#I’m still a Broadway girl for life

[sexynetra]

Thanks for tagging me @myhusbandharryhamilton and @aqpippin love you both mwah mwah

shuffle your ‘on repeat’ playlist and list the first 10 songs that play, then tag 10 people ✨

Okay I have no clue who has been tagged already so if you’ve already done this I’m sorry xoxoxox I love you all @inespadrille @sapphire-to-the-rain @thecollectionsof @junosjukebox @scrunklyshinyguy @sweetlikesunflowersandhoney @glittertrail @goodemethyd @sweetestberryofthebunch @la-grande-dames

[kaileedraws]

Introduction: Adrien Agreste

Hey fellow miraculers! Here’s Adrien and a little about how he’s going to be portrayed in this AU. I’ll list the characteristics and/or problems that I saw in the show and then delve into how I’m going to take things here. Most of the issues I found in his character is just that his issues aren’t really talked about, but the subtext of a great character is there and he definitely has main character potential

1. His outfit

This is honestly a budget issue/creating recognizable characters for the show, but like all characters, I want to see more Gabriel Agreste fashion on him.

2. Love interest or main character?

In the show, it’s said that he’s the main character, but he doesn’t appear as such. A lot of his emotions, struggles, and life isn’t delved into as much as Marinette, yet he has so much potential. He’s a teenage Rapunzel trapped in a tower waiting for his ladybug in shining armor to come save him. I want to explore not only his fears of losing his freedom, but also his experimentation with rebellion and standing up to his father.

3. Adrien as a Model

In the show, his life as a model isn’t talked about really much, he just thinks it’s boring and it’s a nuisance to him. However, with some research, I discovered how horrible it can be. For one, Adrien would become desensitized to personal space and being touched without permission, putting him into awkward positions in his job and even with classmates. He would get taken advantage of a lot easier. As a model and celebrity, Adrien would also experience Parasocial Confusion — which is when a celebrity has difficulty distinguishing between genuine personal connections/love and relationships/infatuations of fans. This would make relationships with him incredibly difficult.

Additionally, model assault is a huge thing in the fashion industry. Unfortunately, because Adrien is such a pushover and people pleaser, this puts him up to be a prime target for abuse that he probably thinks is just normal (yes this happens, I promise, it sucks.) I want to see a huge character arc with him learning about personal boundaries and learning how to enforce them, with his friends teaching him what is Ok and what is not socially.

4. His personality before his mother dies

If I’m not mistaken, I don’t think we ever get much insight into how Adrien is like before Emilie “disappears.” From what we know about her, she is a princess and an actress, which brings me to my headcanon:

Emilie brought Adrien up on broadway shows, fairytales, and romances — this would explain why he has an “old fashioned” ideology that “boys save girls” (S3E3). This would also explain his gentlemanly behavior— like he was literally written/taught his behavior by a princess (he was. Her name is Emilie).

Inspired by musical theatre and the arts, Adrien began to take dance classes, where he meets Chloe Bourgeois — Emilie is to blame for this, and Gabriel would rather him take fencing, but he gives in. Chloe and Adrien become childhood friends through dance and being partnered often is how they became so close. Based on his “breakdancing” moves as Chat Noir, I think it would also be reasonable that he took other forms of dance too, like hiphop.

As Emilie started to get sicker and sicker, his ambitions for dance and the arts faded. He began fencing like his father wanted to and abandoned dancing. He and Chloe still remained close friends — as this was the only friend he was allowed to have. Gabriel knew Chloe’s dad, after all.

Although Emilie was portrayed to be kind, beautiful, and caring, it’s easy to paint memories of a person better than they actually were. Although she was those things, Emilie also was dramatic, hotheaded, and emotional. If Adrien did something wrong, she’d be quick to scold him harshly, but then just as quick to apologize for her outburst. Toward the end of her life, she was also rather absent from Adrien’s life, as she didn’t have much energy to take care of him anymore. It was difficult for her to take care of him as she got more and more sick, and he would often try to be the best little boy he could because he didn’t want to be a burden on top of her sickness. I mean remember, the last 3 years his dad had gotten him a freaking PEN for his birthday. This occurred when Emilie was still alive.

The person who raised him the most was Nathalie — as his mother became weak, and Gabriel became absent

5. Mental health and coping so he isn’t akumatized

Headcanon that to keep himself from being akumatized, Gabriel has him talk to a counselor who prescribes him multiple medications that work a little TOO well. Meaning? Let’s just say that he starts to become numb to feelings and that it’s just another way for his father to control him — His rebellion streak is going to hit hard yo.

Despite these methods, he’s still going to get akumatized — don’t worry, no one is safe.

His mental health illnesses insinuated from the show include depression, ADHD, parasocial confusion, abandonment trauma, social anxiety disorder, attachment disorder/trauma (which leads to lack of boundaries), and to add some spice, probably claustrophobia (or just feeling trapped). This poor boy has so much he needs to shift through and I’m excited to guide him on an arc to healing.

Conclusion

I think Adrien is my favorite character simply because of how there are certain aspects of him that I heavily relate to — plus he’s such a kind soul who has every right to turn into a villain but stays a sunshine golden retriever boy. It takes a lot of strength and determination to go through so much and be good in the end. I can’t wait to write him in this AU and give the boy the healing and happiness he deserves. There’s so much more I could talk about with him, but this is just the beginning!

[goodbuckcharlie]

I made it | Jack Hughes

Summary: Jack was Lucy’s first love, they dated in high school but broke up when Jack left for the NHL. After a long debate with a certain older Hughes brother, Lucy decided to invite Jack to her broadway debut, but she didn’t expect him to actually show up.

Warnings: cussing

Notes: well I know I said I would work on the Cole story but I’m kinda stuck rn and this idea came to me. It’s a little shorter than I hoped but I think this one may be my favorite. Also italics means it’s a flash back

Lucy doesn’t even know what she’s doing. She just got the news that she landed her dream role as Elphaba on broadway. Her high school dream just in arms reach. Her thumb floats over his caller id.

Jacky💕

She never had the heart to delete his contact. Not even the guts to change his name. Despite him breaking her heart, he was the one who supported her dreams the most.

It was opening night of her Senior musical. The school musical was Shrek and Lucy was playing Fiona. She kept looking in the crowd, hoping to see a glimpse of her parents, but every time she looked she slowly lost hope. But that dread was quickly replaced with joy as she saw her boyfriend and his family take their seats in the front row. Ellen and Jim were dressed up nice, Jack was dressed nice as well, but his hair definitely shows that he just got out of the shower after practice. Luke on the other hand, let’s just say Lucy was just happy he was there.

At the end of the performance, as she took her bow, Jack was cheering for her so loud that you would have thought he was at a sporting event. Lucy couldn’t help, but blush. Well as much blushing she can do under her green face paint.

Once the curtains close, Lucy rushes out of her costume to see Jack as soon as possible. When she leaves the theater room, she is greeted by Jack holding a bouquet of sunflowers, her favorite flowers.

“You came!!” She pulls Jack into a hug who quickly saved the flowers from being smushed by raising them above his head. He laughs at her excitement.

“Of course I made it.” He kisses her forehead before looking in her eyes, “I’m your number one fan.”

She couldn’t bring herself to call him, but part of her knew she needed to tell someone from that time of her life.

“Hello, who is this?” Of course he didn’t have her number saved.

“This was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have called.” She goes to hang up, but luckily, Quinn recognizes her voice.

“Lucy?! What’s wrong?” She takes a deep breath, before talking to Quinn.

“I’m sorry to bother you Quinn, I just need to tell someone , but I couldn’t bring myself to call him, not after how we left things off.” Lucy holds in her tears.

“Hey you may not be with him anymore, but you are still like a little sister to me.” Quinn’s words brought comfort to Lucy, calming her down. “You can always talk to me.”

One last deep breath, Lucy lets it all go. “Quinn, I’m going to be on broadway.”

“Wait for real!? This is amazing Lulu.”She smiles at the use of the nickname she hasn’t heard for a long time. “What date is opening night, I’ll totally buy a ticket to see it.”

“March 6th, but I already checked your schedule, and you are busy Mr. Captain.” Since this was the first time she talked to Quinn since the break up, it’s the first time she has called him captain. “But it would be knowing someone in the crowd was there for me, besides my brother.”

“You know someone who doesn’t play that day and would drop anything to see you.” She knows exact who she’s talking about.

“No Quinn, I doubt Jack wants to see me after 5 years. He has better things to do.” She still can’t believe it has been this long. “He was the one who broke up with me remember?”

“He misses you Lulu.” She shakes her head in disbelief. She’s seen Jack’s public life, he’s dated other girls, he’s out partying with his friends on the off season, and most importantly he is being successful in the NHL. “You have no idea how many time I’ve been on phone with Jack basically having this exact conversation. Every important game he calls me asking if he should invite you. I always tell him yes, but evidently he never goes through with it.”

“I’ve actually been to a few games believe it or not, last game I went to was the infamous Hughes bowl.” She couldn’t afford the lower bowl seats, but even in the nose bleeds she was supporting Jack, the Hughes brothers.

“Never let Jack know that, he’ll get so upset that you paid to watch him play. Knowing him he would try and figure out how much you spent in total, then would pay you back.” She laughs knowing that would exactly what Jack would do.

“He would also get mad if he knew I bought my own jersey.” She looks over in her closet and sees her number 86 Devils jersey that almost taunts her. “I wear it every game day.”

The two are silent for a little bit before Quinn speaks up. “What if I buy Jack a ticket and send it to him. I won’t tell him about this conversation. He can decide for himself if he goes or not but I can guarantee once he sees that you are performing, he will drop everything to see you.”

“I can’t tell you what to do with your money Quinn , but I can ask that you don’t waste your money.”

“How about this, we make a bet, the Lucy I remember always loved a good bet,” Lucy was very competitive in high school (she still is competitive but she would never tell anyone about that) “If Jack goes, you have to give him another chance . If he doesn’t go, I will never bother you about Jack again.”

“You know what you have a deal.” After making the deal, the two stay on the phone catching up for an hour. They talk about how the team is doing, how Ellen and Jim are and how much they also miss Lucy. They also talked about how Lucy got the role. Overall, Lucy was just glad to talk to one of the Hughes again.

During his lunch time the next day, Jack got a text from Quinn.

Qball- Don’t fuck it up this time.

There was a link attached. So out of curiosity, Jack opened the link and saw it was a ticket to see Wicked on broadway. He immediately send Quinn a text back questioning what he means.

Qball- Look up the cast idiot.

Jack looks up the cast after he rolls his eyes at his brother. But when he saw Lucy’s name in big letter next to Elphaba, his heart feels like it stopped.

Qball- she wants you to go, but was too scared to ask you herself.

Jack😎- It’s been so long, what would I even say to her when I saw her?

Qball- the truth. You love her Jack and I can’t guarantee she feels the same but she does deserve the closure you never gave her.

Jack😎- after all this time maybe it’s best if I just left her alone.

Qball- I can’t make you go but if you don’t please at least give the ticket to Luke or even mom. Lucy deserves to have someone there to support her.

Jack😎- I’ll think about it, but thanks for letting me know.

Jack let’s put a groan and puts his head down trying to think.

“What’s up with him?” Jack forgot that he was with his team mates but he quite frankly didn’t care. Not even as Luke grabs his phone.

“Oh shit is this for real.” Jack groans again. “Damn dude Lucy looks hot as fuck.”

Jack’s head shoots up and he glares at Luke.

“What, on the cast list there’s a link to her Instagram. And I’m just stating facts look.” Luke hands Jack back his phone and he sees that Luke was right. Lucy had gotten rid of her braces and glasses which he also found adorable, but there was something about her matured look that made Jack awe struck.

“Who’s Lucy?” Nico asks looking over Jack’s shoulder.

“Jack’s high school sweetheart.” Luke says looking Lucy up on Instagram on his own phone. “Jack was an asshole and dumped her when he got drafted. He legit dumped her over text.”

“That was 5 years ago asshole.” Jack mutters

“She’s really talented.” Jack was playing a clip that she posted of her singing and everyone could hear it. “You really fumbled the bag dude.”

