the universe didn’t want that for you.

“You all right there?”

You glanced up, catching the gaze of a Dommo’s employee, who had a rag in one hand and an empty coffee mug in the other. You perked up even a little bit more of at the hint of the accent he had. He sounded British.

“Fine, thank you,” you said, allowing yourself to flash him a quick smile.

He nodded his head. “All right, let me know if you need anything. I’m mostly going to be working upstairs now, so if you need any more coffee just let me know.”

He started treading away, back over to the counter to clean up a bit more, and you glanced around, suddenly surprised.

You were the only person left downstairs.

You checked the time. It was still well within Dommo’s hours, so you weren’t intruding by any means. But you couldn’t help suddenly feeling a bit weird and uncomfortable downstairs.

You were frazzled as your eyes returned to your screen. Admittedly, you were a bit jealous of all the people upstairs. You had to mute your notifications earlier when you saw messages from Jacob and Tony, both discussing this house party on the east side of town tonight that they were at. It was mostly Tony teasing you about all the jello shots you were currently missing out on, and you got a nice photo of Jacob pouring out a drink in your honor. While they were shotgunning beer, you were chugging down cups of coffee to keep you fueled.

When you’d finally finished the paper, you practically cheered to yourself. All you needed was someone to do a quick readover to catch any grammatical mistakes you made. Then, you glanced up at the time. It was 11:35 p.m.

Fuck.

You wouldn’t have enough time to find someone who could look over it.

Unless…

“Hey, I know this is a bit weird, but would you mind reading over my paper for me?” you called out to the coffee shop employee that had asked you if you were okay earlier.

He glanced up at you, amusement etched across his face. But he said, “Yeah, sure,” and you quickly scurried over to him with your laptop.

“What’s this for?” he asked, glancing over at you across the counter as you set your laptop in front of him.

“A political science class, just on like, how voter laws are causing issues in states across the country,” you explained.

He nodded his head, his eyes moving along the lines of your own words. He came to a brief pause, then asked you, “Mind if I... ?” His hands were looming over your keyboard, and you understood what he was asking.

“Oh yeah, go ahead, do whatever needs to be done,” you said, waving it off. “It’s due by midnight, though, so I’m in a bit of a rush here.”

He nodded his head, quickly typing to fix whatever mistake he’d noticed at that moment.

For the most part, it continued that way for a few more minutes. You toyed with your cell phone, trying not to make him feel uncomfortable by staring at him. You heard him type on your own computer, your lips curling up a little bit when you realized he was a fellow loud-typer.

He was brisk. Soon enough, he turned his laptop back over to you and said, “I just skimmed over it. Fixed a few things, but for the most part I think you’re good.”

You let a long sigh of relief when you realized you still had about ten minutes left to turn it in. “Oh my god, thank you so much. I’ve been stressing about this thing all day.”

You pulled up your professor’s portal to turn into the paper, feeling victory wash over you as you uploaded the final document. When you got a confirmation message, you cheerily closed your laptop.

“I can’t believe you had to write a 12-page paper already,” the employee remarked. “We’re only about a month into school.”

“It’s a 500-level class,” you moped. “I think that’s why.”

He frowned. “That sucks. I’m sorry. And it sucks that you had to do this on a Friday night too, but at least you can go out with your friends or something now.”

You gave him a soft smile, returning your laptop into your backpack by the back table. “I wish. I think I’m a little bit too burnt for a party though. I’m thinking about just going back home and watching a movie, maybe drinking some wine or something.”

He nodded his head. For a minute, he looked like he was debating something before finally saying, “How ‘bout this? I have some sangria I made earlier today, and I’ll let you have some of it for free. It sounds like you’ve had a long day and could use some of it.”

Your eyebrows peaked with interest. “Can you do that?”

“Yeah, you’re over 21 right?” You nodded your head. “Then, yeah, we’re good. C’mon up. I was pretty much done down here anyway.”

You followed the employee up the stairs to the bar, your backpack slung behind your back. As you entered the upstairs area, you noticed that most of the crowd had settled down, leaving just a few people around in the room. Granted, since it was Friday, this didn’t surprise you. Dommo’s Upstairs brand was all about being a morning cocktail spot and the place you’d go to cry into a peach pale ale during the school week. It was more of a pre-game spot, than an active party spot in town. You figured most of the town at this point in the night was now starting the actual party portion and heading out to all the wild gatherings on the other side of town.

You set yourself up at the bar as the employee who had treated you so kindly went around the corner and prepped a glass of sangria for you.

“I never asked your name,” you commented lightly, accepting the glass of sangria with a grateful smile. “What is it?”

He smiled. “I’m Tom.”

“Y/N,” you introduced, waving slightly. “And you go to college here too?” He nodded his head. “What are you studying?”

“Theater and finance.” You raised an eyebrow and he lightly chuckled. “I know, it’s an odd combination. But I love acting, and finance is just kind of my back-up if nothing quite pans out. What about you?”

