#today I spent exactly long enough up on stage with an auditorium-full of people looking at me to think of this song

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: May 21

"cryptid (mothman)” by ratwyfe

[prissyhalliwell]

Author’s Note: It’s been 84 years…or maybe just a year. Still, too long. If you’re reading this epilogue, I love you forever <3 There’s a fair amount of exposition early on, but I promise there’s some really cute stuff after that ;) 

P.S. There was smut published yesterday in this verse as a oneshot. It happens canonically before this chapter, but can be read whenever. Enjoy!

~ Winner of Best Mr. Gold in the 2016 TEA Awards ~  Read on AO3

Chapter Fourteen: Epilogue One Year Later

Belle stood alone on the stage of the Enchanted Forest, enjoying the unusual quiet for a few moments. 

The stage was mostly dark, the overhead lights giving off only enough light for her to make her way around the set without tripping on anything. She had expected to find Gold waiting for her after she received his cryptic text to meet him there, but she didn’t see any sign of him. 

Or anyone else for that matter. 

“Hello?” she asked, warily. At this point in the evening, at least a few people should be around. “Is anyone there?”

Someone was obviously around as the lights were still on. If everyone had gone home, only the ghost light would have been on. Perhaps Gold had just stepped out for a moment. 

Belle blushed when she remembered the last time she’d met him here when the theatre was deserted. If that’s what he was hinting at when he’d asked, he really should have been more specific. 

She would have been happy to grab her princess costume from wardrobe if she’d known. 

It certainly would have been a memorable way for them to celebrate their one year anniversary. Today was one year to the day that she and Gold had finally admitted their feelings for each other and had their first real kiss - an intimate moment that they had happened to share with an auditorium full of strangers. 

Just the memory was enough to bring a goofy smile to her face. In the days following their kiss, she had been so happy that her face had actually begun to hurt from grinning so much. 

The show had been a complete success that night. The crowd ate up the changes and tickets for upcoming shows had begun selling faster than ever, thanks to word of mouth and the glowing review Merlin had given them in the newspaper the next day.  

Her and Gold’s date with Cruella and Ursula had also been a success, but not necessarily as a double date. They’d barely made it through one drink before the costume designer’s patience had worn thin. 

“Alright, that’s it,” Cruella finally said, setting her glass of mostly gin and less tonic down on the table rather loudly. “While I am overjoyed that you two have stopped being idiots, you should probably just get a room already, because I am tired of getting kicked while you pretend you’re not playing footsie.” She shot Belle a dry look. “Also, Granny’s is a family establishment, Belle. If you could keep your hands above the table, that would probably be best for everyone.” 

She and Gold had left pretty quickly after that, giggling loudly as they exited Granny’s, leaving behind a laughing Ursula and an amused, if rather exasperated, Cruella.

Despite Cruella’s suggestion, they hadn’t gotten a room or gone back to either of their places. As well as things were going, they had both felt it was too soon for that step. Though from the way they had spent the rest of the evening making out as they wandered around Storybrooke, Belle had known it wouldn’t be too long before they stumbled their way towards a bed. Or a sofa. Or anything that had a horizontal surface. 

Once Gold had finally gotten over his fear of kissing her, he couldn’t get enough. It was like a dam had broken. Every chance he got, he’d sneak a kiss or wrap her in his arms for a quick makeout session when no one else was around. 

Not that she had complained. In fact, Belle hadn’t known if it was possible to be any happier than she was at that moment. 

But as the weeks and months rolled by, Belle realized she couldn’t have been more wrong. Life was only getting better by the day. 

The theatre’s business flourished under the new script, bringing in steady customers week after week. Sidney had been the first to admit that he had been wrong not to embrace a change before now, and had to frequently be reigned in by Tiana from making unnecessary changes to the script, menu, stage, seating arrangements, interior and exterior of the building, and literally anything else that could be changed in any way, shape, or form. 

Their workshop classes had also taken off, providing an excellent space to experiment with the show’s script and giving Belle a chance to strengthen her improv skills. The students, especially a few of the girls, never grew tired of setting her and Gold up to perform romantic scenes between the princess and chancellor. For the most part, the two of them were happy to indulge the paying customers, especially if it involved an excuse to flirt unashamedly. 

Despite its rather rocky start, her relationship with Gold had been free of the drama that had plagued their earlier interactions. They spent most of their free time together, despite seeing each other every day at work. Their free nights often found them cuddled up on Gold’s sofa, watching old movies and eating popcorn that they’d made in Belle’s air popper, which had somehow taken up permanent residence in Gold’s house, along with half a dozen of Belle’s dresses, a handful of her favorite books, and one or two medium-sized boxes full of shoes. 

Gold was also teaching her to ride one of the theatre’s horses, a small Appaloosa mare named Chip. The horse had a white coat with leopard-like black spots and blue eyes that Gold said reminded him of Belle’s. Chip had gotten her name a year ago from Henry, who had observed that she looked just like a chocolate chip cookie. 

They’d been slightly worried about how the rest of the cast would react to their dating, but they needn’t have worried. Everyone - including Regina - was just relieved that they’d finally figured it out. Tiana had given them a wink the first time she’d seen them holding hands. Leopold had given them an awkward thumbs up while Jefferson and Killian had made some rather inappropriate hand gestures that August had immediately chewed them out for. 

Emma had just rolled her eyes and murmured, “Thank god” into her coffee. 

But surprisingly enough, it wasn’t only their relationship that had flourished. Despite Cruella’s assertion that marriage was not for her, she and Ursula had ended up eloping to Paris six months after their double date. They were now happily living in Cruella’s townhouse with two dalmatians and a large aquarium full of tropical fish. Belle and Gold were invited over for dinner frequently, and always showed up to work the next morning with a hangover while Cruella cheerfully walked by them with a smirk. 

A sudden creak up above her head brought Belle back to the present. She craned her neck towards the lights but couldn’t see anything, though she could swear she heard a muffled laugh. 

She shivered. Perhaps this was why actors didn’t hang out in empty theatres by themselves. It was too easy to imagine they were haunted. 

Beginning to grow impatient, Belle wondered again where Gold was. His text had made it seem urgent, so she had rushed over. Her brain automatically leapt to the worse-case scenarios. Could he be hurt? Could his new job offer have fallen through? 

Gold had finally confessed to her that he had been planning to put in his two weeks’ notice the day she had first joined The Enchanted Forest. The fact that meeting her had convinced him to stay was a great boost to her ego, even as her heart had raced at the idea that they had almost missed working with each other and, consequently, falling in love.   

But thankfully that had not been the case and they had gotten an amazing year and a half to work together. Things had only gotten better in the past year as the theatre had become financially stable and even begun to make plans for expansions. As much as Gold loved his castmates and the character of the Chancellor, it was a good time for him to move on. When the theatre had been in trouble, it had felt like a betrayal to leave, but now that it was a success, Gold could leave with an easy conscience.  

He’d finally accepted Zozo’s offer to join the company at the Dagger Theatre, where he’d be able to perform in a variety of shows throughout the year. His first play with them would be Macbeth and she knew he couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into Shakespeare again. 

Belle would miss performing with him every week, but she knew it was time for him to try something new. She was pretty sure any lingering guilt he might have felt about leaving evaporated when August announced the new script and her leading role in it.

Not only would Belle’s part be expanded, but she was being promoted to queen. Both she and Regina would be queens of warring nations who put aside their rivalry to unite against their true enemy, Killian, after they discovered his plot to play them against one another. 

Having seen Regina in fight mode in real life, she knew the other woman was up for the task. Belle only hoped she could match her onstage.

The fact that she got to stab Killian each night was an added perk. Even if it was only a fake sword that -

Belle froze, hearing something moving in the dark. She paused, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from.

A click echoed overhead, loud in the otherwise silent auditorium. Immediately, the dim lights brightened, bathing the stage in a warm glow. 

Belle spun around, gasping as she saw the giant pink heart projected onto the castle wall behind her. 

Gold appeared from behind the set, dressed in full armor, and carrying a rose exactly like those the knights gave away during the show. 

Belle blinked, wondering if she had fallen asleep on stage while waiting. Surely this wasn’t actually happening? 

He extended the rose to her with a slight bow. “Belle, you’re the only one I want to give roses to for the rest of my life. I am head over heels in love with you and want nothing more than to spend forever by your side. Would you make an honest knight out of me and be my -”

“Yes!” She leapt into his arms, causing him to drop the rose, and kissed him soundly. 

After a moment or two, he pulled back. “I wasn’t finished yet. I had an entire speech prepared!” he said, trying to sound sulky but failing miserably as a broad grin spread across his face. 

Belle laughed. “You can tell me later,” she whispered suggestively, grabbing his collar and raising her face for another kiss.

“You forgot the ring!” yelled a voice from up on the lights. 

Belle’s head swung upward. “Is that Ursula?” 

Before Gold could answer, a second voice chimed in. “Of course, it is! You didn’t think we could let this moron try and pull this off by himself, did you?” 

Gold grimaced. “Thanks, Cruella.” 

Belle stifled a giggle. “Ursula’s right, you did forget the ring.” 

“No, I didn’t! It’s on the rose.” Gold bent over and grabbed the flower. Sure enough, a ring was tied around the stem with a red ribbon. “If you’ll have it?” he asked, the corner of his mouth quirking into a shy smile. 

“She already said yes!” Cruella yelled. “Just put it on her finger already.” 

“Drink your vodka and give the man a second,” Ursula chided. “Honestly, he’s probably a nervous wreck after how long it took you to figure out the lights.”

“I am a costume designer, darling, not a stagehand. These hands were made for art, not working lights!”

Gold ignored them, pulling the ring from the ribbon and holding it up for Belle’s approval. A sparkling blue sapphire with a halo of small diamonds adorned a simple rose gold band. It was perfect. 

She nodded emphatically, letting out a giggle as he slipped it onto her finger. 

“I rather thought it matched your eyes,” he said, soft enough so only she could hear. 

Tears sprang into her eyes. As he pulled her close for another kiss, a cry of excitement went up on the lights.

They both laughed as they kissed, too overjoyed to care about their audience. As always, everything fell away but the two of them when they were on stage together. 

They broke for air, grinning at each other and probably looking like a pair of love-struck fools. Belle couldn’t have cared less. 

A feeling of contentment washed over her, as if her life had come full circle at last. The Enchanted Forest’s stage was where she had first seen Gold, where she’d gotten to know the man behind the Chancellor, and where they had fallen in love. It seemed only right that it had become the setting where they began the next chapter of their lives together.

With a goofy grin still on his face, Gold offered her his arm. “May I escort you to dinner, my queen?”

Belle took his arm, ignoring the catcalls from up above. “Oh, I think dinner can wait a while, don’t you, Chancellor? I can think of a few other ways to celebrate.” 

He smirked. “As you wish, your highness.” 

As they walked out of the theatre’s entrance into the parking lot, they both glanced back at the building. No matter what paths life took them down from here, the large stone building with its giant banner would always be their real home. 