“You think she’s single?” John says while Luke showed him pictures of Lucy. “If so you think you could put in a good word for me?”

“Fuck off.” Jack feels himself getting angry but he doesn’t understand why, Lucy was no longer his, and he lost his right to get over protective of her years ago. He storms off out of the living room out to his room m. Luke follows him.

“Come on Jack, you have no right to be upset.” Jack knows Luke is right but he pouts anyways. “So what are you going to do about that ticket?”

“Maybe mom should go, you know how much she misses Lucy.” Jack says looking at a photo that Lucy posted for her birthday. It was a picture of her in high school laughing. Jack was cropped out of the photo but he can still picture the memory in his head.

“Did you not read what Quinn said?” Luk sits down next to Jack. “She wants you there Jack. She wants your support. Don’t you at least think she deserves that?”

“I do support her and she deserves all the support in the world, but she also deserves better than me.” Jack hold back his tears in front of his brother. “I remember the text her brother sent me. The day I broke up with her, I blocked her so I couldn’t see her response. A hour later, Carson texted me telling me that I would never find anyone better than Lucy and that I would have to watch in regret as his big sister became a star. Harshest words I’ve ever heard from an 11 year old.”

Both brothers laugh as the remember Carson, who actually looked up to Jack until the break up. Luke remembers being told to fuck off by the 11 year old, when he tried reaching out to Lucy after the break up.

“I thought in that moment, he was right. I still think he is right, I don’t deserve to walk back into her life now that it’s more convenient for me.” Jack looks at his desk where he keeps a picture of Lucy and his family after her first musical during their freshmen year.

“Yeah maybe you don’t deserve her after what you did, but there is no denying the love you two shared.”Luke puts his hand on Jack’s shoulder before continuing, “I’m not the best at advice so I’m just going to repeat what Quinn said that she deserves closure.”

“I just want her to be happy, Luke.” Jack cries as Luke holds his older brother.

A few months later and a lot of hard work, it was finally time for opening night. After hours in the makeup chair, Lucy was as ready as she’ll ever be.

As she is waiting to go on she can’t help, but think of Jack.

The two were sitting in Jack’s room as they often did. As long as they had the door open per Ellen’s request. They were watching a movie on Jack’s computer as the cuddled under the sheets.Lucy was able to convince Jack to watch Wizard of oz.

“So you are telling me there is a musical where the pink witch and the evil witch are best friends and it’s about how the evil witch becomes evil?”

“Yes and it’s considered to be one of the greatest musicals of all times.” Lucy turns and faces Jack, “One day, I’ll be that evil witch. Although her name is Elphaba.”

“And I’ll be in the crowd cheering you on.” Jack smiles before kissing her cheek, “plus you’ll be the hottest green chick ever.”

Lucy laughs to herself before it’s show time. She seriously doubted Quinn’s plan, but she wasn’t going to let Jack’s absence ruin her night. Because at the end of the day, her little brother was there and that’s all she needed.

Speaking of Carson, he was sat in the orchestra seating, Lucy wanted to get him front row seats but he knew how die hard wicked fans are so he said he was fine where ever he sat as long as he could see her. Carson also brought his girlfriend who just like Lucy was into Musical theatre. Lucy never told Carson this, but his relationship reminded her so much of hers and Jack’s relationship at their age.

Carson and his girlfriend, Macy, were quietly talking during the intermission when Carson realized who was sat a seat away from Macy.

Jack Hughes.

Carson got silent and Macy noticed as well. Of course Macy knew who Jack Hughes was and she also knew about the ‘asshole nhl player the broke Lucy’s heart.’ And with Jack’s appearance tonight and Carson’s reaction, the girl put one and one together. She grabs onto Carson’s hand to comfort him before the house lights dimmed signaling the end of the intermission.

At the end of the performance, it was time for final bows. When it’s Lucy’s turn to bow the crowd and cast all go wild in applause. Lucy looks for her brother and Macy in the crowd but gasps when she locks eyes with Jack Hughes.

Jack is standing up while he cheers her on. She sees Carson who is three seats away. Carson glares at Jack while cheering on Lucy and she hide her laughter at the sight .

When the curtains close and Lucy’s costars all ambush her in hugs, Macy prepares for the worse. Carson goes over to Jack who hasn’t noticed him yet.

“Car don’t do anything stupid.” Carson just ignores her and he taps on Jacks shoulder.

Carson looks very different from what he did when he was 11. He now had a mullet and an eyebrow piercing (one that his friend did in his garage one day much to Lucy’s disapproval). But he was also now 6’0 and had a scarier demeanor. Honestly Jack was only able to recognize him from a photo Lucy had posted on her instagram. Jack goes to say something but Carson holds his hand up.

“Save it, as much as I never wanted to see you ever again, she wants you here so I respect that you came.” Carson softly grabs Macy’s hand, “we are going to the stage exit to go meet up with her. She takes 20 minutes to get out of all her makeup and costume. If you finally want to act like a man and treat my sister like she deserves you are welcome to join us, but if you are only here cause your latest one night stand stood you up or something like that, don’t waste her time and go back to Jersey.”

Jack is stunned as Carson and Macy walk away, but he quickly regains his composure and follows after them. While waiting outside, Jack watches the couple interact. He sees grumpy Carson and his happy girlfriend who is trying to calm him down. He smiles as he remembers how grumpy he got after a bad practice or a bad game and how Lucy would cheer him up.

Actors and actresses leave one by one until it’s time for Lucy. She is radiant as she greets fans and signs playbills. At the end of the group of fans was where Carson ,Macy and Jack stood. When she finally gets to Jack she couldn’t look away.

Carson pulls her out of her trance by hugging her. Macy joins making it a group hug. The teens hold on for a second before letting Lucy go.

“You did amazing out there.” Macy was always star struck at Lucy’s talents, reminiscent of how Carson idolized Jack.

“We are going to head home, I’ll drive your car.” Carson says grabbing Lucy’s car key. He then looks at Jack and then back at Lucy, “Don’t do anything stupid, but also don’t be afraid to give him another chance. I hate to say this, but I always like how happy he made you.”

“Thanks Car.” She leans up and kisses her brother’s forehead before he turns to Jack.

“Don’t fuck this shit up. Break her heart again and I’ll put your ass on the long term injury list.” Jack nods as Macy pulls Carson away.

“Damn when did he get scary?” Jack and Lucy laugh. When the laughter dies down, she looks at Jack with the same adoration she had for him when they were kids.

“You came.” Finally she hugs him, after many years yearning for his warmth.

“Of course I made it.” He says returning the hug. “I so told you that you would be the hottest green chick.”

Playfully she shoves Jack who just laughs. To get away from the crowd they walk to Jack’s car and on the walk they catch up.

“So Carson lives out here now?” Jack recalls Carson saying that he was going home earlier.

“Yeah I got custody of him about a year ago. Mom passed away shortly after you left and dad just got worse. It was no place for him, so I took my dad to court.” She shivers slightly so Jack gives her his jacket before she continues her story. “I have no idea what I’m doing raising a 16 year old, luckily my neighbor helped me out and now Carson is dating their daughter Macy.”

“You know from the small interactions I saw them have, they remind me of us.” Jack test the waters and holds her hand, which she gladly accepts, “Speaking about brothers, Luke and Quinn miss you.”

“How about you Jack, did you miss me?”

“More than anything.”

Jack opens the car door for Lucy and helps her get in before he got into the driver side.

“So miss Broadway do you have any plans tonight or can I take you out to eat?” Jack says while putting his seatbelt on.

“ I have no plans Mr NHL.But if we are going out I need time order delivery for Carson and Macy” Jack pulls out his credit card from his wallet.

“Use my card.” She tries to decline his card, but he shakes his head, “Lucy it’s the least I could do.”

She sighs before calling Macy to ask what they want for dinner. After she got the response, Lucy went and ordered food for the teens. She tried to enter her card, but Jack snatched her phone and entered his card instead.

“So now that, that’s take care of. Would you like to go out to dinner?” He hands her the phone back.

“You know I could really go for a good burger and fries, that’s if your professional team of dietitians would allow that.” Jack smiles remembering one of his favorite dates with her.

Jack had just gotten his license and he was driving around in Quinn’s hand me down car. Right after passing his drivers test, he drove straight to Lucy’s house.

“So where does the princess want to go?” Jack asked as she got into the car.

“You know I could really go for a burger and fries.” She gets into her seat and Jack takes her to their favorite local diner.

When they arrive, the host seats them at their favorite table. While they wait for their food, Lucy tells Jack about her day.

“And in front of everyone my voice cracked, god it was so embarrassing, Jacky.” She hides her face at the memory.

“I bet you have the cutest voice cracks.” The love struck boy laughs as his girl rolls her eyes at him.

“No voice cracks are cute Jacky.”

“Well yours are cause they come from you.” Their food finally arrives and they both grab a fry off the other person’s plate. Something they have done since they started dating. They called it ‘checking for poison’ but it was just one of those silly couple things.

“I love these little moments.” Lucy says as she bites into Jack’s fry.

“Well we have a whole lifetime full of little moments waiting for us.” He says while eating Lucy’s fry.

“A burger and fries sound wonderful, Lulu.”

The two had dinner and it was like nothing changed. They shared food like normal, they talked like it was just a normal Wednesday dinner.

They finished their food and were getting ready to head out and of course Jack paid. Afterwards the two sit in Jack’s car, which was another thing they did often when they dated.

“You’re telling me that Carson became an islander fan after everything happened?” Jack chuckles at Carson’s pettiness.

“Yeah, he even forced me to take him to a game, where we met a few of the players.” She pulls up a picture they took where Carson was wearing a islander jersey and Lucy was just in a normal sweater as they stood next to a couple players, “One of the guys actually asked for my number.”

“Which guy?” Jack felt himself getting jealous.

“Oh Jacky I don’t even remember.” Of course she did after all she did give him her number. But she looks away from Jack. “Even if I did it was a year ago Jack.”

“You obviously do remember, you won’t look at me right now.” Jack doesn’t mean to be sassy towards Lucy, but let’s be honest, being sassy is in his dna.

“Why does it matter Jack? You’ve had other girlfriends why couldn’t I date someone else?” Lucy tries not to cry, but a few tears slip out, “Do you know how hard it was to watch you have other girlfriends while I stayed stuck on you. Yes I did give the Islander player my number, but I told him I wasn’t interested in a relationship. I told every guy that had any interest in me that I wasn’t interested. You want to know why Jack? Because they weren’t you.”

Jack stayed silent not knowing what to say.

“And now you just come back here like you didn’t single handed break my heart last time I saw you,. Oh wait I didn’t even see you when it happened did I Jack.” She cries some more finally letting all of her emotions out. “I should hate you, I really should. But tell me why I feel nothing but love for you.”

“Lucy, there is nothing I regret more than, breaking up with you. I was a coward, but please give me another chance.” He wipes away her tears, “Those girls were my failed attempts on forgetting you, but nothing worked. I know I don’t deserve it but please give me a second chance.”

“I don’t know Jack, I don’t want to promise you anything. But I can say, I’m willing to try again slowly.” Jack smiles and he holds her hand. 

“That’s all I could ask for.”

Between hockey games and Lucy’s shows, the two spent any free time together. Despite the busy schedules, they found the time to go out. Tonight, Lucy was singing the national anthem at Jack’s game versus the Islanders.

“Ladies and Gentlemen please welcome the star of broadway’s Wicked, Lucy Masters, with the singing of our national Anthem.”

The crowd cheers before getting silent for Lucy. She sings beautifully and when she hits the high note at the end, the crowd went wild. The song finishes, and she finally locks eyes with Jack. She gives him a little wave before she is ushered off the ice.

At the end of the game, the devils won 4-0. Carson ,who surprisingly wore a Hughes 43 jersey instead of his regular Islander Barzal 13 Jersey, was hyped by the win. He went into a rant as the pair waited for Jack to leave the locker room.

“Damn I miss hockey.” Lucy loves seeing Carson happy more than anything. She was glad that he decided to come, seeing it as a step in the right direction.

“You know if you aren’t too rusty at it, we can go shoot the puck together one day.” Both Lucy and Carson look over and see Jack. He pulls Lucy into a hug. “Hands down the best performance of the night goes to you Miss Lucy.”

