#reading their letters while scott street plays in the background is the only way to do it

[latibvles]

i asked you, "how is your sister? i heard she got her degree." and i said, "that makes me feel old" you said, "what does that make me?"

daisy & ron // scott street my filter + my caps - click for better quality

[pastelwitchling]

Brother in Arms Chapters: 1/2

Also on ao3 ❤

***

               It was past midnight at the Pony when Alex got the call.

               Michael was at the counter, coming in and out of Isobel and Maria’s conversation as he scanned the bar, looking for one particular man who said he’d try to come in late. Because they did that now. Offhandedly mention whether or not they were likely to see each other. It was a nice change of pace.

               Michael straightened in his seat when he saw Alex finally come in, his hair windswept, his shoulders scrunched against the cold outside. He caught his eyes, and Alex smiled softly, weaving through the crowd towards him.

               “Hi,” Michael said.

               “Hey,” Alex murmured, his cheeks and nose red from the cold. They held each other’s gaze for several long seconds before Alex looked down, tugging off his scarf. Progress.

               Michael cleared his throat and adjusted himself slightly on his chair, subtly scooting closer to Alex, to get a whiff of his vanilla scent, to feel the roughness of his jeans against his own. Alex seemed to notice and he turned slightly so that his left knee just barely grazed Michael’s.

               Michael began to smile until he noticed the slight tension in Alex’s shoulders, the pinch of his brows, the pensive purse of his lips.

               He looked back over his shoulder at Isobel and Maria, and when he was sure they wouldn’t be overheard, said, “You okay?”

               “Yeah,” he said on a sigh. “Just feel a little off, don’t know why.”

               “Maybe you’re just tired from work?”

               Alex hummed, unconvinced. “Maybe.”

               For the next half-hour, Michael tried getting Alex to smile in earnest. He kept close to him, listening to his day and telling him all about his own. He pretended to swoon (absolutely not actually swooning on the inside) when Alex mentioned his team following his orders, and made a sexual innuendo about Alex’s commands and authority. At one point, he even got a laugh from Alex that made his heart flutter in an embarrassing way that he swore never to mention aloud to anyone.

               Michael was sure he looked like a lovesick idiot, smiling at Alex like he did when they were seventeen and he had managed to make the emo kid giggle, but he didn’t care. Moments like these, when they got to just be happy to have each other, weren’t as common as Michael wanted them to be. Some words were still too hard to say, and some confessions still stuck in Michael’s throat, keeping him frozen when he longed more than anything to cling to Alex and never let him go.

               But if he’d known the kind of call Alex would get in the next few minutes, he would’ve held on and kept him on that stool, kept him from picking up. He would’ve taken him to the airstream, and they would’ve gotten lost in each other’s touch, a night they probably wouldn’t have talked about the next morning, if only to give him one more night of peace.

               But how could he have predicted, when Alex’s phone had rung, the way Alex’s smile would dim at the sight of the caller on the screen? The way panic would cross his expression, however trained he was to hide it? The way his jaw would clench and he’d mutter an excuse under his breath to take his call outside? How could Michael have predicted coming out onto the Wild Pony’s back porch to see Alex sitting on the front step, numbly writing out a date and address in Nashville?

               “Okay, Katie,” he said into his phone. “Yeah. . . . Eleven. . . . Mm.”

               Michael heard crying on the other end of the line. Alex listened silently, staring at the address he’d written, mindlessly underlining it over and over, the pen tearing into the paper. Alex didn’t seem to notice.

               Michael heard muffled voices, Alex responded with, “I’m going right now. I’ll see you in the morning,” and he hung up.

               Michael swallowed. “Alex?”

               Alex didn’t looked around at him. “Air Force buddy,” he said, and sniffled. “That was his sister.”

               Michael’s shoulders fell. There was only one reason Alex’s military buddy’s family would be calling. He came to sit down beside him.

               “Private –”

               “I need to pack,” he said, standing. His eyes were dry, his tone calculating. “Get some things ready.” He was already typing something on his phone, and Michael followed to find a list of flights to Nashville.

               “O-Okay,” Michael tried. “I can drive you –”

               “If anybody asks, can you just tell them I’ll be out of town for a few days?” he said, eyes on his phone, his other hand stuffing the piece of paper into his pocket.

               “Uh – yeah, but, Alex –”

               “Thanks, Guerin,” he said, climbing into his car. Michael’s mouth hung open on a silent sentence as Alex drove away.

               *

               It was a freezing late morning in Nashville, as if even the weather was lamenting the loss of a great man. Alex sat a few chairs down from Katie and her mother, both pairs of blue eyes filled with tears. The sun caught off Katie’s blonde hair, turning it gold, just as Scott’s used to be.

               Scott had joined the military a week before Alex had. He had been a ball of light and energy the day he’d arrived, catching Alex’s eyes with a smile and sticking by his side ever since. Alex, who had wanted to keep his head down and get the work done, to rise in ranks with the sole purpose of defeating those who thought they could beat him down, was taken hostage by this man’s piercing blue eyes and his kind voice.

               “You and me, Manes,” he’d said that first night, taking the bed beside Alex’s, “we’re brothers.”

               “I don’t need another brother,” Alex had murmured, glad for the dark that hid his blush.

               Scott had smiled. “Then I’ll be more.”

               And he had been. It felt strange to go through the months of basics, feeling like part of him was missing unless Scott was there. This blond, disastrous, one-man hurricane had been the same way; always a little more out of control, always a little easier to slip up, always scolded more by the sergeant unless Alex was there to reel him in. He’d been, in every way, Alex’s opposite. As they had lain on their stomachs one night, Alex had told him as much.

               “Which makes it all the more incredible how much we connect,” Scott had said. He’d had a fondness in his eyes then that Alex had pretended not to notice. “That’s us, Manes, just like I’d said we’d be. More.”

               When Alex had left, they’d kept in touch as much as they were able. A call here, a letter there. Neither of them ever feeling like they were separated at all. No “I miss you”s, just ventures relayed and heartaches confessed.

               “Next time I see you, I’ll have a word with that cowboy of yours,” Scott had told him on their last discreet phone call. Alex had laughed and asked him when that visit would come.

               “Soon,” Scott had promised. “I’ll come running home to you, brother.”

               As Alex watched them lower the black coffin into the ground, those words echoed on repeat in his head. Scott’s team stood, saluting as the bugle played and Alex heard faint sniffles and cries behind him, all turned to background noise.

               It felt wrong. Knowing a force of nature like Scott Mason rested in a wooden box, the American flag folded and handed to his mother who clung to it now as if it was her son himself. Alex didn’t take his eyes off the coffin until it was thoroughly buried. People around him began to disperse, but Alex sat there, his fingers quickly growing numb with the cold.

               He buried his chin deeper into his scarf, Scott’s laugh in his ears. He would be returning to Roswell in a few hours.

               Would that be okay, Scott? he thought, hoping his friend could read his thoughts as he always managed to do, and answer him. If I left?

               He had yet to shed a tear, and felt a strange tingling in his chest, like something was building up to be released but couldn’t quite make it through the surface. He wondered if he should stop by his buddy’s favorite burger place around the street before he left, get a double cheeseburger with fries, and dip them in a milkshake.

               “Try it,” he’d encouraged him on their first leave. “You’ll thank me.”

               Alex blew a tiny breath, a white cloud forming before his face. He muttered, “Thanks, brother.”

               “Alex,” someone gasped, “what’d you do?”

               Alex looked up, blinking out of his thoughts. He realized almost everyone around them had gone, and Katie stood next to him now, her blue eyes looking down with worry. He followed her gaze and saw that he’d carved into the back of his hand with his thumb, a faint line of blood trickling down the torn skin.

               “Oh,” he said. He wiped his hand against his jacket as he stood. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

               Katie searched his face. Her lower lip trembled as she opened her mouth. “I –” she cleared her throat. “I can’t imagine what he meant to you.”

               Alex nodded. It’s not real, he thought. Scott’s fine. He’s not the kind of man who dies. I’m just having a nightmare. I’ll wake up, and my brother will be fine.

               Still, even as he thought so, he said, “Your brother loved you, Katie.”

               Her eyes filled with tears, and she sniffled as she roughly wiped her face. “He loved you, too.”

               Alex held out his arms, and Katie fell in against him, hugging his waist tightly enough to bruise. Alex only wished he could feel any of it.

                 There was to be a reception. Alex had insisted he would help take care of things while Scott’s mother, Ashley, tried to relax. She’d been frighteningly quiet since Alex had arrived two days ago, but Katie assured him that she spent the nights crying.

               “She’s letting it out,” she assured him. “Wears herself out half the time. I just don’t think she’s really processed it yet, but she’s getting there.”

               Hours later, after guests had gone, Alex found himself sitting amongst Scott’s immediate family. His mother and sister, his uncles and aunts and a few of his first cousins who were able to fly back into town on short notice.

               An untouched cup of wine sat in front of Alex on the table as his family laughed through their tears, recounting stories about Scott, memories of him as a kid, funny letters he’d send back so that none of them would ever worry about him.

               “He was a good man,” his uncle said gruffly, keeping his head down to hide his glistening eyes.

               Alex nodded, his heart still tingling strangely, not quite letting him breathe. “He was a hero,” he said, and was met with nods and “Hear Hear!”s and more tears. Alex wished he could cry. Why couldn’t he cry?

               “I remember when he brought you home, Alex,” Ashley said hoarsely, her smile faint. “I was so sure we were going to get some big news.”

               Katie scoffed half-heartedly, leaning her chin on her palm. “Mom made Scott’s favorite ribs and chocolate cupcakes. She was so proud he finally found someone. Then Scott told us you were just his friend, and she kept huffing through dinner.”

               The corner of Alex’s lips quirked up. “Sorry.”

               Ashley grasped Alex’s arm and gave it a tight squeeze. “Far as I’m concerned, sweetheart, you were the only one Scott ever really loved. I felt it in my bones.” Her smiled faded, and her chuckles turned to sobs. Her forehead came to rest on Alex’s shoulder, and he put a hand on her head, keeping her steady against him.