Snuggled up against Gold with the comforting weight of her engagement ring against her skin, Belle smiled up at the old theatre. Perhaps The Enchanted Forest had its own magic, after all. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Author’s note: Shout-out to @beastlycheese for prompting an onstage wedding proposal and @rumpledspinster-art for sending me a video about Medieval Time’s current script which inspired Belle’s new role as queen - thank you both! (Sorry it’s been sooooo long in coming!)  

Also, a big thanks to everyone who has loved on this story over the past four years! I really enjoyed writing this zany bunch of characters. 

[muffininahandbasket]

Buckle up my dudes, it’s story time

Sorry this is so long, but it’s important and needs to be said.

I’m a middle school music teacher in an urban district. Along with fire drills, we also have something called “ALICE” training, which is essentially practice for if there was ever an active shooter in the building. Each of the letters stands for a different method of reaction to an intruder situation based on what situation you are in, but that isn’t what I’m about to get into. I want to tell y’all a story about what transpired today during a “lockdown situation” drill at my school. In a lockdown situation, we are supposed to get all of the students out of the hallway and lock and barricade our doors. Then, we wait while the cops sweep the building to figure out where any issues or weak spots are.

Now, the teachers have known for several weeks that this drill was going to happen during a transition time, so while students were passing from one class to another. The biggest issue this poses for my room is that I am on the opposite side of the school from any other classroom, past the doors to the main lobby and through the cafeteria. The band teacher holds his classes in the auditorium, which cannot be locked but does have two doors that lead directly into my classroom. This means that the band teacher and I had to be very diligent in making sure kids weren’t dawdling in the hallway, and that any kids down our way coming to music or band class were going to end up in my room. We were prepared for this. Getting the kids into the room is not the main idea of this story.

Once we had cleared the hallway, cafeteria, and bathroom, we had to make sure to secure all four entry points to my classroom. The main door that goes into the hallway was locked, and we barricaded it with stacks of chairs. One of the doors leading into the auditorium was locked with a piano pushed in front of it. The fire exit had chairs stacked in front of it, and at this point the kids were spread out in the room. They were quiet, a few were trying to hide, and some of the younger kids were visibly shaken by the experience even though they knew it was a drill.

Now as I’ve said, three points of entry to my classroom were locked and barricaded. The door to the hallway, the fire exit, and one door leading to the auditorium were secured. But there was one more point of entry into my classroom. There is a door right behind my desk that also leads to the auditorium, although few people really know about it because on the auditorium side it is blocked off by stacks of band chairs and the rear stage curtains. Here is where we come to the main point of this lengthy anecdote.

Despite the fact that the door behind my desk is locked and not easily accessible from the other side, one of the other teachers that ended up in my room told an eighth grade student to push my desk chair up against the door for good measure. This student and another classmate did so, but they did not just leave it at that. For the remainder of the drill, those two eighth grade boys pressed themselves up against the door, and at first I thought it was because they were just trying to listen to see if the officers checking our end of the building were in the auditorium. Within ten minutes our principal came over the loudspeaker to tell us that the drill had ended and that we should resume normal activity. We unbarricaded the doors and students went on their way to their second block classes. I had my eighth graders during this block, so as we waited for the rest of my class to arrive from the rooms they ended up getting pulled into for the drill, I asked one of the students who had spent the drill leaning on the door behind my desk why he had stayed there after pushing the chair in front of it. His answer stunned me absolutely speechless.

For some background, this kid is a smart student, but he is also one of the biggest pains in the ass you will ever meet in your life. Like this kid is literally the bane of my existence on any given day. He’s the “class clown” type, and is really good at towing the line of just being annoying versus doing things that can get you sent to the office. He is EXTREMELY talented at pushing just enough buttons that you are absolutely fuming without ever doing anything that’s actually write-up worthy. So back to the point of this seemingly endless tale, the response this eighth grader gives me is “well I didn’t think the chair would be enough to hold the door if someone tried to open it.” “Well the doors are locked and pretty inconvenient to get to on the other side, no one would really be able to get through them,” I told him. He tilted his head at me and said “oh I thought they weren’t locked on the other side! We were trying to hold it closed so that no one could get in and get to everyone.”

Let that sink in for a minute. “We were holding it so the intruder would have a harder time getting in.” This is an actual sentence said to me by a fourteen year old boy, who is usually a massive thorn in my side, after an active shooter training drill. This is an eighth grade student telling me that he was actively putting himself closer to potential danger so that his classmates would be safer. He wanted to make sure everyone else was ok. He thought that in a real situation, those doors could be the difference between life or death for his classmates. This is the response from a CHILD who was essentially ready to put himself in harms way if it meant giving his classmates even the smallest amount of time to get somewhere safer.

Today I came home from work, and I cried. I cried because I am FURIOUS that this kid has to think about what he would do in a situation where someone was trying to hurt him and his classmates. I am so angry that these children live in a world where they have to consider what they would do if some psycho decides to shoot up their school; a place where they go to learn, where they grow as people, where they should never have to feel unsafe. I cried for my students. I cried because I know that if there were ever a real situation where someone was trying to hurt people in my school, I would sooner die than let them hurt any one of my kids. I cried for the victims of all of the mass shooting that have happened in schools across the country because we don’t have uniform gun control laws.

I cried, but they weren’t tears of sadness. They were not tears of fear. It was pure, unadulterated ANGER that was fueling this. Because this is preventable. No child should have to barricade classroom doors and try and figure out the easiest thing in a classroom to chuck at someone if they get through the door with a weapon. No child should have to sit in school, plagued with the very reasonable fear that any day some lunatic might show up with a gun trying to hurt them and their friends. THIS SHOULD NOT BE THE PROBLEM THAT IT HAS BECOME. These tragedies are PREVENTABLE. This is exactly why we need lawmakers who are pro gun control. No one is saying that we should take away all guns from everyone, but something needs to be done because what we’re currently doing is clearly not working. Get rid of large capacity magazines. Do thorough background checks and mental health screenings of anyone and everyone who wants to buy a gun. Make gun owners pass safety courses on a regular basis to renew their licenses to carry. Your “right” to own an assault rifle does not trump the right of my students to feel safe in their school. It does not take precedence over the lives of students and teachers across the country. If you think that you’re “right” to own a weapon should be priotized over the safety, well being, and/or peace of mind of our children, then you have the moral backbone of a jellyfish. Your opinion on gun rights does not justify the fact that there are children in our country who put very serious thought into what they would do if someone with a weapon and an intent to hurt people shows up in their school. Next time you want to tell me that stricter laws are “unconstitutional”, I want you to think of this story. I want you to think of that eighth grade boy who is prepared to put himself in harms way to save his friends, who was willing to bring himself closer to danger to make sure that a classroom full of students that he didn’t even know would be safer. Think about this kid. Think really hard, and then look me in the eye and tell me that gun control isn’t the answer, I dare you.

[yanyan-chen]

COLLEGE AUーDING ZEREN pt.1

•have you seen this boy dance??

•because WOW

•did i fall for him the second he started dancing???? yes

•ok on with the story

•zeren has been dancing for as long as he could remember,,

•boy was probably dancing in his mother’s womb lol

•whenever he heard music, his body couldn’t help but move along to the beats no matter where he was. like he’d tap his feet,, or bop his head,, or do little arm movements,,,sometimes he forgets about his surroundings,,,,like once,,, he was at a cafe w his friends right

•and he started grooving to the song,,,and as the song went on, his movements got wider,,,and then his elbow hit quanzhe’s drink

•let’s just say that zeren spent almost the entire day trying to remove the stain from the poor kid’s shirt

•only to have to spend $30 buying a new shirt

•and have quanzhe swear that he’ll never sit next to zeren again

•anyways,,

•he’s been in various dance competitions and either won first or second place, never anything less

•dancing was something that meant a lot to him. whenever he was stressed or overwhelmed, he would dance to relax his mind

•so when he got to college, he obviously chose to be a dance major

•he even became one of the leaders of the university’s dance team and always performed at festivals

•dance team also consisted of zhengting, jieqiong, and chengxiao

•so speaking of the dance team

•they were holding auditions soon to recruit two more members to fill in for the members that just graduated

•guess who decided to try out!!!

•if you guessed that it was you

•ding ding ding zeren you’re correct

•dancing was also something that you loved ever since you were a kid

•you loved how dancing allowed you to freely express yourself through all sorts of movements and there were no restrictions on what you had to do

•contrary to your life

•your parents expected you to become a doctor or just anything in the medical field. nothing else was allowed. they always disregarded your dreams and forced you to live the way they wanted you to. they’re always comparing you to their friends’ children too. like “so-and-so got accepted to one of the top universities. why aren’t you putting in more effort to be like him?” “so-and-so got all 100s on her report card, why aren’t you putting in more effort to be like her?”

•”why aren’t you putting in more effort to” was a phrase that you constantly heard throughout your life. they were never satisfied with your accomplishments. whenever you get high 90s on anything, they ask why didn’t you get 100s. they always say you don’t put in enough effort or you’re doing things half-heartedly when you really work as hard, if not harder, than the highest achievers. even when you get academic awards, they say “that’s how it should be”

•all you want is for them to acknowledge your achievements even if it’s just ONCE

•so when you got to college, you decided to go to one that was far from your home

•it also so happened to be the one your best friend, chengcheng, was going to, so you were more than content. you chose to be a pharmaceutical sciences major to satisfy your parents’ wish, but chose to try out for the dance team so you had something you were interested in in college. you wanted to join in your first year of college, but it was full ///:

•but not anymore !!