“I am not so sure about that, a shut out game and both you and Timo getting two points? Much more impressive.” Lucy praises Jack causing Carson to gag.

“Come on Carson, let’s leave the lovers alone.” Luke comes out of nowhere and directs Carson towards his car. Lucy and Carson were spending the night at Jack and Luke’s place so they didn’t have to drive back to New York this late. So Luke was okay with driving Carson back while Jack and Lucy have a car to themselves. Carson leaves with Luke, but not until he sent a few menacing glares at Jack.

“Just so you know, the team chirped the hell out of me when Luke told them how scared I am of Carson.” To be fair, now that Carson is one of the best high school prospects of the 2025 class and has scouts coming to almost every game now, especially since he is a leftie, he’s a scary teenager.

“In your defense, his pitch is reaching an average of 88 miles per hour as a junior. I would be scared of him too.” Jack looks at Lucy and smiles as he sees her in his jersey.

“You look so good in my number.” He steps back and acts like he is taking a photo of her with an invisible camera, “Picture perfect baby.”

“Jacky you are such a dork.”She turns around and walks away while smiling. Jack runs up behind her and pulls her into a hug.

“I’ll gladly be a dork if that means I’m your dork.”

Jack had been miserable as Lucy was gone at a two week long theater camp. Luke thought if Lucy didn’t get home soon, Quinn would kill Jack. The day she was coming back, Jack sat by the door waiting for Ellen to come back with Lucy. He originally wanted to come with but he forgot to finish his chores the night before so Ellen made him stay home and wait.

When his mom’s car pulls in to the driveway, Jack bolts out the door, almost like a wild animal. Lucy gets out of the car and Jack tackles her in a hug. He gives her small kisses all over her face.

“I missed you, I missed you, I missed you.” Jack repeats this mantra as Lucy struggles to wiggle out of his hold. All the while, Lucy is dying of laughter.

“Get off me you dork.” It takes Quinn pulling Jack off to get Lucy free. He then picks up Lucy like a sack of potatoes and runs away from Jack. The boys run around, as Jack tries to get Lucy back.

“Quinn put the poor girl down.” Ellen calls out. Quinn puts Lucy down carefully and Jack runs over and grabs on to Lucy like a kid hold their favorite toy.

“Fear not fair damsel, your hero has saved you from the ugly ass troll.” (QUINN BABY DON’T LISTEN TO THIS YOU ARE VERY PRETTY) Quinn just flips off his brother before heading back into the house, “I think your hero deserves a kiss for saving you.”

“You’re lucky I find you cute, you dork.” Lucy pulls him down into a kiss. Jack can’t help but smile.

“I may be a dork, but I’m your dork.”

“You’ll always be my dork Jacky.” Lucy pulls him down into a kiss. Their first kiss in five years. Jack would freeze time and live in this moment forever if he could. Sadly time has to go on and the pair pull apart. “Let’s go home Jacky.”

Hand in hand, they leave the arena, full of hope for the future of their relationship.

[whereserpentswalk]

The Night Hunt

I need to eat. It’s not eating anymore. It doesn’t feel like thirst or hunger. It’s not something I would have understood as a human. I feel like I’m going to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t think anyone would mind if I did. My mouth is shaped so differently than it once was, I can’t move my jaws, I feel empty, I need it to fill me, and I feel empty.

The upper west side vampiric community center was cramped, getting everything it could from limited funds and real estate. The walls were white and the lighting sterile, their deadness only broken by overly enthusiastic posters. It was strange looking at the other vampires in the building, most of them seemed to be doing much better than me. Even most of the ones that ones you could tell weren’t human at a glance usually looked more human than me. It felt like everyone I saw was doing better than me, the petite girl in a black dress talking to her parents on the phone, the bearded man with cats eyes dressed in fancy clothes he had probably owned some version of for centuries, the snake mouthed person guzzling down a can of commercially sold blood like it was soda. I could assume a lot of the vampires I saw here had supportive families, and many others were old enough to be well adjusted to their lives. It almost hurt looking at vampires who could pass better than me, or who could better mask vampiric traits, this embarrassing envy, that I was a monster even by the standards of monsters.

I could have socialized, but I was too tired, and too thirsty. I had just been denied a good behavior slip by the New York State government, and thus denied a month’s supply of donated blood, and the building stopped being somewhere I wanted to be. Most vampires can’t get a good behavior slip, A lot don’t even try just because of how humiliating and restrictive life during the audit can be. A lot of them live off of relatives’ and friend’s blood, or buy it wholesale. I don’t have the option for either of those, at least not consistently.

I walked up Broadway, when I left, below the safety of the dark sky, and the calming yellow light of the windows, past the old brick buildings of a childhood that now seems alien to me. Best to get outside time in while I can, it’s summer, giving me few hours before the sun rises. It’s strange to remember when I walked down that street as a human. That deep loss of something I can remember but will never feel once more. Remembering how easy things were. When the restaurants smelled good to my body, instead of sickly sweet. It would’ve made me cry to see myself reflected in a window, if my eyes had tears to cry. To see I was the type of vampire other even other vampires shunning, too vampiric perhaps, to close to what they all fear being, too close to what they’re all accused of. I used to think of losing my humanity was a horrible fate, and now I am the bad ending for so many other nonhumans. I wonder how many of my kind’s advocates think I’m worthy of oppression. They say not all vampires look horrifying to humans, but I look horrifying to humans. They say not all vampires think violent thoughts about humans automatically, but I find myself doing that so often. They say not all vampires are weak to sunlight, or are hurt by symbols of their prior faith, but I am, and it hurts, and if acceptance means telling people it doesn’t hurt I’ll just get hurt more.

I tried to think of something to distract myself. Tried to think of friends who still cared about me, about that show I wanted to finish, tired to think about that Lord of the Rings fanfic that I wrote in middle school that I had though about on that street, on a bright day so alien to the humid night I walked through. No matter what I thought about there was always blood in the back on my mind. Even when a vampire isn’t thinking about blood directly, when they’re low, as almost fatally low as I was, it’s always able to be felt in the background. I could feel my body’s desire for blood, feel the pain and weakness of not having it. It was strange, to know that my body hurt because it wanted like, that my body only transformed into a vampire because it would have died from being bitten by one if it hadn’t. My body wanted to live as a vampire so much more than I did. My hands shook, my gate more unbalanced, more stumbling than it usually was, my twisted and inhuman mouth, the most inhuman part of my body, salivating. The staggered and almost animalistic walk must have made me look even more like a monster. The pigeons flew away when they saw me, they must have known, or maybe that’s just what pigeons are like.

 My once tan skin now so pale my organs are visible, my once fit body now skinny, my brown eyes forever white, and my mouth perfectly round and unmoving and filled with sharp tooth after sharp tooth like a lamprey. All so perfect to drink blood, all built to drain blood. It hurts to think I’ll probably be in this body for centuries. The same hoodie I’d been wearing for days still covers me a bit, as does my mess of uncut hair, I don’t really have to wash these things without human oils on my body anymore. It’s not good to think too long about that fact. There is no wonder my parents would rather consider their precious daughter basically dead, than know that she lived as this. I might do the same if I had a choice. I think about when I was turned sometimes, how I didn’t get to be turned out of love, or lust, or spite, how the bite was meant to kill me, how it would have killed me if I wasn’t rushed to the hospital, or if I hadn’t fought the attacker off. I never even knew the name of the vampire who attacked me. I didn’t know why he did at the time, I assumed it was from hate, I understand now, I would never defend attacking someone like that but I understand, he was hungry, I know how it feels to want blood like how he must have. People would have had me better in their memories if I had died, nobody admits it, but it’s true, my parents convinced themselves I had on religious grounds, saying my soul had left my body, I understand why, my reputation was not tarnished.

As I walked past stores and restaurants that had closed hours earlier, saw how little the world wanted me. I wondered how I would keep existing. I remembered that my transformation has made it so I wouldn’t age, couldn’t die a natural death at all, I realized how strange it would be for me to exist in a body like the one I did for hundreds more years, thousands if I got lucky. There was the feeling that maybe I’d be murdered, most of society didn’t even want the most human passing, most privileged vampires to live, it sucked even for people who had it so much better than me, maybe I’d just die, maybe one of those monster hunter gangs would finally due me in like they always threaten to online. But what if I didn’t, what if I had to still live. If I actually had put the work in to having positive relationships with the community maybe some vampiric elder would be able to tell me. As it was I felt lost, I didn’t know what I could be doing a hundred years from where I stood. Would things be better than, for me, for us? Would I be ok?

For a moment my eye caught a girl around my age. As a human I would have felt lust for her, she had that exact look that I used to like. Glistening hair dyed a candy colored red, a pale pink Cowboy Bebop t-shirt covering her chest. I would have felt lust, or perhaps a more noble sounding attraction, but now that part of me is gone, and seeing a young healthy body like that just makes me think about what it would be like to drink her instead of making me think about being in bed with her. I knew it was wrong, but it would feel so good, to feel my mouth punch into her neck, and drain her dry. I don’t want to feel this way, the logical part of my brain doesn’t like feeling this way, but it’s a feeling in my body. When I looked at her soft skin my teeth ever so slightly extended outwards, and the tiredness from the pain of thirst temporarily ceasing as my body filled with energy, my dreaming mind fantasizing about holding her as I drank her blood, as ashamed as I am of such thoughts, as little as I’d want to ever hurt someone like her, it felt so good in the moment just to fantasize. It was the closest I still had to feeling anything sexual or romantic, as many social media posts as there are telling you it’s a myth that all vampires lose their sexual or romantic feelings, it’s true for me, I don’t even have breasts or sex organs anymore, as horrifying as that is to even acknowledge about myself. Just another thing that makes me seem less human, and just another thing that makes drinking human blood seem to desirable. I didn’t want to hurt her, just looking at her walking, she seemed so happy, so pure.

I did nothing, yet she still crossed the street. I understood, it was late, and I was a ragged looking vampire walking near her, she had a right to feel safe. I ran, as thirsty as my body was I didn’t want to be near her, and didn’t want to cause a scene.

Best to flee uptown, Time Square is filled with Faeries, and Central Park with werewolves, and neither take kindly to my kind in the places they tend to hang out. There is a safety in being human, despite all the stories of young maidens scratched up in monster’s arms, with blood contrasting on top of their pretty white skin, most monsters with ill wills are way more likely to target other species of monster rather than humans. Humans are often well armed, and well defended by the law, and so many monsters are so eager to prove their kind’s validity through their hatred of another species of monster.

My running only stopped when I had to cross the street to avoid a church. One of those big ornate ones you’d see a vampiric villain hang out in in a thriller movie, with that shining stained glass they haven’t built in generations. They say it’s not anything divine that burns vampires that are weak to holy symbols, it’s just the memory of faith that hurts, the memory of the most human of all actions. Doesn’t change the fact that the pope still says we don’t have souls. The church ghosts all fled, they floated somewhere else just from seeing me, I wanted to yell to them “What? Are you too good even to haunt me.” I didn’t of course, I didn’t want to cause a scene. Maybe I would have if I wasn’t so weak from thirst.

I can’t get blood. The state won’t give it to me. My friends would say no if I asked. I can’t afford to buy it. I dropped out of school when I was turned, there wasn’t accommodation, and late classes were hard to get. Most of the friends I still have either treat me like a tragedy to fawn over, or like I could kill them at any time, they’re only human after all. I guess that’s why they recommend socializing with other monsters. I barely look for work anymore, even well-meaning humans are uncomfortable around me, though to be fair I’ve done nothing not to make them uncomfortable, and it’s impossible to ask them to close daytime windows, or keep silver and garlic away.  I spend so much time on the internet. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be this thirsty. I don’t want to look this way, and I don’t want to need blood. I never chose any of this, never chose to be bitten, never chose to be saved.

