#to my character's words to make my cast laugh backstage | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seungkwansphd · 2 years ago

Text

cast me in a better light

pairing: musical actor!Joshua x pit orchestra member!YN word count: 5.9k synopsis: Joshua is a great singer and actor, you can admit that, but would it kill him to have some rhythm? The Christmas musical really will fail if you can't figure out how to read his cues, but he's wondering if you'll ever realize that he's sending you a different kind of signal, too. genre/themes: romance, fluff, grumpy/sunshine dynamic, allusions to a bad breakup, hallmarkian romance, lol.

a/n: this is part of the @svthub snowventeen collab! you should check out all of the other wonderful writers & stories! also these are the songs i drew inspo & lyrics from (don't sue me) griff - on foot in front of the other ariana grande - santa tell me (slow & reverb)

You balled your free hand into a fist as you turned back in your sheet music for what felt like the thirteenth time. It was your third rehearsal with the cast for this year’s Christmas musical and you were wondering if you could get away with strangling the lead, Joshua Hong, with your bare hands. You weren’t even working on anything difficult, but this man could not seem to sneak through a back alley with any sort of consistent rhythm pattern, so consequently you had nothing to follow. Your beats on the high toms kept missing his footsteps and everyone’s patience was wearing thin.

“Joshua, YN?” Janet cleared their throat, “Can you two spend some time together working on this? We need to either decide on a set tempo or work out some visual cues so that YN can follow your footsteps. We do need to move on for today though.”

“Of course!” Joshua smiled brightly at the orchestra conductor, “We’ll make time!” he gestured theatrically in a way that made you want to throw your drumsticks at him.

“Great,” Janet nodded at him before looking back down at the score, “Alright, let’s continue,” they lifted their baton, leading the pit through the second number.

“You still want to do dinner?” you asked Tetiana as she packed up her violin and bow.

“Yes! Although…,” she trailed off, pointing to something behind you.

Furrowing your brows, you turned slowly to see your one and only leading man, Joshua Hong. It was highly unusual to see cast members down in the pit.

“Hey YN! Thought I’d get your number so we can coordinate a few practices to nail down the walks,” he smiled at you.

“Ah sure,” you nodded. None of this would be necessary if he could just walk like a human person.

“Do you have regular days that work well? Or what do you think?”

“To be honest, my schedule is pretty irregular,” you answered honestly, thinking through the various jobs that you had lined up over the next couple of weeks. “I have a chunk of time free on Thursday between two and three pm?”

“That should work! I’ll text you to confirm,” he nodded, running through his own schedule in his head.

“Sounds good,” you raised your eyebrows at him, “Don’t get lost on the way out,” you couldn’t help but tease.

Joshua either didn’t hear you or didn’t respond as he walked backstage, but Tetiana laughed at your joke, which was enough to satisfy you.

“Ready to eat?” you asked her with a smile.

“Yes,” she laughed heartily. She wondered just how difficult of a time Joshua was in for during these one on one sessions.

❄❄❄

“Why can’t we just do a simple 2/4 or 4/4 pace when you walk from stage left to the alley?” you asked, slightly irritated already.

“Because it’s not what the character would do,” Joshua rebutted, as if what he was saying made any sense. “And depending on the show, the atmosphere may be different, so I want to leave it open for interpretation!”

“I-,” you cut yourself off, remembering your conductor’s words. “Okay, well then can we implement some sort of physical cue? Like a shoulder movement or something? I need to be able to follow you,” you suggested.

“Can you just watch how I move and see if there are any physical cues that I'm already doing?”

“Sure,” you sighed, gesturing for him to do his walk.

You watched him closely, eyes traveling from his shoulders to his fingertips and then back up to his torso, hoping to pick out some sort of movement that corresponded to his footsteps. You’d never seen Joshua at such a close distance before. From the pit, he was little more than the rough outline of a person, but up close you were forced to acknowledge how handsome he was. As you watched him move, you also realized that Joshua was much broader than you would’ve guessed. You were surprised when the thought hit you. Things were certainly easier when you watched him from a distance.

“Well?” he asked, turning his head to look at you after completing his exaggerated walk.

“Sorry, can you do it again?” you asked, shaking your head briefly to clear your thoughts.

“Yes,” he nodded, moving to start again.

You crossed your arms, tongue dragging across your teeth as you regarded him. Without even having to look, Joshua could feel your eyes rake up and down his figure as he walked and walked and walked. Your eyes burned into him intently and for someone who was a professional performer, he was surprised to find himself somehow nervous. Your tongue toyed with your left canine until you finally noticed that there was this little thing that he did with his chin just before he took a step. You might be able to work with that.

“Okay, I think I got something!” you clapped your hands together in relief, moving to the keyboard that was set up across the room from your drumset. “Okay, can we take it from here?” your fingers played out the closing melody that directly preceded his walk.

“Oh, yes?” Joshua did a double take. The way your fingers ran across the keys took him by surprise. “You play piano as well?”

“I’m a professional musician,” you wrinkled your nose up at him, “I can play several instruments.”

“Ah, of course,” he flushed.

You keyed out the melody again, leading him into his walk. He waited for you to cross the room to pick up your drumsticks before he started walking and you half-managed to follow his footsteps this time.

“That was better,” you shrugged, “We’ll need to keep working at it though,” you shrugged, eyeing the clock. You had to leave soon if you wanted to make it to band rehearsal on time.

“Oh right, you had to stop at three,” Joshua nodded, following your line of sight.

“Yeah,” you shrugged. The hour had passed quickly, most of it spent bickering, unfortunately. “When are you free next?”

“Saturday is pretty open as of now,” you suggested. “Would ten-thirty in the morning work?”

“Yes!”

“Would you mind actually meeting at my house? I have band practice right before and it would be nice not to have to drive here and set everything up.”

“Oh, sure I guess? What’s the address?”

“I’ll text you,” you smiled gratefully as you packed your drumsticks away, “Have a good day!”

❄❄❄

Joshua double checked the address before he got out of his car. He was halfway to the porch when the sound of music out back caught his ear. He was quite early and figured it wouldn’t do any harm to check it out. As he got closer to the source, the sounds of keyboard, drumset, and guitar became more individually discernible and these ensemble sounds worked together to complement the lead vocalist. Was this the band rehearsal that you had been referring to?

Joshua finally rounded the corner of the house to face a detached garage where the band was rehearsing. His eyes went to the drumset first, where he expected to see you. The large man seated behind the bass drum, however, was decidedly not you and so his eyes flitted around until they landed on the person standing behind the keyboard. You were playing and singing with such joy on your face and it made him stop in his tracks.

“I didn't think I'd get back up I didn't think I'd be alright again You know it's easy when you're young, bounce back and whatever You just bounce back like it never happened”

You sang with your eyes closed, fingers gliding across the keyboard with an ease that startled Joshua.

“I put one foot in front of the other today I stretched my arms out wide and it felt real strange And then my legs, they started shaking and my hands, they started quaking 'Cause things just take longer to heal these days”

The tenderness with which you sang the last lyrics triggered a small burst of warmth in his chest and when your eyes opened to meet his, his heart jumped fully into his throat.

“Oh, you’re here,” you blurted into the mic without thinking, surprising your band mates.

“Hi, yes,” Joshua cleared his throat, “Sorry I’m early!” he waved at everyone good naturedly.

“Who is this?” your bassist, Elena asked, eyes dancing curiously at you.

“Joshua, he’s the lead in that musical I’m working,” you shrugged, for some reason embarrassed that he had seen you singing.

“Oh nice!” your drummer stood up to introduce himself, “I’m Amir, and that’s Elena. It’s nice to meet you man!”

“Hey thanks! Nice to meet you too,” Joshua smiled back at the large man, “I didn’t know you sang,” he remarked at you.

“I mean…we barely know each other,” you couldn’t help but remark.

“I guess that’s true,” he chuckled good naturedly, “You guys sound great!”

“Thank you” Elena chirped excitedly, “You should follow us on social media!”

“Please,” Joshua nodded way too genuinely, pulling out his phone and looking over Elena’s shoulder as she showed him the band’s various handles.

You knew that didn’t make any sense. You should want everyone and their mother to check out your music, but there had always been an unspoken separation between the cast members and pit orchestra and so it felt very odd to be letting Joshua into your life in this way.

“Do you wanna take that again,” Amir asked you, bringing your thoughts back to the present, “Or did you feel good about that?”

“I felt really good about that, actually,” you nodded and you meant it.

“Me too!” Elena chirped in agreement.

“Cool, well we’re done a little early so if you two need to work on whatever you need to work on, we can make ourselves scarce. But…,” Amir turned his eyes to Joshua hopefully, “If you might wanna jam with us…Elena and I have been learning ‘My Shot’ from Hamilton!”

“Oh hell yes,” Joshua answered seamlessly.

“Right on!” Amir nodded excitedly, sitting back down behind his drum set as Elena wiggled excitedly.

You gestured towards the microphone stand as you got out of the way for Joshua. He pulled the mic out of the stand and your jaw dropped when he started…rapping?

“Hey yo, I'm just like my country I'm young, scrappy and hungry And I'm not throwin' away my shot”

Amir’s grin grew wider and wider as he picked up on Joshua’s flow. You watched, eyes widening with amazement, as he just continued and continued. You knew it was a silly stereotype, but you didn’t ever think you’d see him rapping and you were surprised at how decent he was at it. You could tell that he was out of his usual element, but he managed to still have a swagger and presence that was quite different from when you’d seen him during rehearsal. Elena’s delight grew unbridled as they ran through a good amount of the track before Joshua ran out of breath.

“Sorry!” he laughed apologetically, “I don’t typically rap,” he smiled genially.

“No, don’t apologize man, that was awesome!” Amir shook his head vehemently.

You grinned as you watched the three of them bond. Amir and Elena had always had such open and welcoming personalities, so it didn’t surprise you that they connected with Joshua immediately.

“Of all the things I never thought I’d see,” you remarked as you looked at him with a newfound appreciation.

“I mean we barely know each other, right?” he couldn’t help but throw your own words back at you. He must’ve been still reestablishing his blood oxygen equilibrium, because there was no other explanation for why he winked at you.

You blinked.

“Well, we ought to get out of your hair cause we’ve probably eaten into enough of your rehearsal time,” Amir spoke up after exchanging a glance with Elena. They both packed up quickly and made themselves scarce as you settled in behind the drumset, adjusting the stool way, way down.

“That was fun,” Joshua smiled at you as you warmed up.

“You were perfectly on beat there! So if you could just do that while you walk,” you teased, eyes creasing as you smiled at him. Joshua opened his mouth, but you cut him off, “I know, I know, that’s not what the character would do,” you shook your head playfully at him.

You were pleasantly surprised that the next hour passed quickly. It was probably because Amir and Elena had helped break the ice a little bit, but you felt a lot more comfortable with Joshua today. In turn, he also seemed more open to your input and you were able to work out a decent system for establishing a walking or transition pace. Eventually, you got bored and worked on a few other passages before your stomach interrupted with a loud rumble.

“Was that your stomach?” Joshua asked, surprise evident on his face.

“Yes,” you laughed sheepishly, “I should eat something. Do you want to take a break? I’ve probably got something we can snack on.”

“I wouldn’t mind a snack,” Joshua smiled at you in a way that was disarming.

“Okay, follow me then,” you turned away, nervous, allowing him to follow you, “Don’t judge me, I know the place is a mess!” you disclaimed as you led him through the house. Joshua’s eyes widened with wonder as he inventoried the many, many instrument cases scattered around your house.

“How many instruments can you play?” he looked at you in wonder.

“I, uh,” you made a face as you counted in your head. “All of the strings and most of the percussion instruments.”

“What? That’s amazing!” Joshua gaped at you. He was truly impressed.

“Thanks,” you chuckled, a bit shy at his obvious admiration. Avoiding his gaze, you searched through your cupboard for something to eat.

“Can I try this?” Joshua gestured to the cello laying on the ground while you slid two frozen waffles into the toaster.

“Sure!” you called over your shoulder as you moved to the fridge. Waffles and cereal it was! You laughed to yourself as you heard some fiddling followed by a few noisy scrapes.

“This sounds horrible,” he remarked to himself as he continued to drag the bow across the strings determinedly. You couldn’t fight the smile that spread across your lips as you watched him out of the corner of your eye. You were surprised that you still found him endearing as he continued to make such grating sounds.

“You’ll have to adjust the pin,” you gestured to the bottom of the cello as you approached him, assessing the situation. “Here, hold this for me,” you lifted the instrument to the appropriate height and waited for Joshua to grab the instrument. You reached down between his legs and pulled the endpin out so that the cello sat at a better height.

“Okay, that looks better, now let’s address this grip,” you smiled, grabbing his hand and adjusting his fingers so they held the bow in a less awkward way. You didn’t notice, but Joshua’s Adam’s apple bobbed erratically when you moved to adjust his other hand on the neck of the cello. “You might actually be good at the cello,” you remarked, taking his left hand into your own. “You have these nice long fingers!”

Before he could respond, the waffles jumped in the toaster, pulling your attention away. It was just as well, because the best Joshua could’ve offered was a garbled cough with the way you had managed to fluster him. Blinking rapidly, he stood, placing the cello back on its side.

In the kitchen, you reprimanded yourself mentally as you placed the toasted waffles onto plates. Joshua did have nice hands, but you certainly didn’t need to be saying that out loud! Wordlessly, you brought everything to the kitchen table and gestured for him to sit.

“Hope you like Cap’n Crunch,” you laughed, “It’s the best I can do with no notice.

“I love Cap’n Crunch,” he smiled genuinely, “So do you teach as well?” he asked between mouthfuls. You nodded and worked through your own mouthful of cereal before answering him.

“Yes! I teach a handful of students, mostly string instruments.”

“Wow, that is really amazing,” Joshua beamed at you one more time before you ate in silence. The crunch of the cap’n filled the room and you were struck by the odd sense of intimacy that filled the moment. You wondered if it was one sided before you finished up and resumed practice

❄❄❄

Joshua couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering to you in the pit. You were laughing easily with some of the other musicians and he was surprised at the way he felt almost jealous? It made sense, of course, you knew them much better than you knew him. Prior to this show, you’d never even interacted, but after spending some time with you over the weekend, Joshua had had a lot of trouble keeping you out of his mind.

“Ready to get started?” Janet tapped their baton against their music stand.

Everyone directed their attention to the podium and flipped to one of the big dance numbers. It was quick and before long you were deeply immersed, trying to keep time with their steps.

“Very good, nice work!” Janet clapped happily, more than pleased. “Joshua and YN, great job nailing down the transitions as well! They’re looking much better.”

You smiled back, pleased as well. Joshua instinctively looked towards where he knew you were, even though it was too dark to see you anymore.

“Hey, YN!” you heard Joshua’s now familiar voice as you were on the way out of rehearsal.

“Hey, nice job today,” you smiled at him.

“Thanks to you,” he felt inordinately pleased to receive your compliment. “Hey if you’re not busy, do you want to grab some coffee?”

“I’m not, but why?” you asked.

“I-, do I have to have a reason?” he paused, furrowing his brow.

“I mean, I guess not but this is a little unusual. The cast members typically don’t acknowledge our existence,” you chuckled. You were probably being a little unfair, but this was also true.

“Well, you’re not exactly making it easy,” he pushed back, raising an eyebrow.

“…Fair point,” you had to admit. “You’re right. Let’s go get coffee.”

Joshua beamed.

“I like Almanac, but where do you like for coffee?”

“I like Almanac too!” Joshua’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “See we’re more similar than you give us credit for.”

“I already admitted I was being unfair,” you raised your brows at him, heading towards your favorite coffee shop.

“So how was the rest of your weekend?”

“It was pretty busy, but good! Yours?”

“It was also good,” Joshua smiled. You watched the way the corners of his lips curled up in a catlike fashion. “I had some free time after our practice, so I went to visit my mom.”

“Oh, nice! Does she live close? Far?”

“A couple of hours away, so it’s not too far. She’s getting a little older now, so I try to visit regularly and help around the house however I can.”

“That’s sweet of you,” you smiled. Joshua had always seemed like a gentleman and this was consistent with that.

“It’s the right thing to do,” he shrugged, opening the door to Almanac for you.

“YN!” the roaster, Sam, greeted you, “And Josh?” He did a double take when Joshua followed you inside. “Do you two know each other?”

“We do!” Joshua nodded, “You weren’t kidding when you said you like it here, huh?”

“I take my coffee very seriously,” you threw him a pointed yet playful look. “What’s interesting today?” you turned back to Sam.

“For you? I think you’ll like the Burundi best? Very juicy and complex,” he regarded you for a second. “And for you, Joshua? I think the Honduras? Nutty and more chocolatey notes.”

You and Joshua both nodded. When it came to coffee with Sam, you’d both learned that it was always best to go with dealer’s choice.

“Do we want these for here or to go?”

“I, uh…?” you looked at Joshua, this had been his idea to begin with.

“Here?” he suggested, hoping you didn’t feel obligated.

“Sure,” you shrugged.

“So how do you two know each other?” Sam asked as he bounced around behind the bar, grinding beans and prepping pour overs.

“We’re both in the Christmas show,” Joshua answered first, gesturing vaguely towards the theater where you’d just walked from.

“Well, he’s in it. I’m in the pit orchestra,” you felt the need to clarify.

“You’re in it! There’s no musical without the orchestra!” he insisted enthusiastically.

“I would agree with that,” Sam chuckled, intrigued at your dynamic.

“You know what I mean though!” you scrunched your face at Joshua, “If you say ‘I’m in a musical’ people think you mean the cast!”

Joshua blinked down at you. His lips curled up at the corners, amused at your fervor. Sam watched with a grin on his face as you and Joshua bickered playfully.

“Okay, here’s your coffee kids,” he finally interrupted, sliding two ceramic cups across the bar.

“Thanks Sam,” you beamed at him before turning to search out a table. It wasn’t terribly busy, so you were able to grab seats at the bar looking out the window. “So did you have something you needed to talk to me about?” you asked, shifting slightly to face him.

“No, I just wanted to spend some time with you,” he laughed, leaning back in his chair.

“What?”

“What?” he asked, a little confused that he kept having to explain why he wanted to be around you. You were incredibly talented and interesting, did you not see that?

“Sorry I’m not good at making new friends,” you chuckled wryly.

“You’re okay,” Joshua smiled. “I was actually hoping to ask you about your music making process. If you don’t mind.”

“Oh?” your eyes lit up. This was a topic that you could talk both of his ears off about, if he let you.

“Yes, I was wondering who writes your lyrics and whether you have a process for it. Like lyrics first and then music or vice versa?”

“That’s a good question that’s impossible to answer,” you grinned at him. “Amir and Elena and I tend to each write our own tracks, but we do ask each other for input. For me, I write the lyrics first and fill in the music around them. Elena is the opposite and Amir does both, depending on his mood. Do you write music?”

“I have tried in the past. But I’m primarily a vocalist, so I never really got to the part about filling in the music,” he chuckled sheepishly. “I can get by on guitar, but that’s about it.”

“It’s certainly not easy,” you laughed, “And then there’s the issue of baring your heart and soul to the people who do actually listen.”

Joshua enjoyed the way your eyes sparkled as you talked excitedly about your music making process. You didn’t seem to like to talk about yourself otherwise, so he hoped he could learn more about you through your music. Your next show was already marked down in his calendar and he couldn’t wait for the day to come.

“Sorry I’m talking your ear off!” you chuckled, bringing your mug to your lips.

“I like it,” his eyes creased as he smiled at you, resting his chin on his hand, eager to hear more.

You blinked. His statement was so straightforward and caught you off guard. You weren’t able to fight the heat that crawled up your neck, so you pretended it was a win that you hadn’t choked on your coffee entirely.

“Oh my gosh, I have to get going,” Joshua’s eyes widened when he noticed the time.

“Oh, okay!” you nodded. “Sorry, I told you I could talk forever about this!”

“Don’t be sorry. Time passes easily with you.”

“This was fun, thanks for suggesting it,” you stepped past his compliment and through the door purposefully. “Oh, it’s snowing!” you gasped, extending your palms upwards to catch a few flakes.

“Pretty,” he murmured, eyes watching you as snowflakes landed in your hair.

“It really is,” you turned towards him, fully beaming now. You loved being outside for the first snow each year. You and Joshua exchanged a laden glance before you couldn’t stand it anymore and excused yourself. It was cold out, but you almost couldn’t feel it.

❄❄❄

“Are you gonna sing tonight?” Elena asked you, eyes bright with curiosity. You tended to be fifty-fifty when it came to karaoke night. Sometimes you were in the mood and other times you weren’t. Tonight you were decidedly on the fence, so you planned to just go with the flow.

“Not sure yet, but I am here to support you,” you grinned, nose scrunching affectionately at her. “Is Amir coming?”

“Yeah, but he invited someone else so he’s waiting outside,” Elena nodded.

“Oh, okay!” you shrugged. It wasn’t unheard of for others to join you, but it wasn’t frequent either. You wandered to the bar to grab a beer while you waited.

“Yo!” you jumped slightly when Amir’s booming voice was accompanied by his hands clapping down on your shoulders.