•so! onto auditions

•it was set to be in the afternoon exactly a week after the first semester began, and chengcheng went with you for support, but also because another good friend of his would be there

•you sat in one of the seats as you waited for your turn, and everyone was really talented so you were lowkey Shook™ and wanted to run away bc there’s no way that you can win against them?? but chengcheng wouldn’t let you

•when it was finally your turn, you were like !!!! the whole time you walked onto the stage. it’s not like you lacked confidence or anything, you were just nervous........cause y’kno......one of the judges was none other than THE ding zeren

•you’ve always watched him dance at festivals and you admired him a lot. not only did he have good as hECK looks, but he was such a skilled dancer

•but hey, you weren’t the only one admiring him. bc at one of the festivals, he was walking around w the dance team when he noticed you at your group’s stand selling snacks and his heart skipped a beat bc ?? you’re so beautiful ??? who are you ??? and before he could go to you, zzt pulled him away saying that they needed to prepare to perform soon. so today, he was determined to find out who you are and talk to you. but then he looked at your application form and was surprised bc ?? a pharmaceutical major?? joining the dance team???? everyone that auditioned so far were dance majors or fine arts majors. so as cute as you were, he was ready to complain to ting about how they’re gonna waste their time by watching your performance bc he really wasn’t expecting you to know how to dance, but no he froze the second you started moving. you were so graceful ??? and you controlled all of your movements so well. you hit every beat of the song and you gained more confidence as you danced

•soon, it was over and zeren over here was like :O

•so were all the other dance team members tbh

•cause, as yixing would’ve said, you had the balance

•they all unanimously agreed to recruit you

•after a couple more people performed, the dance members got together to choose the last person to join. then, zhengting came up on the stage. “thank you to all of you for showing your interest in joining our dance team!! you all are very talented, but sadly, we can only choose two members” he proceeded to give a little speech about how they shouldn’t give up even if they aren’t selected and that they should try again next time. when he finally announced the names, you were on the edge of your seat with your hand tightly holding chengcheng’s. “the first member we are accepting is.......zhou yanchen!” the auditorium erupted in applauds, and it took a few minutes for it to die down. “and the last member is....” you could only vaguely hear your name bc chengcheng immediately started screaming and jumped out of his seat. “I TOLD YOU THAT YOU’D MAKE IT I’M SO PROUD OF YOU” he’s such a precious kid i love him. lots of people were applauding for you too. you were still in shock when chengcheng shook you and nodded his head towards the stage, indicating you were supposed to be going up. you quickly stood up and nearly tripped as you made your way to the stage. you and yanchen bowed to the audience and judges before thanking them. the whole time, zeren couldn’t take his eyes off of you. he was awestruck by your talent and on top of that, you were gorgeous bro

•after auditions, chengcheng ran up onto the stage where you still stood, talking to yanchen. you saw him running up and expected him to go to you,, but nope he turned the opposite way and went up to zeren

•was he the friend that chengcheng was talking about??? THE ding zeren is friends with your idiot chengcheng?????? you were frozen as you stood there, staring at chengcheng and zeren speaking

•you only snapped out of it when zhengting came and started to tell you and yanchen more details about practice

•fast forward to a week later

•spring was coming !!! meaning that the spring festival was coming soon!! fun activities !!! cool performances !!!! gOoD fOoD !!!!!!!!

•so it’s been a decent amount of time since you were accepted, so you became fairly close with all of the members, especially yanchen and chengxiao. you and zeren only had small talk every now and then about the choreography, when practices were, or something stupid that chengcheng did recently

•anw back to the festival! the committee in charge of getting the festival ready decided bring back the romance concept. cause y’kno like flowers, love blossoms during the spring. i’m so poetic

•for the acts, you guys decided to send three groups to perform a medley of couple dances

•the pairings were chengxiao and zhengting, jieqiong and yanchen, and............you and zeren

•you were surprised when zhengting announced the pairings.........bc omg you were gonna dance with ding zeren..........to a couple song !!!!!!!!

•zhengting said the names were randomly chosen but he’s a liar he lowkey thought you two would look cute together but he totally wasn’t planning on telling anyone that. zeren was hoping you’d be his partner too tbh so the boy was thrilled to hear his name being called with yours. he’d been wanting to get to know you more but he never knew what to say or was too shy. but he managed to muster up the courage to ask if you were free that weekend to come up with a choreography

•you were super excited bro

•but had to come off chill so you were like oh,,,, yeah sure

•but on the inside you were screaming with joy

•when the weekend came, zeren knocked on your door. taking a deep breath, you checked your reflection in the mirror quickly before opening the door. you smiled and greeted him as he greeted you back, flashing a grin that exposed his dimples. your heart almost jumped out of your chest because wow he’s so adorable and good-looking??? he was dressed in sweatpants and a normal t-shirt.......but still....how can someone look so good???? you probably looked like a bum

•that’s not what zeren thought though. he thought you looked pretty with your hair tied up, a couple of loose strands framing your face. his gaze went down to your lips and noticed the shade of lipstick you applied was slightly lighter than what you usually had on before they quickly went back up to your eyes. neither of you realized you were just staring at each other until your roommate coughed, making you both flustered before zeren spoke up

•”oh, uh, ready to go?”

•“yeah! let’s go”

•so you both headed over to the practice room. it was kind of an awkward walk bc neither of you knew what to say nor have you been alone together. but halfway there, zeren decided to ask you something he’s been curious about

•“so...how come you’re not a dance major?”

•”ah...my parents didn’t want me to choose that. they wanted me to have a medical profession. it’s fine though, as long as they’re happy.”

•he noticed the hint of sadness in your voice as you said the last sentence, so he chose not to question you further. upon arriving at the practice room, you guys jumped right into it. first, you needed to choose a song. you and zeren looked through a list of songs prepared by ting and didn’t take long to settle with say you won’t let go by james arthur. as you listened to the song, your bodies flowed with the melody. but since this is a love song...........you had to be fairly intimate......and the thing is....... you were both flustered messes. you were either tripping over your own feet or you stepped onto each other’s feet. but overall, you guys were doing well, like you got most of what you needed down. so, you decided to call it a day and head back to your dorm rooms. as you were going back, you debated whether you should ask zeren to join you for dinner since it was already 7pm, but before you opened your mouth, zeren invited you to go to a restaurant with him. the restaurant that he took you to was relatively small and close to campus. as soon as you walked in, you were greeted by a warm aroma of freshly cooked noodles. an elderly woman, whom you assumed was the owner, cheerfully welcomed you in and led you to a table. she took your orders and before she left, she commented that this was the first time zeren came in with a girl and not his rowdy friends, causing zeren to groan and usher her to go away. she only smiled innocently before disappearing into the kitchen. shortly after, she came out with two bowls of noodles

•and it was love at first sight because they looked SO GOOD and after you finished drooling over the food, you tasted it and the taste was even better than its appearance like omg where has this restaurant been all my life. and as you ate your food, zeren started to ask you questions like “when did you start to dance?” and “why do you like to dance?” and once you gave your answers, he’d share his own answers before you asked him some questions

•and this went back and forth until both your bowls were empty. you could feel yourself opening up more with each question and the same thing goes for zeren. zeren hasn’t been able to feel this comfortable around someone that he wasn’t close to before. he really enjoyed being in your company and wished he had talked to you sooner afterwards, he walked you to your dorm before going to his own

•during the next couple of days, you and zeren spent more time together in the practice room (and quickly finished the choreo) and inevitably grew closer. as that happened, you started to notice that you’d see him around campus more often. one morning, you walked by his lecture room and saw him standing outside. you asked him why he didn’t go in and he answered that his teacher was late so he just waited outside. this continued every morning though like you’d see him just standing there on his phone or looking through a notebook, and when you walked by he’d always greet you with a smile and ask if you slept well or make some kind of small talk

•and you’d be lying if you said that wasn’t your favorite way to start your mornings

•he gave you coffee once saying that they messed up his order so he got another coffee for free but for some reason the “messed up” coffee was exactly how you liked your coffee so you were like ???

•other times, you’d pass by him on campus and he’d always wave enthusiastically with both hands no matter how far he was from you and honestly that’s just the cutest thing ever. or he would end the conversation with whoever he was talking to and then run over to you and ask where you were going next and he’d walk with you to your next class

•one morning, you walked by zeren’s class and didn’t see him. you thought that he must’ve just overslept, so you continued to your class. but afterwards, you still didn’t see him at the usual spots that he’d be hanging around, so you decided to call him, but he didn’t pick up. when you saw one of his friends walk by, you asked if he’s seen zeren but he said he hasn’t seen him since yesterday afternoon. worried, you decided to head over to his dorm to see if he was there. as you were walking to his dorm, it started to rain. you cursed under your breath as you began to run to the dormitory, but you still ended up getting soaked. upon arriving, you walked down the hallway, unsure which room was his. probably should’ve thought of that before coming but anw. as you continued down the hall, chengcheng came out of one of the rooms and saw you. “HEY, IT’S Y/N! wait, are you okay? you might catch a cold like that”

•”i’m fine! don’t worry. have you seen zeren? i haven’t seen him all morning and he wasn’t picking up my calls so i wanted to check if he was okay”

•”have you checked the library? he was having trouble sleeping last night so he went there”

•”oh, i’ll go there now. thanks” and you turned to leave but then started sneezing continuously. chengcheng took off his hoodie and threw it over your head

•”put that on. you’re already getting sick” and you thanked him again before pulling it over your head and going to the library. chengcheng just watched you leave and sighed. “they obviously like each other but they’re too dumb to realize it”

•when you got to the library, you went all around it but couldn’t find him. as you were leaving, you bumped into zhengting. you asked if he’s seen zeren, and he replied that zeren just woke up and is heading over to his class now. you were relieved to hear that he was okay, but now you were concerned about yourself because you were shivering and constantly sneezing. zhengting offered to take you to the infirmary or get some medicine for you bc he’s an angel but you declined and said that you should head to class now. anyways after all your classes were over, you went over to the practice room to rehearse. zeren came slightly later than the planned time, and you noticed that he wasn’t his usual upbeat self. like he greeted you half-heartedly and there was just a negative aura surrounding him. and you would’ve tried to cheer him up but you honestly had no stamina left like you really should’ve taken some medicine before coming

•and because of your lack of stamina, you began getting frustrated because you were constantly half a beat off. you could tell zeren was feeling frustrated too but he was trying to hold it in. but as soon as you stepped on his foot for the third time that day, he couldn’t control it anymore. “what’s wrong with you? why aren’t you putting any effort into this? is it because it’s not your major so you don’t care?” you would’ve been fine if he had only said the last sentence. but no his first sentences hit you hard, because memories of all the times that your parents said that to you came rushing back. you immediately grabbed your things and rushed out of the practice room, leaving zeren there alone. his frustration dissipated when he saw the upset expression on your face as you left. he let out a sigh as he went to the back of the room and sat down, leaning against the wall. not too long after you left, chengcheng came running in looking for you

•”where’s y/n??”

•“oh...she just left. why?”