For a moment I saw another person on the street, alone with me. Some rich kid staggering drunk and barely knowing where he is, a sweatshirt from some fancy wizarding school clinging on to his body. His rosy yet pale cheeks, so vulnerable, not so privileged that he could hurt me, just privileged enough to feel like every bad though I could have towards him was punching up. He was the exact type of asshole that I’d expect to call me a slur, to be proud that wizards like him had engaged in just enough vampire hunts in the thirties and forties to be considered another type of human. But he didn’t. He didn’t notice me at all, he just sang to himself with his earbuds in and his eyes glued to his phone as he stumbled past closed stores.

I can smell blood on his lips. I remember that there is another way to quench my thirst. I’d have to drain him dry so that nobody would know. I don’t want to. I don’t want to be that type of vampire. His body is so fresh, I’d be full for like a year. I can’t stop looking at him and remembering my life. He’ll run but I can catch up to him, and he’ll taste so good. And I would be so hard to catch if I drained him to death, he’s a stranger, the case would go cold. I need blood, and he has blood, it’s like a trolly problem, you don’t need sadism to pick yourself when you’re tied to the tracks. And I can’t think of another way I could get blood before starving to death.  It feels weird to grab his wrist as he struggles, too thirsty to think too deeply. I don’t want to look at his face when he screams, but something deep within me is excited to hear a human scream. I feel sorry for him I think, he didn’t deserve this, I didn’t deserve this, if things were different… well they aren’t different. God my voice sounds demonic with this mouth. “I’m sorry, but I have to do this.”

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Read It and Weep- Part 1

Pairing: NFL!Player!Rafe Cameron x Journalist!Reader

Summary: Sports journalist Y/n is covering a pro-NFL football game when she gets knocked down by wide reciever Rafe Cameron. He helps her up and immediately can't seem to take his eyes off of her as they celebrate their win. After, at the post game conference, him and the reader share an interesting conversation and he learns (earns) her name.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Violence, swearing, I think that's it honestly.

Song: "My Ordinary Life" by The Living Tombstones

A/n: This might be the most excited I've ever seen @tee-swizzle get over a fic I've written. This is some serious hot and cute and angsty shit, buckle up, it's quite a ride. This is part 1 of 10!

I always thought the only time I would enjoy men running around in costumes would be on Broadway.

The sophisticated, planned, calculated moves, the falsetto notes they hit while running around in expensive costumes that took hours and hours to create. Men on Broadway are just a whole other breed- don’t get me wrong, all actors and actresses alike are all impressive beyond belief, it’s a hard field to be a part of. But there’s something so groundbreaking and heartwarming to see men of all backgrounds doing what they love to do.

There’s just an art to it- Broadway- a beauty that a lot of people brush off and denounce as girly or even something that’s remarkably easy. They call theater kids loony (which coming from one, I’d have to agree just a bit), they’re constantly bullied and harassed but not when they make it to the big times. No- then they are set up on this pedestal where they are to be paid hundreds or thousands of dollars to get on stage, to dance and sing their favorite show tunes together where all of a sudden they’re people to look up to, forgetting all about their high school days and all the failed auditions that teared them down. But once they’re on that stage together, creating music and art, they’re a family in a sense. Leaving it all on the stage for the viewer, us, to enjoy. 

A brotherhood.

My new stage looks a little bit differently than it did when I was sixteen. 

My new stage consists of something similar- men, running around in matching outfits, same bright lights shining on them, sweat pouring down their necks, and they’re still a brotherhood- maybe even more so in a sense. But with this stage, there’s profanities, there's violence and, most of all, there are too many balls in one place at one time. 

Pun so intended.

The world of sports is not one that I saw myself getting into at the ripe age of twenty four, let alone football. I’ve always had a bit of a thing against football players but that happens when you grow up in the theater world where you’re constantly pushed around by the ‘higher class’ of the horrible high school hierarchy, being called names, shoved down stairs, having your lunch tossed into your lap. But the job that I was offered through a local journal in my hometown was just perfect for me- I couldn’t not take it. There would be no other job that could've come around that would’ve given me the same freetime and the ability to still have control over my schedule, all while supporting my home team. It gave me a chance to travel, to learn, and to be surrounded by attractive, sweaty men doing their thing. 

There’s a bit of a silver lining to it, I guess.

Working as a journalist for a professional football team was not the intended goal when I got my Bachelors degree in Journalism, nor was it the plan for my Masters. I wanted to go into freelancing or maybe dabble a bit in the socioeconomic crisis our country’s suffering from- maybe even write a few articles on how to save the turtles or some shit. 

But football? 

I spend most of my days on the sidelines, sketching down stats, learning plays and keeping up in the personal lives of our devoted players. I’m like one of those cheerleading girls I used to hate, practically a groupie of the team at this point. Even the coach and the other behind-the-scenes workers are on a first name basis with me at this point. 

Sixteen year old me would be disgusted- repulsed.

Current me? Not so disgusted as I’m watching a bunch of tall, bachelor-like men run around the field at top speed, tackling each other as the crowd colored in all different jerseys scream or boo in unison. I can’t fight the proud smile that’s on my lips as I look out at the field, just right there in front of me- I could reach out and just be a part of it. There’s something to home games that just gets your blood pumping in a special way, especially so close to playoffs, so close to glory and a big old fancy ring for our quarterback and team. It’s every team’s goal for the year but every news agency’s eyes are on us, watching us and the players so closely, betting and guessing that we’ll be the one to win everything this year. No pressure, right?

It’s an honor to be traveling with them all, I couldn’t have been paired with a more respectful group of men, even though some of them don’t even know my name or that I exist. They might see my name occasionally at the bottom of an article I’ve written about their triumphs or losses or they know me as the girl that they accidentally mistake for the water girl and who they then apologize profusely to following the mix up. 

Sarah the water girl and I look awfully a lot we’ve learned.

There’s not a lot of time left in the game now, less than two minutes in the last quarter and it’s tight, too close for comfort as the men in the front row of the stands scream their asses off, acting like their words will have any weight in the overall game. With how we’re playing right now, the defensive line tuckered out beyond belief, we’re not looking at winning, especially if they hold possession of the ball like they have been. The other team is smart, I’ll give them that, gnawing down at the clock, running down the time so if we did get the ball, we’d barely have the time to do anything remotely impressive. We’re down by 6 and if we’d just get a touchdown we’d be good and we would win, but we just need to get possession of the ball.

I write down the numbers of the players who’ve stuck out to me the most on this team to calm my nerves; number three Cameron offense, number seventeen McHarley defense, number 4 the quarterback- wait. 

 Why is everyone cheering? 

What just happened? 

Looking up from my notepad, I watch as our defense runs the ball in the opposite direction that we were going in before, instead towards the opposing team's endzone, indicating that, indeed, there was a turnover of some sort while I wasn’t paying attention. If that’s all it takes, my job just became a whole lot easier. 

The play resets, our offensive line and our quarterback stumble onto the field with a bit more pep in their steps compared to their previous run. They’re cheering and high fiving the defense as they pass each other in the middle of the field, bright smiles calming everyone's general anxiety and setting the record straight that we’re still in the game. There’s still a chance. 

They set themselves up within seconds and in moments they’re hiking the ball. I watch number three, one of my favorite wide receivers to watch, simply because of his overall spunk and sass for the game, subtly loving when he gets into little fights with people because I can always manage to hear his silly, boyish insults. He tries so hard to act tough, when he's really just the biggest puppy of all time. 

I’m so caught up in thinking about him, I completely miss him barreling my way just as the quarterback throws the ball in his direction. Cameron is wide open, no one even close to tackling him and I can hear him whooping as he runs towards the end zone. I grin wildly as he catches the ball, solidifying our win, and before the refs even signal for a TD, the whole crowd erupts in giggles and cheers. I go to clap and cheer for him but before I can, an opposing player is giving him one last shove for good measure and he is tumbling onto the ground, the ref beside me immediately throwing a flag into the air, just as Rafe slides in my direction full force. 

Before I can move, he takes me down to the ground. Hard. 

I hit the floor with a loud thud, ears ringing as my head slams against the turf and I can hear muffled voices and hands grabbing at me, brain rattling around in my head as I shove my eyes closed as tightly as they can, hands reaching up to cradle my aching skull. I can feel people trying to pry me up onto my feet, to help me up but I’ve barely even processed that I’ve fallen or that my favorite wide receiver is currently laying on both of my legs, trapping me to the ground. 

My eyes pop open moments later at the realization and I see cameras around me, mostly pointed at Cameron who’s kneeling in front of me, soft, blue, worried eyes gazing back at me as I struggle to find my voice. He looks at me, waiting for me to speak and, when I don’t, he simply reaches out, placing a firm, protective hand on the side of my head, steading my spinning eyes. I feel my body warming up at his touch, the loud, thrumming music playing in the stadium as an attempt to celebrate is drowned out by his voice filling my ears, his whole body leaning towards me so he can speak directly against the shell of my ear. 

“You good?” He yells over the cheering, thumb brushing against my temple, and I realize he’s not even celebrating the fact that he just won the game that’s sending us to playoff games, mapping the road to the Superbowl. I give him a half assed nod and a flushed smile and before I can say anything else, his teammates are pulling him up and into their arms, screaming loudly as boys can, all for the cameras as they pat each other on the helmets, knocking them together every once in a while.

“Yeah, I’m good.” I mutter to myself, pressing my pointer finger and thumb to the bridge of my nose to aid the headaches that’s creeping up the back of my neck, taking deep breaths and praying I don’t have a concussion. From across the field, through the mess of players and confetti, I can see number three looking over at me with kind, worried eyes that seem to want to say more than what he’s already said to me.

His eyes make me nearly forget that it’s my job to interview them. 

I guess I’ll ride my headache out and wait till the post game conference. 

–

From the time I got knocked down to the time when I stepped foot into the conference room, there were at least twenty-six different people who asked me if I was the one who was ‘tackled’ by Rafe Cameron after he caught the winning touchdown. After the third time, I started to feel a bit sheepish and honestly a bit embarrassed, wondering how long they’re going to string this out and ask me what it was like to be tackled by America’s most loved wide receiver. 

It was rough, I hit my head, it hurt- what else do they want from me? Do they want me to say I’m honored that he was so close to me, fangirl over his presence, that he made eye contact with me? Hell, he’s human and so am I. His reaction was purely a moment of humility and humanity shining through. 

But I totally did get butterflies.

But, to be honest, he is probably the most wholesome, mama’s boy you’ll ever see.

Dirty blonde, shaggy hair, blue shining eyes, overall toned to a T and he’s all meathead minus all of the misogyny and toxic masculinity. He’s always respectful in interviews, polite to women- it’s obvious he was raised well and anyone with a brain can tell that he’s wildly intelligent from his masters degree in Sports Communication. It’s impressive, his story. 

“So, you won the came, Cameron- how does it feel?” An interviewer calls out from the audience beside me, the happy smile on his face only feeding into the fact that he’s definitely a fan, and Rafe smiles handsomely, looking out across the audience with a simple, humble shrug. 

“Felt good taking the team to the playoffs. I couldn’t have done it without my quarterback, number 4, Greg Abernathy.” He reaches over to slap Greg on the back and I grin, scribbling down some words on my notepad, a small smile on my face as I listen to the boys commend each other in a bro-mance type love. They’re always very supportive of one another, having a type of relationship where you really don’t see one without hte other. They’re constantly training together, getting dinner together, having literal sleepovers at each other’s apartments (or so I’ve heard). They’re brothers, there’s no better description for the boys. “But I really have to give it up to the nice lady that I tackled, I feel horrible. I’d like to dedicate our win to her today since she obviously was a part of my excitement. You can put that in writing.” 

I’m sorry? 

Dedicated?

What?

All eyes turn to look at me and I feel my face drain of any color, every hair on my body sticking up as I suddenly feel so small in this room full of my very own coworkers and competitors. I can hear Rafe mutter a quiet ‘shit, she’s here?’ away from the mic and to Greg, who just chuckles and points in my direction, the direction that everyone happens to be looking in. I can see the looks in other journalists' and reporters' eyes, they want to talk to me, they want to shove microphones in my face but based on the ‘deer in headlights’ look I’m giving everyone, I think I’ll be safe from their interrogations. Rafe looks at me and his smile only grows, fingers reaching out to wrap around the mic to pull it closer to his lips as I anticipate what’s to come.