“Jeebus,” you scrunched your face up at him.

“Two pilsners, please?” he signaled to the bartender before pulling you into a hug. “How’s things?” he asked as you headed back towards Elena.

“Pretty good! How are yo-oh?” you stopped mid-sentence when you saw Joshua sitting with her.

“Hey,” he smiled gently, waving at you.

“What are you doing here?”

“I invited him!” Amir stated as a matter of factly as he took the seat next to Elena at the picnic style table. You climbed over the bench on the other side, taking the spot next to Joshua.

“We’ve been chatting,” Joshua explained helpfully.

“Oh,” you nodded, though you were full of questions, “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” he nodded, left knee nudging yours under the table.

Your heart flipped in your chest. You hadn’t seen Joshua since your post-rehearsal coffee, but he’d certainly been on your mind. If you squinted, in the right light, you would almost think that he was interested in you. But then again, you’d also thought things with your last partner had been going well just before they’d broken up with you too.

“What are you singing?” you asked, pulling yourself out of your thoughts.

“Well it has to be holiday themed, so that narrows down our choices,” Amir stroked his chin playfully.

“Have you decided?” Joshua turned to you, eyes curious.

“I’m not sure I’m going to sing yet,” you half-smiled at him.

“Oh come on! I’ll sing if you sing,” he offered.

“Why would I care if you sing or not?” you countered.

“Hm. You’re telling me you don’t want to watch me make a fool of myself singing Mariah Carey?” he teased, corners of his lips curling up playfully.

“Wait,” you blinked, “Wait, no I really do,” your eyes widened as you processed his words.

“You’d better pony up then,” he threw you a playful look as he brought his beer to his lips.

Elena watched Joshua with severe interest as he watched you wrack your brain for Christmas songs. He was so clearly interested in you, but she couldn’t tell whether your obliviousness was purposeful or not.

“What about ‘Santa Tell Me’?” she suggested, electing to help you out of your misery.

“Oh! I do like that song!” you smiled at Elena gratefully, “Will that do?” you turned to Joshua, an eyebrow raised expectantly at him.

You honestly expected him to say no and request a rendition of something much more embarrassing, so you were caught off guard when he cocked his head to the side and raked his eyes over you before nodding. Elena’s eyes widened before they flew to Amir to see whether he’d been paying attention to this exchange. As was typical, he seemed blissfully unaware as he drank his beer.

“Do we sign up? Or how does this work?” Joshua asked, craning his neck towards the MC.

“Yep, they have a sign-up sheet there!” Amir nodded.

“Shall we?” Joshua turned to you, extending his hand towards you.

“We?” you couldn’t help the question that escaped your lips.

“I don’t trust you not to chicken out. I would like to watch you put pen to paper,” he grinned mischievously at you.

“Me? Chicken?” you gasped, offended. “I would never!”

“Then let’s go,” Joshua chuckled cooly.

“Fine,” you scoffed, placing your hand in his and following him to the MC’s station.

“Amir!” Elena squealed as she watched you leave. “I think something’s going on?”

“Oh yeah, Joshua likes YN,” Amir shrugged, nodding as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“Wait, what?”

“He told me. Why do you think I invited him?”

Elena’s mouth hung wide open at this revelation. Of all the things she never thought she’d see, Amir meddling was pretty damn near top of the list.

“Am I going first or are you?” you asked Joshua as you held the pen above the sign-up sheet.

“I’ll go first,” he shrugged good naturedly, “It was my idea after all.”

“Okay,” you nodded, scribbling his name and then your own just below it, “No backing out now.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he winked at you. He couldn’t seem to help himself from teasing you tonight.

You watched, fascinated, as Joshua chatted with Elena and Amir. You’d have thought they’d known each other for years, but when you sat down to do the math, you were surprised to realize that it had really only been a few weeks since they’d met. It was a pleasant surprise, but a surprise nonetheless. Pulling yourself out of your thoughts again, you met Elena’s gaze, which was loaded to say the least. When she realized you were no longer spacing out, her eyebrows raised as her head jerked subtly, yet meaningfully, towards Joshua. You knew what she was saying and you maybe even agreed. You just needed to have another mental breakdown or two before you decided what you wanted to do about it.

“Oh, I’m next!” Joshua announced as he watched names on the screen flicker by.

“Break a leg,” you beamed at him. He faltered for a moment at the genuine openness of your smile.

You watched with a mixture of excitement and secondhand embarrassment as Joshua started his rendition of Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You’. It was stupid, but you were surprised at how good he was. He didn’t take himself too seriously, hammed it up when it was appropriate, and by the end of it you were smiling widely and singing along. In fact, you were enjoying yourself so much that you practically forgot you were meant to sing after him and rushed on stage at the last minute. Joshua handed you the mic with a playful chuckle, fingers brushing for just a moment.

“Santa, tell me if you're really there Don't make me fall in love again if he won't be here next year Santa, tell me if he really cares 'Cause I can't give it all away if he won't be here next year”

Joshua smiled as he watched you sing. He wasn’t surprised that this song resonated with you. While perusing your music, it had become apparent to him that you’d gone through a big breakup sometime in the last year. He could certainly understand the reluctance to get involved with someone new, but he also hoped that he could prove himself to be a steadfast friend and potential partner.

You smiled impossibly wide as you grooved to the background music; you really did love this song! Inevitably your eyes moved back to your table and you paused when Joshua caught your eye. His eyes had creased into semi-circles and his lips had curled up just slightly at the corners as he watched you. Your brain stuttered and for whatever reason, the next lyrics that left your lips were from the explicit version instead.

“Oh, I wanna let him unwrap me, like oh-woo-oh Get on top of him, by that fireplace, oh-woo-oh But I don't want a new broken heart This year I've got to be smart”

Joshua’s eyes widened in surprise as the crowd erupted in whoops and cheers. The way you’d held his gaze while singing had left his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

“Eee, you did so good!” Elena squealed excitedly when you returned to the table. It took every fiber of her being not to scream over your sudden improv. “I love that slowed version too.”

“Really good,” Joshua half-smiled, thinking furiously about when and whether to make a move.

“Thanks,” you giggled shyly, grateful for the residual adrenaline of performing. “When are you two up? I kinda want to go out and get some air, but I don’t want to miss you guys!”

“We’re not for a while, go for it! Bring us some beers back too,” Amir waved you away playfully.

“Okay, I’ll be back soon!” you waved briefly before heading out the door to the patio.

The gears continued to turn in Joshua’s head until Amir and Elena simply couldn’t take it anymore.

“Dude, what are you doing?” they demanded in unison.

“What?” Joshua looked up, slightly startled.

“Go get ‘em! Now’s your chance!”

“Now?!” He looked panicked.

“They wanna let you unwrap them, like oh-woo-oh,” Elena sang playfully at him.

“Get on top of you, by that fireplace, oh-woo-oh!” Amir harmonized before breaking out into a fit of giggles.

Joshua stood up. They were right, this was the opening. He headed towards the door he had seen you exit through and found you standing outside alone.

“Gah, I don’t know how you do it!” you started chattering when you saw him, “I still get such nerves about performing in front of crowds like that!”

“It doesn’t really ever go away,” he smiled reassuringly, stepping towards you. “Cold?” he asked, watching you blow warm air on your hands.

“I was hoping the fresh air would help me calm down a bit, but now I’m just cold,” you laughed sheepishly.

Joshua chuckled, folding his long fingers over your hands and pulling you towards him. You swallowed audibly as you looked at him, heart pounding even faster now.

“You are a captivating performer and a talented musician. The nerves never really go away, you’ll just get better at managing them,” he gazed deep into your eyes. “You made me feel a lot of feelings up there.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’m not sure I’ve heard that version before,” he teased, grinning at you.

“I didn’t-, I don’t,” you floundered, but you didn’t really have much of an explanation. You had simply been flirting with him and he was flirting back.

“Can we go out on a date?” he asked, “If things go according to plan, we’ll be here next year too.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you realized he was quoting your karaoke lyrics back to you. It was so corny and yet…it was working. You pushed up on the balls of your feet, leveraging his grip on your hands to pull him into a kiss. You could feel him smile against your lips and when you pulled away, you could see that a single snowflake had landed on his nose. What in the Hallmark movie?

❄❄❄

Thanks so much for reading! Would love to hear what you think and please also check out the other 'snowventeen' fics!

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ohmygodshesinsane · 2 years ago

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THE PRINCESS AND THE PARLEY

for @jilymicrofics / april prompt 15: stage / words: 2194 / rating: mature

“Are you mental?” Lily adjusted her straw hat, casting a panicked look out onto the stage, where James Potter stood giving the performance of his life. Remus rubbed his face, grimacing.

“I’m really sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry. But I couldn’t ask Mary, and Marlene’s already been out -” He wrung his hands. “I’d send Sirius, I really would, but his evil queen costume takes the best part of thirty minutes to get him sewn into and they’ve already started.”

Lily took a deep breath. She only had two lines to remember – that wasn’t the issue. It was that she’d gone from being a wordless fishwife to the titular character – and naturally, the titular character was a sidelined damsel-in-distress that could have been replaced with an aristocratic lamp. Why Lockhart kept choosing these sorts of plays, she didn’t know. Why had they allowed a megalomaniac of an eighteen-year-old to direct anyway? He wasn’t even making the calls – he was just in the audience basking in it, the useless knob.

“Lockhart will skin me alive,” Remus said, clasping his hands together. “He’ll wear me as a cloak and use my blood to shampoo his hair. Please, Lily. I’ll owe you. And,” in his begging, he grasped at something. “You’ll humiliate James. He’s expecting Lisbete to prance out. You know he can hardly talk to you. You’ll get the last laugh.”

James. That much was true. In rehearsals, they quarrelled over everything, which was a miracle in and of itself as they were never in the same scene. Fortunately, however, as of late he could scarcely look her in the eyes, which made winning the arguments a lot easier. Lily huffed and folded her arms. “That’s a bit evil, Remus.” He shrugged.

“It’s show business.”

She blew air through her lips. “Fine,” she said. “But don’t lose it if I become a diva.” She hesitated. “And I want kebabs after the show.”

“Whatever you want,” Remus promised. “Anything.”

Lily skulked further backstage, past where Lisbete sat holding an icepack to her ankle, and reluctantly greeted Dorcas Meadowes.

“I’m the princess now,” she announced glumly. Dorcas blinked.

“Oh.” She looked to the costume rack. “We haven’t much time.”

Five minutes later, Lily had transformed from a humble villager to the King’s kidnapped daughter, clad in a ridiculously over-the-top pink gown and a matching cone with a long veil. Dorcas hurriedly braided her hair as she repeated her lines under her breath, and then Lily was shoved into the wings as the stage went dark. Benjy and Caradoc threw a red tablecloth over the metal structure that was to be her ‘bed’ and patted it.

“Hop on,” Benjy said, and Lily obliged, sitting on it.

“This is like one of those things they wheel bodies around in the morgue,” she informed him, laying down. It was terribly uncomfortable.

“Well, you would be a body if he didn’t come save you,” Caradoc said. “So it’s a fair thing.”

They wheeled her past Remus, who gave her a thumbs up and mouthed ‘thank you’, and then out onto the stage. It was terrifyingly empty, the audience glaring with narrowed eyes, trying to make sense of the shapes in the dark. An unfamiliar set loomed around her, with painted castle walls. In her only scene it had been a market square, and there’d been so many people on stage and her so far at the back that she’d been sure nobody was watching her. Now she’d be a main feature. She swallowed hard, and when Benjy and Caradoc hurried off, she was alone. She shut her eyes. Please, please don’t let me fuck up.

She sensed the lights going up, and James’ voice filled the world. With its disconnection from his actual face, it was almost pleasant-sounding.

“In the depths of the castle lay the Princess Acanthus, locked in an endless slumber, trapped by the Evil Queen Rostra. With every moment,” a clock tick, tick, ticked, “her life ebbed away. If Sir Arthur could not wake her, she would be lost forever.” Lily fought to keep her face still, trying to ignore the gazes of near fifty people on her. The lights warmed, and the clash of swords echoed in her ears.

“En garde! Get back!” James shouted from offstage. “Begone, foul creature!” The swords died and romantic music started as he entered the scene. He gave a strangled cry. An unscripted cry. Lily fought to keep her lips still. It would work with the character, perhaps, but it was all James.

“Princess?” he gasped, with more question than usual. He padded across the stage. After a moment, she felt the warmth of someone nearby, and the light behind her eyelids changed. “Could - could it be? This is where the Evil Queen has kept you all along? So close, and yet…” he sighed. “So difficult to find. Had I only known.” A rummaging sound. “And this antidote! Why, this antidote! The wizard has promised that this should wake her, and I must believe him. If he has lied…all hope is lost. We will never defeated the Evil Queen. All of Etrariana will be lost to her wicked powers!” His footsteps circled, so that he stood behind her. Lily squeezed her hands where they held each other, praying she kept still. Her body tensed in anticipation of his touch.

It was all she could do not to jolt when he lay his hands upon hers, heart pounding in her throat. His fingers brushed her cheek. Sleeping. You’re sleeping. Stay still. His thumb touched her lips, and her stomach clenched. His hands were softer than she had expected, and gentler. Something cold replaced his thumb.

“Please, let this potion work. Please, or I will be bereft! So very bereft!” he declared. Lockhart had written the play. He was the sort who named himself a great fan of Shakespeare after reading the Sparknotes of all his works. The mouth of the vial tilted against her lips. Crap. Now she had to wake. She hadn’t thought about how to act that.

Lily flung her eyes open and sat slightly. James snaked an arm around her. She almost looked to the audience, but his fingers curled around her waist as a reminder. His brown eyes were wide, faintly accentuated by the mascara on his lashes. She had never been so close to him. His breath stroked her cheek. A gold ring outlined his irises, and his lips were slightly parted, revealing a little of his white teeth. It took her a moment to remember what she was to do. She made a small sleepy sound – James held her a little more firmly – and opened her mouth in shock.

“Prin – princess.” James’ voice shook. She didn’t recall that from the matinee, but then, she had never paid much attention. Lily bit her lip, trying not to smirk. “You – you are awake.” He held her face with his free hand, and guided her gently into leaning back a little more. It sent her a little off-balance. If he pulled his arm, away, she would fall. She had to trust him. The heat of the lights flushed her cheeks. “I feared you would never wake.”

“Sir Arthur!” she said. “You have saved me! I thought I would die here, because of the Evil Queen’s evil intentions. I have been asleep so very long.”

“Of course I saved you,” he said, drawing nearer. Her tongue felt fat in her mouth. “I vowed to be your protector.” It’s worse for him than for you. She lifted her hand and cupped his cheek. There was colour in his face, too – she must have been harder to prop up than she thought.

“My saviour,” she breathed. “I am so very thankful.” She had to initiate. Her stomach rolled. It was stupid – she had done this plenty of times, with plenty of different people, on dares or dates or when she was drunk or dancing. What did this matter? Lily tilted her head and bridged the gap between them, pressing her lips softly against James’. He inhaled sharply, but it was only the briefest meeting, and he was the first to draw back. His lipstick had smudged a little. That hadn’t been so bad. The first was done.

“Princess,” he said. “Oh, Princess. How I have dreamed of this day.” And then he kissed her. A strike of lightning ran through her. His kiss was hungry, passionate – as it was directed to be – and his tongue swiped her lips. Fine. She could do better than that. She pressed harder against him, tasting the inside of his mouth, and lifted her other hand to hold onto the back of his jerkin. He could take all her weight, if he liked. He kissed her harder, stealing her breaths until she was gasping against him, desperately breathing through her nose, which crashed against his. Fine. If the audience wanted a show – if he wanted to make this a show – that’s what it would be.

Her teeth skimmed his lower lip, tugging gently, and then she moaned softly. His arm jerked in surprise. She dropped back. No! But he saved her at the last moment, cradling her in his arms, and then lowered her to the table. Now James was directly above her. By rights, the kiss ended there, but she kept on, trailing her fingers up his back until they reached his hair, where she then twisted them into his locks. James leaned over more, pressing some of his torso against hers, and trapped her tongue between his teeth, slowly drawing back and releasing her. Lily could up the stakes. If they were going to send her out to do this with little warning, as a favour, this is what they would get. And besides, he couldn’t win. No fucking way. She arched her body against his, whining a little. He gripped her face with both hands and kissed her harder again, pressing down until the metal of the ‘bed’ was firm against her back. Her head spun, the lack of air getting to her. Her whole body was warm under the glaring stage lights. The music had passed where it was supposed to be, and they were dragging on too long. She had to put an end to it.

She pulled back as best she could – her head hit the ‘bed’, and he only leaned down further, lipstick now smeared.

“James,” she whispered, very quietly. He flinched and opened his eyes. She stroked his cheek and pulled back, before sitting up of her own power. She could improvise.

“Sir Arthur,” she said, loud enough for the audience to hear, smiling pleasantly. “My saviour. My love.” Even if the line didn’t change the fact that the Princess didn’t pass the Bechdel test, at least she had three lines instead of two.

“We must run, my princess,” he said. Here, he was meant to step back and help her to her feet, but instead he stayed dangerously close. Lily’s palms sweated. Something in her core was on fire. As he let go of her, one finger swiped at the corner of her mouth. He subtly showed it to her as he finally did the blocking he was supposed to. It was marked with red. Her own lipstick had been ruined. He cleared his throat. “We must go now! The Evil Queen will realise I am here at any moment!” He circled to the front of her bed, took her hand, and helped her up. His palms were as gross as hers; she could feel his pulse jumping through his wrist.

There was only thing left; the music changed and swelled, and he started to run slowly, pulling her offstage. Lily joined him in the overdramatic fleeing, pretending to look terrified, and followed him into the wings.

As soon as they were in the darkness, James grabbed her waist; she rasped in surprise and he pulled her flush against him, hands stronger than she had known. Her heart raced. His face was only inches from hers, near as close as it had been on the stage. There was a wildness in his eyes, and his hair was still ruffled where she had messed it. Lily scoffed, mostly to herself. Was this his attempt at surprising her? She could do worse.

She smashed her lips against his, throwing her arms around his neck, and he stumbled backwards. But he returned her kiss with his own, fierce and insistent, and bit her lips. She stepped forward, pushing him against the theatre wall. How did he like being beneath her? But he gripped her waist harder and it became difficult to think clearly; her body ran on pure animalistic frenzy, only caring about his tongue against hers, his lips against her, the taste of his mouth.

“Are you mental?!” Lily broke from him at once, staggering backwards, and Remus gaped at them, holding his clipboard only by the string-attached pen. Lily smoothed her hair back, attempting decorum.

“You were the one who put me out there,” she said calmly. “I wanted to give it a hundred percent.”

Remus blinked. “Jesus Christ.”

#jilymicrofics #jily #james potter #lily evans #hp #fanfic

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practically-an-x-man · 1 year ago

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Backstage at Misery intermission

*joking about changing the show to be Buster-centric in the second act since my dad's playing him and our family is in the audience tonight*

Actor playing Annie (50s white woman, second grade teacher in real life): *sultry voice* Buster, I can make that gun work...

Us: *DYING laughing bc we'd never expect a joke like that from her*

Actor playing Paul (45yo white man): I'm gonna write fanfic about it. That'll be my cast gift to all of you, a fanfiction short story about each of your characters

Me: out of the people in the this who I'd most expect to say the word "fanfic" in casual conversation, you're like... second from the bottom

My dad (also a 45yo white man): Buster-Paul slash...

Me: *losing my mind*

#I realize my father was a Star Trek kid who grew up just after peak Spirk time #so of course he would know about fanfiction #but talk about mental whiplash I mean holy shit

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purplelupins · 2 years ago

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Rapture

Part II

Summery: A call from a friend needing a favour would turn into the biggest opportunity of your life. You can’t help but hand on for dear life along the way, but the held you get from a new acquaintance serves to pull you through it.

Pairing: Christoph Waltz x fem!reader

Warnings: Reader has anxiety, age-gap, suggestive conversations but nothing explicit, kissing ***The 3rd part will be NSFW so please proceed with caution. DNI if you are a minor!

Note: warnings will change for each part so please read them. This is the most self-indulgent piece of writing I have ever made. I can’t write a summery to save my life.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Your hands began to curl against themselves as you stared up at the bright tv screen. Even from backstage, you could hear the laughter of the audience, and it only made the butterflies in your stomach take flight. Your jaw clenched and unclenched; every hair seemed to tickle and irritate you. It was like your nerves had a mind of their own.

The intern clipping your microphone to your beautiful black dress quickly left the room. As soon as you heard the click of the door, you let out a long breath; ever since completing the film, you had been coached on public appearances, which included even the smallest interactions. So now as you sat without the public eye, you let yourself spiral a little.

You were sitting, waiting to be called into the orange and purple set to be interviewed for the first time. In hopes of elevating some stress, you closed your eyes. You half wished you were able to ease into the promotion with a smaller, less known talk-show, but no.

No your first interview was going to be on the Graham Northam Show.

“Fräulein?”

A slow sigh left you as you opened your eyes to see green ones staring back.