               The rest of the group dissolved into sniffles for the next hour. When Ashley had worn herself out and fallen asleep on the couch, Alex stood and grabbed his jacket.

               “You have a flight back to Roswell already?” Katie asked, stretching.

               He nodded. “I need to get back.”

               She managed a smirk. “To your cowboy?”

               He scoffed. “Anything else Scott told you?”

               “Just that you never wanted to go back to Roswell during your leaves,” she said. “Said you didn’t think anyone would care. You still think that?”

               Alex considered it, and it gave him a headache. He exhaled a soft chuckle. “I can’t think of much right now.”

               Her eyes were kind. “I understand.” She heaved a groan that cracked at the end. “Is it bad that I kind of want to fast forward to next year? When all of this is just a bad memory?”

               “No,” Alex said, pulling her in for another hug. He sighed against the top of her head. “It’s not bad at all.”

               “Don’t be a stranger, Alex,” she whispered into his shoulder. “You’re family, too.”

               A lump lodged itself in Alex’s throat. Try as he might, he couldn’t swallow it down. He said nothing as he held Katie tighter.

               *

               Michael, Gregory, and Flint met Alex at his house the day he came back to Roswell. Michael sat on the back of his truck as Gregory and Flint leaned against Gregory’s car. Flint’s arms were crossed, Gregory was checking his phone for calls, and Michael was pretending not to be nervous about Alex as he’d been days ago. He tapped his finger on the trunk bench, remembering that morning days ago when he’d come to Alex’s doorstep at the crack of dawn to offer a trip to the airport, and found the airman had already gone.

               He had no idea what to expect now. Isobel, Liz, and Maria had wanted to come see him, too, but Gregory had told them that it was better they not crowd him. Michael had gotten to come along for sheer insistence that he wouldn’t leave until he got to see Alex was safe and back in Roswell.

               “You heard from him since he got off the plane?” Flint asked at some point.

               “No,” was all Gregory said, and the brothers fell silent again. There seemed to be a weight that Michael couldn’t grasp, couldn’t touch and felt pushed down by anyway.

               A familiar car rounding the corner into the driveway yanked Michael from his thoughts. He came down from the bench, putting it up as he kept his eyes on Alex behind the steering wheel. He couldn’t discern his expression, even as he parked, opened his door, and pulled out his suitcase.

               “Hey,” Michael said, trying to keep his voice light. He was the only one to speak.

               Alex managed a press of his lips, his eyes spacing out almost at once. Michael held out his hand for his suitcase, and Alex seemed to realize too late that it had been taken from him. He touched Michael’s arm in thanks.

               Gregory and Flint seemed to know what to do better than Michael did, which apparently wasn’t much. Gregory patted Alex’s back with a sigh while Flint stayed behind them. Michael didn’t understand why until they’d gotten to the porch, Alex fishing for his keys, and his eyes suddenly fluttered. He swayed and Flint readily caught his arm, steadying him as if he’d been expecting it.

               Michael opened his mouth in a gasp, but Flint shook his head minutely. Don’t talk about it, he seemed to be saying. He won’t be able to answer you.

               Michael hesitated, fighting against every fiber of his being that longed to carry Alex inside himself so that he didn’t have to take another step on his own.

               Flint released Alex as soon as he was on his feet again, and Alex opened the door and walked on inside as if nothing had happened. Michael stayed close and set the suitcase beside Alex’s couch as he took a seat. Flint went to open the windows, letting in the light, while Gregory said he would go make them some tea.

               Michael sat down beside Alex, but Alex was staring into the distance, unseeing, his brows pinched slightly. Michael wanted to trace the path down the bridge of his nose, hoping it would ease whatever storm was raging in his head, but didn’t dare touch him.

               Flint leaned against the wall, looking out the window as rustling sounded from the kitchen. When Michael risked speaking again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “Are you hungry? I – I can go get you something.”

               But Alex was already shaking his head, waking with a deep inhale. “No, no, thanks, Guerin.”

               Flint tilted his head. “If you want him to stay here, Alex, I can go grab –”

               “I don’t have much of an appetite,” Alex said, and went back to staring at nothing.

               Flint nodded, unsurprised. “Yeah.”

               Gregory came back a few minutes later, holding a tray of four mugs.

               “Thanks,” Michael muttered as he handed him one. Alex hugged his with his hands.

               “Hey, hey,” Flint said, setting his cup down and gently prying Alex’s fingers from around the steaming ceramic. “You’ll burn yourself, brother.”

               “Hm? Oh.”

               Gregory sat down in the armchair across from the couch. He rested his elbows on his thighs, tapping a finger against his own mug. A few minutes of silence, then –

               “Alex,” he said, “do you want to . . . talk about –”

               “No,” Alex said at once. “I don’t, I – I can’t.” He didn’t seem angry or upset. Just tired. There was a numbness to his expression that almost scared Michael.

               He hesitated, then put a hand on Alex’s back. Then he dared to rub soothing circles, letting his eyes roam the airman, reassuring himself that Alex was okay. That was when he saw the line of dried blood on the back of his hand, his skin carved into and torn.

               “Alex,” he breathed, holding up his hand. “What happened?”

               “I don’t know,” Alex muttered, his brows furrowed as if just now remembering that this injury was here. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

               Michael gaped. “You did this to yourself?”

               Flint sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Leave it alone, Guerin.”

               “Manes –”

               “He’s fine,” Gregory said, his voice calm and intent. “It’s fine.”

               Michael wanted to argue, to demand if they were crazy, if they weren’t seeing what Michael was seeing. But Alex just let his hand fall from Michael’s and patted his shoulder consolingly as if he was the one that had lost a friend. And Michael’s words caught in his throat.

               Alex’s head fell back. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes as he heaved a deep breath. “I . . . uh . . .” he sniffled, “you guys should go. I know you have work, I don’t want to keep you.”

               Michael frowned. “Alex . . .”

               He thought Gregory and Flint would definitely argue, that they’d refuse to leave their brother like this, but Gregory asked, “And you? You sure you don’t want one of us to get you something from the Crashdown?”

               Alex shook his head. “No, I’m just gonna . . . head to bed. I’m tired after the plane.”

               Flint nodded. “Okay. You have our numbers.”

               “I know.”

               “What? No,” Michael said, moving closer to Alex on the couch. “I’m staying here.”

               “Guerin,” Alex said. “I already told you, I’m –”

               “You’re not fine,” Michael nearly yelled.

               “Guerin –” Gregory tried.

               “He carved into his own skin! I’m staying!”

               “Okay,” Flint said, nudging his chin at the door. “Come with me. We need to talk.”

               Alex watched, only half-there, as Michael stood and followed Flint, hesitant to leave his airman at all.

               The second the door closed, Michael demanded, “He’s not okay.”

               “No kidding,” Flint frowned, a lot quieter than Michael was. “His brother just died, how do you think he’s doing?”

               He smirked humorlessly. “And you two just wanna leave him. Let him fend for himself. After all this time, you still don’t care about what happens to him, do you?”

               Flint tilted his head, eyes narrowed. “Who do you think Alex is? Some defenseless kid? You do realize he’s an Air Force Captain, right?”

               “Yeah, I know,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Big tough military man, I get it.”

               “No,” Flint said easily. “You don’t.” He pressed a finger to Michael’s chest. “Don’t pretend you know what losing a brother-in-arms is like, especially for someone like Alex. Someone like us. You have no idea the kind of weight that’s on our shoulders.”

               Michael faltered. He licked his lips. “All the more reason,” he said, “to stay with him.”

               Flint considered Michael, and began to chuckle. “Wow,” he said. “You really think that little of him?”

               Michael frowned. “He hurt himself.”

               “He didn’t do it on purpose,” Flint said, like that was supposed to be a reassurance. “You have no idea what he’s going through, but Greg and I do.”

               “But this guy –”

               “Yeah,” he sighed, putting his hands in his pockets. “Looks like this one was important. But he learned to live with it a long time ago. He’s not as broken as you think he is.”

               Michael couldn’t let it go so easily. He remembered too well a conversation he and Alex had had months ago, in his bunker.

               “I need to believe in a reason to stay.” What if this was it? The last straw? What if Alex was on a countdown?

               He swallowed. “I’m going back inside.”

               Flint grabbed his arm. Michael glared at him, but he was unrelenting. “Listen to me. I know you care about him –”

               “I love him,” Michael said fiercely. Flint’s gaze didn’t waver. Always as prepared for battle as Alex.

               When he spoke next, his words were quieter, but no less commanding. “Then let him breathe. I know Alex doesn’t always say what he means, but he means this. That captain in there is so much stronger than you think he is.”

               Michael glared. “I know Alex is strong.”

               To his surprise, Flint’s gaze slightly softened. He shook his head, as if Michael had completely missed the point. “That’s not what I just said, Guerin.”

               *

               Alex woke at twilight to find he’d fallen asleep on his couch, his clothes and prosthetic still on. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, and rubbed his eyes. He looked around, the pale light behind the blinds casting the house into dark shadows.

               He shouldn’t have, but Alex lied back down, staring at the ceiling with one hand covering the other on his stomach. He heard nothing but his own breathing, and then not even that.

               “Hey, Manes, have you ever been in love?”

               Alex closed his eyes against the memory, and immediately, his mind filled with images of himself and Scott laying on opposite sides of his bed, staring at another ceiling.

               He forced himself up again, furiously scrubbing his face. He sat there a second longer, staring at nothing and thinking of a mess of things, from what time he had to wake up tomorrow to errands he had to calls and texts and emails he probably had to answer –

               “Guerin,” he called faintly, and was answered with silence. His shoulders fell. Oh yeah . . . He had asked them to leave. He knew it was for the best, there wasn’t really anything he thought he could say to any of them, but just saying Michael’s name brought him a slight peace that he couldn’t explain and which vanished as quickly as it came when Alex couldn’t find him. That had happened a lot in the past decade.

               Scott’s smile came back to him. “That the cowboy I should be jealous of?”

               Alex exhaled shakily, and pushed past the memory. He changed into his sweats, took his prosthetic off, and curled up in bed. He lay awake under the covers for several minutes that felt like hours, cramming a million other things into his mind to force out the one thought that he knew he couldn’t handle right now, and eventually, the darkness had mercy on him, and sleep took over.