“I’m political science and economics. So lots of crying and wishing the best for my prospective career.”

Tom laughed. “Well, I can definitely relate to that. But it seems like you have quite the workload a lot of the time and you’re handling it pretty well, so”

“Dude I deadass just wrote a 12-page paper today due at midnight, I’m the worst at handling it,” you replied, slightly chuckling.

“That’s impressive! I would honestly have gotten flustered up and somehow made this elaborate excuse to turn it in late.”

“Honestly, that might have been a better idea, at least for the sake of enjoying the weekend,” you mused. “See I’m incompetent!” You took a sip of the sangria finally, pleased with its taste. “This is really good. You made this?”

He nodded his head. “It’s my own recipe.”

“Can I have that recipe?”

His eyes glimmered. “M’afraid that’s a secret love.”

“Oh whatever,” you replied in a playful tone. You took another sip. “But anyway, theater and finance. How do you balance that?”

He shook his head. “I also don’t really. But I think since I love acting so much it kind of feels like a nice break from the rest of the craziness that’s involved with finance, you know? Like the math can stress me out that’s associated with finance, but since these two majors are almost what feels like on the opposite side of the spectrum at times, they can kind of alleviate one another.” He shrugged. “I don’t know if that made much sense.”

“No, it did. That’s nice. I’ve never really felt that. Political science and econ I feel like have a lot of the same people most of the time, so even though they’re different majors, it’s just like the same type crowd anyway. And even though I think poli-sci is more liberal arts-esque in a way than economics, they still kind of interweave with one another. I don’t know. It’s weird to explain, but like, just all together it can be annoying.”

“Do you like your major though? It seemed like you were kind of into it when you were slamming on your keyboard down the stairs. ”

You shrugged. “It’s all right. I don’t know. And I was only slamming on my keys because I was in a rush and type loudly to begin with, so I don’t know if that’s the best measurement of my passion for it! Honestly, I would rather do something like creative writing, but… You know, stability is important so I strayed away from it.”

Tom shrugged. “I mean, you’re talking to the guy who is studying theater here soooo.” You laughed. “But why didn’t you do that instead? Or like, at least get a minor in it? Is it your parents or something?”

“Isn’t that always what it is?” You took another sip out of your sangria, still impressed by the taste. You might just down this whole glass and another, then have to walk home instead. “I mean like, parents and I don’t know, this weird thing happened my senior year of high school where I started telling people I was interested in creative writing, and they’d always give me those fucking lectures about the future. And so, I don’t know, it made me change my mind. And I can just creatively write in my spare time, right? And like I said, poli-sci and econ aren’t bad or anything; I enjoy them. It’s not what I’m most passionate about, but I care about them still in a way.”

Tom nodded his head. “That’s fair. I remember those talks too from over in England from all the adults. Though, they stopped caring about my major as much when they learned I was leaving the country to study, and then it became a, ‘Are you really sure you want to leave your family behind?’ type deal.” He rolled his eyes. “It was all total bullshit. Want more sangria?”

Oh, you hadn’t even noticed you were close to being done. You nodded your head and passed the glass back over to him. And while he poured another glass, your mind traced back over what you’d just spilled to Tom in the past few minutes. It usually took you awhile to admit these kind of things, especially your insecurity about your own major, to your friends. Yet somehow, this British boy you’d met at your favorite bar and coffee shop managed to sneak that information out of you with ease.

You weren’t sure if it was the sangria, your stress, or him that got you talking. But either way, you were suddenly embarrassed for pouring out so much to this random stranger. He was handling it well, but you figured it might be better to transfer to a lighter topic. At least, one that you wouldn’t immediately regret opening up about in the morning.

“So, Dommo’s huh? What’s it like?”

Tom grinned as he passed you back a glass. “S’all right. I usually do the early morning shifts, and apart from the work rush, it’s normally empty so I can do homework or something. Plus, it lets me get creative with my bartending and by being a barista, so it’s always kind of neat when you try something new out and it becomes the specialty drink.”

“I’m sure it’s handy for parties and stuff with your friends too. And if you’re doing the morning shift you get all this shit to work with to make a cup of coffee before class.”

Tom chuckled to himself. “Yeah, I’ve been known to be the bartender friend of the group, so I’m almost always on drink-duty.” He stared at you for a long moment. “You should come ‘round, the next time we have a party or something. I think if you like my sangria, you’d like my mixed drinks too. I’ve been known to make a good gin & tonic every now and then.”

You raised your eyebrows appraisingly. And that’s when it hit you — this bartender was subtly trying to flirt with you.

You eyed him for a second. He was pretty damn cute. If you hadn’t been in your complete anxious haze earlier, you might of hit on him when you first walked in. Now, that you were out of it, well…

“Yeah, I think I’d be down for that sometime. I mean, just let me know when and where, and I’ll find a way to get there.”

Tom grinned and you realized that your earlier plans of sulking at home this evening were already cancelled.