“Ah, there you are,” Christoph said, crouched in front of you, “Eyes on me. Deep breath in, yes?” He murmured, taking an exaggerated breath. A small smile graced your nervous face as you followed his lead.

This had become a common practice between the two of you since becoming co-stars. Just as he had been on the set of Inglorious Bastards, Christoph was often kept away from the rest of the cast so as to build the air of mystery around his enigmatic character. However, much to your surprise and panic, Tarantino had told and encouraged the two of you to spend as much off time together as you could.

While it petrified you at first, Christoph was quick to make you feel at ease. You knew he was a self-proclaimed snob -his words, not yours- but it seemed that he toned that specific nature down a notch or two when around you when your anxiety was high. Which was often.

He was a true gentleman, if you were honest.

“Can you take another breath, please?” He asked you, waiting patiently while you did as he asked.

“Thank you, Mr. Waltz…” You said as your last deep breath hissed from your lips.

He waved a hand and tsked you, “I won’t stand to have your first interview ruined by those nerves of yours. That’s the hosts job.” He said dryly.

You let out a little laugh, ignoring the blush on your cheeks as he took your hand.

“Does your hand hurt?” He asked, rubbing a circle around the scar by your knuckle.

“A little sore…definitely better than five months ago.” You said with a laugh, “How are your-“ you tapped your ear with your free hand and nodded to the almost invisible wire disappearing into his ear canal; his hearing aids.

“Good. Don’t blame me if I turn them off though.” He joked. You smiled and nodded.

Christoph clapped a hand onto your hand and stood, “Now I think we are going to be on soon- ah.” He said, acknowledging the assistant the opened the door as soon as he spoke.

“Mr. Waltz, Ms. l/n, if you’ll follow me?” They said.

“Bereit?(Ready?)” Christoph asked you, fully waiting until you spoke to move.

With one more deep breath, you said “Yes.”

The two of you followed the assistant down the hall to the flank of the stage. The sound of Graham Norton’s voice greated you as you stood there. Your mind began to reel as you remembered where you were.

How many times had you watched this program?

Laughed at people mocking Graham’s laugh or commenting on the state of the red couch?

Your throat felt dry.

But just as you started to clench your jaw, you felt a warm hand slip into yours and offer a small squeeze.

“Unclench.” He murmured gently.

You laughed softly, and saw him smirk from the corner of your eye.

“-But first, we have the cast of the most anticipated comedy noir of the year. You may know him best for his roles in Inglorious Bastards, Django Unchained, or Sepectre. He is a two time Oscar winner with a wit that will make you cry; please welcome Christoph Waltz!”

The assistant next to the both of you gave Christoph the sign to go, and as he took a step, he cast you a look of encouragement. You watched as he disappeared up the stairs, and he was greeted with a roar of applause.

You heard him being welcomed, and slowly the cheering died down. Then, your nerves came back tenfold when you heard the host once again.

“Now, the second part, and dare I say much prettier part-“ the audience laughed, “- of this duo may not be known to many of you. This is her first film, but most certainly not the last; please welcome the lovely y/n l/n!”

Just as they had with Christoph, they gave you the signal to go, and just like that, your ears ceased to work. The sound of the audience was deafening as the stage lights blinded you.

You waved to the audience, and yourheart beat in your ears, but you did your best to muster the dazzling smile you had been coached on, and shook the hand of the world renowned Talkshow host. Then, as he spoke, your hearing came back.

“Welcome, please take a seat, get comfortable!” Graham said joyfully as he shook your hand and held his arm out for you to follow Christoph to the red couch.

You gave him another smile and said, “Thank you so much.”

As you crossed to sit next to Christoph, he stood politely, and gestured next to him. The sofa beneath you had definitely seen better days, and the lack of back made you sit up straight.

You took a few more deep breaths, and cast a look over to Christoph who was clearly more comfortable than yourself. He gave you a charming smile and shifted in his seat as you both turned to look out at the audience who continued to clap. You then shifted your gaze to look up at the host who had yet to sit as he too clapped, nodding along with the audience.

“Hello hello!” He said, finally taking his seat. You were closest to him, and had to admit that his friendly demeanour put you at ease, “Welcome! Welcome back Christoph, such a pleasure to have you here again.”

“Thank you.! Good to be back.” Christoph said with a polite nod.

“And Y/n you’ve never been on the show at all, I don’t believe.” Graham said, leaning towards you a little.

You held your hands tightly in your lap, but your smile would never give away your nerves. “You’re quite right. This is actually my first interview ever!” You chimed.

Graham nodded enthusiastically, “What an honour to have you then.” He said, then he leaned a little closer as if to tell you something private, “Now, I must confess something to the both of you.” His tone was mock-serious.

You nodded and could feel Christoph lean against you, presumably to listen. Regardless of the reason you were elated.

Graham looked out at the audience then back to you with a shy, mischievous expression, “I don’t want you to think we don’t know how to work our equipment…” he began, “…But I think there was a technical issue with your mics, because it seemed that they picked up a rather sweet moment between you two backstage.”

You looked back at Christoph who looked at you, his face neutral as he shrugged, but your brows rose and your cheeks burned uncontrollably. It seemed that it only spurred the excited audience on as they began to “Aww”

“Are you alright?” Graham asked, knowing your were embarrassed as you hid your face in your hands.

Christoph placed a reassuring hand on your back, which helped you to sit tall again and take a breath. “Yes, I think I’ll survive.”

Graham laughed gently, his eyes sympathetic to let you know he wasn’t mocking you.

“And by the way Christoph, I did take offence to your comment about the host ruining the interview.” He said, leaning past you a little to see the man next to you.

Christoph just shifted and shrugged a shoulder, “Well it seems that everything is going according to plan.” He replied with that dry wit you loved. You both laughed softly, your eyes crinkling at the sides. Graham joined in with that signature laugh you had giggled at many times.

You continued to speak, knowing you were there for a reason and you weren’t going to be a boring guest. “ I have quite bad anxiety, and Mr. Waltz, being the kind gentleman he is, has truly been my knight in shining armour since joining the film. He’s been very good at calming my nerves.” You surprised even yourself with how composed your here able to make yourself seem.

Graham, being the humorous pervert he is, raised his eyebrows at the mention of Christoph calming your nerves, “Hello.” He chimed, and laughed with the audience.

You, once again, blushed, but the man was quick to move on. His comedic timing was always your favourite.

“And I heard you speaking a little German to one another. I’ve heard that you’ve been learning German on set is that right?” Graham asked, curious.

Your mouth fell open, and no words came out as Christoph leaned over to you to join the conversation and said, shocked, “You told me you learned German in Highschool.”

You looked to him, and tried to laugh it off before sighing and nodding in agreement with the host’s statement, “I…I have. I thought it would be nice if Mr. Waltz could speak his mother tongue on set….so I stared teach myself German.” You said looking down at your hands then back up to Graham.

“Oh yes I’m sure he’s good with his tongue.” He teased, which only served to make you blushed again, but you smiled to hide your embarrassment. “Alright let’s leave the poor girl alone for a while,” he turned his attention then to Christoph, who still sat quite close to you, though he had removed his hand from your back, “Now Christoph, I understand you are back into your usual role as a villain in this new film, Rapture, is that right?”

You leaned back a little to look at your co-star, curious to see how he answered. Christoph absorbed the question and thought for half a second.

“Well…no.” He said a matter-of-factly, “My character is more of a love-sick puppy with good manners, strong morals, and stunning suits.” A charming smile graced his handsome face as he answered. You couldn’t help the smile that graced your face as he spoke. He was right about his character, after all; Maximilian was exactly a love sick puppy.

Graham burst into surprised laughter and looked even more curious, “Are we both speaking about the same film? Maybe you both did a secret film I’m not aware of…?”

When you looked back at Christoph, who only gazed back at you , you smiled again and decided to help out, “I have to agree with Mr. Waltz…Maximilian and my character, Lena, are both a little off kilter but just two people in love. Lena gets wrapped up in this eccentric man’s life who just so happens to be a renowned killer…who is afraid of blood.” You said with a little laugh.

Graham looked between the two of you, then to the audience as if to confirm what he had heard. “I’m sorry what? Afraid of…”

“Blood yes.” Christoph smiled with a satisfied nod and a light chuckle.

“I see…” The host said slowly.

You continued, “ And so she becomes a part of his life in a way…but she sort of starts to see his side of things and they start to fall into this morbid codependent relationship.” You finished with a small smile.

“Sounds like my usual Friday nights!” Graham said, earning a laugh from the audience, “Now I have to ask, because I think the last time you were on the show Christoph I asked this too, but did either of you sustain any injuries?” Graham asked, crossing a leg over the other.

Christoph shook his head “Thankfully no physical wounds. Psychological, perhaps.” They all laughed a little. “I believe you hurt your hand quite badly, didn’t you Fräulein?” Christoph asked, feigning innocence when you blushed and looked away from him.

You nodded and tried to focus on your hand, “Yes…there’s one scene that you’ll see in the film where Mr. Waltz’s character and mine are at a peak of their relationship-“

Graham shot you a suggestive look and you sputtered, only resulting in the audience laughing again.

You waved your hands, “-No! No nothing like that.” You tried to recover, “No, but there is an argument and in the heat of the moment…I punched the wall and almost shattered my hand. I think it’s almost a tradition on a Tarantino film- just look at Leo in Django!” You tried to play it off like you were flooded with filthy images of your co-star.

“She does have a hard punch.” Christoph added quietly with a smirk.

You gasp,“I never hit you that hard.”

Christoph waved a dismissive hand at your shocked look with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Oh any touch of yours was welcome.” He said, adding a charming grin at the end; you bit the inside of your cheek and looked at Graham, only to see him fanning himself animatedly with his cards; looking out at the audience- they laughed and Graham took a moment to clear his throat before continuing.

“Shall we all leave?” He asked, “ I feel like we’re intruding.” He gestured to you and Christoph.

Again, you all had a good laugh, which helped the interview along.

“Well now I have to ask, how was it filming with each other? Y/n I know this was your first big film, was it intimidating to work with such a star-studded cast?” Graham asked, leaning back in his seat.

You relaxed into the couch, and thought for a moment.

“Oh I don’t think I said more than two words to Mr. Waltz until he all but cornered me and asked about my anxiety,” You said with a small laugh looking back at Christoph who listened to you as you spoke, “But after I think the first week, I got used to it. They were all very lovely, honestly!” You said.

“Even the infamous grouch next to you?” The Irishman asked cheekily from behind his cards.

“Especially him.” You said plainly. “The other person I worked with a bit was Tim Roth, and he was good fun.” You smiled.

However, only Graham saw the colder expression on Christoph’s face at the mention of the other man.

Graham smiled wickedly, “Now you two seem to get along quite well, just as your characters do onscreen.” He gestured animatedly between the two of you, “Are you aware of the cult following this film has? You two have quite the fanbase.”

Christoph’s brows pinched together, “The film is barely out.” He seemed genuinely surprised.

Graham was positively giddy to see the two of you shocked, and - on your part- embarrassed. “Oh you’re right, but regardless you two have started to have quite the fan base from just the trailer and released clips alone.”

You looked at Graham, confused. You knew what a fanbase was- hell, you were a part of a few yourself, but you where having a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that people were actual fans of yours. “W-what do you mean?” You asked, a little nervously.

“Means they want you two to bone, my dear.” Graham said factually. The audience laughed, and you exchange a look with Christoph who showed little emotion aside from a raised brow. But you knew better; you knew he was amused.

“Now y/n, I believe you were not actually a part of the original cast, is that right?” Graham asked, pointing at you with a card.

“Yes,” You breathed out, “It was a bit of a whirlwind…it all happened very fast. But I WAS working on set previously.”

“Oh? Do tell. This seems like a story within a story! I don’t know what I want to know more about- this or Rapture.” He said with a laugh, and the audience joined.

You looked to Christoph again, and he flicked his eyes from Graham to you, and your cheeks warmed again. Then you looked away before you could fully blush.

“It was all because of a friend of mine needing a favour, really.” You began, smiling as you thought about how such a silly thing changed your life, “I was working as an assistant to the costuming department, and so I essentially would patch up any tears, or missing buttons- the real work was left to the more experienced crew. But as you already exposed, I had learned a little German in case I ever interacted with the esteemed gentleman to my left…and it seemed that it came in handy.” You laughed, and heard Christoph chuckle a little. “Well, the previous actress who was playing Lena…exited the project and…well Mr. Waltz seemed to think I might make a quick fix and Quentin seemed to agree…the rest, I suppose is history!” You chimed, with a small shrug.

Graham shook his head and laughed, “So now, as you said earlier, you two were working very closely on the film…How did that work? Because I’ve heard that you, Christoph, are often kept away from the rest of the cast, especially in your first film with Tarantino- Inglorious Bastards?”

Christoph nodded, “Yes, indeed, I was quarantined in this film as well…but Quentin allowed y/n and I to…bond.” He said with a little smirk. You smiled softly, remembering how many times the two of you had sat for hours talking or sitting in silence comfortably.

But Graham caught his smirk, and laughed along, “Just bond?” He teased.

Christoph laughed a little, “Yes. Just bond.” He looked at you for the briefest of moments, but you were too busy sharing a cheeky, chastising look with Graham.

Indeed the two of you had gotten to know each other very well. The film itself was very intimate, and it was impossible to not grow attatched; though you wondered if it was just you who pined for affection. There had been countless late nights of running lines and on more than one occasion, strolling through the sleepless streets together.

Quentin had come to call the two of you new duo names every day; from Peanut butter and jelly, to Jekyll and Hyde. It might have been a little childish on your part, but you liked to think you and Christoph were good friends. You hoped dearly that the two of you would maintain your relationship beyond the press tour, even if it simply remained platonic like pen-pals.

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Graham laughed, looking past you to Christoph.

You all laughed a little, and Graham soon regained his composure before returning to you, “I believe you have a little hidden talent too.” Graham said secretively.

The blood drained from your face. It must have showed on your face that you were nervous again, before Christoph shifted next to you again.

“Talent?” You asked, trying to hide your anxiety.

This only made the host giddier.

“Well I’ve heard that you have quite the lovely little voice.”

You couldn’t help but sit there as Christoph looked at you, shocked. “What?”

You sighed and looked at Graham in the eye, “Does this anonymous source start with a J?”

“It might.” He said, hiding behind his cards.

Jules.

Graham smiled and said, “Would you humour us with a live performance?” The look he gave you from behind his cards was sheepish as he gestured to a microphone being set up off to the side. You sent him a scathing stare, but you lightened it up with a small, incredulous smile.

“Any song?” You asked, heart beating erratically.

“Any. If you need a moment to find-“

“No…I have one in mind.” You cut him, “May I speak with the sound engineers?” You spoke as calmly as you could.

“Yes, they’re just over there.”He pointed off stage.

You looked to see a small booth and nodded.“Graham, you are a sneaky little man.” You said, standing. “Please excuse me, Mr. Waltz, I’m about to embarrass myself as gracefully as I can.”

You half expected the man to say a smart comment, but as you went to walk past him, he only stared up at you with that unreadable expression he wore so often.

The audience clapped, and you did your best to steady the anxiety that seemed to inhabit every hair on your body. You strode to the booth, and found a few men with headsets waiting for you. Their eyes were sympathetic.

Christoph stared you, and blinked after a minute, before looking back at Graham. The host leaned over to him and asked, “I take it you’ve never heard her sing?”

“No.” Christoph shook his head, “She didn’t even tell me she sang.” He did his best to remain as calm as he usually was, but on the inside, he was ecstatic. Music was his second dearest love, next to film, and if you sang nicely he was determined to have you sing for him more often. A part of him wondered why you had never told him.

“Secretive, is she?” Graham asked him.

“Well…apparently.” Christoph said- his voice going up at the end with a little laugh.

You return to the standing mic, wringing your hands nervously. You had chosen an easy song; something that felt close to your heart at that moment.

“Ready?” You heard Graham ask.

You turned to look over at the two men staring at you. One excitedly, one softly. After a moment of adjusting the mic, you nodded with a secret little smile that you send to your co-star. The one he returned is curious, but pleasant.

The sound of soft piano began to fill the air, and you felt your shoulders relax.

Breathe.

“Slow down you crazy child

You're so ambitious for a juvenile

But then if you're so smart tell me,

Why are you still so afraid?

Where's the fire, what's the hurry about?

You better cool it off before you burn it out

You got so much to do and only

So many hours in a day

But you know that when the truth is told

That you can get what you want

Or you can just get old

You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through

When will you realize... Vienna waits for you?” The song you had listened to for years fell from your tongue easily, though you had to keep from laughing; you were certain you would get a few comments from your Viennese co-star. Regardless, you found comfort in the song- it was bittersweet and melancholic.

Christoph watched you, and unbeknownst to him, Graham watched his every move; he had seen thousands of co-stars interview, but it was rare to see two so enamoured with each other.

“Slow down you're doing fine

You can't be everything you want to be before your time

Although it's so romantic on the borderline tonight

Too bad, but it's the life you lead

You're so ahead of yourself that you forgot what you need

Though you can see when you're wrong

You know you can't always see when you're right,

You got your passion, you got your pride

But don't you know that only fools are satisfied?

Dream on, but don't imagine they'll all come true

When will you realize... Vienna waits for you?

Slow down you crazy child

Take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while

It's alright, you can afford to lose a day or two

When will you realize... Vienna waits for you?

And you know that when the truth is told

That you can get what you want or you can just get old

You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through

Why don't you realize... Vienna waits for you?

When will you realize... Vienna waits for you?”

You enjoyed the piano as it slowed and faded. Then, as you came back to reality, you could have heard a pin drop for a full five seconds. Then your ears rang as the audience erupted with applause. You smiled slowly and ducked your head and you bowed graciously.

As you approached the larger stage, you almost tripped when you saw the vibrant smile on Christoph’s face. He stood and took your arms to help you get by him, and as you both sat he placed a kiss on your knuckles; this did not go unnoticed by your fiery host.

“Wonderful performance, y/n. Though I must say that it seems as though you have been harbouring some secrets.” He teased, “Christoph here didn’t even know you sang.”

“Anything else you want to tell me fraulein?” Christoph asked, leaning closer to you on the small back rest.

Graham gasped joyfully at you and chuckled, “How do you manage to keep yourself together around him y/n? If he called me that I would get no work done at all…and if he kissed my hand like that I would just-“ he waves his hand “- explode.”

Y/n smiled shyly, “Oh…I can’t say I’m much better than you Graham. Mr. Waltz is certainly a man of words.” You cast him a soft look, and saw that he was already looking.

“Only words?”

The audience laughed, and you whipped your head back to Graham at his comment.

“I work with what I can.” Christoph said cheekily, shifting a little.

You laughed softly, trying to ignore the fact that your heart was trying to jump out of your chest and run to the older man staring at you.

“Y/n I noticed that you call this esteemed gentleman by his last name. Is that some sort of rule or…?” Graham asked cheekily.

You played along with his mischievous grin, “Oh no, it started on day one of us working together actually…I was so nervous that it felt strange to call him Christoph-“

It seemed that the fact that said gentleman closed his eyes and sucked in a breath at the sound of his name from your lips escaped most attention.

“-so I called him Mr. Waltz. I have actually been a massive fan of his work for a very long time; besides I think it gives him a certain amount of respect. God knows he deserves it.” You said, turning around to say the last part to Christoph.

“You are too kind Fräulein.” He cooed to you, making Graham spin away and bite his fist.

“Y/n does he call you that in the film?” Graham asks cheekily; his accent coming out as he got excited.

You sighed and nodded. “ Max is Austrian…so he…he does.”

The host shook his head and slapped his cards on the table next to him.

“That’s it I’m becoming an actor! Get Tarantino on the phone!” Graham gushes and you couldn’t help but laugh softly, but when you turned to look at Christoph, you swore he stared a little longer at you with something else in his face.

“Well I think that’s all we have time for tonight folks! You can see these two in “Rapture” this Friday, have a good night!” Graham, you waved with Christoph to the camera.

“Aaand we’re out.” Comes the voice of one of the producers.

Graham looked out at the sound “Are the mics off this time?” He asked cheekily, to which he received a thumbs up. With the privacy, Graham turned back to the both of you, and his voice relaxed.

“It was such a pleasure to have you both here tonight. Y/n I hope you’re alright…the nerves seemed to wear off by the middle, yes?” Graham asked kindly.

You took a breath and nodded, and relaxed when Christoph rubbed her back.

“Yes…can’t say I’m not nervous, but I’ll get used to it. I’m just glad Mr. Waltz agreed to have me tour with him.” You said sweetly.

Graham laughed.

“I don’t think he could have said no. If I wasn’t -“ he flicks a limp wrist wrist “ - swinging the other way I could just eat you up!” Graham laughed harder when Christoph just stared at him with that stoic face.

“Oops, I think I touched a nerve.” Graham laughed, “It was such a pleasure to see you again, y/n I wish you the best of luck for the rest of your interviews.” He shook your hand as you stood.

“It was a pleasure, Graham…an embarrassing one but still a pleasure. Auf wiedersehen.” You smiled, and looked back at Christoph who stood just behind your shoulder.