               *

               Michael wanted to be useful. He’d spent the past two days wandering the junkyard, finding things to do that didn’t really need doing, if only to keep moving. He may have broken down several cars and driven Sanders crazy, but he was losing his mind.

               At one point, he’d snapped, gotten in his truck, and made it halfway to Alex’s house before he came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the road and hit his forehead against the steering wheel.

               “That captain in there is so much stronger than you think he is.”

               “I know Alex is strong.”

               “That’s not what I just said, Guerin.”

               Michael clenched his jaw. “What does that mean?” he growled through grit teeth. Michael knew who Alex was, what he was. What did that matter?

               Michael all but slammed the gearshift back again, and turned a corner to the Project Shepherd bunker instead. If he couldn’t take care of Alex, he could at least get through some of the files they had waiting there, look into a few leads so Alex didn’t feel like he had to himself.

               The last thing Michael had been expecting when he’d pulled up to the hidden entrance was to find a familiar car parked there already. His heart leapt into his throat, and he almost stepped out of the truck without turning it off.

               He wrenched the door open, and came down the stairs to find the white lights already on. Alex was at the far end of the bunker, typing at a computer. Michael stopped, staring.

               Alex glanced up and gave him a quick, small smile. He was surrounded with open files, more than half of them marked. He shrugged a shoulder. “They gave me a week leave,” he said. “Figured I’d get something done.”

               Michael didn’t know where to start. Are you any better? Have you slept? Did you want me to stay?

               In the end, he managed a quirk of his lips and a light, “Don’t you military men ever rest?” He pulled up a chair next to Alex. “Oh, wait, don’t tell me. ‘I don’t know what rest means, Guerin. I can go for weeks, Guerin. I don’t actually need to be on leave, Guerin.’”

               He smiled, but Alex did not seem amused, his eyes unmoving from the screen. “No,” he said simply. “I definitely need it. Way I’m feeling, I might just end up shooting anybody in a uniform.”

               Michael faltered. Alex’s tone was light, but something in his eyes darkened, something frightening that Michael wasn’t used to seeing on his airman’s face. He hesitated, then, because he wanted to do something and didn’t know what, he reached out and covered Alex’s hand with his own.

               Alex didn’t smile or look at Michael. Instead, he turned his hand over in Michael’s and gripped his fingers so tightly his knuckles turned white.

               Michael tilted his head, trying to discern his thoughts. “Alex?”

               He blinked. “Hm?”

               “About . . . uh . . . that Mason guy –”

               “Shh, shhh,” he shook his head, his eyes shut tight. “We don’t have to talk about that, I don’t want to talk about that.”

               Michael stared. If he wasn’t so aware of Alex’s every move, of every inch of the airman’s skin that touched his own, he might’ve missed the way Alex’s fingers slightly trembled in his. But he was, so he didn’t.

               He swallowed and nodded. He pulled Alex’s head in towards his with his other hand, and kissed his forehead.

               “Okay, baby,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

               Alex’s grip did not loosen, his eyes did not open, his breathing did not calm for two whole minutes. Michael raised his other hand to rest between Alex’s shoulder blades, running up and down his spine, turning his nose into Alex’s hair and inhaling his scent.

               Alex turned his head slightly so that Michael’s lips hovered above his. Michael’s eyes fell to Alex’s mouth, his own falling open. He could feel Alex’s hot breath against his bottom lip. His own breathing quickened as he thought about fitting his mouth against Alex’s, tasting his tongue, running a hand up his shirt and feeling his naked skin as he hadn’t gotten to do in over a year.

               Michael wanted to be useful, and Alex always seemed able to breathe better when they were together. Maybe this would be useful. That, and Michael just really, really wanted it.

               Somehow, as he always did, Alex was able to read his mind. His dark, hooded eyes looked up at Michael through long lashes. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

               “You want to help me feel better, Guerin?”

               Michael’s eyes fluttered as he nodded, entranced. He leaned in, their mouths open. His breathing turned more and more ragged as the soft press of Alex’s lips against his own filled his gut with a fire. It had been too long since he’d gotten to touch.

               Against Michael’s lips, Alex whispered, “Then help me,” and slowly closed their mouths in a kiss.

               Michael’s eyes fell shut and a moan escaped his lips as he kissed Alex again, then again. He reached up, taking Alex’s face in his hands as he tilted his head, devouring his mouth.

               “Baby,” he breathed against Alex’s lips between kisses, unable and unwilling to keep it in.

               Alex whimpered at the nickname, and the sound spurred Michael on. Alex took Michael’s wrists, as if silently begging him not to leave. As if Michael would ever go anywhere.

               “I,” Alex managed, “I want more. Touch me, Guerin.”

               Michael looked at Alex then. His expression was filled with lust, his lips kiss-swollen, making Michael’s cock twitch in his jeans. He bit his lower lip, kissed Alex again, and nodded.

               “Okay,” he said. “Okay, let’s get back to the airstream –”

               But Alex was already shaking his head, moving out of his chair. He worked on the buttons of his jeans, and without any hesitation at all, pushed them and his underwear down, revealing his half-hard length. Michael’s mouth fell open, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, imagining the taste of Alex on his tongue.

               “Now,” he panted. “I want you now.”

               Alex climbed onto Michael’s lap, his naked, smooth, hairy skin against the hard fabric of Michael’s jeans. Michael was fully hard now as his hands slowly rose up Alex’s thighs, reveling in the touch of his warm skin and imagining his body against his own. Then Alex undid the first two buttons of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it to the ground. He was now completely naked as he straddled Michael, down to his toes. Michael was sure he would die.

               Alex took Michael’s face in his hands, crashing their mouths together. He moaned against Michael’s lips as he grinded into his hardened, clothed cock.

               “C’mon,” he breathed, his nimble fingers working on Michael’s belt. “Take them off. I want you to fuck me hard.”

               “Alex,” Michael groaned, and in one rough tug, managed to tear off his belt. He pushed his pants and underwear down, releasing himself. As soon as his cock rubbed against Alex’s, his eyes rolled back into his head and he all but screamed.

               “I’m ready,” Alex said between hard, wet, open kisses. He ran a hand up Michael’s stomach, his chest, scratching through the trail of hair and digging his nails into Michael’s nipples. “Please, Guerin. Fuck me.”

               “Yeah,” Michael breathed. “Yeah.” And he did as he’d fantasized doing for the past year. He aligned his cock to Alex’s hole with one hand, his other coming around to grab Alex’s ass, feeling his soft skin in his hands.

               Alex choked on a scream as Michael took him in all the way, his hands gripping Michael’s face tightly against his neck where Michael got to bite and suck and lick and kiss as much as he wanted. When the airman was ready, Michael thrusted softly, not wanting to hurt him.

               But Alex pressed his lips against Michael’s ear and commanded, “Harder, baby. I want to feel you for days.”

               The thought was enough to erase all other from Michael’s mind, and he wrapped an arm around Alex’s waist, his other still gripping Alex’s cheek as he thrusted up hard, Alex coming down just as roughly, as eagerly.

               Alex came a split second before Michael, and only through Michael’s sheer force of will that Alex enjoy it for as long as possible that he managed to keep himself from letting go in those first few seconds. They breathed heavily into the small space between them, and Michael leaned in, taking Alex’s lips in long, lazy kisses.

               Alex was still running a hand through Michael’s curls, making his eyes flutter. When their breaths evened and Alex’s movements slowed, Michael looked up to find his airman staring at his chest, his brows pinched together slightly. His eyes were unfocused.

               Michael felt a fear he’d almost forgotten about climb into his throat now. He swallowed it down, and put his fingers under Alex’s chin, lifting his gaze.

               “Hey,” he whispered, moving his hand to cup Alex’s jaw, his thumb caressing his cheek. “Look at me, baby. Look at me, I’m right here.”

               “Um,” Alex said and cleared his throat, closing his eyes as if trying to wake himself from his haze. His fists laid curled against Michael’s chest. He brought his head down, his forehead against Michael’s chin as he exhaled shakily. He looked around. “My clothes, I –”

               “I’ve got ‘em,” Michael said immediately, trying not to sound as disappointed as he felt. He’d wanted to stay with Alex like this, naked and holding each other, a little longer. Instead, he used his powers to bring Alex’s clothes right up to him.

               But before he got dressed, Alex curled in against Michael, pressing his nose to Michael’s cheek, his lips brushing the cowboy’s jaw. Michael wrapped his arms around him, taking his chance to press light kisses to Alex’s bare shoulder.

               Alex seemed to need a second to straighten his spine and brace himself before he grabbed his clothes from midair and pulled them on. He gently moved off Michael so that he could do the same, and when they were both dressed, Michael grabbed a file, not knowing what else to do. He kept glancing at Alex who was staring at his computer screen, his fist against his lips as he seemed too distracted to keep doing whatever he was doing.

               Finally, Michael couldn’t take it anymore, and he said, “Tell me what to do.”

               He knew he sounded desperate, his demand more of a plea, but he didn’t care. Because Alex wasn’t acting like Alex, and he was breaking, but he wasn’t breaking, and it was all very scary and not where Michael wanted his airman to be.

               Alex frowned. “Do?”

               “To fix this,” he said, and winced at how stupid it sounded. But he couldn’t stop himself. “O-Or make it . . . I don’t know, easier. Tell me what I have to do, I’ll do anything, Alex.”

               Alex’s look was unreadable as Michael held his gaze. Then something shifted, something turned sadder, and suddenly, it was Alex who held Michael. “I feel like there’s a hole in my chest, Michael. And it’ll never heal.” His lips quirked in a soft, helpless smile. “And there’s no fixing that.”

               Michael watched, speechless and unable to do anything as Alex closed his laptop with a sigh, put his hands in his pockets, and made his way out of the bunker.

               *

               Alex finished scrubbing down his counter, and looked up, wiping sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. The kitchen, like his living room, bedroom, guestroom, and bathrooms, was spotless. The sky outside the window was pitch black, the wind still rustling through the empty branches and the yellow, dead grass. The world still turning, and not turning at all.