“Hi nice lady that I knocked over, are you okay?” His voice is ten times deeper than it was just moments ago and I can feel my brain melting just at the feeling of him looking back at me, matching my gaze as if he’s just as excited to be speaking to me one on one. 

Me. 

“I’m okay, just a bit banged up.” I call out, shakily shoving my pen and paper into my bag beside me to give him my undivided attention which, it’s not like he has to fight for it, I’m practically drooling simply because he’s gazing at me, giving me his complete and utter attention as hands raise around the room. The way he’s staring at me, eagerly hanging onto every word I say and I can see it, it’s not like he’s even trying to not seem completely enthralled with my every breath. 

“Man, you traumatized the poor girl.” Greg mutters into the mic and the room erupts in laughter and I bite back the laugh that wants to escape me but I don’t dare allow the giggles to leave me when Rafe is just staring me down with a soft look and a gentle smile, something completely opposite of his rowdy behavior and profanities on the field. But after a second, a look of realization passes across his expression and he turns to look at Greg with a worried expression before glancing back at me.

“I did not- you’re not traumatized, right?” He asks me and I laugh, waving him off as I reach up to knock at my own head. What a stupid move, Y/l/n, get it together.

“No, god no. It happens.” I chuckle, brushing off his concerns of injury and he visibly relaxes, head bobbing in a gentle nod as he laughs sheepishly, almost embarrassed that he seemed to care so much in front of a room of random people. “It could’ve been worse. Could’ve been the other team, they wouldn’t have helped me up.”

“So you’re saying his charisma and manners is what saved him from being brutalized all over the internet?” Greg interrupts before Rafe can say anything with a wide eyed, shocked, teasing look.

“For sure.” I grin proudly, already thinking about how excited I’ll be to call my dad after this conference and tell him all about how I got to talk to and compliment one of his favorite players in the NFL. He’s going to shit his pants. He’s been gushing about his stats for the two years that Rafe’s been on the team, every Sunday, blabbering about his stats, his goals, his story- hell I probably know more about him than anyone else in this room right now.

“Well, I appreciate that. My step mom will be happy to hear she did something right.” Rafe blushes warmly, the redness creeping down his neck and under the polo that he wears as another rumble of laughter rolls over the room like a wave and I keep it in the back of my mind to make it known in my article that he’s definitely some sort of mama’s boy through and through. No wonder he’s so respectful. 

“Happy to help.” I smile warmly, the room falling awkwardly silent again before the reporters buzz with questions like angry bees, eager to move on from Rafe and I ogling each other oddly from across the room. I can’t fight the butterflies fluttering in my stomach at the conversation we just had; there was no hint of annoyance, only eager questions and concern that I genuinely do appreciate. He didn’t need to follow up with me, he didn’t need to call me out in regards to their win, all that without even knowing I was here. 

But he did.

That matters for something, right?

Right?

“Hey, before we move on, I just wanna get your name- what’s your name? Are you one of our journalists?” Rafe asks, quickly grabbing hold of the mic firmly in his fist before Greg can pull it away from him and I nod firmly and proudly.

“My name’s Y/n Y/l/n and, yeah, I’ve worked for you guys for nearly eight months.” I swallow my nerves, now suddenly aware that he knows who I am and can talk to me and look for me in any crowd and just know who I am. Rafe Cameron knows who I am. 

It takes a second but I’m slowly realizing that he’s truly just a person and not anything to be afraid of. 

Right?

“Oh my god she’s the one who wrote that article about your tweets on twitter like two weeks ago.” Greg gasps and the room turns to me once again, confusion and shock written across all of their faces and, I’ve got to give it to him, I’m shocked that they even read articles about them. I assumed they just filter it out and try not to pay attention to the news headlines with their names in it but, now that I know that they read them, I’ll be more careful when throwing the word ‘handsome’ around in my pieces.

“Guilty as charged.” I breathe a sigh, reaching up to rub at the back of my neck awkwardly and a sort of tension falls over the room as everyone waits for a more in depth answer from me, their eyes (especially Rafe’s) practically begging for why I wrote the article. “I think it’s nice for young viewers, especially young boys, to see someone who’s a better influence than most of the sports players that are in the media.” A nod of agreement falls across the room and Rafe smiles wholesomely, looking at Greg with a happily proud expression written across his face, like he’s made it.

“So I’m a role model, that’s what you are saying?” He asks but there’s no cockiness or arrogance to his voice- no- just pure and utter pride and vulnerability at the thought of doing right by the football world and, in my opinion, he definitely has. 

All of the gala’s he’s attended, the hospitals he’s visited to talk to and to comfort young children, the way his smile lights up the locker room- even if they lose- the beaming smile he shows if they do win, and all of the money he’s donated to so many important organizations- my point, and the point of my article was, is that he’s what the NFL should be fronting, not the garbage-like, questionable, geriatric old men who need to retire.

“Exactly what I’m saying.” I smile firmly, not tearing my gaze away from his as he nods, leaning back in his chair and he finally appears content with our conversation because he finally allows Greg to take the mic back, but his eyes do not leave me as the room fills with questions once more.

“Hey, that was sweet and all, but can we talk about football now?”

[wardenparker]

Bright Lights & Broken Dreams - pt 2

Dieter Bravo x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst​

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+   Word Count: 30k Warnings: *Contains flashbacks*. Cursing, food/alcohol, drug use referenced underage substance abuse), controlling/abusive parent, false positive pregnancy, reference to underage sex with an adult, depression, really bad coping mechanisms, loss of virginity, praise kink, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, protected sex, piercings, hand job, fingering, unprotected sex. Summary: The blurred lines of playing lovers and being lovers have been blurred for you and Dieter before, but it seems like this time you might be much closer to your characters than either of you want to admit. Notes: Guys this story came out of a silly little dream that I had about hanging out with a movie star and allllll this angst is what poured out onto the page. Keri is a magician at helping me unravel all my wild thoughts 🧡🧡 The play we used for reference as their Broadway show is “In the Next Room (or The Vibrator Play)” by Sarah Ruhl in case anyone is wondering!

It should have been useless to be anxious when you got to the theater that night, but you couldn't help it. After delivering terrifying-yet-somehow-still-exciting news to Dieter before your shift at the restaurant, and then that shift going disastrously badly because you weren't feeling well, you were just hoping you could talk to him and try to come up with some kind of plan. You'd been dating for ten whole months, for crying out loud. You love each other. Surely you could come up with some kind of pathway through your future that could allow both of you to have your careers and still love this– this baby that you had created together.

Baby.

For such a small word it's fearsome. The idea of being a mother is more daunting than anything you've ever faced in your life but with him? Dieter makes you feel like you can do anything. His praise is like armor that shields you from the world. From all the scary things and hurtful things and the things that make you unsure of yourself. With him, you're sure you can make this work. Which is why you sit on your anxious hands and wait. Wait and wait, wondering if he's running late to show tonight since it's well past call time.

******

Dieter’s hands shake, from the nerves, too many cigarettes and fear when the phone rings and his father’s name comes up on the screen. He should have known he would find out quickly. The Hollywood circle is far smaller than people believe and Baxter Bravo was still in the center of it despite his ‘retirement’ ten years ago. “Dad.”

"Dieter." The elder Bravo coughs halfway through his son's name and doesn't bother to cover his mouth, making a hideous sound through the phone line. "You got a call today, unless I'm mistaken." And Baxter Bravo is never mistaken. "It's a good role. Decent enough, anyway. I'm having the maid air out your room."

“Yeah.” Dieter hesitates, still reeling over your news and honestly piss scared about it. “I might not take the roll.” He admits, knowing his father will disapprove. “I just found out that my girlfriend might be pregnant.”

"Don't be stupid." His father scoffs, the derisive laugh making him rattle. "Of course she thinks she's pregnant. How else is that pitiful little corn-fed thing supposed to get you to stick around?" He had met his son's paramour only once – at the opening night festivities that he attended with an appropriate smile on his face despite loathing Broadway – and he had been glad to forget the girl's name immediately after. "You can't possibly think she's serious. Of course you're taking the role."

“Dad, I love her.” It terrifies him, but he actually loves you. It had started out as something casual, a way to feed his ego and to get laid but there was something about you. He hadn’t gotten bored within weeks like he had expected. And watching you mature as a performer made him give serious thought about giving up acting and becoming an instructor. The only thing that stopped him was dear old dad. “I’m happy on the stage. The audience is amazing.”

"I knew I never should have let you go out there." Baxter huffs and loudly smacks on the end of his cigar. "I know she's been an amusement, Dieter. And that's fine. But you've been bred for far better than some mid-Western virgin and a smattering of applause. There is no immortality on the stage, son. Besides which, I've already accepted the role for you. So you'll come home immediately and I will graciously forget that you considered being disobedient."

“I’m fucking twenty-six, Dad!” Dieter shouts, frustrated that his father isn’t listening to him. Though that wasn’t unusual. He didn’t listen when he told him he didn’t want to act at six, or that he just wanted to go to school like a normal kid. Definitely didn’t listen when he said he wanted to go to school for art.

"Whatever does that have to do with anything?" His father asks, confused by the assertion, but rambles on before Dieter can reply in any way or shape. "I've had the attorney inform your landlord that you'll be out in forty-eight hours, and your airline ticket is being held at the service desk for when you arrive tomorrow. Noon flight, and if you're late I'll have to pay a fee to have the fare transferred to another flight, so please don't be a nuisance about it."

Dieter closes his eyes and shakes his head. “No.” He decides. “I’m going to stay here.” He tells his father firmly. “I can’t leave her if she’s pregnant.”

"She's not, though." There's boredom in his father's voice, as though Baxter has gotten tired of even having to speak to his own son. "She's a poor girl trying to trap a rich boy in the oldest way possible." A lazy puff of smoke curls out of his mouth and he sighs drearily. "But I can simply cut you off, if you're so determined to prove a point. Raising a bastard child that may or may not be yours on the streets of New York ought to be fun for you. Homeless and self-righteous. Is that what you want?"

“My money is from my acting when I was a child!” Dieter doesn’t know exactly how the money gets to him, just that he gets a healthy check every month.

"Your money goes through me." The reminder is as dark as it is serious, making his father's chuckle on the other end sound even more ominous. "Every cent you've ever made has gone into an account managed solely by me, Dieter. One call to a doctor and I can have a conservatorship in place faster than you dial a telephone. Pack, Dieter. Pack and come home to take your rightful place here or I will force you to. Am I making myself clear?"

“Shit.” Dieter hisses, running his hand through his hair as he paces in the apartment he had called home for the last three years. Knowing that he can’t see you, he’ll stay if he does. He’ll lose everything.

“You are a Bravo.” His father reminds him when he doesn’t say yes right away. “You will do the right thing, you have a family legacy to uphold.”

Closing his eyes, Dieter's lip trembles and he imagines your face. Tries to imagine it when he tells you he’s leaving and the way you would look so heartbroken. He can’t. He can’t see that. He can’t do it.

“Yes sir.” Dieter responds woodenly, hearing his father’s satisfied grunt on the other end.

“See you tomorrow.” Baxter hangs up the phone, satisfied his son will do as he is told.

******

"What do you mean he's not here?" You're supposed to be face to face with Dieter right now. Places has been called and the curtain is about to go up, but you're standing with his understudy and the stage manager on the verge of tears. It's worry more than it is anything else. If he's not here, is he okay? Is he hurt? Sick? Anything could have happened.

“He got the call.” The stage manager knows the two of you are sleeping together, everyone knows. It hasn’t been a secret for the entire run of this play. Although he had expected Dieter to tell you what was going on. “He left for L.A. Apparently got the role of a lifetime.”

"He..." In an instant, your heart and stomach drop through the floor and tears well up in your eyes. "He's..." The words won't even come, even breathing makes you feel like you're going to be sick all over the floor. "He's gone?"

“Shit, we’re about be ready for the curtain.” The stage manager looks at you with a mixture of pity and worry. It’s obvious Dieter didn’t say a word to you and just skipped town. Hating that he had to tell you the bad news and potentially interfere with tonight’s production. “Do you need a minute?”