Four glasses of sangria later, you were sufficiently drunk. Dommo’s Upstairs had pretty much emptied out, and the other bartender was heading back, leaving just you and Tom in there. You glanced up at the clock, noting that it was 1:30 a.m. Had you really been talking to Tom for that long? How had all that time fly by?

You checked your phone, noting a whole flux of texts from Tony and Jacob that you hadn’t read yet. They were mostly asking how your paper went, though there were many typos in the messages from the duo. You knew your friends were just as drunk — if not more drunk — than you were.

“You all right there?” Tom asked.

You glanced up, smiling. “Yeah, m’friends, they’re just super drunk. Those fuckers can’t even type right now.” Your words were slurring together and you laughed at yourself.

“And you’re obviously in pristine condition,” he joked.

You feigned offense. “I’ve never been drunk in my life, Tom!”

“Okayokay, you’re right.” He lifted his hands up in defense, chuckling. “Now, how are you getting home tonight dear?”

“I live not too far, so I’m just going to walk back I think.”

Tom cocked his head. “You sure you don’t have a friend who is sober you can call or something? Or I can call you a Lyft, but it’d be safest for you to call someone you knew really well.”

You frowned. “Well, Jacob and Tony are both drunk. I have some gal pals that might be able to, but… not anyone I’m super close with. I don’t know.”

Tom thought for a long second, then said, “If you’re comfortable with it, I could drive you. But only if you’re comfortable with it. We just met so I would totally get any uneasiness you’d have here.”

You grinned. “Tom, we’re like, best friends now! That’s super okay.”

He laughed at your exclamation, and nodded his head. “All right, we close at 2 a.m. I’ll start cleaning up early so we can leave immediately. You just hang out, all right?”

You nodded your head in agreement.

As Tom shuffled around the bar, setting everything in motion, you began to sing along again to “Learning to Fly” by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. The song had been stuck in your head ever since you’d heard it on the radio this afternoon.

“I'm learning to fly, but I ain't got wings.”

“Coming down is the hardest thing,” Tom sang out from across the room. “Dude, I love that song.”

“It’s been stuck in my head all day,” you said. “Ever since I heard it on the radio this morning, Do you listen to ‘Across the Pond?’ You might like it.”

Tom seemed smug at your response. You raised an eyebrow. “I actually host it,” he admitted. “With my friend Harrison.”

You nearly dropped the glass of sangria you were nursing.

“Are you Dutch? Holy fuck. My friends and I listen to the show all the time. I love it.”

He beamed. “You do? I wasn’t sure if anyone was really paying attention to us.”

“Are you kidding me? Like half the campus is in love with you guys. Everyone I know listens. You’ve got the best taste in music out of all the shows. Remember Cum Talk?”

Tom gagged a little bit. “That show was absolute shit. I don’t know how they got that slot last year.”

“Exactly! No one liked it! But seriously, when you guys did your first episode, my friend and I were hooked on the show immediately.”

Tom’s smile grew. “Well, I’ll have to tell Harrison. We both thought we were shouting into the void for a while there.” He cleared his throat. “I’m gonna go grab something from the back room though really quick, then I’m ready to go. It’s just my jacket and keys.”

You nodded your head, waiting patiently and replying to more of Jacob and Tony’s texts. He came back out after a few seconds, now with a denim jacket around his shoulders and a set of keys in his hand. “Ready to go? I just gotta lock up.”

You nodded your head. “Let’s go, m’kinda tired.”

Tom quickly locked up both the upstairs and downstairs of Dommo’s. He was parallel parked right in front of the shop, and you were grateful he offered you a ride back in your inebriation. You hadn’t realize it was so chilly outside and you knew you would barely survive the short walk back to your apartment.

There were other drunk college students wandering around downtown. There was one small group in particular the two of you passed in Tom’s car, loudly singing “All Star” by Smashmouth and you couldn’t help laughing. In the back of your head, you realized faintly this was truly going to be your last school year to be a part of all of this. Even though you knew you could always go out to bars, drink and have fun, you had the terrible suspicion things wouldn’t just quite be the same. The thought made you incredibly sad.

“Hey, you still holding up okay?” Tom asked.

You nodded your head. “Just thinking bout how this is my last year is all.” You let out a long sigh. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do after this. Oh, fuck, turn left here.”

Tom quickly turned the car, having you glide to the side of the seat. Your apartment complex was now in sight.

“Hey, it’s okay, none of us really do,” Tom said.

But he didn’t get it, since he still didn’t know you well enough. Even though you were the friend who enjoyed to go out — one of the so-called “weekend warriors” — you were also the friend of the group who always had it together. You prided in being functional and having a plan. Now, when it came to life after college, you only felt concern.

He came to a stop in front of your building.

“I didn’t know you lived so close to me,” Tom said, changing the topic effectively. “I’m actually in the same complex a few buildings down from you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Well, you should come over and visit some time then.”