               Alex’s phone on the table behind him buzzed, the screen lighting with new messages. Alex picked it up, scanning the texts. Flint said he would meet him at the Pony tomorrow night after they were both done at the base for drinks, Gregory said he’d be bringing over lunch so they could eat together, Clay left him a voicemail, telling him to call when he had the chance. It was Liz and Maria who asked if he was okay, if he needed them to come over right away.

               Alex asked them not to. His brothers hadn’t asked if he was okay. He was grateful; he didn’t have an answer right now. He felt like he never might.

               “Miss me already, Manes?”

               Alex shut his eyes. The edges of his phone dug into his palms. The last phone call he and Scott had had, what had they said? He didn’t remember the exact conversation. Shouldn’t he have remembered?

               But no. There was a moment from their last meeting that stuck in his mind.

               “Start counting down, brother,” Scott had told him, a whispered eagerness in his voice. “I’m coming to Roswell next. You just tell me who I need to beat up.”

               “What’re you coming here for?” Alex had said. “I’ll come see you wherever you want. Just pick anywhere else.”

               “No,” Scott had said more softly. “No more running, Manes.”

               “A drive,” Alex said, hoping the sound of a voice, even if it was his own, would keep the memories at bay. “I need a drive.”

                 The drive wasn’t helping. Alex had the window open, the icy wind biting his face and burning his eyes. Alex’s hands were clenched painfully tight around the steering wheel, his fingers numb with cold. His jaw was clenched, that small trickling in his chest turned to painful hammering now.

               Scott’s letters. I’ll never get them again. His secret phone calls. That phone will never ring now. And he had been planning to come to Roswell. I should’ve brought him sooner. All the days on leave, I should’ve brought him. Roswell would’ve been better with him here.

               “I should’ve brought him,” Alex said, his words breaking in his own ears.

               Alex clenched his jaw, and pressed harder on the gas pedal. Scott would never see Roswell now, would never meet his friends, or know Michael. Places Alex could’ve taken him, the stars he could’ve shown him. They were brighter in Roswell than anywhere else in the world. And now his brother would never see them.

               Headlights. Alex saw a pair of headlights far ahead, the large truck driving, for some reason, on the wrong lane. Or was Alex on the wrong one? It didn’t matter. He didn’t move. The gas pedal was on the floor of the car now.

               As the truck neared, the headlights growing larger, brighter, the thought kept coming to Alex; if he could see Scott again, if all the pain and loss would finally end, it would all be okay. That was what he wanted, right? To stop the pain?

               BEEP BEEEEEEP!

               “No more running, Manes.”

               Alex gasped, the realization of what he was doing hitting him like an explosion, and he wrenched the steering wheel aside at the last second. The car slowly came to a stop as the angry trucker’s honks faded into the distance behind him.

               Alex’s trembling hands fell off the steering wheel as he slumped in his seat. Tears streamed down his face, his own ragged breathing like thunder in his ears in the silence around him.

               He didn’t want to do this alone. Not this time. His hands still shaking, Alex turned the ignition back on.

               *

               Michael couldn’t sleep. He’d been tossing in his bed the past several hours before he’d given up on the idea of resting, and he went down to his bunker to tinker instead. He kept running into dead ends there, too.

               When he’d tried and failed to solve a calculated projection for the eighth time, he’d had enough. His mind was flooded with thoughts of Alex, his dark eyes, his quiet words, his naked body and the way he’d curled against Michael, eager to stay close.

               Michael let the pen fall from his hands. He needed to go to the Pony. Maybe he could get really drunk and forget that, somewhere in his house, Alex was probably locking himself out of his own mind, breaking apart and unwilling to let anyone near him. Because that was what it meant to be a military captain, right? Weather the storm alone? Prove that you were tougher than everyone else? Alex just didn’t need anybody because he’d been through so much worse, was that it?

               The thought had him shaking. He pulled his shirt over his head as soon as he’d made it up the ladder. He thought he’d throw any somewhat clean clothes on and go drown his sorrows in a glass . . . then a car pulled up into the junkyard.

               The low beams dimmed as the driver’s door opened. It was Alex. The lights turned off, and the moonlight revealed his tear-streaked face, his lower lip trembling, his chest rising and falling as if he could barely breathe. And Michael could see and think of nothing and no one else.

               A sob escaped Alex’s lips, and Michael exhaled sharply before running to him. They met in the middle, Alex’s arms around Michael’s shoulders as he cried into the crook of his neck. Michael held him tightly enough that it should’ve hurt, but he didn’t care. He brought a hand up Alex’s neck to rest in the soft strands of his hair, his body trembling. Michael held him tighter.

               “I’m right here,” Michael whispered into his neck. “I’m right here, baby.”

               Alex wept as Michael had never heard before, his nails clawing into Michael’s back. Michael closed his eyes, reveling in the sting. Because it meant Alex was here, with him, safe and far away from what had taken his brother-in-arms.

               “I – I want to see him,” Alex cried. “Just one more time, I want to see him.”

               “Shh,” Michael said, rubbing his back soothingly. “Shh, baby, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

               Alex buried his face against Michael’s skin, the sounds of his cries in the dark, silent night shattering Michael’s heart, one crack at a time.

                 In seconds, Michael had the bonfire started. Long after Alex had turned silent, Michael swaying them left and right, he led the airman to a chair and let him soak in the flames. He had his elbows rested on his thighs when Michael came back out, after hurriedly shoving a shirt on, and handed him a bottle.

               Alex took it with a murmur of thanks and downed half of it in one gulp. Michael pulled his chair closer and sat down next to him. And he waited.

               After a long while of staring into the fire, the gold and orange flames reflected in his dark eyes, Alex quietly said, “I never know what to say. When this happens.” He shook his head. “It’s a repeat, but none of them are the same. You know? Scott wasn’t . . .” he faltered, and closed his eyes, exhaling shakily.

               His eyes glistened and he wiped the back of his hand against his nose before he went on, “They’re not lumped in together, you know? I remember each of their faces, I remember everything. And I felt it, I – I felt it coming. I know you don’t think it’s possible, but I did. Because he was part of me, I felt it.”

               Michael swallowed. “He sounded special.”

               Alex’s eyes filled with tears that fell before he could stop them. “He was so good. So brave.” He huffed a sad chuckle. “You would’ve liked him. I mean –” another sniffle “—he hit on me all the time, so I don’t think you would’ve loved him, but . . . you would’ve really liked him, Guerin.” He shook his head. “I should’ve introduced you, I should’ve done so much more for him.”

               Michael reached over, gripping Alex’s forearm. “Hey. That’s not on you.”

               Alex sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yes, it is, Guerin. You live with that. Knowing that your family’s on a time limit that’s usually a lot shorter than most people’s. And when it comes, all you can think of is the time you wasted. You don’t know what the good side is anymore, and eventually, they all become enemies because they all kept you apart.”

               He huffed, ducking his head as another tear fell. “It’s . . .”

               “A lot of weight to carry,” Michael finished, remembering Flint’s words. How much Alex had on his shoulders . . .

               And suddenly, as Michael watched this beautiful man, carrying himself only by the memories of the people that had become a part of his heart, by the love he had for this family he’d created for himself, he realized how far apart he and Alex actually were.

               He leaned in as a tear rolled down Alex’s cheek, as he was too weary to wipe it away. Michael kissed it, and Alex looked up.

               “You’re so . . . grown up,” he whispered. “Tell me what to do. Please, Alex, tell me what to do.” Tell me what to do to keep you.

               Alex’s considered him. Then he tugged at Michael’s arm until Michael was against him. Alex rested his head against his shoulder. “Just let me touch you,” he breathed, “for a little longer.”

               Michael wrapped Alex in his arms and held him tightly, one hand going up and down his arm, his other hand sliding into his hair. Alex’s hand came up Michael’s chest, as if eager to feel under his shirt, to have that skin-on-skin contact that reassured them like little else did.

               “Let me keep you,” Michael whispered into Alex’s hair.

               Alex turned his face into Michael’s shoulder. His grip tightened on the cowboy’s body, and for a second, Michael thought he would say yes. Then –

               “I should get back.”

               Michael’s face fell. “I – I take it back,” he said quickly, “I just want you to stay the night –”

               But Alex kissed his jaw softly, then the corner of his mouth, then his lips, effectively silencing him.

               When he pulled back, he was cupping Michael’s cheek. “I have work tomorrow,” he said. “All my things are back at the house. Okay?”

               Michael nodded, and kissed Alex one more time before letting him up. “I’ll drive you,” he said.

               Alex managed a smile. “My car’s here.”

               “Then we’ll go in yours.”

               “Then you’ll be stuck with me.”

               “Yes, please,” Michael breathed, taking hold of Alex’s waist again.

               Alex huffed a laugh which quickly turned to a cry. He turned away, covering his face with one hand. When he looked up again, his smile was weak and his eyes were rimmed red.

               “I – uh – think I just need to be alone.”

               Michael wished he could be angry, frustrated. But instead, all he felt was fear. Alex didn’t seem stubborn to him anymore, just . . . far away. Why? What had changed?

               “Hey,” Alex said softly, and pulled him in for another kiss. “I’ll be back. I need you, too.”

               Michael swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Yeah,” he whispered. But I have no idea how to help you. I don’t even think I know who you are.

               “Alex, I . . .” I love you. He’d almost said it. He’d wanted to. But Alex was heartbroken and lost, and that wasn’t what he needed to hear right now. Instead, Michael pulled Alex in one more time, kissing him hungrily.

               “I’d do anything for you,” he panted against his lips when they pulled apart again.

               Alex nodded, his forehead pressed against Michael’s, and he roughly wiped at his eyes with his forearm before he turned to leave. Michael watched him walk away, already freezing at the loss of his touch. What was wrong with him? What was it that felt so off this time?

               “Because he was part of me, I felt it.”

               Was that what this was? No, it was different. Michael couldn’t begin to list the ways, but it was different. Alex gave him a soft smile before he climbed into the driver’s seat and disappeared.