“As the young lady said, auf wiedersehen.” The older man said, extending his hand to shake Graham’s.

As you descended the stairs to go backstage, you heard Christoph sigh.

It was not annoyed or exasperated.

Not even disappointed.

But you knew he liked his quiet time, so you left him alone until he spoke first.

An intern unclipped your mics, and handed you both some water, which you both accepted with a polite “thank you.”

You smiled at the sound of Christoph’s soft voice. Not many people knew how gentle he was behind the camera; you counted yourself unbelievably lucky to be able to say that you did.

As you were escorted out of the building, and into your transport vehicle, Christoph placed a hand on the small of your back as he had many times.

You thought back to when he had taken you to the smallest German restaurant one night after filming; he had claimed it was the best he had found. And if you were honest, it was some of the most delicious food you had eaten.

You thought about how he had indulged you with the information that one of his guilty pleasures are bubble baths. That memory made you giggle softly beside him as you relaxed in the back seat, being driven to your hotel.

“Something funny?”

You turned your head and looked at Christoph who was already looking at you with amusement.

“I was…I just remembered when you told me you liked bubble baths.” You said, grinning a little.

“I might just need one tonight…” he mused, placing his chin in his hand as he looked out the window.

“Geht es dir gut?(are you alright?)” You asked gently.

After a second, the older man turned back to you and held his other arm out to you. You scooted over and let his wrap his arm around your shoulders, and press a kiss to your temple.

“Ich denke nur nach. (Im just thinking)” He murmured, albeit a little absentmindedly.

“Okay.” You whispered, letting him be.

You shut your hotel room door, and leaned against it. Your feet hurt, your stomach was growling, and your face felt heavy.

By the time you were showered and clad soft pyjamas, it was almost midnight. You were just about to curl up in bed and find a film to watch when you were startled by a knock on your door. Your nerves began to ramp up as your mind ran faster and faster as you stepped closer to the door.

But then, as you looked cautiously through the peephole, you let out a sigh of relief and unlocked the door and swung it open. “Hey stranger…is everything alright?” You asked, eyeing Christoph with a tilted head. He was usual fairly diligent about sleeping an appropriate amount of time, so this was a little odd.

“Yes, yes.” He said quickly, but without much care, “May I?” He nodded into the room.

You nodded and stood aside. “Of course…come in.” However, as he walked past you couldn’t help the deep breath you took; you had to try and not pass out from the wonderful smell that followed him- he must have showered. Your suspensions were confirmed when you noticed his comfortable clothes and damp hair.

As you turned back to him, you found the older man already sitting on the edge of the bed, one leg over the other. You didn’t blame him for skipping the armchair- you had both already commented on how hard they were when you had arrived. You sat beside him, and took a slow breath. “Did I do alright? I hope I didn’t say anything wrong- it was my first interview and I-“

“You learned German on set?” Christoph said, turning to you. Your heart almost leapt out of your chest at the question.

Was he mad?

Disappointed?

“I-…well yes. When- when I found out you were among the cast, I thought it might be nice for you to have someone to speak to in your native tongue…even if it was just a little. Your English is wonderful but I can only imagine how tiring it can be to keep it up.” You said quietly, looking at your hands.

He was quiet for a moment, absorbing your words.

“Why didn’t you tell me, meine Schatzi?” He says softly, leaning onto his thighs.

Your heart swelled at the nickname; he had only used it once after a night out with the rest of the cast post filming. It would probably be your favourite out of all the things he called you.

“Mr. Waltz…” you chose your next words carefully, “I have been a very big fan of your work for a long time…” You said, hoping it wouldn’t put him off “You’re an intimidating character because you are so charming and intelligent and that draws people in. I cannot begin to tell you what an inspiration you are, not just to me but to so many people. You’re funny and articulate and calculated and dedicated, and respectful…I was so nervous, and I wanted you to be comfortable around me…but I was a bit nervous. Hell you’ve seen me avoid getting a coffee from a café before just because I felt intimidated.” You said, laughing a little at yourself. You looked up to see those green eyes you loved staring back; he was listening so intently.

“Are you still intimidated?” He asked after a moment.

“Ein wenig…(a Little…)” You said sheepishly; earning you a little smile from the older man. It was sympathetic and kind, not condescending.

“Come here.” He said quietly, holding his arm out to hug you to his side. You clenched your hands to keep from fully curling up into his lap, but it seemed that he took it as a sign of nerves.

“I don’t bite, Fräulein.” Christoph murmured, his accent thickening with tiredness, and your jaw clenched at the sound. This man didn’t know what he did to you in the slightest…

After a moment, you relented and sat yourself closer, and leaned into his embrace; Christoph brushed a little hair from your face, and sighed softly.

“Good choice, by the way.” The older man murmured as he held you.

Your brows scrunched together in confusion, and as you thought, Christoph aided you.

“Your song choice.” He said.

Your ears burned again when you remembered that you had indeed sang on live TV.

“The song brought me a lot of comfort when I was younger…it still does. Plus I thought it would be a little funny.” You said with a soft laugh.

“It was. I enjoyed it immensely.” He said, rubbing your arm which only made you melt more.

You both sat there for a moment in a comfortable quiet, just looking out the window by the bed; the city was still alight with life and it made you smile.

“Tell me, is there anything else you’re hiding from me, little one?” Christoph murmured into your hair.

You felt your cheeks burn, and found yourself looking at your hands again knowing there was no makeup to hide it.

“Ah ah,” Christoph tsked, “Look at me when I’m speaking to you, please.”

Your ears burned, and you knew there was no hiding the blush, so you took a long breath to steady your head and brought your eyes up to meet his. Christoph grinned, satisfied.

“There’s a good girl.” He cooed, “Now, tell me.”

Christoph spoke as if he wasn’t Christoph Waltz, and you weren’t smitten with him. So casually.

Your head felt light and your hands were warm. Not that you were ashamed or uncomfortable by being there next to him- quite the contrary. You found yourself melting into his touch, but you knew he was wearing down your resolve. He wanted to know exactly who he was dealing with, and you were too embarrassed to tell him.

It was a little ironic really; who you were. He had said it himself that very evening.

A love-sick puppy.

“I don’t think I should…” You started, but Christoph quirked an eyebrow and your words died on your tongue.

“I do.” He said plainly, giving your arm one more squeeze before releasing you entirely. You found yourself missing his warmth, and almost whined when he stood and perched on the uncomfortable armchair. The older man leaned his chin into his hand and raised his pinky to run along his bottom lip.

His bold statement made you squirm, and you looked away again, breathing out a laugh, “Mr. Waltz-“

“Christoph.” He corrected, almost chiding.

You stared back at him, not knowing what to say; your brain was beginning to short circuit bad enough as it was.

“You will call me Christoph when we are alone, yes?” He said comfortably, removing his pinky to speak easier.

This time, you managed to nod without blushing too much, and shifted a little.

“Good. Now!” He stood, “I do believe I interrupted your evening, I will leave you to it-“

You stood quickly, and he paused, “Actually I’m…you didn’t at all- I was just going to find a film to watch…not that there’s ever anything good on their lists.” You shrugged, hoping he would stay.

Christoph regarded you for a moment and smiled, “Then it is your lucky night because I was actually about to watch a film I found that I think you will enjoy!” He chirped. Your heart swelled again at the sight of his pride.

You returned his smile and nodded, “Well how can I say no to that.”

“I will also add that I have food.” He said teasingly, knowing that you were likely hungry, and never denied his food choices.

It wasn’t your fault the man had impeccable taste.

It was infuriating.

“Das klingt perfekt. (That sounds perfect)” You murmured.

The older man’s smile widened and you swore his eyes glowed.

“Bitte, nach dir (please, after you.)” he said, and gestured for you to go first.

You slid on your wool slippers and took your room key as you both left to walk down the hall. It was almost surreal how quiet it was.

Christoph’s room was tidy, as always, and you clenched your jaw as the smell of him invaded your senses tenfold. You toed off your slippers and watched as the older man walked to the table that did indeed have a tray of food on it. The sight alone had you almost moan.

“Please, have anything you like.” He said, turning to you with a plate for you.

“Danke schön…” You murmured softly, and took the plate. It didn’t escape you how your fingers brushed against his.

It did not escape him either.

But neither of you said a word. Christoph smiled politely and took a piece of warm bread with him as he located the remote.

You couldn’t help but sigh happily as you ate away.

Once your stomach stopped speaking to you, you put your fork down and looked back to Christoph, who had sat in a seated position against the headboard of the bed, glasses perched on his nose and a book in hand.

How could he be so effortlessly handsome?

You noticed that he still wore his hearing aids, and idly wondered if he was-

“It is considered rude to stare, mein Schatz (my dear).”

You jumped, and looked away quickly, not having noticed that you were gazing at the man a little longer than you had meant to.

“I was just wondering…if you’re still wearing your aids because I’m here you don’t have to. You know that.” You said, coming to sit on the other side of the bed to speak to him.

“Not at all. I intend to enjoy this film with you, and I do rather like the sound production for it.” He said, putting his book down, “But if we were not about to watch a film, and you were here, I would still wear them. You know I like to hear you.”

His words, while innocent in nature, had a certain successive connotation to them that made your ears hot again.

“Come, get comfortable. You must be tired.” Christoph held his arm out and pat his shoulder. You gave in and crawled over to him, resting against his warm chest.

“I hope you like Wes Anderson.” He murmured, pressing play.

“I do. Very much…his attention to detail is beautiful…” You mused, trying not to be obvious about drowning in his scent.

“Good.” He chirped, “Do you know this one?”

You watched the screen for a moment, and smiled. “The Grand Budapest Hotel is a classic. It’s a favourite actually!”

“I had the pleasure of sharing an interview with Ralph Fiennes once. Very humble man…” Christoph said softly, watching the screen.

I know. You wanted to say, having watched the interview and smiled to yourself over how sweet they were to each other.

The two of you settled against each other comfortably, and you even placed your hand under your cheek. Christoph had his arm draped around you, and kissed your temple gently; occasionally running his hand through your hair.

As the film progressed you found yourself loosing yourself in the man below your cheek. You had admired him for so long, and knowing him in person did not take any of that away; in fact it only added to your adoration. He was unbelievably polite, he made you laugh, and most importantly he made you feel safe. You had spent the better part of the last six months completely falling in love with the older man, and as your time with him drew closer to its end, you found your own words ringing in your ears. “…This is the most surreal experience of my life and if I let it go by the wayside I’ll regret it until I die.”

You sucked in a long breath and waited for a lull in the film.

“I like you Christoph.” You whispered into his chest. You swore time stood still after your admission, but then after a moment, Christoph hummed, and rubbed your arm absentmindedly, but only served to set your skin on fire.

“Oh? I thought you were intimated by me.” The older man teased, much to your surprise. Your stomach did flips.

You sighed out a laugh, and pulled away just enough to look at him properly, “I am…but I…I still like you a great deal.”

There was a moment of quiet as he absorbed your words.

“Is that your last secret?” He asked, eyes twinkling mischievously, brushing a little hair from your face.

“N-no.” You murmured, flicking your eyes away for a moment before looking back at him and accidentally flicking your eyes to his lips for half a second before returning to those green eyes of his.

“Tell me.” Christoph whispered, his breath warm against your lips.

You knew he wouldn’t move unless you did. He was too much of a gentleman.

“I-“ You tried to find a smart retort, or even a silly one, but nothing came.

You sucked in a slow breath, and before you could back out, you brushed your lips again those of the older man holding you. That feeling alone was enough to keep your warm on a winter night. Then as you went to pull away, already blushing, you felt the hand that was on your waist move to the back of your head and pull you back.

His lips were impossibly soft, and warm; you felt your head spin as he kissed you so gently. But then when a small mewl escaped you, he slipped his tongue against yours, and just like that, you were gone.

Christoph placed one more kiss to your lips before pulling away, to look at you.

“I think we should discuss that secret in explicit detail, little one. Yes?” He said, pulling your body closer and smoothing his thumb over your bottom lip.

Your mind went blank, so you said the only thing you could think of.

“Yes, Christoph.”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

@dogmatic255 @funandfancyfree

#christoph waltz #Christoph waltz x reader #actor x reader #fem!reader #Christoph waltz x fem!reader #hans landa #colonel hans landa #dr king schultz #django unchained #inglorious basterds #quentin tarantino

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greenorangevioletgrass · 2 years ago

Text

haven: winter [b.w.]

< previous chapter | series masterlist | ko-fi

pairing: college!bruce wayne x OC

summary: On his final year at Yale, Bruce Wayne, aged 21, stumbled into a theater class and fell for the girl who played Hamlet. In his coming of age, Bruce is torn between his past and his present, and whichever path he chose would determine his future.

word count: 12.9k

warnings: slow burn, friends to lovers, developing relationship, yearning, mutual pining, angst, brief mention of jealousy, Shakespearean feels, allusions of death & suicidal tendencies, fluff, hurt/comfort, smut [oral (m&f), penetrative sex, bruce's first time! yay!, cockwarming, just general horndoggery lol], bruce is an awkward lil bean, an awk lil bean with a big dick apparently 👀

notes: it's back! im not sure if you guys even still remember this, but i'm slowly trying to finish this. big thanks to @awkward-darkness @shipping-not-sailing @cumholland @blue-aconite @spnbarnes for making this all possible! see y'all in spring <3

*follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass to get notified for my latest works <3 happy reading and please reblog and share if you liked it!*

ACT ONE

Bruce had heard the phrase ‘tech week is hell week’ being thrown around among the cast and crew many days before they officially moved into the theater, and he never got any clear explanation, save for sympathetic pats on the back and ominous ‘you’ll see’s. And after his little tryst with Eden in the dressing room, he found it difficult to imagine something more hellish than having to wait to touch her again until closing night.

Boy, was he sorely mistaken.

Anything that could go wrong did go wrong. A wheel from one of the set pieces broke and it took half an hour to fix it and roll onto the stage to get the lighting set up—and it was only the second scene of the show. An ensemble can’t fit into one of his costumes, zippers getting stuck and snagging the changing time, a prop went misplaced…

The cue-to-cue ran so slovenly despite all the fires to put out, and they were stuck to their own posts; Bruce backstage—just off of the wing, and Eden onstage, shuffling between her heels as she moved from one mark to another. Patient, despite the banality, as they made changes to the blocking and tried to get the lighting right. She absently turned to the side and caught a glance of Bruce in a rare moment of idleness, and winked at him discreetly, sending him smiling back. It gave him enough to hold on until they wrapped up, at 1.28AM that night.

The second and third day was a blur. There was no way of savoring the moment of fixing her corset in the wing, because people were milling around. All they had was a secret, split-second graze of their fingers before she strode into the spotlight.

The stumble-through was just that—stumbling through as they tried to get everything right. There weren’t as many fuckups, and he was starting to get the hang of it. The bouts of high-pressure moments in the quick costume changes, and the longer minutes of nothingness. Keeping an eye out for his own cue to get the next costume ready as he watched from the wings. Observing how everyone tried their utmost not to lose their mind in this tiresome tedium. It kept his mind off of Eden.

Eden, currently lying on her side on the floor, more beautiful than a John Collier painting. Deceivingly feminine in high-waisted pants and white shirt, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. The black corset remained a staple around her torso, making Bruce feel some type of way.

Okay. Maybe it didn’t keep his mind off of her entirely.

“Alas, poor Yorick!” She studied the skull in her hand pensively, twirling it and staring right at its hollow eye sockets. And then she laughed wryly, turning to her scene partner, “I knew him, Horatio! He’s a fellow of infinite jest—of most excellent fancy.”

The exhaustion was apparent in her thoughtful musing. For a moment, he thought it was a new discovery in her character. But then he spotted her dozing off on Kola’s—who played Horatio—shoulder during the final debrief, and he was equal parts amused that she was genuinely tired, and amazed that she could still pull it off and make the performance make sense.

So when Eden schlumped out of the theater with just a general wave to the company, Bruce didn’t pay any mind. He wasn’t all that relieved to receive a text from her that said ‘Opening night! You excited?’ right out of his Law Adjudication exam the next day (he sent her the Italian hand emoji and got back a ‘noice’ in return.) He certainly didn’t sign into the theater early, knowing she’d be there.

The pit stop at the local florist, however, had no other excuse.

He came in through the audience’s entrance and there she was, sitting by the aisle that split the seats down the middle. Her smile lit up the dark hall, and he was beckoned in.

“Hey, uh…” he shifted on his heels, gingerly handing his modest gift, “Happy opening night.”

“Oh…” Her mouth went agape upon receiving a single-stem sunflower bouquet, tastefully framed with pretty leaves and baby’s breath. She inhaled the floral scent deeply. “I love sunflowers. Thank you!”

He knew that. Her phone lockscreen is a sunflower field and she had a habit of doodling sunflowers with yellow highlighters on her script, but he’s glad to be right anyway.

She scooted one seat over so he could sit next to her. “How’d you know I’d be here?”

“I didn’t. But it makes sense, now that I think about it.”

“Well, this is my church.” Eden motioned around them. “Before opening night, I like to come in early and sit in the audience and just… take it all in. The quiet, the stillness. It’s like the calm before the storm, you know?”

They stared at the empty stage before them. The set was partially set up, but there wasn’t much else. Just dust dancing under the house lights. And for a moment, they just sat there, arms propped on the seats in front of them like they were in church.

“How are you feeling?”

She took a deep breath. “Well, that’s a loaded question.”

Her palm facing upwards on the backrest, he put his hand over it. Finger lightly tracing the lines that twisted and branched on her skin. Thumb resting over the pulse point on her wrist. Hoping this brought her comfort, because it comforted him to be in the warmth of her closeness. It didn’t feel as new anymore, although it perplexed him all the same; the very act still made his heart race.

She kissed him on the shoulder and propped her chin there. “You know… we might not need to wait til closing night.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just saying…” her lips ventured closer to his neck, less innocently this time. Grazing his freshly shaven jaw before whispering, “We have time.”

Bruce tried to hide his bounding heart with a rare teasing smile for her. Just for her. “Right here, in your church?” he was met with a cheeky look on her face, and his smile widened. “The sacrilege!”

The kiss went so easy this time. Bruce didn’t give himself time to overthink—he simply cupped her chin and leaned in. Savored the sugary taste on her tongue. The little giggle that bubbled up from within her. The shameless wanting that emanated from her—from him, as his cock stirred under his jeans. God, they wanted each other so badly.

He groaned into her mouth. “How do you do this?” anxiously glancing at the closed door, then at the empty stage, “Anyone could walk in here. It’s giving me—” she cut him off with another searing kiss and it took him everything to finish his sentence, “...anxiety.”

“Maybe you’re just a pussy.” she bit his lower lip playfully. “Or maybe, I like putting on a show.”

Jesus.

Bruce must’ve stopped dead in his tracks, because she pulled away with a shrug. “Or not,” she added. She fixed her bouquet wrapping as she said nonchalantly, “Shame, though. I wouldn’t mind sucking your dick right now.”

“What?” his head whipped towards her faster than he could blink.

“It’s cool. We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to—”

“But I do.”

This time, she stopped in her tracks, surprised by how quickly he’d answered. “Really?”

He swallowed hard. It was a bad, bad idea. He could make a whole list of reasons why; the sheer exposedness of the space, the lack of professionalism, the trouble they’d get into…

But above all, this impossible girl had just offered to go down on him for the first time, right here right now, so… he nodded.

“Okay. Just sit back and relax.”

There was something about the way she kissed him. So simple, so… soft that his worries melted away for a second. It all felt so distant; in that moment, there were just the two of them. Sitting in the empty theater, two hours before anyone’s supposed to be here.

Alone together.

“Fuck,” she cursed as she released his cock out of his pants. All thick and hard and purplish, gleaming at the head. Pulsing as her fist closed in around his shaft. And as she put her mouth on him…

“Eden.”

He didn’t even know whether he was calling her or this. Not anymore. Not when her tongue was laving on the tip of his cock. Gathering, devouring his arousal. Spreading down his length as she took him by every inch.

Heaven.

Heaven was the warmth of her mouth that enveloped him. The obscene wet sounds she made as her cheeks hollowed out around him. The noises threatening to escape from his kiss-worn lips as she took him in so deep. So good.

“Fuck, Eden…” his hand found the back of her head—not quite pushing her down, not quite pulling her back either. Just carding through her hair, finding some solace because he felt his nerve endings going haywire. He couldn’t think. Oh God. “I’m gonna come…”

His quiet plea echoed through the empty hall in a hush, and he knew he should’ve stopped. He really should have. But he was bursting at the seams, arching into her mouth. Her fist. And he tangled his own fist in her dark waves, breathing hard and heavy to keep himself at bay.

And failing.

Not that it mattered.

She kept him close and snug and safe as he surrendered and came apart down her throat. Sucking and swallowing until there’s nothing left but shivers running down his spine.

“Well?” she straightened up, delicately wiping the corners of her mouth with her thumb and kissing him on the cheek innocently. Fuck, she’s unbelievable. “Still think we should wait until closing night?”

Maybe it was the post-nut clarity. Maybe he was just being dramatic, but he swore he’d never seen her so beautiful. “What are you suggesting?” He smoothed out the messy strands of her hair.