Tom studied you for a long moment in the car. You bit your lip, feeling like maybe he’d just lean over and kiss you right then and there. After the long night of discussion, you thought maybe he’d make the move it felt like he was slowly nudging toward all night.

But instead he said, “Well, thanks for sticking around. I’ll see you sometime again.”

You tried to stuff down your disappointment and said a simple, “Okay, yeah. I’ll see ya.”

You exited the car, giving one last glance back over at Tom. He looked so good. You felt this excitement creep up on you, as you thought of all the possibilities and all the adventures you could have with this person you’d just opened up so easily to in Dommo’s this evening. 

It wasn’t until you walked back up the stairs into your own apartment that you realized you never actually got his phone number.

[fluffyllamas-23]

You should do that thing you just reblogged for Taylor & Audrey? Or maybe Gabe & Ezra? Either would be fantastic 😍😍❤❤

Hi, just so you know I was so excited to get this, anon, thank you??? I was actually thinking that this would work for Gabe and Ezra and I’m glad I’m not the only one who wants it omg.  Sorry this took me so long, but I hope you like it! (Min-ah belongs to @robbiefischer, they were just kind enough to let me borrow her

*

“Ezra, I just had this, and it’s miserable,” Gabe says, one hand on Ezra’s forehead and the other on the back of his neck as Ezra types lesson plans on his laptop.  

“I’m fine, I’m barely even sick, this is the worst it’s going to get,” he rasps, and clears his throat with a grimace before adding a weak, “probably.”

“You’re going to get worse if you don’t stop and rest, love,” Gabe frowns.  “Call out tomorrow.  I’m off, we can spend the day together, and you can sleep and catch up on everything. Mondays suck without a shitty cold.”

“I can’t,” Ezra snaps, twisting away from him. “Stop worrying. I have a cold. You’re a doctor, you see way worse than this all the time.”

“Okay, but you know that if you don’t take it easy, you’ll wind up with strep or tonsillitis or something. You already sound way worse than I did.”

Ezra muffles a coughing fit into the crook of his elbow, and when it finally passes, he winces and presses a fist to the center of his chest.

“I appreciate your concern, but i also have too much to do to deal with this right now.”

Ezra’s tone is edging upwards, something that only happens when he’s stressed the hell out, and Gabe runs his fingers through Ezra’s hair.  

“Sorry. What do you all have to do? Maybe I can help?”

“Um,” Ezra croaks, tugging on his hair in frustration. “I have to write three tests, make the study guides for those, grade five classes worth of assignments, and come up with the presentation schedules, which should have been done Friday….”

“Shit, that’s a lot.”

“I know…I’m usually way more prepared than this.”

“That’s probably my fault,” Gabe winces.

Ezra’s head snaps up, “what? No it isn’t, you were sick.”

“What can I help you with?”

“I don’t know,” Ezra groans, pressing his forehead to the table.

“Have you made the presentation schedules yet?”

“No.”

“I can do that, give me the names.”

“You don’t mind?”

Gabe shakes his head, “give me the list.”

“Okay,” Ezra says, bending down to grab his folder off the floor. “I have two health classes, three psych classes and I wrote all the groups out by class, but I haven’t organized them or anything.  Presentations are Monday-Thursday, three groups a day.  Go crazy.”  

The moment he’s sitting upright, his vision swims around him, and he rests his head in his folded arms with a groan.  

“Are you alright?”

“Dizzy,” Ezra mutters.  “I’m fine.”

“Dizzy is not fine, Ezra,” Gabe snaps.  

“Yes it is. I’m fine, I just changed positions too fast.”

Gabe purses his lips, “okay. When do you have to have the tests written by?”

“Um,” he rasps, rubbing his forehead. “Soon so I can make the study guide. Wednesday by the latest.”

“Want me to stop by during your free period tomorrow and I can help you?”

“I’ve been snapping at you all night,” Ezra groans, rubbing his eyes sleepily.  “Why would you want to spend more time with me than you have to?”

“Because you’re my husband, and I love you, and I know you’re only grumpy because you’re not feeling good and need to sleep,” Gabe frowns, cupping his cheek.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “I only have two more weeks. I can make it two more weeks.”

Gabe manages to talk Ezra into taking Tuesday and Wednesday off that upcoming week, but instead of spending those days on the couch, underneath a blanket and watching Netflix, he spends them at the table, blanket around his shoulders as he coughs his way through everything he has to do.  

That weekend, Gabe convinces Ezra to just relax, and it seems like two days of rest is enough to get him feeling human enough to get through his last week, and by the time Friday rolls around, he’s exhausted and even though he feels better than the previous week, he’s beyond ready for a break.  He still has to grade the tests and input grades into his grade book, and just the thought of doing any of that is enough to make him want to cry.

Gabe is off the next two days, and had offered to take Ezra to and from work, and when Ezra gets into the car, he visibly deflates.

“Congratulations! You’re done!”

“Not yet, I still have to input grades,” Ezra groans, rubbing his forehead.