               The man that made music and smiled blushingly whenever Michael kissed him, and the man that held the world on his shoulders, always one crack away from shattering completely. They’d always been the same to Michael, but something had changed now.

               He had once confessed that he couldn’t get used to seeing Alex in his uniform. At the time, he’d played it off as a joke, though something in his heart had stung at the image. And he’d never understood why. Now he did.

               “He’s mine,” he said before he could help himself. The silence of the night threatened to engulf him, to keep him quiet. Alex, after all, belonged to a different world. He had a life and identity outside of Roswell, outside of Project Shepherd and music and aliens that had no place for a temperamental, telekinetic cowboy.

               Michael didn’t care. He didn’t know where he fit in with all of this, and the painful thudding of his heart served to betray his true fears of never being allowed to belong to the airman, but he didn’t care.

               “He’s mine,” he kept repeating, hoping that the words would be enough to make it real. “Alex belongs with me. He’s mine.”

***

I’m exhausted! I might be sharing an IG with y’all soon for my writing/reading. Just in case anyone would like to follow something like that 💖

[lothirielswanmarvel]

Chapter 1 of Avengers: Love and Lightning

Love interest: Thor (+ a Peter Quill love triangle later introduced in the series)

“Vision, what's next on the list?”

“Blueberries, sir—boss—tiny man with lots of money,” Vision stuttered as we walked on the aisle. Tony Stark, famous billionaire and world-saver, sat in the shopping cart that I pushed, munching on an open box of pocky.

“Tiny Man better not squish my M&Ms,” Rhodey muttered. Every now and then, Rhodey would reach out and steady himself against the edge of the cart. The metal casts that encased his legs were bulky, and I couldn't imagine how irritating they were. I noticed Vision wince every time Rhodey stopped to gather himself.

I sighed. My family had gone through a divorce recently (and you can imagine how crappy that was, given Director Nick Fury was practically the priest that united the match). The Avengers had separated, leaving all parties in broken pieces. All of the people I cared about in my incredibly tiny yet fulfilling social circle were in pain. How was someone like me, an introvert with zero superpowers, supposed to fix that?

“Oh! Can we pick up some cucumbers?” Shuri asked. Her voice was light and had a hint of an accent to it. She wore bright colors and had a chipper air to her. Sometimes, I swore she was a character from an anime brought to life.  

“No,” T’Challa said sternly.

Our group took up the entire aisle, and as we slowly inched towards the end, I daydreamed about the book I had stashed under my bed in the Compound. But I forced myself out of my comfort zone, more than a regular amount: I felt like they needed me. And I honestly cared too much to forsake any of the Avengers right now.

“Ms. Angie, can I have some cucumbers please?” Shuri turned to me with a polite smile on her face.

I blinked. “You’re the princess of an entire continent. I'm pretty sure I have no say here.”

“Sure you do, Ms. Angie,” Peter Parker, another random kid that Tony adopted off the street, raced up to our party. He stuffed a bunch of doughnuts in our cart. Tony nodded his approval, “ ‘Atta boy. Now go steal the bananas by the ‘kids get free snacks’ sign.”

“Don't listen to him, Peter. Tony can go by himself,” I said. “And what do you mean, I have a say?”

Peter shrugged. “Well, you’re an adult, right? You’re old enough to drink, that's pretty old.”

I stopped pushing the cart abruptly and gaped at Tiny Man 2.0. “Wait, hold on a minute, did you just call me old?”

“You read books all the time,” Shuri replied.

“You always prefer your free time in solitude,” Vision interjected.

“And you look…” Peter trailed off as he studied my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tony making cutting motions with his hands.

“You look, uh,” Peter swallowed. “You look really young. I mean, you dated Thor and he's like a thousand years old. You're practically dating the elderly.”

“Woah, that is not cool, man,” Rhodey shook his head.

“We need to work on how you talk to women,” Tony told Parker. Then he turned in the cart to glance at me, and cowered behind a jar of Nutella. In the background, T’Challa started hitting his head on a box of cereal.

I sucked in a breath as I processed all of this information. “Okay, a few points to be made here: I am a young woman in the prime of my life.”

“Who radiates youth and beauty,” T’Challa offered.

I continued, trying not to blush, “Right...er, thanks. Number two: I never dated Thor. If I wanted to date the elderly, I’d call up Bucky in Wakanda. Last thing,”

I stared down Vision, Peter, Shuri, and Tony. “if I am the adult, that means you are the child.”

I continued down the aisle, tugging Tony along in the cart. “Rhodey, pick up some Minute Maid juice boxes for the kids.”

“But I like Juicy Juice more…” Parker whined.

“Tough!” I turned around the corner, and crashed carts with someone. I winced at the sound. Tony squirmed in the metal basket, “Hey—oh, they visited the liquor section.”

Tony reached out to steal the pack of beer and yelped when three long blades came before his hand.

“I’m so sorry! Hi, Logan,” I said, facing most of the staff of the X-Men. Professor Charles Xavier was sitting in the cart, giving Tony a disapproving look. Erik Lensherr pushed the cart without even touching the handle, who offered an unfriendly sneer to Vision. Hank McCoy was nearby, studying the shopping list. Sometimes he glanced up at me and quickly looked back down at the slip of paper.

“Our deepest apologies, Ms. Green,” Charles wore a friendly smile when he met my gaze. “Do excuse us. Mister Wade Wilson has been draining our supply of snacks for the students, so we’re here to pick up more biscuits.”

“That's british for crackers,” Hank McCoy translated.

“They don't need to know our life story, bub,” Logan grunted.

“Right. We must be off,” Charles waved as his cart started moving by itself. “Good day to you, Avengers.”

Erik sneered at Vision as they passed. “Next time you touch my daughter, remember: I can control metal.”

The group marched off to raise havoc in the bakery department.

“The other side of the pond is crazy,” Rhodey remarked, watching them go.

Tony held up a beer in victory, “Ugh, why is this warm? We’re getting some Aviation American Gin.”

I started pushing Tony again. Both him and the doughnuts had some weight to them. “No alcohol around kids.”

“But mom!”

“No dice,” I said. Our group kept walking. My mind wandered back to what Peter mentioned: he thought Thor and I were dating. We were intimate—I mean, we were close, not in a romantic way, but...he always came up to me first when he returned to Earth. Thor sent me exotic flowers from Asgard sometimes, when he was away—he called me his “earthen goddess” on the tag, and it always made me feel all warm and tingly.

Thor and I had struck up a system while he was away, too: to make sure he was alive, we sent letters through Heimdall for each other. I felt bad bothering the poor Watcher of the Nine Realms, but at least I knew Thor was okay. He was off doing space stuff, and I did my earth stuff: I just...I missed him sometimes.

Only when fiery sparks filled the air did I return to reality (only Thor could make me forget what planet I was on). Doctor Stephen Strange appeared before us.

“Hey,” I was the first to recognize him. I probably knew him better than everyone else; my health history wasn't...pristine.

Tony stuck his tongue out at him like a five year-old. “What, you got tired of your blue telephone box?”

Peter and Shuri gasped. “Can I be your companion?”

“I asked first! I got dibs! Ha!”

“No fair! You didn't even get your Hogwarts letter!”

Stephen smirked, and despite Tony, leaned on the front of the cart, holding my gaze. “Hello. Food shopping with the family?”

“And pursuing other condiments, including feminine hygiene products and alcoholic beverages,” Vision added.

I plastered a smile on my face. “Just an ordinary day living among superheroes. Very boring.”

Shuri nodded vigorously. “It's true! All Ms. Angie does is sit on the couch and play video games and cry over made-up people. There is nothing interesting going on in her life.”

I gripped the handle to the cart tightly, silently vowing never to have children. Stephen’s cheekbones were sharp and taut like they were held up by internal wiring. He had a regalness to him. I was one of the few around that he actually joked with, “I disagree. I think there are plenty of interesting things about you.”

I made a face at him, wondering if this was a hint to a new health crisis—or even worse—an attempt to flirt with me. Suddenly T’Challa was right next to me. “What is your motive in this visit, Strange? Perhaps you have run out of money, and cannot afford basic necessities.”

I groaned at the two of them. “Please play nice. I think I’ve finally reached the temptation to buy Aviation American Gin. Tony, direct me.”

“Yay!” Tony pointed Logan’s stolen beer bottle towards the end of the aisle. I followed my soon to-be tipsy compass.

Stephen still lingered in our group. I glanced over at him, “If there’s anything you’d like…”

“I wouldn't want to impose,” He said.

“Angeline, I think you are too kind to the misfortunate,” T’Challa mused.

“Guys, please. I get enough bickering as it is: I'm surrounded by four kids,” I motioned again across our group. “Let’s just be nice, and enjoy Tony’s black card.”

We reached the end of the aisle and a curse flew from my mouth. I crashed carts with someone else.

“I'm so sorry—” I trailed off when I looked up at the person.

“Intruders!” Scott Lang raised his nerf gun from his seat in the shopping cart. “Make way, people! It's the White Jets to our Latino Sharks!”

Steve Rogers sighed. “Scott, you have to stop watching musicals with Cassie.”

[noctem-novelle]

This February, celebrate Black History Month with Black authors!

Culture is important, whether it’s your own to celebrate or someone else’s that you can learn about and appreciate. In the last few years, we’ve seen a steady increase in people of colour, LGBT communities, non-Christian religions, and non-European cultures represented in young adult and middle-grade fiction. While this is a great improvement and definitely a step in the right direction, people of colour are still underrepresented. We can do more to make sure that authors of colour are seen and heard. The following list, while by no means exhaustive, is a selection of excellent YA and MG novels written by Black authors*. This month, take some time to explore their stories.

*This list appears in no particular order and is not intended to be read as though any one book is superior to another.

1. The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas (Young Adult)

When sixteen-year-old Starr Carter witnesses the fatal shooting of her childhood best friend, she must decide whether to lie low or to join the protesters who seek justice for Khalil. A touching, timely, and often raw story about a girl who finds herself when she feels most lost, it’s no wonder this book has spent more than 100 weeks on the New York Times Best Sellers list.