"Ye–I–I–" The prop on the table a foot away from you catches your eye and you sob, loudly and openly. The baby doll is all wrapped up and swaddled to open the first scene. Just you and that little doll for a full minute until Dieter is supposed to walk out onstage to join you. But it won't be him. It won't be him on that stage or anywhere else, you realize all at once. When that baby doll in your arms is replaced with a real one, he won't be there either. "Stall." You beg, finally forming a full word as you throw yourself toward the nearest bathroom. "Two minutes!" You're a professional. A real professional, but you definitely do need to go throw up and rinse with a half bottle of mouthwash before you go out on that stage. He left you. He's gone.

Hiding in the darkest part of the theatre, Dieter keeps his hoodie up, not wanting anyone to recognize him. He knows that he shouldn’t have come. It would have been better to just walk away clean. To ‘wipe the slate clean’ like his father likes to say after so many of his misdoings or affairs when they were done. Getting to watch you perform rather than being a part of it. You’re beautiful, your performance even stronger than it normally is when he is your co-star. Making him realize that you don’t need him. Maybe you never did. All he had done was hold you back from your full potential. Right as the last curtain falls, Dieter turns around and heads for the exit. Away from New York and the one person who he had honestly loved.

******

In the month since filming began, an awkward truce has settled between you and Dieter. You don't openly antagonize each other any more, or even give each other the periodic silent treatment. You've become oddly respectful to the point of making it uncomfortably polite for people around you. The way the two of you tiptoe around each other is like the polar opposite of the way your assistants have become attached at the hip during every second of downtime that they have. Sadie and Desiree are possibly the sweetest couple you've seen in a long time, and as happy as you are for them, it makes you ache in the deepest corners of your heart and mind.

Dieter is in hell. Pure, unadulterated hell. You don’t insult him. You don’t ignore him. You’re polite to him. Making his skin crawl as he remembers all the times people were sickeningly sweet to him only to want something, but he can’t figure out what you would want besides this movie to be done. Snorting coke only goes so far and he’s almost bored with getting blitzed every night after filming is done, knowing you are next door and hating himself for wanting to go to you.

"I wish you would tell me what's going through your head." Sadie had asked you this morning, when you blankly accepted the cup of tea she handed you. Your anxiety had been high lately so she had insisted on cutting back on your caffeine intake. "You know you can talk to me." You can talk to her. And you probably should. But the fact is that you can't really find the words for what you're feeling. Being polite to Dieter is the only way you can get through the day without wanting to go to him and you can't do that. So you've just sort of...shut down. Everyone on set gets perfect manners from you, and no one can see the riot going on inside you.

Sadie frowns slightly and sighs, knowing you won’t open up. Ever since that first night, something has changed. “Let me go help Desiree.” She slaps her hands on her thighs. “Make sure he didn’t OD.”

"Is it really that bad?" You can't help the way your head pops up at such a casual remark, or the fear in your eyes when it does.

“It’s not good. Something– I don’t know. Desiree said he’s just given up.” She told you that she would tell you anything about Dieter, but she’s been hesitant to bring it up. “All he does is sit in his room and get bombed on whatever he has. She’s had a hard time getting him to eat.”

"I thought he'd lost weight." It's not as though you haven't paid attention. You spend most of every single day with the man. Blowing out a breath, you shake your head and stand up. "Will you do me a favor, honey?" When she nods, you wipe your hands on your pants nervously and return the gesture. "Order a pot of green tea and three shots of espresso to Dieter's room, and whatever Desiree says his favorite breakfast is. It used to be French toast, but I don't know if that's still true." Maybe you can get through to him and maybe you can't, but either way, you're going to try – and just hope you can keep your head on straight while you're at it.

“Okaaaaay.” Sadie frowns but she’s going to do what you ask of her. “It’s your day off today.” She reminds you. “You have tickets to the Tower of London and that tea room you wanted to try.” It’s been rare to get days off with the grueling schedule and luckily Dieter has sobered up enough to put in a spectacular performance everyday but it’s been rough.

"If it's my day off, then it's his day off." Considering you have very few scenes apart, your schedules tend to be identical. They won't be separate until you get to the location in France. "I–" When you turn to look at Sadie your eyebrows are knitted together in concern. "I'm worried about him," you admit quietly.

“Desiree is too.” She confesses quietly. “He’s – well, at least he’s been somewhat normal on set, but it’s been something.” She shakes her head, thankful that her boss wasn’t going through something like Dieter is, although Desiree is protective of him.

"She cares about him." It's good to see. And you do like Desiree a lot – she's a kind woman with fierce loyalties and a huge heart. And she looks at Sadie like she hung the stars in the sky. "I'm just...he might not want to talk to me. But I have to at least try."

“He might not know who you are, depending on what he’s taken.” Sadie warns you, aware that Dieter has done that with her quite a few times. “It’s fucking amazing he remembers his lines and the blocking.”

"I have to try." You reach out to squeeze her arm and head out the door, just to take six steps in the hallway to knock on his door. "Dieter?" His name is soft on your lips and there's no answer, so you try again. "Dee? It's me...can I come in?"

Dieter stares at the wall, not moving, not blinking. Barely breathing. Lost in his mind, fuzzy and muted. Barely hearing the sounds coming from the door. Staring at a single spot in the wallpaper that doesn’t match the rest. The pattern is off, just slightly. Like the wall was damaged and had to be repaired.

It's Desiree who opens the door, face drawn in concern. "It's not a good time," she tells you gently, glancing back toward the bedroom where Dieter is lying almost entirely catatonic.

"Sadie said he hasn't been doing well?" You're not about to let her close the door on you. Not when you're this concerned about him. You know things have been off lately, but that doesn't mean you're detached from it all. "I'm not here to chat or play board games, Des. I'm honestly worried about him."

“I–” Desiree bites her lip and decides to be blunt. “What happened that night? Did you see him? Did you talk?” She knows something had to happen for Dieter to sink this low. You seem to be a trigger for him, good or bad, she hasn’t decided.

"I'm afraid there's more than one that night to pick from." You tell her when she steps back to let you and Sadie inside. "If you mean the first night of filming? Yeah...we...we ran into each other at dinner. And I...I got mad. It's not my proudest moment, I'm afraid."

“What happened?” Desiree’s heart drops and she bites her lip as she looks back towards Dieter. Unsure of how to snap him out of this particular funk. She normally can, but nothing is working this time.

"He had a sketchbook with him." It's really not anything you're proud of, but you're honestly shocked that whoever had filmed it in the restaurant that day hadn't put it online. "I–I saw him drawing me and I kind of...well, I yelled. We came back here when I insisted that he explain to me why he was drawing me and he...well," you exhale deeply, remembering the deep lines of hurt in his face right before he walked out your door. "It didn't go well."

She can’t even begin to imagine what Dieter is thinking, but she nods. “Okay.” She glances over at Sadie and bites her lip. “We’ll go downstairs to give you two a few minutes.” She decides, desperate to have her boss back and willing to do whatever it takes.

Silent hugs of encouragement are had between the three of you, and you watch Sadie and Desiree go out the door before you step back toward the bedroom door. It’s open but you still knock, not wanting to startle Dieter. “Dee?” From the doorway you can see that the room has been left to get messy along with his mind. He’s laying on the bed staring at the walls and you gulp nervously. “Dee, is it okay if I come in?”

Dieter grunts, hearing you although it sounds like he is in a water tank. Wondering why he hears you, you shouldn’t be in his room. The blissful feeling of floating is starting to wane and he knows that he’s coming down from his high. Must be his call time for the day.

When the biggest response you get out of him is a nonverbal sound, you leave your bag at the door and push inside with worry worn on your face. “Can you talk?” You ask gently, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Fifteen.” Dieter croaks out. His voice is rough and raspy from not using it for so long. He always sounds a little hoarse, but it’s amplified by the cottonmouth the drugs leave him with.

“Fifteen what, Dee?” A deeply ingrained part of you just wants to reach out and wrap your arms around him but the fear is overwhelming. He might lash out or he might not want you here at all – regardless of you just trying to help.

“She was– was my father’s girlfriend.” Dieter tells you, tone flat and void of all emotion.

“Your father had fifteen girlfriends?” You ask, not understanding at all. Of course, you knew his father for a womanizing asshole, but not much else. Dieter has seemed to fear and revere him when he was younger, but you had only met the man once.

“N-no. Yes.” Dieter doesn’t know why he is thinking about this, but it’s what he keeps replaying in his head. “I was– fifteen when she– he sent her to my room.” His father had decided he was tired of his son being a shy virgin. So he had sent his twenty-one year old girlfriend to him to show him what to do.

“Oh god.” Dread curls on your stomach when you realize what he’s saying, and you shift closer to him on the mattress. “That’s all done now, Dee. It’s over. And he’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.” While the news of Baxter Bravo’s death rocked Hollywood a few years ago, you had paid it little mind. Now, though? Even that one little piece of information makes you want to dance on his grave when you get back to California.

“He had my money.” Dieter croaks, frowning and closing his eyes. “Threa-threatened to cut me off. If I didn’t– if I stayed in theatre.” His thoughts have shifted to his father, guilt and anger fusing together. “First time I got drunk was because of him. Eight years old at his party.”

“Shit…” He’s bouncing all over the place in his memory, and unfortunately there is a lot about his father that you just don’t know. But the piece about theater sticks directly into your heart – because the only time Dieter was in the theater was around the time you met. “When did he say he’d disown you?” You ask, trying to get him on a clear train of thought if that’s at all possible.

“I watched you.” His eyes open again and he turns his head to look at you for the first time. “I was in the back, I watched the entire thing. I couldn’t go without seeing it– you. It was your best performance. Without me.”

“The night you…” It’s an impulse, the way you reach for his hand, but your fingers tighten around his and the gesture feels so small. Not nearly enough, but you’re afraid to go further. “You watched the show the night you left?” You were broken that night – sobbing and sick to your stomach at every turn, lashing out at people who tried to take care of you because you were hurt and terrified. You couldn’t even let yourself drink after the show to numb the feeling because you thought you were pregnant. “Dee…” Your inhale is ragged. “It wasn’t my best performance. Not by a long shot. I was a shell that night.”

“It was beautiful.” Dieter insists, frowning at you, showing emotion for the first time since anyone entered his room this morning. “You were beautiful. And I–” he swallows. “I couldn’t keep you, no matter how much I wanted to.”

“Because of your father?” The pieces begin to slide into place in your mind, but the puzzle is still wildly incomplete. “Is that what happened?”

Dieter blinks, frowning slightly and then lifts his head. “Bambi?” He asks quietly. “Are you really here?” He’s talked about this so many times to a figment of his imagination he doesn’t know if you are real.

“Yeah, Dee.” You shift another few inches up the bed, keeping his hand in yours until you’re sitting right next to him. His eyes are glossy from whatever he’s taken but his words are coming a little clearer, and you’re hoping that’s a sign that he’s coming down. “I’m right here. I was…I’m worried about you.” There’s no past tense about it, but you bite your lip from saying anything deeper when he’s not entirely himself. “So I came over to check on you.”

“Why?” That confuses him. You hate him, you have every right to hate him after what he had done. Not just twelve years ago, but the way he had prodded at you and taunted you since then, fueling the hatred because it was easier for you to hate him than to delve into his losing you. “I– I left you. I left you for him.” He grunts, disgusted with himself for choosing a man who had never viewed Dieter as anything more than an extension of himself. Forcing him to choose the Bravo family dynasty and then dying on him a few years later, leaving a widow that was nearly too young for even Dieter to date.

“Because—” It sticks in your throat, choking you with truth and sadness and tears of regret. With anger and frustration. With things you have never said out loud to anyone before, not even Sadie or your therapist. “Because I c—care about you,” you manage to choke out, feeling the half-truth of it crack in your chest. The decade of anger and disgust really boils down to hurt and worry, when you’re honest with yourself.

“You shouldn’t.” That is the crux of Dieter’s issues. He knows he is completely unworthy of someone caring about him. It’s easier to not care when you push people away and they look at you in disgust. “I–” he closes his eyes again, humming to himself. “I love you.” He murmurs quietly, his mind settling and the rush of the high wears off as he fades into fatigue.