“Is everything all graded, or do you still have more to do?”

“No,” he mumbles.  “The tests aren’t.”

“When are grades due?”

“Monday morning at eleven.”

“Okay, so we’ll spend tonight and tomorrow morning relaxing, and then I’ll help you get everything done.”

“That sounds nice,” Ezra breathes.

“Yeah it does.  How are you feeling? You’re pale again.”

“Not great, honestly.  But not awful, I’ll live.”

“That’s good,” Gabe grins. “You probably just need one more day to rest.”

“God, I hope so.”

*

It’s Saturday morning, and even though he wakes up before Ezra at nine, he opts to let him sleep for as long as possible. When he’s not up by noon, Gabe walks into their room to check on him, and then stops dead in his tracks when he sees Ezra cocooned in their blanket, shivering so violently that his teeth are chattering.

He’s pale and clammy, his cheeks are flushed a deep red and his eyes (which are glassy from fever) have dark smudges underneath them.  

“Shit,” Gabe hisses, double-timing it over to him, and he puts his hand on Ezra’s forehead.  “Ezra, talk to me.  What’s the matter?”

Ezra opens his mouth to say something, but he’s immediately cut off by a deep, chesty coughing fit, and Gabe can actually hear his lungs crackling.  

“Ow,” he croaks.  

“Can you get up?” Gabe says urgently. “I think you might have pneumonia…it’s time for an emergency room trip.”

He’s fuzzy and out of it, and it takes Gabe much longer to get him to the car than it should.  He’s lightheaded from how incessantly he’s coughing now, and if Gabe didn’t have a hold on him, Ezra would have fallen over by now.

“No hospital,” Ezra gasps, wincing as he rubs his chest. “Don’t wanna stay.”

“I don’t think that’s up to you, love,” Gabe says, glancing at Ezra as he pulls out of the driveway.

“Yes. I’ll leave.”

“You are not leaving against medical fucking advice. Absolutely fucking not.”

Ezra shoots him a glare as he coughs into the crook of his elbow.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. I’ll do my best to convince whoever sees you to let me take you home, but I’m not promising anything because whatever the hell kind of temp you’re running looks miserable.”

*

“Min-ah, he doesn’t want to stay.”

She raises a brow at him, “can you blame him? I wouldn’t either.”

“Let me take him home.”

“He has pneumonia,” she says flatly. “His temp is still above one oh four. You’re not taking him home.”

Gabe rolls his eyes, “yeah I know all that. I meant after we get it down.”

“You’re a doctor. You know he needs to stay in the hospital.”

“You’re right, I am a doctor, and you know just as well as I do that he’ll be fine with me, and you know I’ll keep a close fucking eye on him.”

They stare each other down for a few minutes before she sighs in relief, “fine. But I have some conditions.”

“Okay.”

“You bring him right in if his fever gets back up to one hundred and four, or if he gets confused or disoriented at all, or if he gets short of breath or has chest pain. You will make sure he drinks water every single hour, and if I see you in the hospital in the next couple of days for any reason other than bringing him back in, I’m going to kill you myself because you need to be at home with him.”

“Deal.”

“I’m admitting him and keeping him for a few hours for observation,” she grumbles. “You can’t talk me out of that.”

“Well yeah, I’m not letting him leave until his fever is down and his sats are up.”

Gabe goes back over to where Ezra is lying, half asleep and coughing so badly that Gabe winces in sympathy and strokes his burning cheek.

“I wanna go home,” he croaks, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

“I know,” Gabe says softly, stroking his cheek. “Not yet though. You just have to stay long enough for your oxygen sats to go up and your temp to go down.”

“I’m fine.”

“You have pneumonia, sweetheart. You’re so, so sick, you aren’t fine.”

Ezra groans, rubbing his eyes. “I feel better.”

“You’re lying.”

“My fever is down!” he protests weakly through a coughing fit.

“103 is still not great.”

“But-“

“I’m pulling the doctor card. You aren’t leaving until it gets down to 101.”

*

It takes most of the night and well into the morning for Ezra to be stable enough that he can leave, and when he is, Gabe helps him change out of the hospital gown and back into his clothes, and then into a wheelchair.

He’s still pale and shaky and glassy-eyed, and just looks all around miserable…and Gabe hates it.

“Ready?” Gabe asks, helping him into the car.

“I was ready when i got here,” Ezra gripes, crossing his arms.

“Stop pouting. You were too sick to leave last night, I know you wanted to, but it wasn’t happening.”

“Can we just leave?” He rasps.  “Please? I want to go lie down.”

“Of course,” Gabe says, leaning down to kiss his cheek.  “Do you want me to stop and get you some mac n cheese from Panera?”

“No,” Ezra mumbles.  “Well…can you drop me off and then go get it? I know it’s out of the way, but that sounds good….”

“Ezra, I got you sick and now you have pneumonia,” Gabe says firmly. “You can have whatever you want.  I would cut off my left arm if you wanted me to.”