“Well, tonight’s opening night. We’ll drink and dance and celebrate…”

And they did just that. The company popped a few bottles of cheap champagne and drank out of plastic cups, blasting late 90’s hip-hop backstage. They had made it through hell week, through a successful opening night, a well-received performance by the audience.

But Hamlet was three hours long, and Eden was onstage for most of it. And as much as she was in high spirits, her energy was visibly—understandably depleted. And Bruce could see that. It was one of the few things he could empathize with.

“You’re not coming in?” she frowned, when he just hovered by when she walked up the steps to her building.

He shook his head apologetically, shoving his freezing hands deeper into his coat.

“But—”

“You need to rest, Hamlet.”

“I’ll get plenty of rest! It’s barely midnight, it’s—” her argument was cut off with her own yawn, her breath fogging up the cold night air.

He threw her a knowing look.

“Fine,” she relented, hiding her face behind the sunflower bouquet—still smelling it fondly, trodding back to give him a brief hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Walking away, melodramatic as it may have sounded, was the most difficult thing he’d had to do all week. Maybe even more so than the first time, in that dressing room. Bruce had to remind himself that tomorrow is Saturday and Sunday is closing night. And come Sunday, they would pick up where they left off without any interruption, any passersby. But until then…

Until then, he would have to share. With the crew getting her ready and briefing her on technicalities in this two-show day (or as everyone called it, two-doe shay). The downtime she used in between shows to take a power nap. The cast that she hung out and warmed up with. The audience that took selfies and gave her flowers after the show. As an only child, this was a massive learning curve for Bruce, but he was doing alright.

He didn’t mind.

He really didn’t mind when a beautiful blonde girl in knee-high boots came up to Eden with a big bouquet of roses out at the foyer. The stranger seemed well-acquainted judging from the warm, lingering embrace they were in, and it’s fine. It was fine that the blonde’s hand stayed on Eden’s waist as they talked. It was no big deal at all when Eden’s hand landed on her arm when she laughed at something the girl had said. So intimate, so… familiar.

She could do whatever she wanted. If he really minded, he was free to leave.

“Hey Bruce, wait up!” she hollered, catching up with him on his way out with barely a quick kiss goodbye on the girl’s cheek. “You wanna walk home together?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, but held the door for her anyway. “Thought you were… occupied.”

“Who, Gwen? Nah, it’s no big deal. She’ll be fine.” Eden stuffed the bouquet into the canvas bag in her hand, along with the other flowers and cards she received that day.

“Hn.” He didn’t know what else to respond, continuing their night walk in silence. But it seemed that not responding only raised more question, because she eyed him curiously and inquired,

“Are you jealous?”

“No.” and he really wasn’t. Eden was just a generally tactile person—she greeted her friends with hugs, leaned on people’s shoulders like it’s no big deal. Why should this be any different?

“Aw, Brucie!” She cooed, linking her arm around his as if it’d ease his mind—although to be frank… it did. But he also hated the nickname with that tone. “She’s an ex for a reason, you know.”

He knew there was something about her, about the encounter. “So she was your ex.”

“So you were jealous,” she echoed his intonation playfully.

He scowled, not liking how he accidentally revealed his own cards. But she smiled, and he wasn’t sure how he could feel better and worse at the same time.

“Oh, that ship has sailed and sunk a long time ago. We’re better off friends anyway,” she mused. “Don’t worry. I’m still yours tomorrow night.”

His heart skipped, although Bruce tried not to shift out of place. What the fuck does that mean? He knew very well that she was talking about their little closing night plans, but those three words echoed in his mind. Pulling all kinds of abstract meanings that he couldn’t quite put into words. I’m still yours. And only for tomorrow night? He felt his gut twist, whether in worry or anticipation—or both—, he had no idea.

***

ACT TWO

In his college life, Bruce had two types of morning: the one where he had to fight five different alarms of varying intensities to wake up, or where he got up before any of the alarms rang (whether he’d had any sleep beforehand was an entirely different matter).

That Sunday morning, he felt like a schoolboy before a field trip as he counted the minutes until his phone would make a peep—way too many— and decided to work off the jittery buzz in his body on a morning run—away from his residential college courtyard and towards Grove Street Cemetery across the street. Avoiding farmer market crowds and whatever sports game was happening in the gym. Steering clear from Eden’s building in case he bumped into her and risked looking like a stalker. No, thank you.

(He did touch himself in the shower thinking about what they did in the dressing room, in the empty theater. Imagining her in her dress. Unlacing her corset. Touching her everywhere.)

“Bruce!” Eden flagged him in the backstage corridor, her bag slung on her shoulder and coffee tumbler in one hand. “I got something for you.”

They stepped aside to a little nook full of stored props, away from the crew setting up for the matinee like they’re sneaking around with a secret—then again, they sort of were.

“Happy closing night,” she beamed, bringing her other hand out from behind her back. Brandishing a flower bouquet—three stalks of red carnations wrapped in coffee-colored cellophane paper.

“But I… I’m not—”

“Flowers are for anyone working on the show. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

He smiled sheepishly, unable to hide the rose blush creeping up his neck and ears. She’s gonna be the death of him. “Thank you.” He plucked the card out from the back of the bouquet. It said ‘Hakuna matata!’ scribbled in her cursive handwriting.

“Get it? ‘Cause Lion King and Hamlet…”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “This is lovely. I mean it… thank you.”

Bruce looked up at her, and it’s truly amazing how she looked as happy as he felt (because let’s face it, knowing his poker-faced tendencies, he probably didn’t look it). But there’s that twinkle in her dark eyes, and the smile that lit up her soft face, and all he wanted to do was to lean in and kiss her.

And he did.

Eden gasped, jaw dropped as she pulled away, looking around to check if anyone had seen them. The ghost of a smile still persisted on the corner of her lips, but now there’s a tinge of color on her cheeks, too. “And, uh…” she cleared her throat, backing away into the hallway— accidentally bumping into Louie from Sound, “Try to have fun. Enjoy the show when you can.”

He took her word for it. Part of him wished he was in the audience, watching everything unfold in full view. But he also liked that he could see the inner workings at the same time. He liked hearing the stage managers’ cues, and the actors gossiping about who was in the audience, who’s falling asleep, who’s very cute and attending without a date. He liked watching the crew take out whole rooms from the stage and put together a new one in a matter of seconds. He liked watching the shift from night to day from the lighting above.

But most of all, he liked watching Eden. She walked past him just as the show started, her hand sliding across the small of his back and he’d squeeze her hand in that brief second. And then she stood there in the wing, watching the opening scene. He couldn’t see her face—just her silhouette. So still, almost statuesque as the ghost of the King, her father, appeared before her peers. And as the ensemble, the music, the wedding festivities rushed in…

She crumpled.

Closed in on herself and he could see the breaths struggling against her ribs—almost like sobs.

And then… she straightened up again, making herself presentable for the social event and walked into the scene.

“How is it that the clouds still hang on you?” King Claudius, her uncle-turned-stepfather, put a friendly arm around her shoulder.

But she tensed at the touch, swiftly squirming away towards a waiter, taking some fake champagne from the tray. “Not so, my lord; I am too much in the sun.” She flashed a saccharine smile, raising her glass.

It was fascinating to see her Hamlet; so regal, so imposing in the presence of others. This was the Hamlet who grew up on etiquette lessons, on stuffy outfits and stuffier social functions and was told to grin and bear it. She carried herself like she belonged there, in her silk dress and diamonds on her neck and wrists. But there was something about the way she listened to people; her mother prattling on and on about ‘all that lives must die, passing through nature to eternity’ that just screamed… exhaustion. Seething. Like she was close to breaking her champagne flute and shoving the shard into someone’s neck.

It was kind of hot.

But his most favorite thing? Her version of Hamlet was funny.

And no, it wasn’t just moments of comedic relief deliberately placed after scenes of high tension. Her dry humor was consistent—from her first scene to the last, where she had just witnessed her mother’s death, followed by her uncle and her lover’s brother. Knowing she would be next in just mere minutes.

“I am dead, Horatio. Wretched queen, adieu,” she blurted out matter-of-factly, laughing in disbelief as she threw a mock-salute. It felt like one of Hamlet’s usual sardonic quips—except it wasn’t.

The audience laughed with her for a bit. But the air of unease was palpable, and for the first time, Eden all but broke the fourth wall, sharing her final moment of vulnerability with the audience as the poison coursed through her veins. “Had I but time…” she mused. She didn’t, as Death was as punctual as it was unexpected. “Oh, I could tell you—” she gushed. It was the first time she didn’t want to die. Just for a split second. Just enough to speak her truth. Enough to make dying actually hurt. “But let it be.”

In a fit of shock and grief and helplessness, Horatio—her best friend and right-hand man— tried to drink the remains of the poison in the cup, but she wrestled it out of his grasp. Knocking it away, and collapsing into his arms afterwards.

“If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart… absent thee from festivities awhile, would you?” she patted his cheek limply, comforting him even though she was the one dying. Softening as he choked out a sob at the sight of her.

Bruce would never consider himself an emotional person, but even his eyes welled up as he watched from the side.

“O, I die, Horatio,” she sighed—not in regret, but in relief. All too glad to surrender to her fate. Her business was done. She had entrusted the future of Denmark in the hands of her very best friend. “The rest…” she rasped out, pushing through her words for the very last time,

“...is silence.”

Horatio’s wailing was gut-wrenching as it echoed through the hall, but Bruce couldn’t help but focus on how peaceful she looked. How breathtaking. How lucky she was for meeting her end so swiftly. And perhaps, on a much lighter note, how amusing it would be if Eden genuinely fell asleep playing dead (she did on last night’s performance.)

He envied her either way, and adored her in every way possible.

The show ended, and the cast took their final curtain call to the raucous standing ovation, amidst the cheering and the applause. But as soon as the curtains came down, Eden all but raced to the wing where Bruce was standing.

And as she came closer, he could see her lips wobbling.

“Hey, are you ok—” his words were cut off with her arms thrown around him, wrapping him into a crushing hug. Her face buried in his chest— and he could feel her tears seeping through his black hoodie.

She lifted her head up, “Sorry about that. This, uh, this happens. Closing nights. Always emotional,” she sputtered around, sniffling a bit. It’s endlessly endearing whenever Eden, ever so eloquent and witty, stumbled on her words because she’s so overcome with emotions.

“That’s okay,” he soothed her with a fond smile, smoothing the hair tumbling down her back as she tucked her face back in his chest.

She was soon tugged away and drawn into a hug after hug by the other cast and crew, but he didn’t mind it. He was happy with the handshakes and high fives and pats on the back and half-hugs (or a full hug from his esteemed department head Laura, who told him, “you’re a solid dude, B.”) His heart already swelled from the fact that in a crowd of openly emotional people, she came to him first.

And when all was said and done, her hand sought solace from the cold in his hand, tucked in his coat pocket, all the way to his dorm.

His dorm. With his worn Gibson J-45 perched on a guitar stand in one corner of the room, the mess of wires and parts and analog cameras on his desk. The small bookcase with books nearly spilling out. The standard-issued twin bed by the window (that he made earlier that morning, thank God.)

“The room where it happens, huh?” Eden cheekily remarked, glancing around the clutters and the mess that probably told her more about him that he did in the past few months.

“Would you like a…” Bruce gingerly asked, though the words faltered on him as she closed the distance between them with a single step.

She didn’t lean in, didn’t pull him in—save for the hands slipping under his coat and around his waist. There was no more sneaking around. No more stealing time. It’s finally just the two of them.

Alone together.

“You never told me you played guitar.” The fabric of his clothes comforted her hands, but she still chased the warmth underneath. Despite the sudden touch of bare skin, it felt… nice.

“Never came up.” He paused, and then winced, “You’re not gonna ask me to play, are you?”

“Well, not now…” she rolled her eyes playfully, “I think I have something more important in mind.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“Like this.” she tugged the lapels of his coat to bring him down to her face, making him smile into her kiss.

He never, ever smiled like this. Like some regular person with an uneventful personal history and a normal life. He almost felt like he shouldn’t. But within the confines of these four walls, in the arms of this impossible girl who dragged him around from the woods to the stage (and whom he so happily followed to the ends of the earth)... he allowed himself to.

They’ve stolen kisses countless times, but they’d never kissed like this before. So free, so unfettered, so… devoid of a single care as they unhurriedly shed each layer of their clothing. Scarf. Coat. Sweater. They both secretly wondered if they should make haste —they were so desperate to feel each other up all week— but at that moment, they didn’t mind taking it slow.

After all, they had all the time in the world.

He didn’t outwardly ask, but he was thankful that she took the lead. Backing him up until his legs find the bed frame. Sitting him down and straddling his lap. Tugging her dress over her head as she kissed him so fiercely, so that he could focus on her. Committing every inch of her to memory with his touch. Her lips, her thighs, the curves of her waist, the…

“Is that a—” his hand finished the rest of his question, tracing the hair-thin lines on her skin. Pinkish, purplish orchids blooming from her ribcage, with leaves sprouting and buds blooming on the underside of her breast. “You never told me you had a tattoo.”

“Never came up.” she shrugged, echoing his words. “Do you like it?”

He kissed her there, from the petals to the florets. Tracing the lines with his tongue this time, up the soft swell of her flesh. Sucking her pebbled nipple. Feeling her gasp deep in her core.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she simpered blissfully, one hand buried in his mess of dark hair. Not quite grabbing, not quite pulling, just… playing with it, twirling it around her fingers. Urging him to keep going, keep taking, more more more, because she had so much more to give, if the dripping mess in her panties were any indication.

“Bruce…” she hummed, “Where’s your condom?”

“In the— in the, uh, drawer,” he struggled against the haze in his mind. Motioning at the nightstand next to bed, but refusing to unlatch his mouth from her tits, his hands from her supple thighs, until she had to pry him off of her.

And even then, she had to make up for it in a blinding, heartstopping kiss, before she pushed herself off of him.

If he were smart —and Bruce had always prided himself on his intelligence— he would use this time to undress. But he watched her hips sway, her ass jutted out as she bent over in his full view… and he was hypnotized. The foil packet rustled in her hand, and the radiator creaked in the background, but nothing could tear his attention away from the way Eden shimmied out of her panties. Even if the world was ending outside the window.

He seized her in a flurry of kisses and groping hands, and even as he clumsily kicked off his shoes and got the fuck out of his pants. And as they stumbled back into bed, her hair tumbled down her shoulder just right, and her profile illuminated by the moon.

She looked absolutely beautiful.

“God, you’re beautiful,” she breathed out.

His heart stopped, wondering if he’d accidentally said it out loud. But then, all thoughts went out the door as her hand stroked his hard cock (as if it weren’t already aching for her), lewdly studying the pinkish purplish head as she circled it with her thumb. It took him everything to tear her hand away to make way for the condom along his length; he had to remind himself that he’d be inside her soon.

She ran him up and down her slit, spreading her wetness all over him, lining him up just right. Her opening hovered over his fat, blunt tip, and she could feel herself seizing up as she sank down on him—or at least, tried to.

“Fuck, you’re big,” Eden muttered brokenly, taking deep breaths as she prepared to try again.

There was no hiding his deep blush now. “Thank you…? I, uh, really wouldn’t know.”

She frowned, somewhat incredulous. “What do you mean, you wouldn’t—? You mean nobody’s ever told you…”

“Well, I’ve never been with…” he trailed off, desperately hoping she’d get his point without having to say it. It’d save some of his dignity, at least.

But her face lit up, her jaw dropped, and she all but cried out, “No way. Bruce! Am I popping your cherry right now?”

“Ugh, don’t say it like that,” he grumbled, which only made her giggle.

“Okay, fine. Deflowering.”

“Oh my God, this is my worst nightmare…” His forehead fell onto the crook of her neck, and he hid his beet-red face there in embarrassment.

But she lifted her chin so tenderly, stroking his improbable jawline. Dammit, she’s gonna be the death of him. “You don’t mean that, do you?”

How could he? Eden was naked in his bed, perched on his lap, taking his cock inside her. This was his whole dream. “Not really, no,” he lamely admitted.

“Good. Cause I want all of you inside me.” She smirked, kissing him, although she fell out of it as she tried to sink down on him again. Struggling with the sheer size of him. Still too fucking big. “Fuck…”

“I thought I was the one getting deflowered.”

She shot him a sharp glare.

He kissed her back passionately, rubbing slow circles on her clit to ease her up. Trying to focus solely on her—the way her fingernails dug into his back, her teeth gnawing on her lower lip.

Her pussy taking in the head of his cock in a tight clench.

As their moans united in the silence of this humble room, so did their bodies. It was overwhelming. His mind felt hazy, yet at the same time, never been clearer, and he hoped, dear God, he would remember every inch of her. By feeling, by sight, by touch.

By the breathtaking whine that escaped her lips with every inch she took him deeper. Drawing out again.

Painfully slow, but maybe just as well, because any faster and Bruce might just combust from the sheer pleasure of it all. And as tempting as it was to surrender, he really, really wanted to make this good for her, too.

She withdrew nearly all the way off of him and then plunged herself all the way to the base, eliciting a restrained cry from both of them. He smoothed his callused hand up and down her thighs, leaving hot wet kisses on her bare neck.

“You okay?” he whispered, holding her close to him, around him.

“Mm-hm,” she replied, her voice tight. “Are you?”

He nodded. “Just… stay here for a while.”

“Okay.”

It was strange how… innocent they both sounded, despite the obscene nature of their activity. Bruce had resigned his fate (in the biblical sense) in her hands a long time ago, but what he didn’t realize was that, stripped down to her most vulnerable form, she laid her own fate in his hands, too.

And for a while, time stopped and there’s just the dull, throbbing ache between his legs, comforted and aggravated at the same time by the snug, silky pulsing of her walls around him. And it almost didn’t matter, because Eden kissed and held him like she never wanted anything else. And neither did he.

Almost.

Somewhere between desperate hands and even more desperate mouths, Bruce’s hips started grinding against hers, shallowly thrusting at first, setting the delicious ache inside her alight. It was nothing like he’d ever felt—nothing his hand or even a panic-bought fleshlight could compare. And the more she responded to his motions —the roll of her hips, the moon crescents she left on his skin, the quiet little moans she made.

He bucked up into her particularly deep, pushing out a sound that sounded more pained than pleased, and he stilled immediately. “Sorrysorrysorrybaby,” he murmured, breathless, cupping her face in both hands. “Did that hurt?”

“No, I’m—” Eden chuckled lazily, “I’m good.” She kissed him once on the lips. “Feels good.” and another on his jaw. “I promise.” her mouth veered down to his pulse point and she bit him lightly.

His head lulled back with a groan, she’s gonna be the death of him, as he picked up where he left off. He was so drunk on her, and yet… he wanted more. Devouring everything he could get his mouth on; her mouth, her neck, her tits. Kneading her ass like he wanted to claim it.

Like she hadn’t already claimed him with every thrust she met halfway.

She took his hand, kissing his wrist and palm and letting his thumb drag along her lower lip. Trailing the outline of her soft, kiss-worn flesh, before he tentatively, ever so lightly, inched it inside.

And when she closed in on her mouth, cheeks hollowing as she sucked his finger…

“Eden…” her name came out in a rumble from deep within his chest, and he had to close his eyes. But that didn’t work, because the image was seared into his mind and it melded with the fantasy of having his cock in her mouth again.

Bruce eased his thumb out of her mouth and onto her clit, rubbing it firmly —and secretly thanking God she seemed to like it. His hips started to falter, and with Eden controlling the pace now, he was close.

Dangerously close.

And apparently, so was she.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” she chanted, shamelessly bouncing on his cock. Unbothered to hold back her noises anymore as she powered through the stretch of his girth.

And as her voice went higher, so did the pleasure coursing through her veins until it coiled deep in her core. Gripping around him like a vice, throbbing, squeezing, and oh God, he wanted to give her that forever, but he couldn’t, he was selfish and he wanted to punish himself for chasing her orgasm with his own, but—

“Oh, fuck!” he lurched forward as he came inside her. Heartbeat rang in his ears, his whole body set ablaze in waves of unadulterated pleasure. Holding her waist in place, riding out his high with one, two, thee thrusts until he rested limply on her chest.

And she rested her chin on top of his head. Holding him flush against her. Alone together.

For the first time in his many restless years, Bruce’s mind was…quiet. There were just breaths slowing to a calm, hands settling on the small of her back. Her fingertips caressing the nape of his neck. He always imagined his peace of mind in solitary, but in that pocket of time of space, he couldn’t imagine anyone else by his side.

Anyone but her.

***

ACT THREE

Bruce saw a lot of Eden that week.

It was the final week of the semester. There were exams to take and essay deadlines to catch, and he spent most of his time hunched over his laptop. Sometimes in the library, sometimes at the Beanjamin, though most of the time he stayed in his dorm. All warm and lively and cozy now, with his new… guest gracing it with her presence on a near daily basis. Hogging his bed, wearing his Nirvana t-shirt she grabbed from his drawer, reading his weathered copy of The Count of Monte Cristo.