•“i have some medicine for her cold. she was running all over the place looking for you even though it was pouring outside”

•and that’s when it hit him. you got sick while you were worrying about him, and yet you were trying your best to practice

•and he even yelled at you. feeling guilty, he grabbed the medicine from chengcheng and ran out of the practice room

•chengcheng just froze there and stared at his hand

•like bro what just happened

•zeren ran out of the performing arts building but then stopped. where could you have gone?? he contemplated calling you but he doubted you’d pick up. then, he remembered about the place you’d always go to when something upset you

•the rooftop

•the boy nearly flew up the stairs at the speed that he was running at. when he opened the door, he found you sitting with your back against the wall, one earbud in your ear, and your eyes closed. he took in a deep breath as he slowly approached you. you were slightly startled when you felt something nudge you, but relaxed when you saw it was zeren. “uh...hey. here’s your medicine”

•“oh, thanks”

•you were quiet as he explained, slowly starting to feel bad for storming out on him after how badly his day was going. you forgave him, saying that you understood why he acted that way after all that he went through before explaining exactly why you were upset by what he said. he listened attentively as you talked about your parents and all the expectations they had for you, and how they always dismissed it when you met those expectations, and how they were never supportive of you. he apologized again before pulling you into a hug, mumbling how he never meant to hurt you like that, or at all for that matter. you were surprised at first, but quickly returned the hug. zeren decided that there was no way that you could practice in this condition, so he took you back to your dorm. he came back not too long after leaving and brought you a bowl of noodle soup. you expected him to leave afterwards because you were more than thankful that he was that thoughtful, but no he invited himself in saying “my mom said that you should never leave a sick person alone so here i am. let’s watch a movie”

•and that’s how your roommate walked in to a sleeping you and zeren wrapped in a blanket and snuggling on the couch with hercules still playing and an empty bowl on the table

•she def took pictures for future references, and you were both embarrassed messes when she woke you up

•a couple days before the festival, you were completely well again and the three groups practiced together. everything went smoothly and you were all satisfied with how it went. on d-day, you were slightly nervous because this was the first time that you would be performing in front of such a hUGE crowd. but everyone in the dance team especially zeren reassured you that you would do great. after watching a couple of the performances, it was finally your group’s turn. the performance went so much better than you expected. like as soon as you stepped onto the stage, your nervousness melted away. the crowd loved the performance too like they were cheering louder than they did for the other ones

•so yeah!! spring fest performance was a big success, and zeren decided to ask you to go to disney to celebrate with him

•and of course you agreed

•and yanchen overheard him inviting you and he was like wow we used to be best buddies how could u leave me out

•unofficial date at disney!

part two

[bethhxrmon]

All I Ask of You Pt. 9

“Plastic don’t shine, glitter don’t shine, rhinestones don’t shine the way you do.” -”I See Stars” from Mean Girls

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female OC

Word Count: 3,065

Warnings: I don’t think there are any, just some pining

Summary: It’s audition day and now it’s almost Christmas time.

A/N: This chapter is kind of filler, but it also has some serious setting up. I may or may not be posting a little something else this week too!

MASTERLIST

Playlist 

           The annoying tone of Annie’s alarm went off, causing her to jolt awake as she checked her phone. Looking at the date, her heart nearly jumped from her chest. It had suddenly become Wednesday, the last day of school before winter break, and the same day she was going to audition. A black polka dot dress hung on her doorknob, something that both she and Harper had agreed on when Annie called the previous night, freaking out over the audition.

           Though, she should have gotten more sleep rather than worrying about if she was going to be able to belt out her high notes properly without her voice giving out and cracking on her, Annie simply couldn’t help herself. When it came to theater, she had far too much to prove. She had simply practiced too much and too hard to fall short in the fashion department. So despite the cold wind that Annie could see blowing snow around when she looked down from her window, she still pulled on the dress. If she wanted to be Maria, she needed to look the part.

           Her dad had already left, Annie could tell from how the coffee was made, but the pot was half empty. The shower could be heard in the background as she shoved the homework she’d managed to slog over the previous night into her bag. She scarfed down a bagel before looking at the time and pulling on a jacket, leaving the apartment.

           “Why’re you wearing a dress? It’s freezing!” Ned exclaimed as he, Annie, and Peter got off the subway.

           Annie gave a small shrug, “Why aren’t you wearing a dress, hm?”

           “Because I’m not crazy, there’s snow outside,” Ned replied, holding onto one of the straps on the ceiling.

           Annie held onto Ned’s backpack, “Okay, fine… I wanna look good for the audition today, you know? This is my only chance to prove myself and show off and, well I’m not sure if it’s gonna work.

           “You’ll get it. I mean, you gotta, you’ve been thinking about nothing else,” Peter pointed out.

           Ned smirked, “That’s not the only reason you think she’ll get it.”

           “Hm? What would that be?” Annie asked, turning to the other male.

           Peter’s face tinted pink before Ned started speaking, “Because he thinks that you look-”

           “The part… yeah, you look like a Maria, you know?” Peter said, glaring at Ned pointedly.

           Annie rolled her eyes, “Come on you two, I’m trying to stay chilled out for today.”

           “Well, good luck with that, I feel like if you were worried for our auditions, then you’re gonna be an absolute nightmare today,” Ned pointed out with a small laugh.

           Annie huffed a bit, “That is not true. I’m confident in myself… I just wasn’t sure what to expect from the two of you.”

           Though it was difficult to not see how Annie’s shoulders seemed to slump despite herself. Her worries were simple, she had worked too hard for too long to not get exactly what she wanted. What if that wasn’t enough? What if she couldn’t ever be enough in anything? No, she knew that she needed to toughen up and completely ignore everything that had been holding her back earlier.

           “You’ve been kinda quiet, you sure you’re good?” Peter asked as they walked into the school.

           Annie nodded, straightening her back, “Yep, I have to be. I mean, you and Ned were just fine. I can do it too, this is a science school, there’s no way any of the girls here are better than I am.”

           “Well, yeah… about me though, I’m not so sure the teachers are gonna, well I’m not sure they’ll cast me right,” Peter started as they headed to their first classes.

           Annie laughed a bit, “What do you mean by that? Of course they’ll cast you right, that’s the point of them auditioning you… and you killed it.”

           She hadn’t asked him about that night after the movie. It seemed like he wasn’t repeating the same actions that he had done. A couple of days after, she’d gotten her jacket back. Annie had only admitted it to Harper, but she hadn’t worn it since because it smelled like him and it was rather comforting. Still, that night felt like it had been forever ago, and she didn’t even know how to approach the subject. She had simply told herself she had just been emotional and was looking to the wrong places.

           “That’s not quite what I’m meaning…” Peter trailed off.

           She cocked her head a bit, “Then what do you mean?”

           “Um… well… uh I’ll tell you later, don’t worry about it. Do you want me and Ned to watch your audition?” he asked as they walked into their class.

           Annie nodded, “Yeah, of course! I really need you guys, you’re both the closest friends I have here.”

           Getting through her classes without overthinking the audition that was to come. She knew the song like the back of her hand, there was no way she could mess it up. At the same time, what if her voice cracked when she belted out the higher notes? No, there was no way she could mess up like that. Not after everything she had managed to do back in Seattle. Only, things had been different back then.

           She had been great the previous year, sure, but she was so much different. Had she been the same person she was when she started out as a freshman, there was no way she would have been around Ned and Peter as much. Her image had mattered just a bit too much, but she also had so much more conviction back then.

           Her classes had gone far too fast for her to really think about anything that had happened. Not to mention the stress of just finishing up her finals. Though, it was thanks to Peter that her physics work wasn’t completely hopeless. The rest of her classes weren’t unbearable, but physics just left her with some sort of mental block. That was how it had always been, and she never decided to question it.

           At the same time, it was all she could do to not ask to be excused and get to a practice room so she could go through her song just one more time. Even Michelle wasn’t letting her do anything like that, knowing that Annie would probably sing until her throat was raw from belting. Then, she would end up being useless during her audition and there would be no way in hell that she could ever be Maria.

           Her actual theatre class appeared to be at a standstill. Some of the girls who had never seemed to care before were suddenly begging for more time. Those were the ones now taking practice rooms and singing until their voices cracked, unable to hit the high notes. Annie hoped that all the time she had spent around her teacher getting advice had been enough. If nothing else, the teacher knew her name. Then again, so did all of her other teachers.

              Finishing the school day off with her last physics class of the semester, Annie’s knee was bobbing up and down. The actual test had been the previous class period, and that left Annie sitting as quiet as ever, knowing that once the bell rang she would have to walk straight to the auditorium. How had she managed this the year before?

           “Hey, remember all those times you told me ‘those other girls ain’t shit’?” Peter asked, looking at her.

           Annie shrugged a bit, “I shouldn’t be cocky, that’s how you fuck yourself over, right?”

           “But were you cocky before?” he asked quietly, looking like he was writing or drawing something.

           She frowned a bit, “I was a grade-a bitch… like, Flash but even worse if we’re being honest.”

           “Well, that worked out for you, yeah?”

           “I mean, it depends on what you mean by ‘worked out’, but kind of.”

           “I just think… y-you’ve done too much to stop thinking you know what you’re doing. I-I mean, come on, you went to a performing arts school, yeah?”

           Annie nodded a little, “Yeah… but that doesn’t make me a genius by any means.”

           “You don’t have to be a genius, you just need to know enough, and I think you do,” Peter told her, his chocolate brown eyes meeting hers.

           She sighed a bit, “Well, you’re right… actually, really right. You’re still staying around to watch, though, right?”

           “Yeah, yeah, of course. Unless you don’t want that, then I-I can just go off the my internship.”

           “Please tell me you’re getting some of Christmas off.”

           “Y-yeah, Mr. Stark would probably like a few days for just himself.”

           “Then we’re hanging out, and you’re not getting out of it.”

           The bell rang and Annie got up, smoothing out the skirt of her dress. She knew what she was doing, she always had. Pretending like she might not be good enough wasn’t an option. Above all else, Annie needed to prove that she wasn’t wasting her time when it came to acting. That this was what she was good at and that it was what she really loved more than anything else.

           Thankfully, she wasn’t the first girl to be going, she was the second. The poor girl who had gone before her was nothing but a confidence boost to Annie. That girl had sang what was arguably the pitchiest rendition of “Popular” that she had ever heard. If every other girl was like that, then Annie knew that she was going to be a shoe-in. There was nothing to worry about and there never had been anything worth worrying about when it came to auditioning in a school full of people who obviously spent more time programming computers than memorizing their lines.

           “Annika Hardwick, come on up,” Ms. Yancy called.

           Annie walked onto the stage, her black flats not making a sound on the auditorium stage. The audience was lit up just enough that she could see Peter and Ned sitting to the side, a few rows behind the teachers. Though the stage lights felt so warm against her tanned skin, but it only made her stand up straighter.

           The teacher cleared her throat, “You are auditioning for the part of Maria, correct?”

           “Yes,” Annie answered, feeling her heartbeat increasing.

           Was asking her friends to watch her a good idea? Maybe having Ned there was, but she had different feelings towards Peter than she did for Ned. Ned was a friend, someone she could talk to about anything without it getting awkward. When it came to Peter, there was something that she never bothered to address, but it left her reading into every moment of silence just a little bit too much.

           “Well, your pianist is ready, so whenever you’re ready,” Ms. Yancy told her.

           Annie blinked and took a deep breath before nodding the pianist in, “We’ve done this all before, we were angels once, don’t you remember?”

           As she started to sing, her nerves began to melt away. There wasn’t anyone in front of her, she was simply by herself. No one was around and no one could tell her that she was off at all. The only thing she heard was the piano playing the lilting melody. She didn’t even feel like herself, instead she felt like a young Russian girl who was singing about all of the good moments with the man she was so in love with. Never mind how that ended up changing by the end of the musical, she just needed to focus on this one moment.

           “This winter sky, how can anyone sleep? There was never such a night before!” her voice swelled.

           While she would never be able to admit it, she couldn’t stop thinking about that night when Peter talked to her. The night that left her wondering if he felt the same way she did. Only, she knew that it wouldn’t be right, being with him. Not if he didn’t even know she had powers or that she was actually a superhero. She couldn’t keep that from him if they were any closer. It was already difficult, lying to him and Ned all the time.