A smile tugs at his lips, “that’s a little bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

Gabe chuckles lightly, “Maybe a little. Point is, you can have anything.”

“Okay,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes.  “I just want bed…and mac n cheese.”

“That can definitely be arranged.”

[thatemoredlion-archive]

[I am going to apologize again for lack of content lately. I know this isn’t a personal blog by any means, but not only do I feel like I owe an explanation to you all, but honestly my friends on here are currently some of the only people I trust. 

Being honest, my mental health has been shit. Not only because my schedule bounces between days and graves so I get no solid sleep schedule. Not only because my dad’s traumatizing death has triggered severe PTSD (fortunately the carpet in the bedroom got entirely replaced today so there’s no longer a huge chunk of carpet missing where he died). But unfortunately my exes are causing a lot of unnecessary drama and stress in a time where I am truly raw and don’t need it. 

What’s sad is my ex-girlfriend was highly involved in the passing of my father. She wanted to be there to support me, and now to due a heinous lie, she wants nothing to do with me. Normally, I wouldn’t care. Exes don’t always get along. But this lie is so far from the truth that it’s driving me mental, and I’m convinced the only reason it’s happening is because my ex-boyfriend was pissed I cut him out entirely while I kept her around, and he wanted to eliminate any risk of her leaving him for me. 

It all started on my ex-girlfriend’s birthday. Being the nice person I am, I reached out. I got a conversation about how “no one is doing anything for her birthday because no one cares.” I told her I would do something for her when I was back in town from Seattle. I asked her about dinner plans she does every year and was told it wasn’t happening because everyone had work. I found out later that it was happening, and called her out for lying. I was first told by her that she didn’t want me to know because I had plans that weekend and she didn’t want me hurt - I was then told it was because I’m a “stalker”, which made no sense - her and I had barely spoken since the funeral (which was almost two months ago). Maybe once every five days, if even. It turns out she claims I was a stalker because I “asked my friends details about her life.” First off - I didn’t. My friends are her friends and would tell me stuff whether I asked or not. Second - I’m the one that broke up with them and I think they tend to forget that. Why would I stalk someone I intentionally left for being abusive and didn’t want to look back??

So, they all go to her birthday dinner. Mind you, my ex told my best friend the night previously that she wanted no drama and not to bring me up. Guess who goes against her own word and brings me up? Turns out my other ex (who she is still dating) starts crying and saying that I pushed him into sexual activities while we were dating. Non-consensual sex? He’s basically calling me a rapist. The irony? Anyone who knows me knows I was disgusted by him. I only dated him because I had strong feelings for our other partner, and her for me. Which sure, makes me shitty, but definitely not a rapist. I wouldn’t even kiss him or tell him I loved him so he didn’t feel led on. 

I want to say the irony is that he was always sexual with me. Within a month of us dating he sent  me dick pics I never asked for, and continued throughout the course of our relationship. One when all I said was ‘cute’ because I wanted him to know it made me uncomfortable, he threw a fit that I didn’t call him sexy and didn’t want him physically. In fact, one of the last things he said to me after the break up was “I’m glad you told me because I just got a new packer and that would have been awkward.” To me that heavily implies that he would have sent me more pics. I have so many texts where he would tell me about nasty dreams about me or talk about how much he wanted my dick. I would screen cap this to show my girlfriend, who was entirely disgusted by his behavior towards me. Many of my friends have been appalled by how he talked about me or acted towards me. Hell, early on with us dating he sent me photos with a dildo up his ass - a dildo his girlfriend of seven years didn’t even know he owned. He would touch and grope me at cons and at their house around our girlfriend and everyone around me would see my discomfort and that I never reciprocated. My girlfriend heard me make up a thousand excuses (dysphoria, sickness, stomach cramps). I would pick up extra work shifts on days him and I were supposed to hang out so I didn’t have to be alone with him - all my coworkers knew that’s why I was working 70 hour weeks. I spent many hours at work crying because of how pressured I felt by him and how I didn’t want to be around him. When I backed off he started complaining how he missed my kisses, how I didn’t want him, and how he wanted to kill himself for it. My girlfriend told me he was catching on and I had to “pretend to like him so I didn’t lose her.” On nights I had work, I would only sleep on her side of the bed because I didn’t like sleeping by him. My dick move here, but I even told him once I wasn’t physically attracted to him, listed why, and told him that was why I never wanted sex. He sobbed about it to our girlfriend and brought it up to me often. He would take my shirts without me knowing and admitted to jerking off to it. He wanted to get me alone at cons so our characters could have sex. And a final kicker on this list? For my birthday, he made me a coupon book - one was for a quickie and one was a personal favor with a wink face. 