“Dee, can you stay awake for me?” You don’t know a whole lot about drugs or their side effects but you know that there are a whole lot of things that can make a person tired or even pass out, and you’re about as prepared for that as you are to handle what he just said to you — which is to say, not at all. You don’t know whether to trust it or not. Whether he would have said it at all, or if he would even come close to meaning it when his mind is his own. The best you can do is try to keep him awake and hope that Desiree sends up his breakfast soon.

“Hmmmm.” Dieter doesn’t want to, not when he is feeling this tired. “Bottle–” he gestures with one lazy hand towards the nightstand. “Red pill.” He needs a hit of speed to be ready for his call time. “Need.”

“What are the red ones?” You’re not prepared to give him more drugs, but if it’s an antacid or a simple ibuprofen or something, that’s different.

“First time I took speed– I was ten.” Dieter grunts. “Dad gave it to me. Needed to stay up for a night shoot.”

“Fucking hell…” If his father wasn’t already dead you’d be hunting him down yourself. How could a grown man do that to his child? “It’s okay,” you tell him quietly, putting your other hand over his. “We don’t need that today.” Or ever, but one step at a time. “We’re just going to sit together today, is that okay? Just you and me? Have something to eat and if you need to nap we can ask Desiree, okay?” At the very least, Des can give you a better idea of what his symptoms and side effects look like. She can give you some kind of idea of what to expect.

“Gotta–” Dieter opens his eyes again and gives you a soft smile. “Bambi.” He murmurs breathlessly. “Still so innocent.”

“A little less than I used to be.” In this, though? In the world of these abusive experiences and using drugs to compensate? You really are very innocent.

“Great ass.” Dieter groans, acting more like his normal front for a moment, but he means it. “I lied, your tits are amazing.”

You can’t help but snort, holding back an appreciative laugh because you don’t want him to think you’re laughing at him. “You were always a big fan of them.”

“Why did you rip my sketches?” He asks quietly, a question he has pondered for a long time but never asked. “Were they bad?”

“Because I—” Unconsciously, your hands tighten slightly around him, not wanting him to pull away. “I thought you were making fun of me. That you wanted to remember how much you had hurt me…and then I saw more and I…I was just confused as to why you kept drawing me.”

“That's all I have left of my beautiful Bambi.” Dieter chokes out, his face twisted in sorrow and remorse.

“Dee…” It makes you deflate, the confusion and the anxiety leaving your body so you nearly sag beside him on the mattress and shake your head. “You really loved me, didn’t you?” For years you had convinced yourself that it was a lie. That he had just told you what you wanted to hear and that he had never meant it. But the voice in the back of your mind that knew it wasn’t true seems to have been right all along.

“Told him I was staying.” He rambles, shaking his head. “Not going to Cali, but he said I would be cut off. Raising the baby on the streets. I’d be a bad dad.”

It doesn’t matter that the tests had been wrong – it was the fear that was real. And the fear that his father had instilled in him was real, too. “I’m sorry you were scared.” You murmur, still holding onto him. “I was scared, too.”

“I shoulda stayed.” Dieter huffs. “Been stronger. Always been so weak. You’re strong. So strong. Better than me.”

“It’s not about ‘better’.” It breaks your heart to hear him say that, and you shake your head. “We’re just different. That’s…that’s why we were good together. Balance.”

With his confessions off his chest, Dieter falls asleep, his soft snores coming out evenly with his breathing relaxed. Hand going slack in yours.

Once it’s clear he’s sleeping and not in some kind of stupor, you text Desiree to let her know that he seemed lucid before the snoring started and you sit back to wait. Unfortunately, you’re somewhat of a restless person and sitting while someone else sleeps just isn’t your cup of tea. So the compulsive cleaning starts. First it’s tucking him in properly, then dropping his rejected sweaters and t-shirts into the laundry basket in his wardrobe. It’s tidying his stacks of books, then art supplies, and scattered notebooks that you assume hold more sketches. It’s curiosity that does it – that same old thing that got the cat and now you.

The first sketchbook is the one you recognize from the sandwich shop, and you very carefully and quietly set to work taping the pages back in that you tore. The next has images of sets and landscapes – nothing out of the ordinary there. But the third seems to be self-portraits. Gruesome renderings of his own visage with gore and mutations, some intentionally missing whole chunks of himself from the image. Drawings where his chest has been torn open, or where he seems to have no space for a heart at all. It’s an overwhelming discovery, and you compulsively find yourself flipping through every single image until you’re sitting in the corner armchair silently crying.

Dieter sleeps for several hours without dreaming. Just the deep sleep of the exhausted. Until images of you start to creep in. Moments he has missed until he is running towards you and he can’t seem to catch you. “Bambi!” He moans, the word coming out gargled and far quieter than he has said in his dream. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

The second you hear your name – your nickname – your head shoots up from the book you were reading and you head for the bed to sit with him again. Desiree had said he said Bambi in his sleep and she was being honest, though he had always talked in his sleep from time to time before. “I’m right here.” You take his hand again, not caring if you wake him up. He’s been asleep for hours and he needs to eat something. God only knows how long it’s been since he had a proper meal. “I’m right here, Dee.”

You’re running away from him, making him run faster. Trying to catch you before you disappear out of sight. Until you leave him. “Don’t go.” He whimpers, feeling a pressure in his hand and he squeezes it in desperation. “Please. Please Bambi.”

“I’m right here,” you repeat, watching his face contort in the dream, and you find yourself wondering if it’s unsafe to wake someone from a nightmare if they’re still tripping. But since you have no idea if he is still high, you decide to say fuck it and put your other hand on his shoulder very deliberately. “Dee, wake up.” You barely keep yourself from calling him baby — cooing the way you would have years ago. It’s too easy to slip back into. “Wake up for me? Please?”

Dieter’s eyes shoot open, like he’s had a shot of adrenaline shoved into his heart. Reaching out and grabbing your hand on his shoulder. “Bambi!” He gasps before he realizes he’s awake and gives you a confused look, “did I– where am I?”

“The hotel.” You nearly jump three feet off the bed when he woke up, but you manage to keep your voice calm. “We’re in the hotel. In London. Does that ring a bell?”

“Yeah.” Dieter groans and looks around, blinking owlishly, although his vision is a shit ton better since the lasik surgery. “Did I miss my call time?”

“It’s our day off.” He hasn’t let go of your hand and you don’t let go either. “You haven’t—I mean I—” You exhale to let the shakiness out of your voice. “I’m worried about you. Desiree says you haven’t been eating.”

“What?” He makes a face and then gives a small shrug before he grunts and sits up. “Not hungry.” He murmurs, feeling like everything tastes like despair.

“Says the guy who used to be able to eat two entire cheeseburgers plus fries in a sitting.” Looking down at your joined hands, you’re not sure if coming over here was a good idea or not, but you’re here. You made the decision. So you’re going to stick with it. “Does whatever you’re taking make you not hungry? Or is it the depression?” It’s not like you haven’t dealt with it yourself. You know what depression can do to a person and you know it firsthand.

Dieter looks away guiltily, remembering all the times that his father would tell him that there’s nothing a snort of coke or a tight pussy couldn’t fix. “I just– nothing tastes good.” He says finally, registering that his mouth is dry. “I gotta–” he moves to get up, but you don’t let go of his hand.

“There’s water right here.” That, at least, you could have ready for him. The bottle is ready and waiting on his side table where you point to it. “Do you…” your voice wavers but you clear your throat. “Do you remember talking to me this morning? At all?”

Dieter’s eyes narrow and and despite the drugs that he takes, he unfortunately remembers it all. The curse of a photographic memory, though it serves him well in memorizing lines. “I told you about that day. And my dad.” He gulps down the water thirstily and sighs when it’s gone.

“You did.” He also said that he loves you – present tense – but if he doesn’t remember that part you’re not going to put more pressure on the situation. “I’m sorry, Dee. I had no idea he was so hard on you.” You knew he was strict, obviously, but some of the things he described were downright odious.

“I’m sorry.” Dieter rubs the back of his neck and sighs. Aware of what he had blurted out to you in his very honest dialogue. “You can just– pretend I didn’t say anything. It’s okay. I won’t blame you.”

“Do you want me to forget?” It’s a very touchy game you’re playing here, and you’re not sure which way he’s leaning.

“I know you can’t forgive me.” Dieter murmurs quietly. “But no. Use it to make yourself feel better about how shitty I did you.”

“It sounds like things were a lot more complicated than I ever knew.” The urge to just reach out and hug him is so hard to ignore. There’s always been a magnet between you and it seems to have been recharged as more and more information came to light today. “I wish you had at least said goodbye, but I get now that you didn’t have a choice in leaving. We…we were just kids.”

Dieter snorts and shakes his head. “I was a grown ass man. I should have told him to go fuck himself. Sued him for my money.” There've been plenty of regrets and ‘would haves’ where you and that situation was concerned. “If I had said goodbye, I would have–” he shakes his head. “I don’t know. I knew I couldn’t face you. I’m a coward.”

“He was abusing you.” If he’s been in therapy, then he knows that already. But the stubborn voice inside you refuses to let him get away with putting himself down. “Of course you were afraid of him. He did that on purpose. But Dee…” You shake your own head this time and sigh. “He’s gone. He doesn’t get to keep hurting you like this.”

“The ghost of Baxter Bravo always haunts me.” Dieter tells you. “It’s like a never ending A Christmas Carol.”

“Is there…” It sticks in your throat like lava, some kind of fear that you can’t name, but you manage to swallow. “Is there anything I can do? To help, I mean?”

Dieter shakes his head, knowing it’s not your place to fix him. He doesn’t even know if you can. He’d just drag you down with him. “Doubtful. Unless you want to show me your tits?” He asks hopefully, lifting his brows.

You roll your eyes, seeing his walls go back up and shut you out all over again. Making it clear that he doesn’t want you looking into that part of his life anymore. “You’ll see them on set in a week.”

“I don’t–” he sees the way your expression falls, the annoyance you are trying to hide. “Thank you.” He offers, swallowing. “Life is full of regrets, right?”

“I guess so. Or…I don’t know anyone whose isn’t. So it must be universal.” This conversation feels like a time bomb, ticking away to the point of oblivion, and you just don’t know when the explosion is going to come. You’d thought it was just a second ago, but apparently not. So you try a different olive branch. “I don’t like being mad at you, for the record. Even if we’re not…what we were…I still don’t want to hate you.”

Dieter licks his lips, eyes quickly darting between yours and he lunges forward, desperately pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that is needy and wanting.

It makes sense that your first impulse is to push him away. This impulse of his seemingly came out of nowhere, after all. The problem – or maybe more accurately, the complication – is that as soon as you register the fact that Dieter is kissing you, you become twenty-one all over again and hold onto him for dear life instead of using your hands on his chest to create distance. It’s pull instead of push, and the kiss lingers just long enough to become soft before your mind comes back down from whatever cloud it lighted on and you have to part for air.

He frowns when you pull back, wanting the kiss to go on longer, for it to never end. Opening his eyes with a small pout on his lips and wishing he could lean in again but your hand is on his chest gently keeping him in place.

“Wha—” With your mind going a hundred miles a minute, you feel like you’re spinning and holding on to him is the only thing keeping you from drifting away. “That—” One hand drifts to your lips to touch them like you’re not sure if the sensation is real or not. “You meant it, didn’t you?” Is what eventually comes out of your mouth, utter bewilderment obvious in your tone.

“Meant what?” Dieter asks, not sure exactly what you are talking about. He had meant everything he said.

“Before you fell asleep…” It’s been ringing in your head for hours. “You…said you love me.”

“Yes.” Dieter admits it quietly. “I don’t – I’m honest when I’m high. I have no filter.”

“I just…I spent a long time thinking you hated me. Or…or that you didn’t think anything about me. It’s…” You swallow again, fingers still tangled in his shirt. “An adjustment.”

“I’m sorry.” Dieter bites his lip. “It’s a – it's a safety thing. Push people away before they can hurt you.” He’s not proud of it, nor would he say that it’s right, but it’s what he does.

“I get it.” Shifting in place from mounting anxiety, you find yourself moving closer to him instead of just adjusting in place. “I mean…I haven’t had a relationship last longer than six months in…” You huff at yourself when you do the math. “In twelve years.”