           “You and I, you and I, you and I,” she belted out before cutting off the pianist with her hand closing, there was a pause that was filled with silence before she breathed again, “And no one else.”

           Upon finishing, there wasn’t anything to be heard. Not that Annie had been expecting a standing ovation or anything like that, but she hoped that the teachers were impressed. She could feel the heat of the stage lights on her skin, and she could feel the sweat beading on her forehead.

           “Very well done, we will have the cast list decided when you come back from break, happy holidays, Miss Hardwick,” Ms. Yancy said with a small smile.

           Once Annie was back in the hallway, she was relieved to see Ned, but couldn’t help noticing that Peter had ran off. That was another reason they would probably never work out, he was constantly running off to that damned internship. Had he even stayed the whole song? Of course he had, right?

           Ned hugged Annie, picking her up with ease, “That was great! You know that? That was fucking awesome and I need you to know that!”

           “I hope so, I’ve been worried that my voice would crack towards the end there, but well, I guess it worked out,” she said as she was placed on the ground again, the pair heading out of the school.

           Ned laughed a bit, “You hope so? It was easily the best thing I’d heard all day. You had nothing on the one girl who went before you, trust me.”

           “I know that, but what about all the other girls who go after me?” she pointed out, pulling her hoodie out of her backpack and pulled it on over her dress.

           Ned shrugged, “They must’ve ran off after they heard you give a kickass performance. They’ve got nothing on you, and don’t say I didn’t tell you when you get the lead.”

           “You really think that?”

           “I feel like modesty doesn’t work too well on you when you seem to know that it was a pretty great audition.”

           “Well damn, okay, I’ll take your word for it,” she said with a small laugh.

           “You should.”

           That evening, Annie had many shirts beneath her White Swan hoodie and even another pair of leggings underneath her regular silver ones. With the weather getting colder and colder, she found herself wishing that she had a real suit with all kinds of technology behind it.

           Of course, the moment she thought about technology, Annie felt someone tapping her on the back. She turned, about to energy blast the offender, but quickly stopped when she saw the all too familiar Spider-Man mask.

           “Hey, you looked cold so I got you something,” the hero said, handing her a cup of hot chocolate.

           Annie shook her head, “You really didn’t have to do that.”

           “Yeah, I do, I know how cold it gets. So I’m just being a little helpful. Call it getting into the Christmas spirit,” Spider-Man replied.

           She rolled her eyes, “I know you’re gonna say we should work together more-”

           “It would be great! We would be able to fight all those bad guys together and- and you would have a better suit,” he pointed out.

           Annie let out a sigh, “Well if you wanna stop the bad guys, there’s a guy shoplifting right there across the street.”

           “Wait really?”

           “Um… yeah, he’s literally running away, it’s so fucking obvious,” she said, starting to run for the guy.

           Once she was close enough, she set up a barrier around the guy, keeping him from being able to run away. Then Spider-Man ran in right behind her and webbed his arms to the wall. Annie went up to the guy, finding small stocking stuffers in his pockets and beneath his hoodie.

           “Please, please let me go, these are for my kids. I don’t make enough to get them gifts this year, but I- well I don’t need them knowing that,” the man said.

           “That doesn’t mean you can just steal stuff, man,” Spider-Man said, crossing his arms, “You’re a criminal.”

           Annie frowned, “Spidey, his kids, though.”

           “No, no, I get it. I just don’t have the money, you know? But you guys do what you gotta do,” the man said, seeming resigned.

           Annie shook her head, grabbing at the webbing, “No, you get that to your kids. Just don’t steal again. Now, I need you to hurry up outta here,” she said, blasting the webbing off from the wall.

           “Thank you, thank you so much!” he said before continuing to run.

           Annie held Spider-Man back, silently cursing herself because she knew that it wasn’t right, but she couldn’t help feeling for the poor man. Who knew what his life had been like? When she was certain that the man was out of sight, Annie dropped her powers.

           “What the hell?! He was a bad guy, we’re supposed to stop guys like that,” he started.

           Annie sighed, “I know, but he didn’t… if he had kids, well, how would you feel about seeing your dad get thrown into jail for Christmas?”

           “But what if he’s done worse?”

           “What if this is all that he’s gonna do?”

           “Swan, I just, I don’t think you made the smartest choice here, and I can’t believe you would just stop me like that!” he replied as they walked.      

           She shrugged, “I felt bad, okay? Learning that your parents are shitty people sucks, I don’t care what age you are.”

           “And you would know a lot about that?”

           “Actually, yeah. So I’d know more about this situation than you ever would, okay? Okay.”

           “Woah, Swan, I’m sorry you don’t have a great home life, but you can’t just let every criminal off the hook because they have lives.”

           “Can’t I though? No one was hurt, he wasn’t going to hurt-”

           “You don’t know that.”

           “And neither do you. It wasn’t our place,” Annie insisted, “Now, I’m gonna run off and help some more people, and you’re gonna run off and stop following me for right now.”

Tag list: @flushings-here / @upsidedownparker / @gaypanda / @ijustdontknowsometimes / @lionsfandomsandbearsohmy / @thwipparker (just ask to be added to the tag list)

[author-ashlynn-james]

The black Siren

Y’all like queer superheroes? Check under the cut! 

"So, ladies and gentlemen, it is with great pride and confidence that we step down and leave the fate of this great city in the most capable of hands."

Oh god, was anyone actually buying this? A sarcastic laugh found its way from Jillian's throat as she watched the moronic, little lemmings on the static-y security screen get to their feet to applaud this douche. God, and people wondered what was wrong with this city.

She squinted through her black mask to watch the ridiculously costumed ninnies stumble across the stage to receive the symbolic key to the city. So... these two were really her sworn enemies' children? Their parents were a pain in the ass but they at least offered some amount of a challenge. But these two? Man, she may have to get a real job just to stay entertained. These kids did not look ready to take on the Crusaders' responsibility. The new Crusade Man seemed eager enough but clearly lacked his father's discipline. He stood there waving enthusiastically at the audience in his tacky, red jumpsuit as if he were the brightest star in the universe.

Then there was the other one, the replacement for Crusader Girl. Man... this poor baby barely even cut it as a sidekick. She obviously did not appreciate being in the limelight. Even on the low-quality screen Jillian could see her knees knocking. She didn't even seem to have full control over her powers yet. Her legs kept fading from sight, sometimes disappearing from view all together. Poor girl. The mere thought of kicking her ass almost made Jillian feel bad. Almost.

The new Crusade Man sauntered up to the podium, his father stepping aside to allow him access to the microphone. Jillian leaned in closer, squinting at the screen.

"What is up, my fair city?!"

Oh god, she'd heard enough. She didn't have the stomach for this shit. With a shake of her head, she pushed to her feet. Even on the tiny screen, she could see the audience fidgeting. They didn't have any more confidence in these kids than she did. She almost thought it would be more villainous to let the baby keep talking. That, and she wanted to check her phone.

She squatted down to rummage through the backpack she'd left on the security room floor and extracted her flip phone. Looked like she had a new message.

NEW TXT FROM ELLIE

Jillian smiled. She'd met this women on a dating website nearly three months ago and they'd really hit it off. It was strange really; Ellie wasn't her usual type. Aside from being nice and having no apparent fear of commitment, Ellie was a legacy brat. She spent most of her time training to take over her family's business. That would normally be a huge turn off for Jillian but she also spent so much of her free time volunteering that Jillian was willing to overlook it. It was hard to call someone who spent every summer in South America fitting people with hearing aids—a project Ellie felt passionately about given her own profound deafness—entitled. Due to scheduling conflicts, their daily conversations had been restricted to texts.

We still on for tonight?

Until now. They were meeting right after work and good god she couldn't wait. Jillian hadn't been on a date in thirty-six months (but who was counting?) and the guy hadn't exactly been Prince Charming. She had the worst luck with romance but maybe this woman would change that. Grinning, she typed out a reply.

Definitely.

With a deep breath, she put her phone away, and got to her feet, slipping her backpack on over her black, spandex uniform. Time for work. She pressed a finger to the intercom button, replacing the chattering of the super idiot with a static-y groan. The hundreds of heads watching the stage in the auditorium glanced around in confusion. She had their attention.

"Interesting boy you've raised there, Crusade Idiot," she commented lightly. Several pairs of hands in the audience went up to cover their ears as her voice boomed throughout the building. Even beneath the mask, Jillian saw the panic pass over Podium Boy's face as she read her work name on the father's lips.

Black Siren.

"Glad we've gotten to know each other so well," she simpered. And that would be the last thing they remembered. She opened her mouth and began to sing, a strong, high note washing over the museum. The eyes of her enemies glazed over, transfixed as the Siren's Song engulfed them. Everyone in the area froze, waiting to answer her call. She held the note for as long as she could, ensuring she had the undivided attention of all present. When she finally stopped to take a breath, she was met with absolute silence, her audience waiting to bend to her will. Her demands were innocent enough today.

"You will not move," she said slowly and clearly into the intercom. "You will remain absolutely still until I have left the premises. Anyone present who may have seen me before I put on my mask will forget my face. You will destroy any remaining security footage the moment I leave the premises."

The intercom screeched as she moved her finger from the button, eyes watching the monitors before her for any signs of movement. Nothing. Everyone remained still, slaves to her song.

Jillian pulled open the control room door and jogged down the hallway. She reached the stairs and ran down them two at a time until she came to the door she needed and pushed it open to peek inside. The third floor appeared deserted, save for a guard across the room, staring aimlessly ahead. This was why she'd decided to come during the ceremony: not only did the family of heroes provide the perfect distraction; they were also far too arrogant to put any extra security measures in place. They were all the protecting the city needed! Idiots.

She strode in, eyes falling on the glass case in the center of the room. Damn. She'd expected the gold, diamond-encrusted statuettes inside to be smaller. These were not going to be easy to smuggle out of here.

Before she could make a move towards the display, she jumped, blood freezing in her veins as the sound of the stairwell door closing echoed around her. Cautiously, she looked over her shoulder, eyes scanning the area for any sign of movement. Had that been real? She'd definitely heard a slam but... that was impossible. Everyone should be frozen.

The screech of a boot on the hardwood echoed through the room and her fists moved up to shield her face. No... it wasn't possible. No one could resist her song....

Something collided with the right side of her head and sent her sprawling to the floor.

"Ow! Shit!"

She pushed herself back to her feet, fist poised for a fight. The room appeared empty but the bruise forming aggressively on her cheek told her otherwise.

"Come on, you little brat!" she taunted, turning in a circle and squinting as if it would help. It had to be the sidekick. Maybe she had better control of her invisibility powers than Jillian had thought. "Let's get this over with. I have plans tonight. OW!"

Wildly, she threw a punch at the empty space in front of her, squinting through the tears that had shot to her eyes after that blow to the nose. It met only air.