Him and I fucked around twice over the span of two years. Oral sex. He told me our girlfriend wasn’t allowed to know - of course I told her. TMI, but the first time he told me I was the “best person he tasted.” The second time he hurt me but I was scared to tell him so I jokingly asked if he was bored and he said “I could do this all day.” That’s why I avoided being home alone with him - I felt pressured. I felt responsible for his life. And the kicker? A week into dating, he pushed my girlfriend and I into a threesome, in which we both admit to being traumatized by. 

My ex-girlfriend knows all this and was witness to more than half, yet she believes him. She has been claiming for seven years that he’s abusive, and has wanted to leave him, yet believes him. She saw him send me twenty-five texts begging for me back the day after the break up. She saw him try to be the one to come to my house when my dad died and saw him break down, worried that I hated him. But now he’s claiming that I was abusive, manipulative, and pushed him for sex. And she believes him. 

She told my best friend she hopes she never sees me again. She’s telling whoever will listen how horrible I am. This is a girl I wanted to marry. Who I gave everything to. So yeah, my mental health is fucked. I’ve been confused and heartbroken about how she believes this when there is so much evidence against it. My own PTSD keeps flaring up because I have been assaulted four times, so to be accused of something that I know damages lives immensely is appalling. My anxiety is through the roof that they’re going to turn everyone against me. I’m scared to run into them and them do something vindictive. 

So yeah, I haven’t been well. I’m a train wreck on top of being a train wreck. I’ve had no muse, no motivation, all I want to do is hide under the blankets and sleep it all away and never wake up until this shitty dream is over. So, that’s my long story. Thanks for listening to me and being good friends that know I’m above all this toxic bullshit.]

[sitinthelight]

Well Zach just drunk called me at 4 am.

A few years ago, I would have thought that was cute and romantic because he called to say he missed me and wishes I was there.

But current Monica was abruptly awoken and is cranky and didn’t really want to sit through that short phone call filled with slurred words and his inability to even pay attention to what I was saying. 

I’m not a shitty person but boy, do I have shitty tendencies sometimes. 

Zach went to drink with his best friend who lives 30 minutes away and his other best friend who lives in his hometown which is like 4 hours away. They all used to be super pals and always drank with each other in college and were the 3 amigos. Which is cute and sweet and I’m happy he has such good friends who still love to get together for old times sake. Not gonna lie, part of me is a bit jealous because of my inability to keep relationships that aren’t physically in front of me intact. But Zach is a good person and a good friend and people really really love him. Like for someone with such a low self-esteem and who is always doubting how people feel about him, reality is literally the opposite of what he thinks (except in the case of me cause I suck, in this regard). His friends adore him. Fucking love him. Always want him around. He gets phone calls several times a day and is always texting someone.

It’s wild when I get a text. It’s either Zach, Scott, or one of my bills telling me it’ll be due soon. 

So he’s hanging out with them and he invited me out and then they’re hanging out again tomorrow and drinking again so he invited me to that as well. And while it’s been a very long time since I’ve gone out to bars and clubs and had a night out, I said no. 

Social anxiety is really the biggest reason and the fact that I just don’t like drinking with people who make me anxious. Which his friend (the guy) does. He’s a cool dude! Almost always has been nice to me! Almost. Saved my life when I had a severe allergic reaction. We just don’t vibe. I don’t mean we don’t get along. We just have nothing to talk about. No common interests. Nothing. I can stand most silences but the ones when I’m with this friend are just so fucking awkward, even I can’t bare it. So I really don’t want to drink around people who have so much history that I can’t relate to. I’ve hung out with the 3 of them together before. I was a 4th wheel and like, that isn’t fun to me. Also, I’ve been so fucking tired from work because everything is just insane and I think maybe I’m just becoming a more irritable person. That’s probably what it is. I’m not getting enough sleep between Cordelia waking me up at 6 am every single morning and not letting me be and Zach’s awful sleep schedule keeping me up and then there is my insomnia. Like, this bitch already has too many factors against her in the realm of sleep.

Like it’s 4 in the fucking morning. Almost 5. And I’m typing my woes on tumblr. Sure I don’t have work until 2 pm but I like to get up some what early to just feel like my whole day doesn’t surround pleasing people who don’t give a shit about you in retail. A lady physically assaulted my lead last week because she couldn’t get a pair of $50 shoes last week for $18. I was unfortunately stuck in handbags and only saw the multiple police officers in my department from affair as they interviewed customers. This woman attacked my lead in front of her 6 year old child too. I really can’t wait to be done with retail. This is why I don’t really want to work with people anymore. They’re just so unpredictable and while the really nice ones make the world a little better, the awful ones just...they’re awful. 

I’m just rambling and cranky and honestly, I don’t know what I’m doing with my life at this point. I’m in that weird in between stage of recovery but maybe my whole life will be depression recovery. Most likely. It’s not like they have some magical cure for it. I’m just done with this whole situation and I’m ready to be free from this town and this relationship and just, not start over, but like, idk. Takes the first few steps up in making my life a little more tolerable for me. I don’t hate my life. I have more blessings than I can count for but obviously, I’m not a happy person but also it is 5 am and I’m lacking sleep and possibly getting sick with a full weekend of work to look forward to.