2. Riding Chance by Christine Kendall (Young Adult)

Based on Philadelphia’s Work to Ride program, this novel follows a young man who gets into some trouble at school and winds up doing community service at the Chamounix Stables in Fairmount Park. There, he learns to play polo, an intense sport that teaches perseverance and focus. This book really hit home for me, having spent most of my childhood at polo matches with WTR. In real life, Work to Ride provides underprivileged children and teenagers in Philadelphia with constructive extracurricular activities, peer mentorship, and even college enrollment assistance. To learn more about Work to Ride, check our their website or Facebook page!

3. Let’s Talk About Love by Claire Kann (Young Adult/New Adult)

Let’s talk about the amazing QPoC rep in this book! Alice, who is asexual and biromantic, is determined to spend her post-breakup summer on a tv binge. She definitely does not intend to fall for her co-worker, Takumi. Whoops. This book is a mostly-fluffy slow-burn romance, full of nerdy pop-culture references. If you remember tumblr circa 2011, this book is for you.

4. Garvey’s Choice by Nikki Grimes (Middle Grade)

Garvey’s father has always wanted him to be an athlete, but Garvey is just not interested. When his only friend convinces him to join their school chorus, Garvey finds confidence and a new way to communicate to his distant dad. Told in verse, this is a heartfelt novel about one boy’s transformation through music.

5. American Street by Ibi Zoboi (Young Adult)

In her debut novel, Ibi Zoboi draws on her experience as a Haitian immigrant to tell the story of Fabiola, a young woman whose mother is detained by U.S. Immigration when they emigrate from Port-au-Prince to Detroit. This book explores the cost of the “American dream” with a mix of family drama, romance, and a hint of magical realism.

6. The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo (Young Adult)

Xiomara feels both invisible and too visible in a world that doesn’t want to hear her but is happy to objectify her. To express herself and to find some relief from her religious mother’s strict expectations, she turns to slam poetry. This novel-in-verse includes romance, wavering faith, and feminism.

7. Piecing Me Together by Renee Watson (Young Adult)

This powerful novel features a young woman who is determined to make it out of her impoverished neighbourhood. Jade’s mother taught her to take every opportunity she’s offered, so every day she takes the bus across town to a private school where there are plenty of opportunities, even if she doesn’t quite fit in. But some opportunities are less welcome than others, like the chance to join a mentorship program for “at-risk” girls. Sick of being singled out as someone who needs help, Jade hopes to find some autonomy and to stay true to herself.

8. Little & Lion by Brandy Colbert (Young Adult)

Suzette is home in Los Angeles for the summer and she isn’t sure she ever wants to go back to boarding school. Between supporting her bipolar brother, Lionel, and trying not to think about her clandestine relationship with her roommate, she’s got a pretty full plate. Unfortunately, she’s also falling for the same girl that Lionel likes. When Lionel’s mental illness sends him spiraling, Suzette must face her past to help him. This family features a blended family, Black Jewish characters, and a queer woman of colour.

9. Courage by Barbara Binns (Middle Grade)

T’Shawn has done his best to help out since his father’s death, but life gets complicated when his brother Lamont comes home from a stint in prison. T’Shawn finds peace on the diving board, and earns a scholarship to join a prestigious team at a local swim club. But when the neighbourhood crime rate starts to rise, T starts to think that he and Lamont may never put their pieces back together.

10. Monster by Walter Dean Myers (Young Adult)

A murdered drugstore clerk, a trial, and a young man in crisis. Monster is the story of Steve Harmon, amateur filmmaker and alleged murderer. To cope with the trial, Steve writes down the proceedings as if it were a film script, but as he tries to tell his own story, the truth starts to feel a little hazy. This one has also been adapted as a graphic novel.

11. All-American Boys by Jason Reynolds (Young Adult)

Rashad wasn’t stealing, but people sure seem to think he was. After he drops a bag of chips and a police officer beats him for it, Rashad is stuck in a hospital bed while the nation debates his character. Meanwhile, Quinn, a white boy who witnessed the beating, comes to learn that racism didn’t end with the Civil Rights Movement.

12. Akata Witch by Nnedi Okorafor (Young Adult)

Sunny is an albino girl living in Nigeria. Her skin tone often makes her an outsider, but she soon finds herself drawn into a community of magic users called Leopard People. Together with her new friends, Sunny is tasked with tracking down a killer known for maiming children.

13. The Red Pencil by Andrea Davis Pinkney (Middle Grade)

Amira is finally twelve and hopes to start school, but her life is turned upside down when the Janjaweed militia attacks her Sudanese village and her family must make the long and difficult journey to a refugee camp. Life at the camp is hard, but when an aid worker gives her a pencil and paper, Amira’s world begins to expand.

14. One Crazy Summer by Rita Williams-Garcia (Middle Grade)

Delphine Gaither and her two younger sisters travel from Brooklyn to Oakland to spend the summer with a mother they barely know. Imagine their surprise when she sends them to a Black Panther summer camp. Set in 1968, this historical fiction novel explores family dynamics and the importance of sisterhood.

15. Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson (Middle Grade)

In powerfully emotional poetry, Woodson tells the story of her childhood and what it was like to grow up Black in the 1960s and 70s. This novel-in-verse won the National Book Award and the Coretta Scott King Award.

16. Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry by Mildred D. Taylor (Middle Grade)

Between the depression and threats from the night riders, the Logan family has had a tough year. Cassie doesn’t see why her family’s land is so important, but as she becomes more aware of the way their white neighbours treat them, she soon comes to understand that the family’s strength comes from having their own place in the world. This book tackles the ugly reality of racism in the deep south from the perspective of a precocious nine-year-old. It can be hard to stomach at times, but I think that just makes it more important.

17. Zora and Me by Victoria Bond & T.R. Simon (Middle Grade)

Part historical fiction and part small-town mystery, this fictional imagining of Zora Neale Hurston’s early days sees the author as a young girl, exercising her skills as a storyteller. When one of Zora’s tales seems to come true and a man winds up dead, she and her friend Carrie find that things in their little town are not as peaceful as they appear.

18. Blended by Sharon M. Draper (Middle Grade)

Every since her parents’ divorce, Isabella has felt torn in two. Two houses, two families, two races. Switching between her parents, also means switching between two different identities. How can she ever feel whole when she’s constantly split in half? This book examines the life of a biracial girl, and doesn’t shy away from addressing exoticism and the (PG) fetishisation of mixed-race people.

19. Black Enough: Stories of Being Young and Black in America edited by Ibi Zoboi (Young Adult)

This contemporary anthology delves into the many-faceted lives of Black teens in the United States. Popular authors from a wide variety of backgrounds have contributed their voices to show that being young and Black in America is not just one singular experience, but a constellation.

20. The Parker Inheritance by Varian Johnson (Middle Grade)

A hidden letter and a summer mystery are what await Candace when she pokes through an old box in the attic. With the help of her neighbour, Brandon, she deciphers the letter’s clues in the hopes of discovering a forgotten fortune. This book is perfect for readers who like a good puzzle.

[bob-giovanni]

A Casual Affair

Characters: Simon X OFC

Warnings: Cursing, AU/Pre-Apocalypse, Eventual Smut

Summary: Violet has been out of college for a year and desperately needs a job.

Author’s Notes: I got the idea for this story from @simons-thirst-squad Simon Smut Week but it would’ve been too long to post as a one shot. This is kinda AU I guess as it takes place present day with no zombie apocalypse. Hope ya’ll enjoy!! P.S. - there is some French in here. I got it from Google. If you actually speak French and it’s wrong (which I’m sure it is) please feel free to let me know so I can make changes!!

Background Music: “Casual Affair” by Panic! at the Disco

Violet’s alarm starting blaring at 5AM and she instantly hated everything. She groaned as she sat up, swinging her legs around to hang off the edge of the bed as she tried to rub the sleep from her eyes. After yawning and stretching her arms over her head, Violet went down the hallway to her small kitchen and immediately brewed herself a cup of coffee. While she was waiting for her coffee, Violet grabbed the nearly empty container of soy milk out of the fridge. She placed it on the counter next to the coffee maker before reaching into the cabinet above to grab sugar. Once the coffee was finished brewing Violet wasted no time in pouring in the milk and sugar, giving the hot liquid a quick stir before drinking half the cup in one sip. It was scalding hot but Violet was so exhausted and she needed to wake up fast.

She finished her cup of coffee and sat her mug down on the counter. She planned on making another cup for breakfast. She went down the hall back towards her bedroom and ducked into the bathroom to turn the shower on. Violet went back to her bedroom stripped out of her PJs, placing the clothing in her laundry basket. She grabbed her phone and put her hair up in a messy bun and headed back to the bathroom. She opened the music app on her phone and clicked ‘Shuffle All’ before stepping under the lukewarm stream of water.

As she started to lather herself up with body wash, she started signing along with the current song playing. “Take any moment, any time. A lover on the left, a sinner on the right.” She curled her lips into a smile as the water washed the soap off her body and started to loosen up her muscles. “Lay in the atmosphere, a casual affair.” Violet grabbed her hairbrush and held it up to her mouth like a microphone. “Lay! In the atmosphere! A casual affair, whoa!” Violet laughed at herself as she started to wash her hair. Once she felt clean, Violet stepped out of the shower and wrapped her long, faded red hair in a towel. She walked to her bedroom and grabbed another towel, drying the rest of her body quickly.

Once she was dry and moisturized, Violet grabbed a white silk bra and matching panties from her underwear drawer and put them on before unwrapping the towel around her head. Her hair fell to just above her elbows. Violet looked at her brown roots in the mirror, making a mental note that she needed to get her hair done. She looked at alarm clock on her bedside table. 6AM. She still had time before she had to leave. Violet decided to blow dry her hair and do a quick waterfall braid on the left side. Once the braid was complete she took a large round brush and used it with her hair dryer to add big, soft, bouncy curls at the bottom of her hair.