As soon as his Victimology paper was marked ‘successfully submitted’, Bruce shut the laptop and swiveled in his desk chair, stretching his arms and neck with a groan. He turned towards his bed—or rather the girl occupying it.

Legs swinging in the air as she laid on her stomach, shirt riding up to reveal the lace of her panties like a dirty fucking dream.

“You done?” she asked absently without looking up from the book.

He flopped half on top of her, smushing his face onto her back, reveling in the smell of her shampoo, her scent on his shirt. “Yeah. Are you?”

Eden hummed, stroking his hair a little. Her attention was still glued to the page.

Bruce peeked over her shoulder. He was going to let her enjoy it —it was his favorite part— but his hand was too tempted to explore the curve of her hips, her thigh, her ass, squeezing the soft swell of flesh playfully. He’d never been a physical person, but he was starting to get the hang of it… and he liked it.

“You’re distracting me,” she whined, light-and-half-hearted at the same time, if the little trail of giggles were anything to go by.

He smiled, brushing her hair to the side. “Am I really?” He murmured, nuzzling her cheek.

His finger traced between her nether lips over the fabric, and she groaned. A low, playful sound that had become an expression of fondness. And out of fondness, he smacked her ass.

“Bruce!” she gasped, turning on her back. The thick book in her hand fell back against her clothed chest and made a muted thud. She turned to meet his gaze, her eyes wide, surprised and pleasantly scandalized. Maybe a little turned on?

“What?” he looked at her, feigning innocence. And she knew he was pretending, based on the sheer fact that he’s working her panties down her hips.

She stared at him, searching, and then…

“Nothing.” She picked up the book again. And then, as she opened her page again, she kicked the scrap of panties off of her legs. Spreading her thighs. “Carry on.”

There was a command in her every gesture. A directive. He loved it.

Bruce was, by no means, good at eating pussy. How could he be good at something he’d just started doing? But what he lacked in skill, he made up in enthusiasm. How could he not like how wet she was for him, how she arched up into his touch? People spent their lifetime chasing the very thing that would quench their thirst, but his oasis came to him and was all too happy to show him how to enjoy her.

And God, he enjoyed every bit of her.

“Fuck…” she bit back, her grip tight on the book as his teeth grazed the soft flesh on her inner thigh. There was an affectionate little blue mark just next to it, and he remembered how she moaned and grabbed his hair when he did it two nights ago—and maybe she liked it as much as he did.

His tongue dipped between the cleft of her cunt. There was no time to tease her; he needed to taste her now. Needed to lap up her juices, her clit, and feel her pelvis gyrating into him, one leg hiked up on his back. A sign that he was doing it right.

She sighed, seemingly pleased with the motion he’d settled into—because he was certainly more than happy to be licking her cunt up and down, all sloppy and greedy and good.

“Bruce, baby…” Eden put the book aside, fingers carding through his messy hair. There’s that nickname again. He couldn’t remember when they started using it, but they only ever used it in the most vulnerable and desperate moments. And in that moment, all signs pointed to Eden wanting more.

He slipped a finger inside her, wetting it and curling it against her inner walls. Patient and observant as he looked for that spot that made her melt. It never ceased to amaze him how Eden, ever so bold, could ever be so putty in his presence. In his hand.

“More please, stretch me out for your cock,” she moaned quietly.

His eyes closed shut. “Jesus Christ, Eden…”

“Mm.” She leaned into the vibration of his voice, the low growl she never thought she’d coax out of quiet and elusive Bruce. Relishing in the second finger he added, his mouth not letting up from her swollen clit.

She was fully, shamelessly fucking his face now, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. It should make him feel powerful. And while a surge of pride ran through him as he found his bearings in her pleasure, he knew she also had the upper hand.

Even when she came apart on his mouth, his fingers, tugging at his hair desperately. When he eased up and crawled up her body, swallowing her little whimpers and gasps into his kisses. Even when he pushed his cock inside her, fucking her slow until agony had the best of him, and he came in the warmth of her throbbing cunt as he plunged into her so deep.

She had him wrapped around her little finger, and he was more than happy to be there.

“Hey, you wanna take a nap?” He softly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, noticing her eyes growing heavy as they laid there in post-coital bliss.

She looked at him, and then out the window, and back at him. “What time is it?”

“Almost noon.”

“Fuck. I have a class in an hour,” she groaned. “But hey, we got the Hamlet party tonight. The Dolphin Den, 8 PM. Don’t forget.” And with a quick kiss on his lips, she rolled out of bed.

He watched her get dressed, unhurried but haphazard anyway, not bothered to return his t-shirt, and his heart swelled at that. God, he was so gone for her. “Would you, um, like to go together?” His heart suddenly started racing for no reason. Why was he nervous about asking her this?

“I’ve already promised to help them set up. But I’ll see you there?”

“Right. Okay.”

“And don’t even think about skipping.”

She must’ve noticed the slightest deflation in his tone, the way he tensed up at her ‘threat,’ because she sat back down on the edge of the bed as she put her shoes on.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. But I do hope to see you there.” She kissed his shoulder and his nose and his lips one last time, and then she was off.

Shit.

***

The Dolphin Den was a common room in the basement floor of the Grace Hopper Hall, where Eden lived, the last door on the left from the west staircase—a fact Bruce had looked up in the three torturous hours he had between his final class of the semester and the production-slash-Christmas party he was apparently invited to. Going back and forth between going and not going, even as he got dressed, put on his jacket, and stepped out into the cold. Taking the scenic route on purpose.

(He very nearly turned back. Stopped right in front of the building, wondering if he was underdressed or overdressed in his hoodie, if fifteen minutes was acceptably late or it’s still considered very early for this kind of event, and… he just kept walking.

He walked and walked for a block, and another, and stopped in front of a liquor store. And as the neon sign flickered over the storefront, a lightbulb lit up over his head.)

So, when Bruce walked back to the Eden’s residential building—now a good twenty five minutes after the start time— he felt considerably less nervous. Still nervous enough, though, to count every stair step as he made his way down to the basement, carefully reading every room sign even though he had the layout memorized. Pondering whether he should knock or just walk right in.

Bassline thumped faintly through the corridor, and he took it as a sign to go for the latter. Half of the production team was there already, occupying the couches and corners of the wood-paneled room. Table tops covered in red solo cups and beer cans. Indistinct conversations going over and under the music, a dance pop song. Some of the people nodded at Bruce as he made his way inside. It was… strange to be on familiar terms with this many people.

But not unwelcome.

Still, he was relieved to see that familiar face waving at him from the drinks table. Her pale yellow skirt flared around her waist like a burst of sunshine, although her long legs reminded him of all the nights he had them wrapped around his waist. He weaved through the crowd, bumping and murmuring passing apologies unlike those dramatic slow-motion scenes, all the way across the room as she excused herself from Kola and Angela, too.

He was probably a few steps away from her, before he panicked. How should he address her? Sure, they were very… intimate in private, but what were they in public? Were they friends, were they together? Oh God, they never talked about it—

“Hey, you made it!” She hugged him and briefly kissed him on the cheek. Okay, standard Eden protocols, at least. Dark eyes flickering down to make sure she didn’t leave a lipstick mark on his skin.

(No matter. She left plenty more lasting marks in more discreet places.)

Her lingering hand on his arm left way too soon, but he supposed it was for the best as her two friends joined them, still engrossed in conversation.

“So I told him, back the fuck off, let me do my double pirouette in peace and— ‘sup, Bruce?” Kola nodded up at him, offering a high-five which he didn’t take.

Not out of ill will or anything, just because he’d already raised the paper bag he was holding in his hand.

Bruce made an apologetic smile that looked more like a wince. “Hey, I got, uh—for the, um…” he gingerly handed him his last-minute… offering.

Kola accepted one and gasped when he took the bottle out of its paper bag. “Vodka!” he cried out like a kid at Christmas, offering yet another high-five that Bruce reciprocated this time. And as he brandished another bottle from the bag, he proceeded to announce to the whole room, “Yo! Bruce got us more vodka!”

He was met with overlaps of whoops, cheers, and Bruce’s name and in various levels of inebriation and excitement. It’s impossible for Bruce to fight the heat creeping up his face now.

“It’s no big deal.” he shrugged a little.

“Dude…” Angela beamed, her hand on her chest like she was about to shed happy tears, “I thought you hated us.”

He tilted his head curiously. “Why?”

“I dunno. We just assumed…” Kola shrugged, trailing off, making a face, hands flailing around in the air.

It was understandable, he supposed. He never hung out with anyone except for Eden (for obvious reasons) and the costume department (also for obvious, albeit entirely more professional, reasons.) Come to think of it, he didn’t think he ever exchanged a single word with these two that wasn’t about the production.

But they were warm and welcoming nonetheless, and it put him more at ease.

“Nah, you guys are alright,” Bruce eventually said casually, matter-of-factly.

Angela and Kola immediately exchanged looks. A moment of silence, before they full-on freaked out, clutching onto each other for dear life.

“Oh my God, you like us!” Kola squealed, while Angela fanned her face with her hand. Despite the dramatic reactions, they seemed… genuinely touched?

“Well…” Bruce went to interject. He opened his mouth, but then closed it again. He had yet to decide whether ‘like’ was an overstatement. But he didn’t dislike them, that’s for sure.

“Guys, stop it. You’ll scare him,” Eden lightly chided her friends. Then, stepping up to lead him away, forever his knight in a stolen Nirvana t-shirt, “You want something to drink?”

“He totally likes us, dude.” The duo gushed to themselves as Bruce and Eden moved away a little, not bothered by his lack of decorum, apparently.

“Are they drunk already?”

“Nah, this is how they normally are when they’re hanging out.”

“Really? Even Angela?” As stage manager, she was efficient. Level-headed. A bit on the stricter side. Bruce didn’t expect her to be so… goofy in real life.

“Mm-hm. So, we got…” Eden rolled up her sleeves, “Rum and Coke, vodka and Coke, whiskey and Coke, and… tequila and Coke?” she raised a cheeky eyebrow. “Marc’s still picking up the rest of the mixers. Oh, and we got club soda and cranberry juice and… beers of many varieties, good sir.”

She was more animated than usual, and it’s very cute. Like she was amped up from the drinks and the room itself. And perhaps, a small part of him wondered if his presence had anything to do with it.

“What are you having?” Bruce propped himself up with both hands on the table.

“Vodka. We’ll save the tequila for later.”

His heart jumped to his throat. He’d never been much for drinking and partying, but he liked the idea of letting loose with her. So he squared up. “Sounds good.”

“Coming right up!” She flipped a new cup and began preparing his drink. Lightly briefing him on what a cast party was, the things he’d missed in the first 25 minutes of the party, and the potential rowdiness of it all as the night went on. “Trust me, the bonfire had jackshit on this.”

Bruce received the drink she handed and took a sip tentatively, and blink as the sharpness hit his senses. “Wow. That’s… wow.”

“I think I should’ve prefaced this by saying I’m not the best at mixing drinks.” She winced apologetically. “The ratio might be a little bit off.”

“A little?” He side-eyed her, but raised his cup slightly to toast her. “Thank you for the drink.”

“Thank you for coming.” She met his cup halfway.

He wanted to kiss her senseless—and from the way she hovered, shifting on his heels and stared at his lips, he’d guessed she wanted to do that, too. But the room around them still felt too… mild, too sober, and he couldn’t handle the prying eyes. Not when he’d grown so used to being alone with her. So he joined her and her friends, listening to their plans for next semester.

Well.

Until Eden got whisked away, leaving the three of them in favor of song and dance as they played a Motown musical number over the sound system. The conversation halted for a moment as they watched and nodded along to the familiar tune.

(Familiar for them, of course, not for Bruce. He was just happy to watch her sing along and reenact a dance routine with two guys who were definitely not the Dreamgirls.)

“So Bruce, how’s life outside the theater’s treating you?” Angela piped up, snapping him out of his reverie.

“Well, it’s finals week, so… busy. But you know, quieter.”

She nodded knowingly.

“Yeah, we were, like, belting fucking Sondheim at, like, 9 in the morning.” Kola huffed. “It was rough.”

“Ugh.” Angela rolled her eyes and turned to Bruce. “Actors, am I right?”

Bruce stammered. The only thing he could relate with that was the time he woke up to Eden making those funny humming, trilling noises in the bathroom for warm-up. Was it too early to disclose that they were having sleepovers?

“Bitches, besties!” Laura suddenly joined them, popping up between Angela and Kola, a bit tipsy. Guess who’s dressing A Doll’s House at the Rep next month! So I guess I’ll be seeing you, Madame Stage Manager.”

The two girls squealed and hugged, and Bruce suddenly remembered what Eden said to him on the first day of tech: it was never just about a show. It could be a gig, a collaboration, another project to keep them in this neverending rat race a little longer.

“That’s awesome! I auditioned for that.” Kola stared down his drink pensively. “They said ‘Hard pass.’”

“Aww, you don’t even like period shit.” Angela wrapped her arm around her friend in comfort.

“I liked our Hamlet,” he said lamely.

“Yeah, but this one isn’t like ‘period’ period, you know? Like, it’s not… stuffy. I mean, not to suck our own dick or anything, but…” Angela trailed off, eyes scanning over them for validation.

And Laura was right there for her. “Nah, we nailed it with this one. I couldn’t fucking stand Hamlet before this, but our version? All the female rage? Fuck yeah.”

“I just feel like we should accept the fact that Shakespeare, in its true form, is boring now. Nobody wants to watch people in big frocks, speaking in big words for like 4 hours. And it’s fine! We don’t have to like that shit anymore. We like badass corsets and queer relationships and dick jokes and sassy comebacks. And that doesn’t cheapen Shakespeare; that keeps him relevant, and frankly, that’s what we should be focusing on, instead of sucking the dick of some dude who’s been dead 400 years.”

The three of them stared wide-eyed at Kola, watching him take a casual swig of his drink after his unexpected hot take, all 5’7 of athletic muscles and nerd rage.

“Holy shit, you’re right.” Bruce blurted out.

“Thank you!” Kola lifted his red cup, knocking it softly with Bruce’s—and he found himself drinking to that, too.

Angela was still quiet, though. Thoughtful. “Yeah, but it’s hardly fair to say all historically-accurate adaptations are shit, right? Like, some people just happen to like period pieces, you know?”

“Fuck off with your contrarian shit, Ang! Bruce—back me up here.”

“Uh…” Bruce paused, scrambling for a response. “I think neither is mutually exclusive?”

“Well, that’s a lukewarm take if I’ve ever heard one,” Laura remarked. “Come on, man. Humor us.”

“Honestly? I… like those period pieces, too. I really do. This reimagined version we did was new to me and it’s… pretty eye-opening.”

It felt like a fever dream. Bruce never would have thought he would be engrossed in a conversation about Shakespeare adaptation at some theater cast party, which led to more drinks, which led to tequila shots with this merry band of misfits… and actually enjoying it.

Eden occasionally joined them for a chat and a drink—he suspected it’s mostly to check on him and make sure he’s not feeling ignored. And while it was sweet of her, he also enjoyed watching her do her thing. Sometimes singing along to whatever song they were playing, sometimes simply vibing and cheering on whoever was taking the lead. Sometimes just…

Standing on the coffee table now with Marc, arm-in-arm, raising their drinks, leading the crowd to the big Latin number. And straight out of a movie, people were spontaneously singing and harmonizing to the ensemble lines in Spanish. These theater kids never ceased to amaze Bruce.

And as the beat dropped, they hopped off the table and danced. Despite the close proximity—all the spins and the turns— Bruce didn’t feel a pang of jealousy like he did with her ex-girlfriend. On the contrary, he was simply enthralled. She was truly at home in her body. In the heat, the beat, the people all around her.

And why wouldn’t she be? She was surrounded by people who had made a home out of this little corner of life, too.

“So, what are you up to next semester, Bruce?” Laura asked him.

“I don’t know, just… trying to graduate in time, I guess.” He shrugged. It sounded a lot less exciting than what they had lined up, and he didn’t realize he was a bit… miffed as he said it out loud?

“You can always join us again. The Costume Department’s always open. Or maybe you wanna try something else?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that…” Bruce smiled sheepishly. “I appreciate it, though.”

“I’m serious. Hamlet was a trial by fire, and you handled it really well for your first time.”

“Whose first time?” Eden showed up, resting her chin on Bruce’s shoulder, and he nearly passed out from sheer shock and panic that she might have slipped on by talking about his first time. But she wrapped her arm around his middle, and the group was considerably more interested in this new public display of affection.

“Ooh, what is this?” Kola motioned between them. “Bruce, did she finally Shake your Speare?”

“Yeah, did you finally go Ham on her Let?” Angela added.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he murmured into his drink, completely horrified.

His survival instinct should’ve kicked in moments ago and told him to run for his life, but somehow, even as the group made puns out of their expense, turning him beet red, Bruce didn’t feel like running away. Despite everything, they’re laughing with him, not at him. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but he wondered if, perhaps, there was room in these people’s home —Eden’s home— for him, too.

***

ACT FOUR

Gotham City, Bruce’s true home, was quiet. Cold. All too vast in the dining room where he and Alfred had their Christmas dinner, and the halls they wandered through in their own time—dark and desolate in its Gothic nature. But all too cramped and chaotic as he weaved through the streets and back alleys in his beat-up Honda CB, the city too grotesque, too… somber.

Bruce’s phone buzzed in his pocket, twice, just as he worked on the Corvette in the spacious garage basement of the Wayne Tower. He rolled out from under the car, wiping the oil grease off of his hand before he opened the text.

‘Say hello to my new friend!’ Eden’s message said, with a selfie to go with it. She sported a toothy grin, wavy hair blowing in the wind, pointing at a green crab in the sand by the shoreline. A true embodiment of a ray of summer sun on a gloomy winter day.

“Since when d’you text?” Alfred commented.

“Dunno,” Bruce hummed absentmindedly, typing a reply. ‘Ugh, extroverts. Can’t relate.’

She texted back immediately, ��You’re just jealous you’re not A) at the beach and B) hanging out with me right now,’ with another selfie — this time laying on a beach towel, throwing a peace sign as if her yellow bikini didn’t draw his eyes right into her cleavage and her curves weren’t angled in the exact way he fucked her before he drove her to the airport two weeks ago.

And the worst part of it all? She was right on all counts.

Bruce bit back a smile, forcing himself to look away from the screen because he would definitely pitch a tent if he looked a little too long. It was just his luck that he happened to meet Alfred’s gaze peering from behind the hood, secretly (but also, not so secretly) elated by this new development.

“So I take it you made a friend, huh?”

“Hn.”

“What’s she like?”

“She? That’s presumptuous,” Bruce grumbled, tucking his phone back into his pocket. But Alfred raised his eyebrows at him as if saying he wasn’t born yesterday, and he found himself rolling back and forth in his spot on the wheeled slider. And then… “But she’s alright.”

The older man kept his voice even and his gleeful grin at bay, for which Bruce was somewhat grateful. “And where is she now?”

“Back home in Hawaii.”

“Huh. I hear Hawaii is great this time of year.”

Bruce tucked his phone back into his pocket. “Hawaii’s great any time of the year. That’s why they have a rainbow on their license plate.”

Alfred actually snorted this time —he never recalled this proper British gentleman ever responding to his remark in such a… juvenile way. “And what does Gotham have?”

“I don’t know, rain and—” he motioned around the garage, “Home, I guess.”

“Yeah, what else is new,” Alfred dryly noted. Then, leaning back against the bumper of the car,. “Hawaii, on the other hand… You’ve never been, have you?”

Bruce side-eyed him, an all-too-familiar, non-verbal look that meant, where are you going with this?

“I’m just saying,” Alfred started, “Enjoy the sun, drive a car with a rainbow license plate on it.” He returned the side-eye right back at the younger man. “Hang out with your friend.”

Bruce was ready to brush it off. It was simply something he didn’t use to do —but then again, neither was texting. And as much as he wanted to make another counterargument, his phone buzzed again in his pocket. Alfred returned his attention to the engine in front of him, as if he’d made his point, and it somehow felt worse than being looked straight in the eye.

“It wouldn’t kill you to enjoy yourself every once in a while, you know.”

***

Bruce had a very particular way of texting, which Eden found endearing. He retained that placid —at times seemingly aloof— tone, but his dry humor shined through over a higher word count than his usual spoken conversations and came up at the most random times.

One message came in just as she dried herself off after an early morning surf.

‘Alfred just went on vacation and he doesn’t trust me enough to NOT set the house on fire, so… wanna hang out?’

Eden frowned at the screen. The lack of emoji didn’t usually bother her, but this time, she wasn’t sure if he was fucking with her or not. ‘Wtf are you talking abt?’ she replied.

Her phone dinged twice —first with an incoming picture of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the back porch of a house, pristine blue water gleaming in the background; and then a location pin, merely 15 minutes away from her house. No caption, no context whatsoever. And yet, Eden understood it just enough —she always did with Bruce.

‘NO WAY!!!’ she texted back immediately, and then added, ‘Send me a selfie so I know you’re not an axe murderer trying to lure me into your trap.’

The three-dotted bubble hovered in their chat window for a few seconds, and then disappeared. Popped up, and then it was gone again. Eden couldn’t help but picture him trying to protest, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed as he typed up and deleted his response. She was certain she was gonna get a sardonic Bruce-esque quip in the reply, but instead, she received something better.