"Ah!"

Another blow, this time to her stomach. She stumbled backward, fighting the bile that rose reflexively. Little coward; fighting an opponent while they couldn't see you was the kind of dishonorable thing her side did. These people were supposed to have integrity!

Invisible fingers suddenly closed around both her wrists.

"No! Get off me, you asshole!"

The brat's grip didn't falter. Desperate, Jillian kicked, missing again. Where the hell was this bitch standing?!The Invisible Tool didn't even seem phased by the fight, dragging Jillian away from the display like a cardboard cutout.

"I'll kill you!" Jillian screamed, tripping over her own feet in her attempts to halt the movement. "If you make me late, I'll put you in the ground!"

Her knee finally caught something and a grunt filled the empty space before her. The invisible grip faltered and she managed to free her hand long enough to smash her fist into what felt like her captor's face. Her knuckles came away sticky, creating a small stream of red suspended before her.

"There you are!"

"Ah!"

That had to have been her solar plexus. The hands fell away and Crusade Girl hit the ground on her knees, now visible in all her tacky red and gold glory.

"How are you still awake?!" Jillian screamed, shuffling away from her, fists raised.

Crusade Girl exhaled heavily, getting shakily to her feet, wiping the blood from her nose before resuming her fighting stance.

"Answer the question, bitch!"

The piercing blue eyes beneath the ugly red and gold mask narrowed in confusion.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Jillian demanded. Crusade Girl didn't even flinch at her piercing pitch, just stared intently at Jillian's mouth.

....Wait.

Wait a second....

"You're deaf."

...How had Jillian never run into this problem before? All those conversations with the cute, deaf chick and it had never even occurred to her? Of course someone who didn't hear wouldn't be affected by her powers.

Crusade Girl's eyes widened in alarm as she read Jillian's lips. It only took Jillian a couple seconds to understand why.

"I wasn't supposed to figure that out, was I?" she smirked. "That makes your identity too easy to uncover."

Crusade Girl paused for a moment, staring at her wearily before pushing a button on her hideous, gold, utility belt.

"Agh!"

A rope sprang from Crusade Girl's belt and entangled itself around Jillian's body, trapping her arms and legs in a vice like a boa constrictor. Now it was the sidekick's turn to smirk as she leisurely walked towards Jillian and knelt beside where she lay too shocked to move. Jillian didn't know if that was actual sign language or just random hand motions but the message was clear: "you should have run when you had the chance."

Well, shit.

"No, wait, don't!" Jillian begged as the sidekick reached for the phone on her belt. Crusade Girl paused, looking at Jillian skeptically. "Please, I can't go to jail!"

Crusade Girl rolled her eyes, and reached for the phone again.

"No really, listen to me!"

Unable to move anything else, Jillian bashed her head into the sidekick's knee to get her attention. She had to listen to her. She had to understand.

"I have a kid!"

Crusade Girl stared at her for a moment before rolling her eyes again and pulling a notepad and pen from her belt to scribble on.

You're lying, Jillian read in loopy, untidy handwriting when Crusade Girl turned the notepad towards her.

"I'm not lying!" Jillian insisted. "His name is Tristan, he's two years old and the whole reason I wanted to pull this heist was so I'd have money for college tuition so I can be a better mom. If I go to jail, he'll go into the system like me!"

Crusade Girl stared at her, clearly unconvinced. After a moment, her eyes fell away, dropping back to the notepad to scribble.

You're robbing a museum to set a good example for your son?

"Look, I'm not saying it's not hypocritical, but I don't have a whole lot of options," Jillian stated.

Crusade Girl's mask shifted like she was raising her eyebrows before she wrote another note.

Student loans?

"I already have a ton of debt from my maternity bills."

The Sidekick narrowed her eyes in disbelief. This time, she scribbled out a long message before letting Jillian read.

You've been robbing banks and museums for decades. How do you have debt?

"Do I look old enough to have been at this for decades?" Jillian demanded. "Your side isn't the only one that can pass on a legacy. The Black Siren from your parents' generation is my mother. She found me when I aged out of foster care and started training me to take her place. She was just about to pass the torch when I got knocked up. She was so pissed, she cut me off. Said the Black Siren didn't take handouts."

Crusade Girl squinted at her, calculatedly.

"Look, I love my son more than anything," Jillian continued, desperately. "I don't want him to continue this legacy. I want him to be a normal, upstanding person. I want him to go to college and get a good job. The best way to make that happen is to do it myself and lead by example."

Crusade Girl stared at her for a long moment, considering. Then she sighed, looking back to the notepad, carefully considering her words.

It sounds like you're a really good mom.

Jillian hardly had time to finish reading before Crusade Girl put the notepad away. The air left her lungs for a moment, thinking the sidekick was reaching for her phone but instead Crusade Girl's finger landed on the button that had launched the rope. The restraints cutting off Jillian's circulation fell away leaving her tingling and confused.

"You're letting me go?" she asked, sitting up and rubbing her wrists.

Crusade Girl nodded, moving her fist in a knocking motion.

"But there's no way I'm getting out of here with the statuettes I came for?"

Crusade Girl shook her head, touching her index and middle finger to her thumb in a motion that looked like a bird's beak closing.

Dammit... Jillian should probably feel grateful, but her tuition check was due next week and she wouldn't have the money without the statuettes. And she doubted she would be able to take this brat if she fought invisible again. Shit... Jillian didn't have a choice, did she?

With a frustrated sigh, Jillian got to her feet. Crusade Girl followed her example, staring at her intently. She would be watching until Jillian was gone, ensuring she wasn't paid for her shift. Typical rich kid, swindling a working mother out of what was hers. With one last hateful look, Jillian turned her back on the sidekick, hurrying back down the stairwell. She should be groveling at the brat's feet for showing her mercy, but the thought of the tuition check she'd already mailed bouncing and adding another mark to her already abysmal credit fostered too much rage to leave any room for appreciation.

The severity of the situation did not reach Jillian until she stumbled out the emergency exit and into an alley. With a frustrated cry, she kicked over a trashcan, spewing garbage over the pavement before slumping against the wall, head in her hands. Dammit. God Dammit. The new, awkward sidekick to the Crusading Dream Team was immune to her powers. If something didn't change drastically in her game, she'd be out of a job. How would she support her family? Furious, she broke into a run, desperate to put as much distance between herself and her failure as possible.

After five blocks she stopped, collapsing against a wall to catch her breath. Dammit, how was she going to resolve this? A muffled ding from her cellphone reached her over the throbbing in her ears. Trembling, she knelt down behind the dumpster to rummage through her backpack.

NEW TXT FROM ELLIE

Jillian opened the message.

Family function ran long so I'm gonna be a little late. Can't wait to see you!

Well, at least she still had this to look forward to. She changed out of her work uniform, comforting herself slightly with the thought that at least this date couldn't be worse than her day at work. It was only as she was stuffing her mask into her backpack that something occurred to her: Ellie was also deaf. The city didn't have a huge deaf population and Ellie was super involved with the community. She had to know something that could help her unmask this nuisance. Heart pounding, Jillian pulled her backpack on and started swiftly down the street. This date had just become far more interesting.

A bell tinkled as Jillian pushed open the café door. Glancing around, she bee-lined to an empty table in the corner. She wasn't exactly fond of the idea of using Ellie. She seemed sweet and god knew Jillian could use a nice person in her life. But this issue needed to be resolved. It wasn't as though she couldn't get information out of someone while honestly dating them, right? Not the best terms to start a relationship on but honesty wasn't really an option when you robbed banks for a living.

A hand appeared in front of her on the table and Jillian jumped. Following it up, her eyes fell on a familiar young woman in a long red dress.

"Ellie?"

The woman smiled, nodding and took a step back as Jillian stood to great her.

"Hi!" Jillian said as brightly as she could manage. She moved forward to hug her. "Oh! Uh... nice to meet you."

Jillian accompanied the last sentence with the shaky ASL she'd learned from the internet this morning. Ellie smiled politely at what was surely a poor attempt but signed something that Jillian guessed was agreement and gestured for them to sit back down. Jillian resumed her seat, eyes watching her date carefully. As she sat down across from her, Jillian couldn't help but notice the bruise forming across the bridge of Ellie's nose, the red tint to the skin beneath her nostrils as if they'd recently been coated in blood. What had happened there?

Grinning, Ellie pulled out her phone, messing with the screen for a moment before turning it towards Jillian.

Sorry, an unsent text message read, I didn't have time to charge my phone before I left so I'll probably have to use my notepad.

"Oh that's fine," Jillian said, waving a hand dismissively. "I like a woman who thinks before she speaks."

Ellie smiled again, placing her phone back in her pocket and replacing it with a beat up, old notepad.

...That looked familiar.

...Wait.

Jillian glanced back up at Ellie's piercing, blue eyes, seeing, for a moment, not the woman she'd been cyber-stalking for the past three months but a red and gold mask. And she halted the thought in its tracks. No. No way. There was no way in hell the lady she'd been chatting up was her new nemesis. That was stupid.

Ellie didn't seem to notice anything. She smiled, eyes falling back to the notepad and scribbling something that made Jillian gasp and jump to her feet with enough force to send her chair crashing to the ground.

Have you been here before?

It wasn't the question. It was the handwriting. The loopy, hard-to-read scrawl she'd argued with mere minutes ago. No way. No. Freaking. Way.

Ellie stared up at her, eyebrows raised in confusion. The panic in Jillian's mind quieted slightly as she realized Ellie hadn't noticed.

"I-I... I'm sorry," she stuttered quickly, reaching down and grabbing her backpack. "I've just realized... my sitter has to leave at nine."

Ellie's eye's narrowed and moved to scribble something but Jillian did not stop to listen.

"I've gotta go, sorry!"

And she bolted, rushing out of the café and down the street. Well... that was one mystery solved. That had been... regretfully much easier than anticipated. What were the odds? Out of every single person on the planet she had to start talking to her?!

Jillian didn't stop running until she'd made it back to her apartment and slammed the door behind her. Breathing heavily, she looked up to find her baby-sitter staring at her in confusion.

"You're back early," she stated. "How'd the date go?"

Jillian straightened up and said with as little irony as she could manage, "It didn't work out."

She really did have the worst luck with romance.

[torestoreamends]

One Year Ago Today

June 21st 2016. 7:30pm. The lights in the Palace Theatre went down and Chris Jarman’s voice announced the beginning of the play that would change my life.

I can still remember exactly what I did every second of that evening one year ago. I picked my tickets up. I wanted to eat but it was too early, so I went and sat in Covent Garden and watched a street performer. Then I walked to the restaurant I’d spent hours picking out. I sat outside in the sun, full of excitement, with no idea what was about to happen.

I got in the queue at 5:45pm, and it wasn’t early enough. Back then people queued up to an hour before the show.

I can remember the cool breath of the air conditioning on my skin as I stepped into the deserted auditorium, such a relief on a hot, hot day. It felt airy up in the dress circle. Airy and light and vast. Like a station. Like the beginning of a journey.