Once she was satisfied with her hair, Violet walked to her closet and pulled out a few different options and started trying things on. She felt that dress pants and a button down shirt was too boring but all the dresses she had, she felt, were not entirely work appropriate. Violet walked back over to the closet and dug around before she found what she was looking for. A simple black pencil skirt. She had a white blouse with black polka dots that would look amazing with the skirt. She put the outfit on and looked in the mirror and smiled. She was more than happy with the way she looked. Violet decided to eat breakfast before finishing up her look. She went to the kitchen and made herself some toast and poured herself a bowl of cereal, putting sliced bananas and strawberries in the bowl as well.

Once she finished eating Violet looked at the clock. It was nearing 7AM. She had to hurry if she didn’t want to be late on her first day. She hurried to the bathroom and quickly brushed her teeth. She then went to her bedroom and grabbed a pair of black pumps from her closet. She sat at her vanity and slipped the shoes on before grabbing her makeup bag. She didn’t want to go too heavy on the makeup today so she did a simple eye look, no falsies, no highlighter, a little blush, and her favorite red lipstick, Urban Decay’s Gash. Violet took a deep breath and grabbed her purse, dropping the lipstick inside and heading to her coat closet. The sky was a little gray so Violet grabbed her green raincoat and headed out of her apartment and down a flight of stairs to the entrance of her building.

Once outside Violet realized it was slightly chillier than she had been expecting. She slipped her coat on as she walked towards to the train station. It was just 2 blocks from her apartment. She descended the stairs and swiped her metro card as she walked through the turnstiles an onto the platform. The train pulled into the station a less than a minute later. Luckily there were a few open seats. Violet sat down and pulled her earbuds from her purse. She plugged them into her phone and put on some relaxing music to try and calm her nerves.

Today was Violet’s first day at her new job. She had graduated from college a year ago with a Bachelor’s in Drama and Dance. Violet’s parent’s were both lawyers. All of her grandparents were lawyers. Her 2 brothers were lawyers. And so on. But Violet never wanted to be a lawyer. Her parents wanted her to follow in their footsteps and become a defense attorney for white collar criminals. She detested what her parents did. They nearly had heart attacks when she said that changed her major to drama. But she didn’t care. She refused to live her life doing something that she hated. Her parents were miserable and she didn’t want that to be her. Her dream was to be a teacher at a prestigious art school and moved to New York after graduating to fulfill that dream. Unfortunately she soon discovered that NYC was an cold, unforgiving bitch. But she didn’t love it any less.

Being out of work for nearly a year was hard. She blew through most of her savings paying rent and buying groceries. But that all changes today. Violet started humming quietly along to the song currently playing on her phone. 20 minutes later the train pulled into the Christopher Street/Sheridan Square stop. Violet stood and exited the train, hurrying up the steps to the street and heading east. Christopher Street was one of her favorite areas in the city. It was full of life and culture. She would spend hours here on the weekends when she just needed to get out of her apartment. Violet arrived in front of her new office building. It was a 5 story white building with black doors and awnings. It didn’t really stick out much but that didn’t matter. She walked up the faux marble steps and opened one of the black doors, stepping inside and walking up to a large black desk. There was a young woman sitting behind it who greeted her.

“Hello there. Can I help you?” Violet smiled and nodded. “Yes, I’m here to see Julia Freeman?” The young woman picked up the phone and dialed an extension. “And who should I tell her is here?” “Violet Durand.” The young woman spoke wield into the receiver for a moment before hanging up. “You can have seat right over there, Ms. Durand. Julia will be out to get you momentarily.” Violet nodded. “Thank you.” She sat on a white leather couch and looked around the lobby. It was very monochromatic. But Violet didn’t mind. It was kinda nice actually. She looked behind the large desk at the entrance. ‘Yellow House Inc.’ it said in gold letters. All Violet knew about the company was that the CEO was an art dealer and that she was going to be his assistant. Being the assistant to a pretentious art dealer prick sounded like hell but Violet was desperate.

A few moments later Violet heard the familiar clinking of heels on tile. She looked up and saw a tall, statuesque woman with short black hair. “Hi, you must be Violet. I’m Julia Freeman, head of Human Resources.” She spoke with a British accent that can only be described as snooty. She extended her hand to Violet. Violet quickly stood and shook the woman’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Julia smiled and lead Violet through large white double doors. Julia led Violet to a small conference where there was a stack of paper on a small circular table. Julia took a seat and Violet sat across from her. “Here is some paperwork that we need you to sign. Mostly standard stuff, however there is an NDA in there.” Violet furrowed her eyebrows. “May I ask why I have to sign a non-disclosure agreement?” “The CEO is married to Charlotte Scott.” Violet’s eyes widened a bit. “The actress?” She asked softly. Julia bit back a laugh and nodded. “Yes, the actress. As the assistant to the CEO you will sometimes have to go to their home and you are forbidden from discussing anything you see in there or risk losing your job and a $100,000 fine.”

Violet made sure to read the NDA thoroughly before signing. Once all of her paperwork was complete, Julia put it in a neat stack to her left. “So, Violet, do you know what we do here at Yellow House?” Violet chewed her bottom lip a bit. “You buy and sell art from other art dealers or collectors.” Julia nodded. “That’s part of it.” She began explaining more about the company and what they did. It all sounded dreadful but Violet continued to actively listen, making sure to ask a question or two along the way. “Do you know what Yellow House is? What it is a reference to?” Julia asked. “Well, Yellow House is a painting by Van Gogh, so I assume that.” Julia smiled. “Very good. The CEO despises Van Gogh but rich people love him so we are appropriately named after one of his paintings. And do you know who our CEO is?” “His name is Simon, I believe.” Julia chuckled a bit. “Yes, very good. Since you are his assistant it would serve you well to know his name.”

Julia excused herself from the room, taking the stack of papers with her. A few minutes later she peeked her head around the doorframe. “Come. I’m going to take you to meet Simon now.” Violet stood, smoothing out the front of her skirt. She grabbed her purse and coat from the chair and followed Julia to an elevator. They entered and Julia pressed the button for the 5th floor. “A few quick tips. Simon is…a little eccentric so just try to play along if you’re not. Also, he hates it when people call him sir or mister so just call him Simon. And don’t be offended if it takes him a while to learn your name. For the first 2 months that I worked here he called me Natalie.” Violet smiled nervously. “Oh ok.” Julia continued. “And don’t bother correcting him. It will only extend the amount of time he calls you the wrong name.”

The elevator dinged when they reached the 5th floor. Julia led Violet out of the elevator. Straight ahead was a large black desk that was partially surrounded to form half a square. “This will be your desk. You can set your things down here. I’ll make sure that Simon isn’t on a call.” Violet set her things down as Julia approached a large black door, knocking twice. “Yeah, come in.” Violet heard a gruff sounding voice from the other side say. Julia pushed the door open and stepped inside. She couldn’t make out what was being said, all she heard was muffled voices. A moment later Julia stepped partially outside the door. “You can come in, Violet.”

Violet took a deep breath and walked over, stopping outside the door for a moment before finally stepping inside. She was surprised to when she finally laid eyes on Simon. She expected him to be some prick in his late 20s to early 30s with a suit that costs more than a year’s rent and slicked back hair. Instead she saw a tall man in his 40s with graying, slightly crazy hair, a mustache that would give 70s porn stars a run for their money, black jeans, black boots, and a black Sex Pistols t-shirt.

“Simon, this is your new assistant, Violet Durand. She graduated from Tisch last year.” Simon looked up for the first time, giving Violet a once over before speaking. “A Tisch girl, huh? Let me guess…drama? No, dance?” Violet smiled shyly. “Drama and dance.” Simon grinned. “Close enough.” He stood from his chair and walked around his desk, holding his hand out to Violet. “Nice to meet you.” Violet shook his hand, caught off guard briefly by his strong grip. “Likewise.” Simon went back to his desk and pulled out his phone. “Ya know, we’ve never had a Tisch grad before. Maybe this one will actually know what she’s doing.” Violet’s eyebrows raised a bit at Simon’s crassness. Julia smiled a bit. “Well, honestly, Violet does seem very bright.”

Violet jumped as Simon’s hand slammed down on his desk. “Goddammit! Why is this motherfucker always send me shit in French. He knows I don’t speak fucking French! Julia, did you tell this motherfucker I don’t speak French?” Julia walked to his desk, holding her hand out for his phone. “That depends. Which motherfucker are you referring to this time?” Julia was looking at the phone. Her and Simon went back and forth for a few moments before Violet spoke up. “Umm…I might be able to help. If that’s ok?” Simon nodded and Julia handed the phone to Violet. She looked over the words, reading them aloud.

“‘Merci pour votre aide. Votre charmante épouse et vous-même êtes les bienvenus chez nous à tout moment.’"  It means ‘thank you for all of your help. You and your lovely wife are welcome at our home anytime.’” Simon raised an eyebrow. “You take French in college?” Violet shook her head as she handed the phone back to Julia. “No sir…I mean Simon. I was taught by my mother. I was only allowed to speak French in my grandmother’s home. She hated the English language…and most Americans, honestly.” Simon huffed. “Smart lady.” Simon continued to look through e-mails on his phone for a few moments. “Listen uh….” Julia leaned in and whispered. “Violet.” “I know.” Simon said incredulously. “Listen, Violet. Why don’t you finished getting settled. Julia here will take you on a grand tour and finish going over things with you and then after that you can take off. I don’t have much use for ya today. But I expect you here and ready to work at 8am tomorrow. Understood?” Violet nodded. “Yes, si…Simon. Thank you.”

Julia led Violet around the building, introducing her to all of her new co-workers. Violet’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much by the time the tour was over. Julia took her back up to the 5th floor so she could grab her things. As Violet grabbed her purse and coat she could hear Simon yelling in his office, obviously speaking to someone on the phone. Julia took Violet back down to the 1st floor to show her out. As Violet sat on the train on the way back to her apartment,  she had a feeling that this job was going to be a strange and twisted journey. And that made her nervous and excited at the same time. She knew one thing for sure. Tomorrow was going to be an exciting day.

Tags: @simons-thirst-squad @jdmfanfiction

Thank you to @66psychotic99 for the proper French translation above!!

[trendingnewsb]

I've Read More Than 500 Cover Letters and Here's What I've Spotted

There are about 3.69 million results on a Google search for “cover letter template,” which isn’t surprising. Many are concerned with making sure they have the right cover letter format, so they go searching for a template.