At least Oz is consistent. He’s got his little surprises but like, I expect to expect them from time to time. He doesn’t pull anything crazy on me that hasn’t been done before. He’s just a chill little dude, munching on hay and laying around like a bum and like, same. Same. Sometimes he’ll have a little run and some hops but like, just chill. Calm. I am such a rabbit person. Like, I click with their little personalities. 

I just need, peace. Calmness. Predictability. Not forever, but just for the time being. Because I need to get my wits together. Time is going by faster than I can even remember the date and it’s honestly freaking me out. Because I have so much to do and get done and I’m oblivious to the passage of time or just have bad perception of it which is probably a symptom of my mental health or inability to math. etc. etc. etc.

Why am I typing. I’m so fucking tired.

[capsiclewidow]

First off, holy shit?

This is gonna be long so it’s going under the cut.

So yesterday I went by myself, and just wore my Mark Ruffalo Avengers shirt. Which I love, and it’s comfy, right? But then I saw everyone all dressed up and they all looked so cute, and I was considering trying to prep my potential Halloween costume before this weekend so I could go dressed as Nat. I decided against it but after yesterday I quickly threw it together. Which meant staying up late creating widow’s bites out of nerf bullets I stole from my little brother and black duct tape (that actually worked out quite well considering the lack of time I had), a little black widow belt buckle out of felt (which fell off and got lost before I even made it into the convention, of course) and, obviously, my Steve Rogers dog tags that Carley got me for Christmas last year. The red hair was just a coincidence because...I really like my hair red, idk.

All in all was it necessary? No. Did it make me feel like a fuckin dork? Of course. Did I care? Kinda but like. I have a photo of myself as a half-assed Natasha wearing Steve’s dog tags hugging a very Winter-Soldier-esque Chris so does it matter? Absolutely not.

Chris’ photo op went faster than I thought it would. From what I’ve heard (and seen from photos) he spends a lot more time with people than he’s supposed to so I was hoping it wouldn’t be as quick as Lizzie’s was yesterday. I was group 2 at 2:00. Well, the 1:00 triple photo op with Chris, Tom Hiddleston, and Lizzie went at least a half hour over. Then he had group 1, 2, and 3. Lizzie had an autograph session and then another solo photo op and Tom had like two photo ops to get done before their 3:00 panel. I was hoping this was a good sign, except after they let the Avengers session run so late, the rest of us got kinda screwed because they completely rushed us along. That kinda pissed me off but that’s on ACE for only scheduling these dummies half hour sessions back to back and expecting them to stick to it.

So after waiting an extra like 45 minutes...oh, and by the way, can we talk about how much WORSE THAT MADE EVERYTHING?? My mom bought me lunch and I could barely eat even though I was starving because I was a complete nervous wreck. I started getting that weird, disorienting, jittery feeling as soon as we got to Navy Pier and sitting there watching my photo op continue to be delayed and not have a time yet was AWFUL. I was such a hot ass mess of anxiety by the time they finally lined us up and it started moving. I blame Chris.

Speaking of. I had been stressing over what to say to him for weeks and I kinda wanted to mention Before We Go and how beautiful a film it was. I wanted to tell him that when I first saw it I bawled my eyes out because I was going through an extremely rough bout of depression due to an awful breakup and I related so much to the characters. I wanted to say that I know some of his non-Cap stuff gets overshadowed but that particular film means a hell of a lot to me. And I wanted to thank him for it and his work for being one of the things that brought me out of that shitty time in my life. 

And then the fucker looks over at me and smiles and says “Hi!” and I immediately forgot how to function like a normal human being. Like you know what a keyboard smash looks like? That’s what my brain was doing. Like a literal askdhfjskdfjaslkdjalsdalkjsd.

Since they were rushing me he reached over to pose normally and like rested his hand on my arm and I asked if we could do a hugging one, and he said “OF COURSE!” and practically grabbed me and hugged me for the photo. When I pulled away I was like THANK YOU and he said bye and smiled at me again before the next person came in.

And then the lady ushering people out laughed at me and said my face was cute because I was (apparently) freaking the fuck out.

Also I happened to find the one artist who was selling a print with both Steve and Nat on it and my jaw dropped open so fast my mom bought it for me even though I told her she didn’t have to.

When I got back to my mom’s and the twins (they’re 11) saw my picture, my brother came up behind me and hugged me and said “I just need to soak up all the Chris Evans” and then my sister hugged me too because, according to her, I’m now famous. 

So after I was officially a hot ass mess, I got to see all of Tom and Elizabeth’s panel. Tom was the “moderator” so it was basically just the two of them asking each other questions. I really liked that format because it seemed much more personal and kept them both involved. I also feel like I have a new appreciation for Tom now. I always liked him but was never really involved enough to watch a lot of his interviews but he (and the two of them together) were quite entertaining and asked each other like, real questions.