I looked at the programme and got excited about the photo of the trio. They looked so happy together in the library. I wondered if maybe they were studying together, trying to work out some new problem that they had to overcome. Little did I know.

There are so many moments from that show that still feel as vivid now as they did when I saw them for the first time. When Anthony was wheeled onto the stage and I saw how small Scorpius looked, small and curled up, reading his book, and I knew it was all over. I had a new favourite character. There was no going back now.

The search in the Forbidden Forest was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. Those glowing pinpricks of light in the darkness, moving among the trees. And the magical, soaring music as Harry questioned Bane. And then the forest opened out and there were the boys, staring at Hogwarts, and I was right there with them, because that’s what this play does. That’s what it’s always done. It takes you from your life and places you in a real world that lives and breathes in front of you. It takes your hand and says ‘come with me, we’re going to go to Hogwarts together’. And when the boys are looking at Hogwarts you’re looking at it too, and it feels like home.

I remember the staircase ballet, and how the pain of it took my breath away. These boys loved each other, whatever that meant, and I knew it, and I felt it, and I needed them to be okay.

Most of all I remember the ending of Part One. People were screaming during the Dementor attack. I’ve never had my breath and speech taken away by a piece of theatre so thoroughly, and I meant never again. The stunning iconography of the Dark Mark just put the perfect seal on it, and I walked out into the warm, bright night, flooded with adrenaline, aware that Voldemort was in charge of the world and with no idea how that was going to be fixed, unable to say a word or take a breath, and all I could do was run down the street because I didn’t know what else to do with myself.

It’s been a year since that night. One wild and incredible year. I’ve seen the play a nice round number of times. I’ve written probably a million words of fic and recaps at least, and even more of meta and headcanons and chats. I’ve spent at least 100 hours in the Palace Theatre, not counting queueing time, stage door, random walks past, photo opportunities, and everything else that comes with seeing the play.

Before this year I’d never had a phone call that lasted anywhere near four hours. Before this year I’d never just sat for hours in a restaurant after my food was done, chatting and writing and existing with other people. Before this year I hated just hanging out with people, and I avoided meeting up with anyone. Before this year I had no idea how to talk to people I admired. Before this year I rarely posted any of my writing, and was scared to contribute my thoughts to fandom.

I have grown so much as a person, and learned so much, and the three things I’m going to take away from all this are:

If you admire someone’s work, their writing or their art or their acting or anything else, tell them. Positivity can never be a bad thing. Don’t be afraid that you’re appreciating something in the wrong way, or that they’ll judge you. Share the love. Because there’s not enough of it in the world.

The things that you love will be what keep you going through hard times. In those darkest moments, cling to them as desperately as you can, and give yourself more time to enjoy them not less. We all need some light in the darkness.

Never be afraid to reach out to people and talk. Tell them you love their art, flail at them about a headcanon they wrote, chat to them because you love their t-shirt, visit them in a coffee shop because a friend’s going and you’ve always been curious to speak to them, meet up with them because they’re here from another country and you’re going to be in the same city. Connect. There are so many amazing people in this world, and all they can do is say they don’t want to talk to you. It’s hard. It’s terrifying. But you might just find some of the best friends you’ve ever made.

And I think this is the part where I want to thank everyone who’s made this year amazing.

To @bounding-heart. You were the first person I talked to when I couldn’t get this play out of my head. Thank you for your kindness and encouragement. I wouldn’t be the writer I am without you. 

To @platinasi. You’re so brilliant and talented. Thank you for sharing your art with me and with all of us. I hope we’ll be friends for a long time to come. 

To @the-eighth-story. I know life is hard but what you do is so valued and appreciated, even if it doesn’t feel that way. Thank you for being the most incredible friend, and for being someone I can trust and confide in. I hope James Howard says hi to you often. 

To @ohscorbus. Your headcanons are a true gift to us all. I love your Albus love, and I love you. Thanks for always being a serene, chill swan in this fandom, even if you’re wildly flailing beneath the surface. 

To @abradystrix. I don’t even know what to say to you. Thank you for being there when I’ve needed someone. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for all your hard work and brilliant beta-y thoughts. 

To @valtersened. You found me on the stairs, and I’m so glad you did. Thanks for all the cupcakes, Tom Mackley love, and flailing on the days when I’ve needed it most.  

To @thatwasdramatic. I think it’s going to be a nice year. I’m so excited to keep flailing with you about our boys. 

And also to @autumn-of-ilvermorny, @aberorca, @accio-hogwarts-a-history, @eldabe (who I still can’t tag), Hester, @mayhemtothenthdegree, @blaidrwg, @mrsellacott, @cursedchildscorpius, @mylifewithinstax, @kalopsiaaurora, @kingdomforscorbus, and to all the many many people whose names I see every time I post a piece of fic or a headcanon, thank you. You’ve made this a magical year and I love each and every one of you. 

To finish I just want to quote a paragraph from the letter I sent to Jamie Parker at cast change:

When I sat in the theatre on June 21st I was sucked back into a world that I loved, a world I’d grown up with. It had always been a part of my heart, even if I’d drifted away from it over the years, but seeing the play brought me back to this incredible story of love and friendship, in a more vivid way than ever before. Instead of reading the story, it was coming alive onstage in front of me, and I felt like part of it. I found my love of Harry Potter again that night, and from that I’ve found amazing new friends, grown as a person, and improved at writing, the thing I love most in the world.

Thank you Cursed Child, and thank you to each and every one of you. What an incredible year. 

[anavoliselenu]

Manwhore chapter 23

Five minutes before the conference begins, I pay my driver and ease out of the cab. Keeping my hair out of the wind, I hurry into one of the four main buildings of McCormick Place.

This is the grandest convention center in the country, so massive that it takes several minutes to wind through the walkways and halls to reach the auditorium where Justin is keynote speaker.

The press is already in position near dozens of steel folding chairs: neighborhood papers, community radio stations, five local news teams. It’s a big deal, apparently. Hundreds of professionals fill up the room, sharp and prepared with cameras, notepads, microphones.

As I wait in line at reception and try to discreetly comb my hair with my fingers, a small group of new arrivals near the entrance spots me. I’m given a thorough examination and then, the whispers start.

Fuuuck me.

Red down to my toes, I force myself to stand in line until I reach the woman with the clipboard. “Hi, Selena Livingston with Edge, here for Justin Justin.”

“Honey, they’re all here for him,” she mumbles without looking up. She locates my name on her page and I silently thank Justin’s press coordinator for the favor—or Justin himself. I notice how reluctantly the woman locates the badge, until she finally hands it to me. I fake confidence as I take the badge with my name and head inside.

There’s a crowd gathered already, applauding when a bald presenter in a gray suit takes the stage. “Welcome,” he says into a microphone.

Though I try to keep my attention on the stage as I search for a seat, there’s no missing the stares coming my way.

I feel an uncomfortable squeeze in my stomach when I think of Victoria and wonder what she’s doing, if she’s covering for that stupid magazine whose blog she exposed me in. She must be thirsting for my blood after Justin killed her article.

I don’t see Victoria here, thank god. But people see me. And suddenly, I. Don’t. Care. What they say.

I’m impassioned here. He impassions me. Just thinking of watching him speak today lights up my writing fire, so I should let him light me up and let me burn.

I stand before an empty chair at a back row, next to a long aisle.

That’s when a commotion from the entrance draws my eye, and the sight of Justin walking inside hits me with a jolt of feminine awareness as he takes the room with a trail of businessmen behind him. Justin owns every place he’s in, every floor he steps on. More virile than any man I have ever had the pleasure of staring upon, he uses that eat-you-up stride as he heads to the front of the room.

It’s impossible, but I swear even the air shifts—dynamically, energetically—with him in the room.

The presenter speaks his name into the microphone, and then, behind the wooden podium, stands Justin freaking perfection Justin.

“As many of you know, since inception, M4 has experienced record-breaking growth across all platforms . . . but there’s been an area among the M4 holdings that has captured my attention the most. For over the past year, a team of more than four thousand specialists and I have been laboring to bring to you Interface, which, in its short time online, has beaten every social-media site in the areas of engagement and user signup,” he says, and then he eyes the audience with a pause.

He’s so much larger than life that my eyes are wide as I absorb the full impact of him up there—owning the room. Owning everyone in it. Especially me.

But . . .

He’s not reading my speech. I’m a little bit confused, then I realize—I really did lose it. I’ve lost my spark, I’ve lost it all. He believed I could write well, maybe. Enough to want me to work at his company. He gave me a chance, and now he’s realized I’m no good. He won’t want me, even for a job. He won’t want me at all.

I’m stressing so much, I regret that I miss some parts of his speech, until the room bursts into applause.

I swallow. Look up at him.

I feel his presence in the knees. He smiles, waits for one of the reporters to ask him a question, his eye contact direct.

Noticing the enraptured looks of my companions, I can already predict the words used to describe his presentation and him: Mesmerizing. Concise and sharp.

Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address was only 270 words long. Likewise, Justin seems to embrace brevity and run with it.

As he starts to answer questions, I also notice that most everyone is standing, even when they have chairs, a phenomenon not many people accomplish.

God, what would it be like to say yes—yes—and work for him? See him at work every day, taking on the world, chasing and attaining his every ambition?

No, I could never do this.

NEVER work for a man who’s seen me naked.

It has to be a rule.

But it would also be complete and utter torture to never see him again . . .

A reporter from Buzz asks a multipart question, and after Justin lists down the answers and the man continues looking eager for more, Justin adds, “Now, what part of your question did I not answer?” His voice is low and deeply solid, the crowd hushes as though affected by its timbre.

“Justin! Justin! They say you couldn’t fit all your followers on your Facebook page and before it exploded, had to create your own Interface to fit them all.”

“If I’d created Interface for myself, I would’ve called it MyFace.”

Laughter.

He calls on someone else.

“Speaking of you, Justin, is it true you have as many men followers as you do women?”

“I haven’t been following the statistics.” He smiles. “But it is true the world is made of both.”

My stomach, which had been all gnarled up, seems to like that smile.

“Your M4 conglomerate is the most powerful corporation in the state. Is it true a lot of your employees aren’t college graduates?”

He keeps eye contact with the silver-haired, bearded reporter who asked, and succinctly answers, “We hire people who want to make things different. We encourage education and partner with educators across the country, but we prize free thinkers and people who can get things done above all else.”

He scans the crowd then, and suddenly a shockingly brilliant pair of green eyes lands on me. I had forgotten I’d been standing there with my arm raised. He calls on me.

“Selena Livingston from Edge,” I hastily identify myself, as is customary, but when I hear gasps in the audience—fuck—I just forget what I was going to say.

Scrambling, I blurt out the second question that comes to mind, bypassing the real one I want to ask: Why did you not read my speech? “Interface, as a word, is a shared boundary across which two separate components of a computer system exchange information. In choosing this name, did you mean to make fun of how dispassionate relationships can become through online communication, the loss of personal contact?”