Here’s the problem with that approach: by definition, a template (especially those residing on Page 1 of Google’s search results) is something that thousands of people are using. This cannot stand out from others. Your cover letter begins from a very average place.

The average number of applicants to a job these days is 59,[1] with most jobs receiving far more. Recruiters and hiring managers simply don’t have the time to go through 60+ resumes and cover letters thoroughly without sacrificing many other priorities during the day.

A good, interesting cover letter — especially one that hooks the reader immediately — can be a huge difference in getting you a job. A generic cover letter on the same template the recruiter just saw 50 other times? No.

When we discuss cover letter format, then, let’s shift the focus to how to make yourself stand out as a candidate via your cover letter.

Make It Personal (Like You Know the Hiring Person)

This is actually much easier in the modern age, because you can use LinkedIn often to find the specific hiring manager for the position. For example, a writer job may report to a marketing or content marketing manager, and a design job might report to a marketing manager or Chief Designer. Once you know the hiring manager, you can personalize the cover letter format pretty easily:

No sir/madam; use the name.

Look at their career arc and mention one commonality between theirs and yours.

Mention one skill or concept you think you could learn from them.

Now the cover letter is directed at one person and wholly personal. This is a great first step.

If you can, look up potential pain points for the employer online. Some sources are Google News, Seeking Alpha, The Wall Street Journal, and other financial sources. If you’ve determined the biggest problems they face and you have a few sentences about how your role could solve them, that might endear your candidacy to them.

Narrate Your Story

Nothing resonates for the human brain like stories. Tell a great one here — especially given the time constraints for a hiring manager to read all these letters. Some tips:

Use the inverted pyramid approach and put the most important information first.

Assume that with every additional word, the chances of the hiring manager continuing to read it declines. You can assume that because it’s been proven by research.[2]

A good story-driven intro might go something like this:

Hi Mr. Peterson,

I saw that you were a river guide for a while in your 20s. I was also for three years and a near-death experience I had with a group from a corporate retreat changed everything for me about how I considered my career arc.

Mr. Peterson is likely to keep reading. The story has hooked him.

Play up Your Connection with the Company

This is where your research (LinkedIn and otherwise) comes into play. You need to convey why working for that specific company is important to you, not just the concept of having a job. The goal is to build emotional attachment based on the research you did. Here’s an example:

Hi Mr. Smith,

My dad always told me his best experiences were in family-owned businesses, so I’ve been gravitating towards those in my recent search. I discovered how many awards your team has won, including the 2017 Best Business award for the metro area, and I began doing additional research on your culture. It seems fantastic, especially that part about company-wide data accountability and bonding “color days.” I’ve been searching for a great fit like this since those long conversations about being a male and career-building with my dad, and your approach seems excellent. I’d love to show you why I’m the best candidate here.

This references research, shows you care about the company, and plays to the ego of those already inside the company. It’s a triple win!

Focus on 3 Attributes Only

When the iPhone first came out, there were over 200 features. Steve Jobs could have discussed them all in that famous opening press event. He discussed seven only. If he had discussed 200+, the event would have taken forever and no one would remember the key elements.

You don’t need seven features for a cover letter, but picking three attributes is usually a good start. It may look something like this:

I believe I can add value in this role in three specific ways, namely advanced data analysis, communication and presentation of that data to senior leadership, and project management around the initial stages of transferring what the data says into a direct action plan. I’ve been working in the data context space for six years, and some examples of my biggest projects include…

The letter/section would go on, but the important point is that you specifically defined your value adds. The experiences underscoring those value adds comes next.

At this point, the optimal cover letter format focuses on:

Emotions

Stories

Personal context

Background research

Defining your value-add

Friendly tone

And now, let’s get to some more logistics.

Make It Easy-To-Read

This means font (Arial, Courier New, Times New Roman, etc.) and size (usually 12-14). Use standard margins. It should be one page or shorter, and save it (as with your resume) as a PDF instead of a MS Word file, which can look different across different devices.[3]

Also make sure it’s clearly labeled as the cover letter, as oftentimes you’ll send as attachments with the resume. While this may seem minor, confusing a recruiter or hiring manager for even a few seconds could get your cover letter tossed.

The baseline: no mistakes. Avoid typos, run-on sentences, poor grammar, or misspellings (especially of the company or hiring manager’s name). This is a baseline that will get any cover letter tossed aside. Proofread it and make sure you run it through a spell check process.

The Bottom Line on Cover Letter Format

As the number of applications to a standard position rises, you have to make your cover letter stand out. An impressive cover letter will get you through those top of funnel hiring stages and onward to an interview with the hiring manager.

Your cover letter format is less about the exact best template and more about the story you convey. That’s going to push the door further open in the hiring process.

Reference

[1]^Jobvite: 7 Benchmark Metrics to Help You Master Your Recruiting Funnel[2]^Scott Berkun: How To Write A Good Bio[3]^Career Cake: 5 Steps to an Incredible Cover Letter

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I've Read More Than 500 Cover Letters and Here's What I've Spotted

There are about 3.69 million results on a Google search for “cover letter template,” which isn’t surprising. Many are concerned with making sure they have the right cover letter format, so they go searching for a template.

Here’s the problem with that approach: by definition, a template (especially those residing on Page 1 of Google’s search results) is something that thousands of people are using. This cannot stand out from others. Your cover letter begins from a very average place.

The average number of applicants to a job these days is 59,[1] with most jobs receiving far more. Recruiters and hiring managers simply don’t have the time to go through 60+ resumes and cover letters thoroughly without sacrificing many other priorities during the day.

A good, interesting cover letter — especially one that hooks the reader immediately — can be a huge difference in getting you a job. A generic cover letter on the same template the recruiter just saw 50 other times? No.

When we discuss cover letter format, then, let’s shift the focus to how to make yourself stand out as a candidate via your cover letter.

Make It Personal (Like You Know the Hiring Person)

This is actually much easier in the modern age, because you can use LinkedIn often to find the specific hiring manager for the position. For example, a writer job may report to a marketing or content marketing manager, and a design job might report to a marketing manager or Chief Designer. Once you know the hiring manager, you can personalize the cover letter format pretty easily:

No sir/madam; use the name.

Look at their career arc and mention one commonality between theirs and yours.

Mention one skill or concept you think you could learn from them.

Now the cover letter is directed at one person and wholly personal. This is a great first step.

If you can, look up potential pain points for the employer online. Some sources are Google News, Seeking Alpha, The Wall Street Journal, and other financial sources. If you’ve determined the biggest problems they face and you have a few sentences about how your role could solve them, that might endear your candidacy to them.

Narrate Your Story

Nothing resonates for the human brain like stories. Tell a great one here — especially given the time constraints for a hiring manager to read all these letters. Some tips:

Use the inverted pyramid approach and put the most important information first.

Assume that with every additional word, the chances of the hiring manager continuing to read it declines. You can assume that because it’s been proven by research.[2]

A good story-driven intro might go something like this:

Hi Mr. Peterson,

I saw that you were a river guide for a while in your 20s. I was also for three years and a near-death experience I had with a group from a corporate retreat changed everything for me about how I considered my career arc.

Mr. Peterson is likely to keep reading. The story has hooked him.

Play up Your Connection with the Company

This is where your research (LinkedIn and otherwise) comes into play. You need to convey why working for that specific company is important to you, not just the concept of having a job. The goal is to build emotional attachment based on the research you did. Here’s an example:

Hi Mr. Smith,

My dad always told me his best experiences were in family-owned businesses, so I’ve been gravitating towards those in my recent search. I discovered how many awards your team has won, including the 2017 Best Business award for the metro area, and I began doing additional research on your culture. It seems fantastic, especially that part about company-wide data accountability and bonding “color days.” I’ve been searching for a great fit like this since those long conversations about being a male and career-building with my dad, and your approach seems excellent. I’d love to show you why I’m the best candidate here.

This references research, shows you care about the company, and plays to the ego of those already inside the company. It’s a triple win!

Focus on 3 Attributes Only

When the iPhone first came out, there were over 200 features. Steve Jobs could have discussed them all in that famous opening press event. He discussed seven only. If he had discussed 200+, the event would have taken forever and no one would remember the key elements.

You don’t need seven features for a cover letter, but picking three attributes is usually a good start. It may look something like this:

I believe I can add value in this role in three specific ways, namely advanced data analysis, communication and presentation of that data to senior leadership, and project management around the initial stages of transferring what the data says into a direct action plan. I’ve been working in the data context space for six years, and some examples of my biggest projects include…

The letter/section would go on, but the important point is that you specifically defined your value adds. The experiences underscoring those value adds comes next.

At this point, the optimal cover letter format focuses on:

Emotions

Stories

Personal context

Background research

Defining your value-add

Friendly tone

And now, let’s get to some more logistics.

Make It Easy-To-Read

This means font (Arial, Courier New, Times New Roman, etc.) and size (usually 12-14). Use standard margins. It should be one page or shorter, and save it (as with your resume) as a PDF instead of a MS Word file, which can look different across different devices.[3]

Also make sure it’s clearly labeled as the cover letter, as oftentimes you’ll send as attachments with the resume. While this may seem minor, confusing a recruiter or hiring manager for even a few seconds could get your cover letter tossed.

The baseline: no mistakes. Avoid typos, run-on sentences, poor grammar, or misspellings (especially of the company or hiring manager’s name). This is a baseline that will get any cover letter tossed aside. Proofread it and make sure you run it through a spell check process.

The Bottom Line on Cover Letter Format

As the number of applications to a standard position rises, you have to make your cover letter stand out. An impressive cover letter will get you through those top of funnel hiring stages and onward to an interview with the hiring manager.

Your cover letter format is less about the exact best template and more about the story you convey. That’s going to push the door further open in the hiring process.

Reference

[1]^Jobvite: 7 Benchmark Metrics to Help You Master Your Recruiting Funnel[2]^Scott Berkun: How To Write A Good Bio[3]^Career Cake: 5 Steps to an Incredible Cover Letter

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