Another picture of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the beach. But this time, Bruce was there, squinting in the sun, lips pulled up —is that a smile he was attempting?—, his sweater hoodie pulled up to the top of his head. God, he was adorable.

‘Don’t fucking go anywhere.’ Eden’s thumbs were frantic against her phone screen and she stuffed all of her belongings into her bag and hauled her surfboard onto her car.

She loved the unhurried pace of her home island. Time moved slower on Maui and so did she. It was an ordinary Tuesday morning and the cars cruised along the road like they had nowhere to be… and Eden would have enjoyed it on any other day. Any other day, God, but this. When this peculiar, funny, handsome boy happened to show up just minutes away from her house, nearly 5,000 miles from where he lived.

She held back from honking the horn on every car in her way along the main road. Instead, she kept her mind occupied with some questions. Yes, she did wish he was here since she arrived, but did she think he was actually gonna do it? And now that he did, what then? Should she bring him home to her parents? That sounds so serious, she cringed at the idea. Oh God, what does this make us?!

“Your destination is on the right,” the navigation AI on her phone startled her. Eden nearly jumped out of her seat and missed the driveway, tucked between palm trees and shrubberies.

A black Porsche Cayman was already parked outside the villa. The white exterior was simple —modest, almost, but the tall glass windows and the sheer size of the building gave away its true luxury. Eden had to remind herself to slow down, give herself time to collect her own thoughts. But as she climbed up the steps to the entrance, Bruce emerged from the front door, wearing the same gray hoodie he took the selfie in, just with a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose bridge this time. He sheepishly waved at her.

Her heart grew three sizes at the sight of him, and yet the first thing that flew out of her mouth was, “You fucking bitch!”

His hand, still held up, was now alert. “Look, I can explain.”

She stopped, just a few steps away from him. “Explain, then.”

“I know it’s…” he took off his sunglasses. “It’s a lot. And… I hope you don’t find it creepy—”

“When did you fly out here?”

“12 hours ago.”

“When did you decide to fly out here?”

He paused. “Remember when you were texting me about the green crab?”

Eden did the math. There’s only a couple of hours gap between his decision and his departure. “Right, I forgot you were stinkin’ rich.”

“Are you mad?”

He sounded so quiet, so timid, and it had only just dawned on her how new this was for him, too. How nerve-wracking. “Of course I’m not mad,” she immediately brushed it off, closing the distance so she could hold him in her arms again —oh, how good it was to have him in her arms again. “You’re just… gah!”

There was disbelief in her tone, maybe frustration, but it wasn’t the slightest bit venomous. Instead, she pulled him into a kiss. Fervent, as the weight of separation in the last two weeks had been lifted off of her shoulders. Amorous, as the weight of her… feelings set in. The fondness. The longing. The yearning of everything she remembered —his kiss, his touch, his presence— and everything she couldn’t have possibly memorized no matter how much she wanted to.

The softest scent that lingered on his clothes and his person. The pattern he drew on the small of her back. The ever so surprising strength of him as he hoisted her legs around his waist and carried her into the house.

He set her down on the oversized couch, kneeling between her legs. A silhouette of sharp nose and sharper jawline backlit against the late-morning sun streaming in from the French doors behind him. She wanted to admire him so bad, to get the offending sweater and the pants out of the way. To immerse herself in his lean frames, the taut lines of his collarbones, his torso, the grooves on his hips. Instead, he just… stilled.

“What.”

“I like this.” His finger traced the front of Eden’s rashguard, ghosting at her teasing neckline. Hovering over the zipper tentatively as if asking for permission.

She tutted impatiently, pulling it down to reveal the electric blue bikini top underneath. Peeling the outer layer off and shimmying out of her pants. And throughout all of this, Bruce still stood by, shamelessly ogling her. She playfully kicked him in the back of his thigh. “Take your clothes off.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He tugged the sweater off over his head and leaned in to kiss her again, like he was still craving more of her (she couldn’t blame him, she also hadn’t had enough. She’s not sure she ever would.)

The straps behind her neck and in the middle of her back came undone with one pull, and Bruce was all over her newly-exposed tits. Reacquaint himself with her ribcage tattoo as if he didn’t commit every line, every stroke of color to memory. Fluttering as he knocked the wind out of her with every line, every stroke of his fingers on her slick cunt.

After spending most of their last couple of weeks at school together, Eden thought they’d get it out of their system. The novelty of it all. But the sun never shined on Bruce’s pale skin like this. It never streamed in from their dorm room windows quite so warmly in the New Haven winter. They’ve never had this much room to themselves, not having to worry about noises and next door neighbors.

It was just the two of them, naked and hidden away at the same time in this tiny pocket of a cove.

She’d never been shy about anything ever, but somehow the heat got to her cheeks when she heard her own obscene moan reverberate through the entire first floor, over the sharp slapping of skin as Bruce pounded into her through her orgasm. Arching into him to take all of him deep inside, two weeks of pent-up release and all.

“Okay?” he tucked a wild strand of hair behind her ear.

His breathing was heavy, too, but his hand on her back was soothing. He kissed her shoulder and neck, barely —mostly just nuzzling his whole face against her like the gentlest creature she’d ever known. And he truly was a gentle thing. She loved that about him.

And for the first time, she entertained the possibility that maybe, just maybe, she loved him, too.

“I…” she started. “I’m glad you’re here.”

It wasn’t what she was gearing up for, but it would have to do.

For now.

***

ACT FIVE

I’m glad you’re here.

Those four words kept playing on loop in Eden’s head as they made out half-asleep on the couch. Standing under the rain shower in the main bathroom (Well, he was standing; she was on her knees, gagging on his cock.) Giggling in the kitchen as they attempted —and failed— to recreate the Beanjamin’s famous grilled cheese for breakfast. Dipping their toes in the sand, leisurely wading into the shallow waters behind the villa.

She meant every word, sure, but that wasn’t all she meant to say. It’s one word less, but weighs more than what she could imagine. But she couldn’t say it. Not now. Not when things were so nice and quiet and good.

“You know you don’t have to spend all your time with me here, right?”

Eden threw him a funny look, hiding the sudden spike of worry inside. “It’s been, like, half a day. Are you kicking me out already?”

“No! God, no. I know that —I mean, you must’ve made plans, right? With your friends and your family while you’re home. I’m just saying…” he took a deep breath, trying to gather his words —and in doing so, gathered her in his arms, too. “You should still do that. I’ll be fine.”

She hummed, not disagreeing. “And what are you gonna do while I’m away?”

“I don’t know, see the sights? Hike? Snorkel?” Bruce looked out at the horizon, where the sea met the sky, and the trees fringing on the side.

“Snorkel? I didn’t even know you could swim.” Eden grinned at the thought of Bruce swimming with little fish. They found a whole throng of turtles just off of his back deck and he nearly lost his mind over excitement —as much excitement as his range of expressions allowed, anyway.

He made a face, incredulous and just a little offended. “Of course I can swim.”

“You sure? ‘Cause I can get you a floatie if you want. I think I saw a flamingo one back at the house.”

“Fuck you…” he giggled —a sound so bright and warm that she couldn’t resist being infected by it, even as he attacked her with tickles on her side.

“No, fuck you, Brucie.” She struggled to keep his hands off, even weaving in some pokes on his waist as well, getting into a play-wrestle until they tumbled into the water. Eden came out on top, laughing victoriously as Bruce’s eyes squeezed shut as a wave crashed into his head from behind. “You sure you don’t want the floatie?”

He splashed her right in the face.

Eden had never seen such color in Bruce, such life, and she hoped it would stick around. Happiness looked good on him.

***

Bruce would never admit this to Alfred or Eden, but coming to Hawaii was a huge gamble. He couldn’t remember the last time he went on vacation out of his own volition. He did remember the last time he went to the beach; 14 years ago with his parents. He couldn’t remember if it was this place or somewhere in Southeast Asia, and he regretted that the memory was lost on him.

Part of him was terrified setting foot in the sand would set off an ugly chain of reaction. He was worried that he would be overcome with loss —everything he’d buried in the back of his mind. But he liked the warmth, he liked having the turtles in his backyard —even though one of them bit him in the ankle on the second day and seemed to develop a personal vendetta against him. And Eden was right there to ease him into it.

At this point, he’s pretty sure she could talk him into anything. She successfully talked him into drinking coconut straight out of its shell (which was awesome), surfing (which was awful and he came out bruised and sunburned), and a beach rave on New Year’s Eve (which was… not as bad as he expected.)

“I could get used to this,” Bruce piped up, unsure if he meant the sun and the beach… or playing house with Eden, eating pancakes for dinner on the daybed as the sun set before them.

“Mm, I think you’re having the Last Day syndrome.”

“What’s that?”

“Your vacation’s about to end and you kinda wish you could stay just a little longer —or even like, move here— but trust me, you don’t.”

“Really? Why not?”

“Because it’s an escape. The moment you give it more time than it actually has, it stops being a vacation and it just becomes… your life. And you might grow to resent it.”

They were quiet again. And once again, Bruce was not sure if she was talking about Hawaii or him.

“Then again, maybe a vacation is just what you needed. Remind you of what’s important,” she lightly said through a mouthful of pancakes.

She turned to him then, and her gaze nearly made his heart burst. The light hit her face just right, all tanned and golden. The saltwater made waves in her hair, and a cheeky smirk tickled the corner of her lips. In that moment, he knew what was important. And as she opened her mouth, so did he.

“Like wearing enough sunscreen —what?”

“I love you.”

Bruce froze. The smile on Eden’s mouth fell. And he thought it was over. This blissful honeymoon period, the whole fucking situationship between them… done. And it’s up to him to salvage whatever’s left of it.

If he could still salvage it.

“I’m sorry. Fuck. Forget I ever said anything —”

“No, wait. Hold up.” She sat right up, and Bruce had never been more terrified in his life. “Do you mean that?”

“I don’t know.” That was completely untrue, he does know if he means it. “Yes!” He went way too big, and she could totally hear the overcompensation in his tone. “I think so.”

“You think so?” her eyebrows shot up.

Great, now he sounded like a dick. “Wait, that’s not what I meant. I… Look. I’ve never —”

“Been with anyone, I know. You were a blushing virgin when we met,: she huffed playfully.

He groaned. “Can we not?”

“And this has nothing to do with dating experience whatsoever. I just… I just wanna know if this is the Last Day syndrome talking, or if this is… it.”

Bruce had no idea how to answer that. He wanted it to be true, but he had no way of knowing which one was wishful thinking and which one was plain old fact. And Eden had no way of knowing how desperately he wanted it to be it.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he eventually said. A relent. Acceptance.

Defeat.

“I know I don’t.” She took a heavy breath, looking out at the horizon. It’s mostly dark now. “I want to, though.”

“Really?”

Eden nodded tentatively. “I just need to figure out if this is it. I hope you understand that.”

“Right. Of course.” And with that, Bruce nodded back, straightening up, giving her some space —well, as much space as they could allow in this daybed. It’s funny how massive it felt before the elephant in the room got between them.

But Eden closed the distance again, planting a kiss on his lips —nothing but warmth between them— and said, “But I really hope it is.”

And God, they really hoped it was enough.

#bruce wayne #battinson #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne fanfic #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne fluff #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x oc #bruce x eden #haven fic #ava writes #WE BACK BABYYYYYY

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jimblejamblewritings · 2 years ago

Text

luck be a (leading) lady | part 13.

[Posted 2022.10.29]

Summary: Y/N has always been a background character. That’s just life for some folks isn’t it? But what if she’s determined to not just be another member in the ensemble? What if someone helps her step into the spotlight in her own special way?

Warnings for the Series: a teeny bit of angst but mainly fluff

Pairing: ricky bowen x black!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

“Are you okay, Y/N?”

You turned around on the porch to see Ricky. He noticed you were still in pajamas despite the pointe shoes. You ran up to him, throwing your arms around his neck. A smile appeared on Ricky’s face as you pecked his cheek.

“Happy Birthday! I’m sorry I was supposed to surprise you with everyone else but then Dewey let me check my phone because of auditions and I j—”

“What part did you get?”

You shook your head. “Doesn’t matter right now, it’s your birthday.”

Ricky squeezed your waist a little. “It matters to me.”

“Lucy.”

“Seriously? That’s amazing! Were you just running her part?”

You nodded before resting your head against his chest. “I think I just got nervous. I’ve never played principal two shows in a row. What if mess up and they n—”

Ricky grabbed your face. He squished your cheeks together. “You will be amazing and I will be right there to support you. You get nervous just look at me. Okay?”

He laughed when you nodded your head. Ricky slung an arm around your shoulder as he told you about Big Red showing up and his 18th birthday bucket list being almost complete. He just needed a lottery ticket which you both thought Big Red would bring… he didn’t bring it. You both caught up with Gina who was introducing young Emmy to Ms. Jenn. Your drama teacher surprised you by actually knowing your name and giving you a hug.

“I’m so excited for tonight. We need to talk more when you kids get back. I have a lot to say to Y/N but for now, congratulations on Narnia. I’m so proud of all my babies.”

Gina and Ricky gave you side hugs while your eyes just widened. Ms. Jenn tilted her head. She was a bit confused by your seemingly lack of enthusiasm.

“How do you know? They don’t announce cast until closer to the show.”

“Honey, it’s all over TikTok and every casting director I follow on Instagram. They’ve already announced a New York City showing. No one knows if they’ll be recasting or not but it’s a big deal. Disney Plus! You’ll be next to Hamilton on the homepage!”

Your nostrils flared. “What?”

Ricky grabbed your shoulders and moved you away from Ms. Jenn, saying you all would see her when the show started. He talked your ear off until you both made it back to his cabin. You sat on Ricky’s top bunk. He put a hand on your knee, keeping it there while he looked for something. He held up his makeup bag.

“I finally learned how to do eyeliner.” Ricky smiled when you visibly relaxed after laughing.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I have!”

“Richard, I’ll be doing your makeup until the end of time.”

He interlaced his fingers with yours. “So you’re saying we’ll be together for a long time.”

“I don’t plan on breaking up with you.”

“We’re in this together… Okay, down, we’ve got a show to hold.”

You guys stopped at your cabin to get your stuff before making your way backstage. You tried to ignore Channing as best as possible. That man bothered you to your core. Even if he was technically responsible for you and Ricky getting together, you would never like him. Not even a little bit. The only good news was that he was filming the show and you guys doing your hair and makeup. It was impossible to cause drama from doing hair and makeup.

You weren’t even bothered by his announcement of the live-stream. Live-stream was basically the same as live performance— one extra camera didn’t take away from your nerves or add to your nerves. What did make you— and the rest of the cast— nervous was the fact that Channing was going to be throwing random things to shake it up. Why did he feel the need to be insufferable? The show would be fine and the documentary would be great if he just let you guys be.

EJ finally put his foot down and insisted that you guys do the show your way. That’s exactly what you all did. You ran off stage after ‘Do You Want to Build a Snowman?’ to change from regular ballet shoes to pointe shoes. Ricky, who wasn’t on stage for a solid fifteen more minutes, sat in your makeup chair while you were banging your shoes on the floor. He organized your makeup bag.

“Do you think it’s weird we’re gonna be famous?”

“Famous seems like a stretch.”

“Think about it. The actual musical, the documentary. Everyone has Disney Plus and you have Narnia after. Do you think it’ll feel weird to be famous and still just in high school?”

You shrugged. “I don’t think much will change… aside from money.”

Ricky laughed and pulled you to your feet. You thought he wanted to practice the dance but he just wanted a kiss. It was just a peck, both of you careful not to smudge any makeup. You rested your hands on his chest. Ricky gave you a smile.

“I can afford an opening night present for your ballet.”

You shook your head. “Ricky you don’t have to.”

“I want to. Not just because of the stuff you and Gina got me. I like giving things to people when I can. I’d love nothing more than to give my girlfriend things… I love saying that. My girlfriend.”

You patted his chest. “Well, boyfriend. You have minutes until you’re on. I’ll meet you on stage in a minute.”

Ricky pecked your lips. “Thank you, five… Dude!”

He left your hold to approach Channing who had been filming for who knows how long. Ricky took the camera and turned it off before shoving it back into Channing’s chest. Knowing he wasn’t wanted, Channing went back outside to find other ways to ruin the show. You still had some time before joining Ricky on stage as a pretty snowflake. A feminine voice called your name as you sat down to reapply your blush. You turned to see Nini. She gave you a wave before just going in for a hug.

“Hi… Oh my God, you saw the trailer. I—”

“Oh no. Me and Ricky are totally done. I’m happy for you both, I think. Are you guys together?”

You nodded and she smiled.

“Then I am happy for you… I actually came to ask for advice. I already talked to Ms. Jenn but I’m still not sure.”

You listened intently as she explained everything about her summer in LA. Nini just looked at you. She wanted to hear from someone who was professional— as professional as you could get in high school. You went to grab both of her hands.

“If it’s for you, it’s for you. East High isn’t forever. Sometimes, we outgrow a place before we’re ready. I think you’ve outgrown Salt Lake… And, frankly, I think that’s a damn good thing.”

Nini gave you a hug, satisfied in her decision. She handed you two envelopes before standing up to leave— she was going to go back and watch the show before darting out. Nini stopped at the door.

“Make sure Ricky gets that. It’s a lottery ticket.”

You high-fived Ricky as he came off the half-pipe. Like promised, you were at one of his skating competitions. Life was definitely different since the musical. But you weren’t sure how different. You wouldn’t know until school started on Monday. You did notice the increase in auditions. An agent was practically thrusted onto you and it was basically decided that after Berklee, you were going to New York or Hollywood. Carlos was the most excited. He was the only one living the celebrity life to the fullest.

“Is it just you and me?” Ricky asked as he got off the podium, large silver medal against his chest.

You grabbed the skateboard from him. “Yep, Big Red and Ash are stuck at the lake. Gina’s still meeting with the Rockettes. Can you believe that? She’s going to be so big.”

“You think she’ll get us front row seats?” Ricky joked as he threw his arm over your shoulder and started walking with you.

You guys were in New York on a friends trip and for his skate competition… And the documentary premiere was yesterday. It was the first time you guys had flown first-class and it was epic. Instead of going to your sister’s restaurant, the two of you got food from a bodega and decided to picnic in Central Park. You rested your head in Ricky’s lap.

“Did you get a callback?”

He shook his head. “I got one but bombed the other. You?”

“Same. Well, I bombed three more and haven’t heard back from two others. Big time casting directors are kind of scary.”

Ricky laughed in agreement. “Which callback did you get?”

“The one for the new princess movie. Chemistry read on Saturday at two… What?”

“That’s the callback I made.” He leaned over until he was centimeters from your face. “Are we going to have a showmance?”

You rolled your eyes. “We have to get the parts first, Ricky.”

He smiled before pecking your lips. “But if we did. Showmance is kinda hot.”

“Richard.”

“Yes?”

“Just kiss me.”

“Gladly.”

(part 14)

THIS FIC TAGLIST:

@mishtay @ifilwtmfc

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @supernaturallover2002 @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107

#ricky bowen x reader #hsmtmts #hsmtmts fic

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piastrinorris · 2 years ago

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[Kicks in your door, visibly vibrating]

HELLO MY LOVE did you really expect me to see the prompt "Being cast as the main characters in a school play and having to perform a romantic confession scene together. You're okay with it since it's your friend playing the love interest, and they (probably) don't mean it anyway. But when they start acting it out, it almost feels real. Once the scene has ended, you realize how much you wished it was" AND NOT IMMEDIATELY SEND IT IN FOR ONE MR. EDDIE MUNSON!?

Anyway that's what I'm doing, and adding in a Brennan Lee Mulligan style pleEEEEASE for good measure.

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1590

A/N: This ended up being FAR too long for a drabble since I ended up using actual lines from the actual play and stuff, but how could I not. Anyway, I love you @denim-mixtapes and I hope I did Little Shop of Horrors justice!!!

Backstage, the buzz of excitement and gossip and last-minute stress is very loud everywhere except within your radius, where everyone quietens down. It's no secret that you and your on-and-off boyfriend had The Argument To End All Arguments a week prior, and you'd understandably been off your game, but you couldn't miss opening night. Especially not with how excited your director was at the chance to perform her new favourite off-Broadway show, Little Shop of Horrors.

An almost eldritch amount of eyes follow you to your dressing area, and you try your absolute hardest to maintain your composure the entire time. You let out a heavy sigh once you get to your dressing table, sitting in your seat and staring at your reflection as you hold your head in your hands.

Why is it all on me? you silently ask yourself. I did everything to make him happy and it still wasn't enough. You and your co-star, Eddie, had even made sure to never even kiss on stage, despite your director's anguish. You didn't want... him to get upset at seeing you kiss someone else, and Eddie was happy enough to keep to your boundaries. Plus, it was way more fun to goof around together acting as though you were in a far more exaggerated "passionate embrace" than your scripts let on.