A hush spreads.

The room blurs as he holds my stare from the podium; everything blurs but the chiseled perfection of Justin’s masculine face and the shockingly personal look in his gaze.

“No, I’m not poking fun at relationships, especially since I admire anyone who can endure one.” He looks directly at me with a challenge in his eyes.

When finally some people laugh, a trickle of warm heat burns in the center of my tummy, spreading down my thighs.

What does that mean?

Dibs, I remember.

It had annoyed and confused me at the time. Now, I would give a billion times more than any other woman in the world for him to call dibs on me.

He scans the audience afterward and I don’t remember being this shaken since the first live press conference I attended as a journalist.

The answers continue, along with the questions, and then Justin thanks the crowd. Their applause is enormous as he leaves the stage, and the emptiness seems greater after his commanding presence. Reporters rush to edit their videos and write their stories.

I’m lingering in the room, I don’t know why exactly, when Catherine approaches me in her usual brisk, professional way. “He wants to see you. Follow me to the greenroom.”

I follow her to the back of a hall, then hear her announce me.

When she waves me in, I step inside and it’s full of beautiful furniture, new Persian rugs, technology, and classical background music, a huge fruit basket and chilled wine, as if only the best will do for this man, even if he’s here for only a few minutes.

I look at him. Glorious in the room. Sucking the space around him, like a beautiful, commanding, energetic black hole. Sucking me so that all I know right this second is him.

He looks at me. “I see you made it.”

His voice rumbles through me.

“Yes.” My lips tug upward and I laugh a little. “Wonderful speech,” I mumble. “Are you taking one-on-ones?”

“No. I leave for a meeting in . . .” He checks his watch, then raises his brow as if the time flew. “Five.”

His assistant hands over a couple of note cards; his dark head bends downward as he quickly skims them. She leaves after a questioning look in my direction, and I take the moment he’s distracted to regroup.

I’m embarrassed to look at him. Amazing how we’ve spent so much time together, shared so many things, and he still manages to make me feel more girly than anything because he’s so masculine. And more shy than anything because he’s so confident. And also because I like him and care about his opinion so much.

Which is why admitting the following hurts: “You didn’t read my speech.”

He lifts his head at that. “I didn’t read your speech,” he agrees, leaving me no choice but to laugh a little joylessly.

“I’m not surprised. I told you I’ve been struggling. Would you give me pointers as to what would’ve made it work for you? Was it too impersonal or too fact-oriented . . . ?”

He sets the note cards aside, frowning a little, his eyes a little bit amused. “Nothing like that,” he assures soberly. “It was merely too unique. It had your stamp all over it.” He looks at me with smoldering, intense eyes again, eyes that hold me motionless. “You couldn’t write for anyone else. You’re too unique to adopt someone else’s point of view; you’re too impassioned about yours. You should be writing about exactly and precisely what interests you, Selena. That is what I’m offering you at M4.”

I’m stunned by the unexpected praise. He speaks honestly. In fact, I detect no flattery in his words or in his gaze. Only the truth as he sees it with those eyes that have seen more than they should by his age. Eyes that have seen everything and that somehow I can feel right now, seeing into me.

“I want to write, but . . . it’s the first thing I’ve written easily in weeks,” I admit.

Other than Helen, I haven’t admitted my block to anyone but him.

“It was good.”

Pride fills me at his words, a pride I haven’t felt for my work in a long time.

I’m almost weak with it when Justin steps forward and lifts his arm as if he’s about to touch my face.

I wait for the touch, my body tightening.

He stops himself, laughs mockingly under his breath, and then he stops laughing, admitting with sober intensity, “You can write. You won’t ever lose that.”

Yes I did, I lost it when I lost you.

I remain looking up at him, and then my eyes flick down at his hand as he lowers it to his side, his fingers—how they curl into his palm. His scent is filling my lungs and I don’t want to expel a breath just so I don’t lose that decadent smell. His hand is at his side, but how is it possible to feel his fingers in places they once touched? I’m crying out for them in every cell.

“You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” I ask. “To get me writing? You didn’t need a speech. You just wanted me to realize I could work past my block.”

I’m almost weak when a smile touches his eyes so lightly, it’s barely there. “You think so.”

“I know so, Justin.” Then, looking into his eyes, eyes that watch me as if he knows what I’m thinking, I force out a little, “Thank you.” When he nods, I add, “I’d hoped not to embarrass myself completely in front of you. I’m glad you at least . . . liked what I sent.”

“Even if this means I still want you at M4?” he asks, a soft challenge.

I feel excitement surge through me. “You do?” I shake my head. “I couldn’t.”

“The offer’s still open,” he insists. Suddenly, unexpectedly, he looks at my lips—really stares at them—for three long heartbeats. Thud, thud, thud.

“Thank you.” I clear my throat. “Until when is it open?”

“Until you say yes.”

He walks away, leaving me aching, hopeful, happy, hurting, all at once.

He stops by the door, and looks at me again.

Making love was never as simple as him and me having sex.

Justin made love to me with his smile. There’s a smile in his eyes now.

“Are you available Saturday?” he asks.

I’m . . . hallucinating. I’m making things up, I’m this desperate.

“What do you mean?” I croak.

“There’s an all-day business event. I’d like to introduce you to some of my Interface crew.”

I don’t hesitate, not even a little. “I’m available.”

He grabs the doorknob. “Next Saturday. Someone will pick you up at noon.”

It’s late when I get home to find Wynn and Gina watching a movie in the living room. “Hey,” I say as I go to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water.

I plop down to watch some TV with them, replaying what he told me about my writing today.

“What did you do all day? Why are you so quiet?” Wynn asks.

I grin a little and shrug.

I used to tell them everything about Justin. They were my accomplices. My sidekicks as I went underground to infiltrate the player’s lair.

Now Justin is my treasure. He’s so precious and I have so little of him, is it wrong I want to keep him to myself  ?

“Selena! Share! All right, she’s gone mad!” Gina exaggeratedly declares to Wynn. “We need to get this girl some serious help.”

I grin as they both shake me.

“You dicks, let go!” I squirm to get free. “I saw him at McCormick Place today. He was keynote speaker at some socialmedia thing.” I keep replaying the looks we shared down to the very end. I snuggle my head into the back of the couch and sigh happily. “And he invited me over to this business thing,” I add.

“What business thing?” asks Wynn.

“What do you fucking mean? This should have been yelled out since you stepped in the door!” Gina cries, indignant.

“Oh god.” I moan into my pillow, then toss it over to them, red. “I can’t talk about it. I need to process! Good night, guys!”

I hear them murmur to themselves and speculate, I sit on my bed and scroll my contacts in my phone.

Do it, a part of me prods. No, don’t do it, another part goes. Yes, ask him something he needs to answer. But I can’t. I can’t push that hard. I need to take a page from his book and be patient.

I hug my pillow instead. Saturday, I think, making a mental list of things.

I need to look perfect.

I need to not make a fool of myself.

I need to remind him of what great friends we were even when we weren’t deliciously fucking.

I need to win Justin back.

SATURDAY

When a shiny silver Rolls-Royce pulls over outside my apartment building on Saturday, I fairly shoot out the door.

I’m wearing a pair of white slacks with a cardi and silk top, and I colored my cheeks a little bit, and glossed my lips, opting to look professional, and I tied my hair back in a braid that hangs down my back. When I walk out and see Otis standing there, guarding the Rolls as he waits, I can’t control the excitement surging in me.

“A pleasure, Miss Selena,” he says, beaming.

“It really is,” I admit with a smile.

I settle in the backseat and Justin’s familiar scent reaches me. Clean and expensive. I take a good whiff of his aftershave and cologne and am sure I just stepped into heaven—a heaven ruled by a green-eyed devil.

The scent lingers strongly, along with a whiff of top-quality leather. I feel butterflies. Eat your heart out, Pretty Woman.

Soon the car pulls up at the driveway of a 5-star resort hotel, where Catherine H. Ulysses greets me at the door. As she leads me across the sumptuous lobby, she explains the situation. “Every summer, Mr. Justin’s winemakers invite him, along with a few of his choice business partners and employees, to a wine tasting so he can select his favorites for the yearly M4 gala. He wanted you to meet them, considering . . .” She shoots me a disgruntled look. “He wants you at M4.”

As we walk down the hall, a group of men come forward, one of whom rushes to catch up with us. “Cathy! We really want Justin to place an order with us at South Napa Vineyards.”

“I couldn’t sway him either way.” Catherine keeps walking with a clipboard to her chest, and I try not to break stride either.

“Please put in a good word for us, we’ve brought all of our best whites.”

“What can I say, Richard? Some days he likes reds, others he likes whites, others he’s up for pinot noir rather than the cabernets. He likes his variety; what can you do?”

“Catherine, we’ve been doing this for years. By now we’d love some sort of commitment. It would speak highly of us if we were to be the prime supplier this year.”

“And I’ll tell you what I told the rest of them: good luck. May the Justins be with you.”

We wade into a beautiful restaurant already full of people. The space boasts twenty-five-foot ceilings and is set up with long tables, each one draped in white linens with elegant silverware and sleek chrome centerpieces holding long, lone orchids.

Pure luxury surrounds us.

At the far end of the room, expansive glass doors open all the way to the walls, revealing dramatic views of a golf course to one side, and a pool, waterfall, and pergola to the other.

After we cross the room, we head into another section, even more luxurious than the first. This area is strategically scattered with white-upholstered conversational seating, lines of delicate folded menus standing open at the centers of the sleek glass coffee tables. Wine racks line one side of the room while the other side reveals a beautiful view of a terrace and golf course.

Catherine is checking out the area while telling one of the waiters who approaches, “This turned out perfect. Mr. Justin likes the view. He also likes his privacy. Nice little area here. Good job, thank you.”

Holy god, it’s all so beautiful. It reminds me of his apartment, his cars.

Everything about him.

I’m letting my eye appreciate every inch of this place, when I see Justin walk in. My eyes hurt.

Catherine lifts her head too. “Excuse me,” she tells the waiter. “Excuse me,” she then tells me, flustered as she heads for the door.

As Catherine threads through the crowd to greet him with her chart to her chest, there’s an almost imperceptible hush in the room.

The people who were closest to the doors immediately walk up to him.

He’s wearing black slacks and a white shirt, no tie, his hair slicked back to reveal his stunning face. He looks hot multiplied by a million.

I’m a little embarrassed to realize my nipples ache painfully beneath my top and bra, and I’m more than a little uncomfortable by the fact that I can get aroused at the mere sight of him. I have no right to that little stab of jealousy I feel when he talks to the people who approach. But I dearly wish that it were me alone that he spoke to.

I stare at my shoes and tuck my hair behind my ear and inhale. I promise myself I’m going to look up and not look at him, but when I lift my eyes, it’s him they look for. He’s greeting a couple who just approached, the woman wearing an especially awed smile.

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