His voice saying, "Knock knock!" behind the curtain that separates your dressing area from his takes you out of your own headspace, thankfully. You invite him in and see him all dressed up. No matter the costume department's best efforts, no wig could contain that hair, so Eddie wore it in a ponytail, with Seymour's big glasses framing his soft eyes. "Nervous?"

You gesture around you. "Actually no, the constant gossip that I know is about me is doing nothing for me, especially not on top of first-night anxiety. God, who'd feel like that?!"

Eddie laughs, putting his hand on your shoulder. "You're gonna kick their ass. And the Asshole's ass. And all that anxiety's ass. Good job this isn't a matinee, you'll be too tired from all the ass-kicking!"

You laugh, "Thanks, Eddie. You're the best." Despite being caked in makeup, a slight blush still forms across his cheeks. Eddie's been great, this whole time. Every time you've been nervous about playing Audrey, Eddie has a way of making you feel like she's an extension of you. Even if it took him a really long time to get used to you doing her voice.

Act One goes smoothly enough. You're able to spot your family in the crowd, so you have an extra anchor around to keep you going even at times when Eddie is offstage. But at one point, as you're watching from the wings, you watch as Eddie double-takes, and for a fleeting moment a look of anger appears on his face. It's not enough to break character, but enough for you as someone who's helped him through his lines a million times to notice it isn't part of the routine. You scan the crowd, and feel your stomach fall as you see it. Him. Why is he here when he was the one who broke it off?!

Eddie high-fives the tech crew as he runs off from the end of Act One, and finds you pacing up and down. He knows immediately. "Hey. I saw him, too. But you know what? C'mere, look at me," he takes your hand and holds it high, just beneath your faces so he knows you're focusing on him. "We're not gonna let that jackass ruin opening night, you know why?" You shake your head. "Because he's Y/N's problem. And tonight, you're Audrey. And I'm Seymour. And the night doesn't end until we get ultimately tragically devoured by a big, foam-y plant puppet. Right?" he asks with a grin as you laugh. You nod and he kisses your knuckles. "That's my Audrey!"

Thankfully, you'd rehearsed your part as Audrey so much that you could afford a little less effort into concentrating on lines, as you know them in your sleep, and a little more into making sure you don't look in his direction again. You get through the first number of the act just fine. Eddie runs offstage for a second, just as the script says.

The script mentions donning a leather jacket, which obviously Eddie usually has on him. But his is a hand-me-down about two sizes too big, that's always looked boxy on him. The costume department have apparently decided to give Seymour one that fits. And it fits Eddie... Real nice.

Eddie asks, "What do you think?" and in the moment, something makes you forget that you're on stage. Forgetting anything about stage direction, you keep staring, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. Eddie continues, "You... don't like it?" and you're brought back into the moment. Thankfully, you're supposed to be overwhelmed in character anyway, so stammering and running away is actually expected of you, at least.

Eddie, in place, throws the jacket off as per his character, and moves to join yours. Usually, in this instance, you're directed to look in one specific direction, away from Eddie, as he monologues behind you. But the direction you need to be looking in... You just can't.

Eddie knows, though, and instead of following the direction, he turns your face to look at him, holding your jaw softly as he says, "Just don't cry, please. Oh, look what I did. I only bought it to impress you. That's all I ever meant to do."

Maintaining eye contact, you continue, "I don't know what's come over me. I guess I've been a little under the weather."

His thumb strokes your cheek, "It's Orin, isn't it?" He says 'Orin' with a lot more venom than usual. As though he's alluding to someone else in this case... "You've been down in the dumps ever since his mysterious disappearance. You miss him, don't you?"

Catching on, you deliver the next line as though talking about a certain someone. "Miss him? I never felt so relieved as when they told me he vanished. It was like a miracle. Not to mention all the money I've saved on Epsom salts and ace bandages." Not so much the second, but saying the first line with a certain intention empowers you.

"Then what's the matter?" Eddie asks, cocking his head.

"I feel... Guilty, I guess." The words ringing true feel like a cruel irony. "I mean, if he met with foul play or some terrible accident of some kind, then it's partly my fault, you see. Because secretly... I wished it." You falter a little at the end. You certainly had been wondering whether your relationship was going anywhere weeks prior to your breakup.

Eddie keeps you in the scene, readjusting his grip on you and looking deep into your eyes. "Audrey, you shouldn't waste one more minute worrying about that creep. There's a lotta guys would give anything to go out with you. Nice guys." The way he delivers those lines in particular is like nothing you've ever heard from rehearsal. You could easily kid yourself into thinking he's saying them about you...

"I don't deserve a nice guy, Seymour," saying the character's name aloud once again reminds you that these are someone else's words, and actions, with intentions completely separate from your own life.

That all flies out of the window when Eddie's hold on you tightens as he says, "That's. Not. True."

Knowing that where you're both currently sat is so far off-book, you wonder how much longer until your director starts pulling you back to your intended spots herself. You take the initiative to walk across the stage, again reminding yourself that this is all just a play, and anything else is pure coincidence.

You carry on your performance just fine, but something seems different about how Eddie's performing. If the song didn't constantly refer to the character's name, you're so sure you could replace it with the name Eddie and the song would ring just as true. Every moment you're not singing, you're thinking. Every time you and... Him would have an argument, Eddie would be sympathetic to a point. He'd respect your boundaries, but made no attempt at respecting him in the slightest. He was fine with you going into theater, until he saw you and Eddie interacting for the first time, and then he really wasn't.

You feel stupid for not realising sooner. It wasn't ever a jealousy of anyone getting to perform with you, or he'd have voiced it sooner. He didn't want you getting too close to Eddie, because then you'd realise what love is meant to feel like. It's meant to feel just like this.

As the song comes to an end, you decide to pull an Eddie and go far from the way you've been practicing this scene in particular - by doing exactly what the script says. Eddie gets ready to wrap his arms around you in a big motion, but you grab his hands before it's too late and pull them towards you, letting go to wrap your arms around his neck as you kiss him. His arms rest around your waist as applause fills your ears. You stay like it until the actor playing Mushnik interrupts you, as per the direction, though it does genuinely make the two of you jump.

The next time you're able to scan the crowd, you notice an empty seat that's better off that way.

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #eddie stranger things #*myfics

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quindolyn · 4 years ago

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hi can i request the maurauders going to see the reader do a musical like heathers or mean girls and they are just confused and turned on bc they didn't expect it to be this dirty (can lead to smut or not). luv you and hope you are taking care of yourself, if not go get something to eat, drink some water, take a nap, or do somthing you enjoy. or dont not trying to be pushy :)

Creature of the Night || Poly!Marauders

Word Count: 3029 (excluding song lyrics)

A/N: I think I liked how this turned out? I didn’t make it smut but it’s certainly suggestive, I went with Rocky Horror, I know that the musicals mentioned in the request are more modern but I fucking love Rocky Horror and I think it works with the request. When I first read this request I smiled so much because I love live theater, I don’t perform as much as I used to because as I progress with my education I’m focusing more on the stuff I can use to pad my resumes for college and stuff but I still love going to see productions. One of the worst parts of the pandemic for me has been not being able to go see shows, I miss it so much.

Warnings: theatre enthusiast reader, erections, suggestive material, song lyrics, slight teasing, wearing very little clothing in front of an audience, I believe that that is it

Masterlist

500 follower celebration

antici-

The magic of the stage was second to none. Sure, Hogwarts may have had witches and wizards, subjects like Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and ghosts that spent their time meandering about the halls but there was always a part of you that looked forward to the summer between your years at Hogwarts. Because no matter how magical Hogwarts was, the theater always made you feel completely and utterly alive.

Every summer since the one after your first year at what all of your muggle friends thought to be a very prestigious boarding school up in Scotland, you’d taken part in your local youth theater’s productions. Your parents both being muggles thought that it would be a great way for you to be able to stay in touch with your muggle origins.

The first year you’d been far too nervous to actually audition for a role, the very thought causing bile to churn in your stomach and threaten to make you sick all over your kitchen floor when your father first pitched the idea. So instead you’d done costumes and it was the most wonderful experience of your life.

Who needed drugs when you had live theater? The hustle and bustle behind the scenes was electrifying but after two summers of costuming, of quick changes in the wings, learning how to use the ancient sewing machines they stored in the depths of the storage rooms, and pulling pieces for the actors to try on you decided that you wanted to try something more.

The moment you had stepped onto the stage it was like you’d come to life and you cursed yourself for not taking the risk earlier. You belonged on the stage, with the harsh stage lights on you and pounds of makeup plastered onto your face you could feel the magic thrumming through your veins and it was addicting.

If it was possible, you were even more excited to perform this summer, the previous school year you’d finally gotten together with your long time best friends the Marauders, turning them from friends to your boyfriends.

When your mother had sent word of the production being put on this summer you’d squealed while seated next to James and across from Remus, who had Sirius hanging off of his side. After explaining to them, mostly Sirius and James really, just what live theater was their first reaction was to ask if they could come see you perform.

“I don’t even know if I’m going to be cast,” You had explained gently, not wanting to get their hopes up in case you weren’t cast this year.

“Bull shit of course you’re going to be the cast,” Sirius had contested through a mouthful of jam and toast, waving his hand theatrically through the air, watching him that day was not the first time you’d considered how the way he acted often reminded you of an over enthusiastic theatre major.

Remus, the only one with any knowledge on muggle theatre had snorted, wrapping an arm around Sirius’ waist to pull him closer to his body, “She’s not going to be the cast Pads, she’s going to be casted,” He’d corrected gently, pressing a kiss into his long, dark tresses.

“Whatever,” The smaller boy had grumbled, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

Which brought you to where you were right now, five minutes to curtain touching up your make up in the mirror of the shared make-up room.

“Hey (L/N),” One of your cast mates called settling into the makeup chair next to you as she plucked a tube of dark red lipstick from the small canary colored makeup bag she had previously abandoned on the counter, “Your boyfriends coming tonight?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Yeah, they are,” You responded, applying mascara to your lashes.

“Excited to meet them, that photo you showed us,” She smiled, fanning her face with her hand, “Smoking,” She smiled, making eye contact with you in the mirror.

Rolling your eyes you ignored her comment, “It’s five minutes to curtain, you’re just now doing your make-up?” You chuckled, noticing her black face.

“Oh, shove it,” She laughed as you pushed yourself from your chair, traipsing out of the room, giving her the middle finger on your way out.

“Break a leg!” She called after you as the door latched shut.

You weren’t usually this nervous before a performance but knowing that your three boyfriends were sitting out there somewhere in the audience had you pacing back and forth backstage wondering what they were going to think of the whole production.

“Rocky Horror?” Sirius’ confusion evident in his voice as he plopped down in his seat next to Remus, throwing his arm around the werewolf’s shoulders, drumming his fingers on his clothed shoulder hidden behind his knitted cardigan.

“Yeah,” James collapsed into his chair on the other side of Remus, tucking one leg under his body, “No clue what it’s about but I’m sure our angel will be wonderful. Can you guys see her?” He straightened himself up in his seat, craning his neck in attempts to catch a glimpse of you.

Remus being the only one with any ties to the muggle world knew a bit about the show and had to do his very best to suppress a smirk from overtaking his face as he knew exactly what he and your other two boyfriends were getting themselves into.

“Just hush up you two, the show’s gonna start any moment,” He scolded, patting his large, scarred hand on James’ thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Rem,” Sirius whined, puckering his lips and closing his eyes, signaling to his boyfriend that he wanted a kiss.

“My needy baby,” He crooned, leaning in to connect his lips with Sirius’ in a quick liplock before pulling back, allowing Sirius to drop his forehead to smear against his shoulder.

“That’s mean,” Sirius murmured discontentedly.

“Poor baby Pads,” James cooed mockingly.

“Both of you,” Remus hissed as the lights in the theatre dimmed, “The show’s about to start, be good for me and be quiet yeah?”

Their response came in their silence as the crowd started settling down and the music from the orchestra pit began a voice coming from somewhere out of sight as it was played through the speakers,

“Michael Rennie was ill

The day the earth stood still

But he told us where we stand”

Not 20 minutes into the show all three of them were as hard as rocks, James had already made Remus check the playbill for the name of the character you were playing, not being able to remember what you’d told them as all of his concentration was focused on a certain place.

Janet Weiss.

Remus couldn’t remember either, but he was almost certain that’s the name he could make out in the dark theatre, printed next to a picture of your smiling face.

When you’d stripped down to your underwear the boys could barely focus on the plot line of the show, only being able to watch the way your bare skin shone under the harsh light of the spotlights. Watching as sweat glistened on your skin, making you shine as you moved about the stage.

Enchanted by the melodic cadence of your voice they all felt a certain jealousy burning deep in the pits on their stomachs at the thought that there were dozens of other people packed into that theater, all observing you in your vulnerable state of under dress. Only they got to see you like that.

Sirius missed much of the first act glaring at members of the audience who he deemed as looking at you for too long for his liking, but if you were being honest a 4th year smiling at you in the hallway was sometimes too long for his liking.

It wasn’t like any of them had never seen you naked before, in fact they’d all seen you naked more than their fair share of times but something about you on that stage in a white bra with a matching slip was driving them all crazy.

Especially Remus, whose ultimate weakness was seeing you in anything white which was one of the reasons you’d been so excited to invite them in the first place, knowing that they would be horny messes the entire time.

On stage you did your very best not to look out into the audience looking for them, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to stop a ginormous grin from forming on your face and you couldn’t afford to break character. Not if you wanted the night to go your way.

As the opening notes to “Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch Me”, rose from the orchestra pit you had trouble stopping a small smirk from pulling at your lips as you opened them, inhaling deeply before singing the first words of the song,

“I was feeling done in, couldn't win

I'd only ever kissed before”

Despite yourself you caught a glimpse of long dark hair in the audience, quickly taking a glance at Sirius’ face, eyes glazed over in lust, legs shifting uncomfortably with his mouth hanging wide open.

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed another raven-haired boy’s mouth dropping as you shrugged off of your robe

“I thought there’s no use getting, into heavy petting

It only leads to trouble and, seat wetting

Now all I want to know, is how to go

I've tasted blood and I want more”

It was impossible to miss the way Remus’ jaw clenched as you laid your palm against Rocky’s chest, he was being played by your good friends who’d been working with the same theatre company as you since forever, he was like a brother to you. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t lay it on extra thick tonight with your boyfriends in the audience.

Tracing a dainty finger down Rocky’s chest you pushed your body against his singing out the next lyrics of the song,

“I've got an itch to scratch, I need assistance”

You turned you and your cast mate so that looking over his shoulder you were able to meet Remus’ eye, sending him a quick wink before focusing back in on Rocky.

“Toucha, toucha, toucha, touch me

I wanna be dirty

Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me

Creature of the night”

Pressing your back up against Rocky’s chest you guided his hands with yours to your breasts, squeezing them as you followed the choreography you knew by heart.

You ripped your slip from your body with the help of Rocky leaving you in only your white bra, matching panties and a pair of small heels as you paraded around stage, belting the suggestive lyrics into the theater.

“Then if anything grows, while you pose

I'll oil you up and rub you down (down, down, down)

And that’s just one small fraction, of the main attraction

You need a friendly hand, oh i need action”

You smirked, thinking about all of the action you’d be on the receiving end of later that night as you sunk to your knees in front of Rocky, your hands grasping his thighs. Deciding to tease them perhaps a little more than necessary as you went through the number, curling your leg around his and pressing your bodies together so that there was no space between your two questionably clothed bodies.

As the number was brought to a close it was impossible for you to ignore the excitement bubbling up inside of you as you continued your way through the show you kept throwing glances at your boyfriends, always finding their eyes already trained on you. More often than not, on some body part other than your face.

If your boyfriends thought that they had a bit of a problem before that song they were in a terrible predicament now.

Remus caught Sirius on multiple occasions trying to move the hand that he was holding to grope at his crotch as he tried to buck up into his boyfriend’s hand. And much to his own dismay, Remus would pull his hand away, thinking it probably wasn’t the best idea to give his boyfriend a hand job in a crowded theater. Knowing that he wouldn’t have to worry about James touching himself because he would never dream of disobeying him, Remus divided his attention between you on the stage and keeping Sirius in check.

Each of the boys were counting down the seconds until the show came to an end and they could get out of there and relieve some of their tension. As the curtains were pulled closed they all breathed a sigh of relief before they reopened, leaving all three of them bewildered and slightly annoyed, even more so when they noticed everyone around them standing as they applauded the actors.

Remus forced both of them up when you rushed to the front of the stage, curtsying as the crowd went wild, your boyfriends most notably. As you took your bow you blew a kiss to your boyfriends taking note of the uncomfortable way they all stood, trying to adjust their erections to make them less noticeable while simultaneously applauding you.

As you cleared the stage after curtain call you took your time, doddling towards the dressing rooms where you had left the clothes you’d arrived at the theater in along with a special outfit you’d brought for after the show. Usually you were one of the first actors to clear the theater after a show but tonight you took your time. Hanging up your costume with more care than anyone really should treat any garment with and certainly more than what it needed.

You smirked mischievously as you pulled the you’d brought outfit from your bag and shimmied it up your legs before slipping the delicate straps up your shoulders. You glimpsed yourself in the mirror, the red satin of the dress clinging to your curves in an attractive manner, short enough to display miles of legs and low cut enough to show off a decent amount of cleavage and perhaps a sighting of the matching red bra you were wearing beneath it.

Slinging the back of your black heels over the heel of your feet you snatched your purse from the armchair in your dressing room before striding out to go meet your boyfriends in the lobby, where you’d told them to wait for you.

Their heads all turned as they heard the clacking of your heels against the tile of the floor, “Boys,” You greeted as they unabashedly took in your new appearance.

As he most often was, Remus was the first one to collect himself, “Puppy, you were wonderful,” He praised, walking to meet you as you approached him, leaning down to smear a kiss against your cheek, “You did amazing up there, so proud of you,” He threw his arm around your waist as you walked towards Sirius and James.

“We got something for you,” He explained, his grip on your waist tightening, “Jamie give it to her, yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” The smaller boy grinned, remembering the bouquet he held cradled in his arms as he handed it over to you, “Here you go angel.”

“Thank you Jamie,” You said as you took it from him, closing your eyes as you buried your nose in the sweet smelling flora. As you opened your eyes you made eye contact with Sirius, who stood across from you, practically drooling as he took in your appearance without any shame, “They smell wonderful.”

“You okay Si?” You asked, looking up through your eyelashes, batting them innocently.

“Like you don’t know exactly what you did up there to us (Y/N/N),” Remus whispered in your ear, pressing his nose into your temple.

“You guys are the ones who wanted to come,” You lilted, rubbing one of the velvety petals between the pads of your thumb and forefinger.

“Could’ve warned us,” James mumbled, his eyes not leaving your thighs as he licked his lips, if it were anyone else you would’ve been uncomfortable but you couldn’t help but feel flattered whenever any of them ogled you.

“And what’s with the dress Pup?” Sirius nodded his head appreciatively towards your dress, obviously admiring the way it hung on your body.

“What, you don’t like it?” You asked with fake hurt in your voice, knowing that he more than liked it, he fucking loved it.

“S’not that,” Remus mumbled, nosing at your jugular, “Just that whole show, got us a little bit worked up. We didn’t expect it to be so sexual Puppy,” He nodded towards James and that’s when you noticed the erection he was still sporting.

“Got us really worked up, can we go home now?” James asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, trying to distract himself from his little problem.

“Jamie,” You whined, smiling wickedly, “I wanted to celebrate, I was thinking we could go eat somewhere, I was thinking maybe Thai food?”

You watched as Sirius ground his teeth, conflicted between needing to get home and not wanting to deny you from what you wanted.

“Having fun teasing us Bunny?” Remus asked you with a sly smirk, knowing exactly what you were doing.

“M’not teasing,” You insisted, turning indignantly to your other boyfriend.

“Sure you aren’t,” He chuckled, “Thai sounds great (Y/N), wanna talk with you about the show,” The idea of teasing Sirius and James even longer was very appealing to Remus and he was ready to make the sacrifice of being teased himself, knowing that he’d be able to get back at you later that night.

“But-” James began.

“You wanna argue with me Jamie?” Remus challenged, raising a singular eyebrow.

“No,” He moped, “Of course not.”

“Good,” Remus said, nodding his head approvingly, “We wouldn’t wanna deny our Princess would we?”

James shook his head, eyes pleading, desperately seeking Remus’ approval.

“Pads?” Remus challenged, turning his attention to the other raven haired man.

“What? Oh um, of course not,” He agreed distractedly, dragging his eyes from your form to meet Remus’, his reluctance evident in his voice.

“Good,” Remus said pointedly, his eyes cold, daring Sirius to question him. When he didn’t the werewolf continued, “Let’s get going then, there’s a nice little restaurant a couple blocks away yeah?”

As you all hummed your consent you made your way to the exit, “Ten galleons if you can make James cum in his pants at dinner,” Remus whispered in your ear quietly enough so that James and Sirius trailing behind you wouldn’t be able to hear you, you could hear the smirk in his voice as you exited the theatre.

“Deal.” This was going to be fun, you considered that you might have to invite them to come see the show again.

-pation

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @kittykylax @amourtentiaa @superbturtlemakerathlete

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