He knows that’s his fault. He caused you to be that way. He had taken his Bambi, his innocent Bambi, and ruined you. He sighs softly and shakes his head. “I’m a piece of shit for that.”

“What happened was complicated.” That’s a very kind way of putting it, but you can’t bring yourself to be ferociously upset or angry with him anymore. Not now that you’re starting to have a picture of how bad the abuse was that he endured. “But it’s good to know that you didn’t do it on purpose. That’s…that means more than you know.”

Dieter nods, feeling like he should say something else but not knowing what. He’s not…good with emotional entanglements. Trying to keep everything surface level for so long had fucked with his heart. “I– that’s good.” He says awkwardly, his stomach deciding it would be the perfect time to rumble like Mt. Vesuvius.

“You need to eat.” It’s the spell that breaks the tension, and you sit back again on the mattress with renewed awkwardness. “I’ll, um…I’ll call for room service?”

“You don’t have to stay.” Dieter knows that you might not want to spend too much time with him. “It’s your day off. I doubt you want to spend it with me.”

“If you don’t want me to stay, that’s one thing,” you tell him honestly. “But if it’s up to me, I’d rather stay. I haven’t stopped being worried about you just because we talked without screaming at each other.”

Dieter frowns and wonders why you are worried about him. But he also doesn’t want to be alone. Instead he nods. “I– I need to shower. I feel grimy.” He knows he looks homeless routinely, but he does shower regularly. “Could you– could you order us something to eat? If you’re staying?”

“I’ll order some food, you go shower.” That gets you up at last, moving across the room to grab the hotel’s service binder from the table it’s sitting on in his front room. After a second you step back, hanging in the bedroom doorway. “Our assistants are dating, by the way. I don’t know if you know.”

“I figured when she snapped up the reservation she had made for me.” Dieter mumbles. And it explains why another woman had been coming into his room. “That’s how you found out about me talking about you in my sleep.”

“Yeah.” You nod slightly, but look up at him with a lopsided smile. “But you always talked into your sleep anyway. I could have been bluffing.”

He pouts, knowing that you could have been bluffing and he would have believed it, because he does dream about you. “True. But you burp in your sleep.”

“Which I’m pretty sure is the reason nobody sticks around more than a few months.” It’s a friendly jab at yourself, and you shrug it off. “Go shower. I’m gonna get us some food and let Desiree know you’re up.”

Dieter turns and stops. “Thank you.” He tells you seriously. “You could have just left me to my misery.”

“Turns out I might have a little soft spot for you.” A fact which is going to have your stomach, nerves, and heart in knots all at once.

“Don’t know why, but I’ll take it.” Dieter turns and walks into the bathroom, only pushing the door instead of latching it.

As soon as you hear the shower turn on, you call down for a sizable lunch plus a whole pot of the green tea he seems to be favoring these days, and then turn right around and call Desiree to give her an update. She and Sadie had gone down to Sadie's room to wait things out, and while you realize you might be calling in the middle of...things, it's worth the risk of interrupting them to let her know that Dieter is okay.

Standing under the hottest water the hotel provides, he leans against the shower tiles and closes his eyes. He doesn’t know why you are here, but he’s more relaxed than he’s been in a long time. His head is pounding but he’s not reaching for the bottle on the counter just yet. Groaning as the water beats down on his skin and he reaches for the soap he prefers, eager to scrub himself clean.

******

The day has been such a whirlwind that you barely know what's happened except that from rehearsal to dinner to the cab right back across the city, you and Dieter have been inseparable. He’s been so kind and so attentive, answering all of your questions about what it was like to grow up in Hollywood and all of the exotic places he’s visited. He’s told you stories from movie sets and all about the sunny beaches out West that just beg for anyone to enjoy them. And now – on top of it all – you’re sitting in the living room of his upper East side apartment with him with glasses of sticky sweet rum and Coke to drink while you listen to someone across the small neighborhood playing piano with their windows thrown open. It’s so romantic you could cry, or maybe jump for joy. You certainly wouldn’t want to cry right now, with his fingers grazing your shoulder gently – a little more every time they pass.

He doesn’t understand how you are still untouched, so fucking pretty and clever, sociable when you want to be. Keeping his own ‘losing his virginity’ story to himself because what can he really tell you about that? Instead his fingers trail over your bare shoulder, your tank top is a toy at times as he hums. Itching with the need to draw you, another talent he doesn’t talk about. It was highly discouraged in his household. Hell, the only thing that was encouraged was acting and being a slut. Living up to the old man’s reputation. But right now, none of that matters. All that matters is how your body inches closer to him and those kisses that you’ve been enthusiastic about sharing have turned slightly greedy.

The dam broke at rehearsal, of course. The script calls for a kiss and he had kindly suggested that it would make it less awkward in the future to share a few early on. That led to a fairly intense make out session in your dressing room, and now this moment on his couch. You’re so drawn to him – unsure of how or why this is happening but determined to make the most of it. Dieter toys with the strap of your tank top, sliding it off your shoulder and grazing his fingertips across the bare skin to make you sigh and shiver. It’s divine and slightly intoxicating and he has completely wiped every thought from your head except for him.

"You need another refill?" Dieter hesitates to ask the real question he wants to. Wanting you to be comfortable. "Or water?" He probably drinks a little more than he should, smokes some grass and pops a few pills when he isn't working, but he wants you clear headed for what he wants tonight.

“I guess water might be smart.” You fluster slightly at the fact that you probably would have just had another drink if he hadn’t offered an alternative. To you, that signals the end of the night – he’ll be walking you to the door and sending you home soon. But what a day it’s been.

He nods, reluctantly removing his arm from around you so he can stand to get you a new glass. “Let me get it for you.” He bites his lip, wondering what you are thinking as you play with your rum glass. “So how do you like kissing me?”

The straightforward question earns an embarrassed giggle from you, and you take the last sip of rum and Coke from your glass while you think of the least embarrassing way to answer. "A lot," you admit, hiding your flustered face behind the glass. "I like it a lot. But I'm sure I'm not the first girl to tell you that."

“No, but you’re the only girl I want to hear it from.” Dieter flirts, turning around and winking at you from around the corner to the small galley style kitchen.

"It's going to be a really remarkable show." The playwright is amazing, the rest of the cast is phenomenal, and you're basically feeling like an imposter being a complete unknown and leading this cast of incredible talent. The fact that you've had a crush on your leading man since you knew what a crush was doesn't hurt either.

“Yes it is.” It only takes him a few moments to get your glass and he brings it back over to you and sits down to face you as he grins. “Because you are in it.”

"You're so sweet to me." You put down your empty glass to accept the water and feel the heat rise in your cheeks. Between how he keeps flattering you and being nearly desperate to kiss him again, you feel like you're on fire from head to toe – and the center is that familiar and powerful want that starts between your legs and grows infinitely.

“I want to talk to you about something very serious.” Dieter raises his brows and looks at you playfully, in a way that he can only manage when he wants to know something naughty. His fingers find your bare arms and he strokes the skin softly.

"Okay." There has been no shortage of conversation between the two of you, which has been nice, but you call yourself to order for something serious.

“So we’ve been….doing this–” he motions between the two of you and bites his lip, aware that you might not be ready for something like this. “But….do you want to have sex with me?” He asks. “It’s okay if you don’t, but I really want you.”

"I–" The surprise on your face is obvious as you set the glass of water down carefully on the table beside you and turn back to Dieter on the sofa. The answer is obviously yes, but it's a shock to hear him ask out loud. And a shock that he would want you when he could have his choice of anyone in the world. The signals in your mind cross themselves, and you're nodding yes right away, but what comes out of your mouth is slightly different. "I'm a virgin," you blurt out, unable to stop yourself from being honest to a fault.

He had known that. The way you responded to him had told him that, but his half hard cock twitches at the words. “That’s okay.” He promises you. “It’s okay Bambi, I don’t mind if you’re a virgin.”

"You don't?" As far as you understood, that was the worst thing a girl could be. It smacked of being prudish or snobbish, and even though there just hadn't been any boys at home that you were interested in. In the city you had focused entirely on your studies. Now your studies have led you here...and to him.

“I love that.” Dieter confesses, sliding closer another inch, his cock throbbing now and he knows if you look down, you’ll see his hard on straining against the joggers he was wearing. “I want to be the first one to touch you, maybe the only one.” He’s breathless, as if it would be a treasure to cherish.

The only one. It takes your breath away unexpectedly, and you can feel yourself staring with your mouth slightly open. He's remarkable and magnetic and the closer he moves to you the more you move to meet him, and your hand tentatively rests on his leg to steady yourself. "I want you to be, too."

Grinning, he raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?” He asks, wanting to make sure. “You want me to take your virginity?”

"I've..." Your fingers dig into his leg a little, curling as you lean forward a little and nod. "I've dreamed about it." You confess quietly. Those dreams were long before you met him, obviously, but here you are.

He nods seriously and points to your water. “Drink up Bambi, I want to show you my bedroom.”

“I’m not drunk,” you promise him, but drink the water anyway. It’s probably good to give you a minute to cool down before you spontaneously combust right next to him.

He smirks and shakes his head. “I know. I just want you in complete control of the decisions you make.”

“Saying yes to you isn’t exactly a difficult decision.” In fact, you’d be hard pressed to think of any time or place you would say no — the idea of turning down Dieter Bravo is unfathomable.

“Yeah but…” he doesn’t mention that he doesn’t want you to regret it, instead he just leans in and kisses your throat. “I want you begging for it.”

Somehow you really don’t think that’s going to be an issue, and the whimper that escapes your lips when you feel his tongue flick across your pulse tells him so. It’s all you can do to gulp down the water remaining in the glass he brought you so you can have both hands on him as he kisses his way along your throat and shoulder, then back up to your jaw again.

“You want to go to my bedroom?” He asks softly, keeping his voice low and easy. Hands ghosting over your sides and grazing over your breasts.

“Yes.” The emphatic nodding would have given your answer but you whine on the word, making it come out strained and eager. Like you’ve never wanted anything more in your entire life. And maybe – as of this moment – you haven’t. “Yes—I—please?”

Standing up, Dieter drags you up into his arms and rushes you towards the bedroom. He’s lucky that he even has a bedroom, most apartments are studio closets like yours. He nearly picks you up in his rush to usher you through the apartment, and you giggle against his lips as he moves you. Dieter groans and giggles as he slams his shoulder into the door frame in his eagerness to get you into the bedroom.

You’ve heard things, because of course you have, from girls around you. About how the first time is always bad, or it hurts, or it doesn’t last more than two minutes. There are always plenty of bad stories in circulation as warnings. But you can’t imagine Dieter would be a disappointment like that. Whether it’s the rose-colored tint of brand new feelings or that very long-distance crush that you nursed for forever…or even just the surety that anyone who kisses as well as he does can’t be bad in bed. Whatever it is, you’re more excited than you are scared.

“Now.” Dieter collapses on the bed with you and rushes to kiss you again. “I’m gonna lick your pussy.” He groans, reaching for your leggings. “Don’t be shy and try to hide from me.”

For just a second you’re tempted to point out that he seems to like when you’re shy, but when you register what he’s said you end up gobsmacked instead. Almost every girl you know has bitched and moaned about their boyfriends hating to eat pussy — and here you are with an international movie star about to strip your panties off.

Some people call him selfish, and he is. Dieter can be a needy, selfish asshole but he also has a massive praise kink. Learning quickly from his first encounter that the easiest way to earn moaned praises is for him to service his partner. Making them willing to fuck him again the next time, so he is a man who will happily bury his face in a cunt or wrap his lips around a cock. Now, he pulls back to drag your panties down, spreading your legs wide and tutting when you try to close your legs. Sensing your embarrassment, he flashes you a grin. “Don’t worry Bambi, I don’t shave either.”

“I would have…” You mumble, heat flooding your cheeks that has nothing to do with arousal. “But I never expected this.”

“Don’t worry, Bambi.” Dieter scoffs. “I like the au natural look.” He promises. “It’s womanly.” He grips your thighs and ducks down to suck your clit into his mouth.

It’s a shock to your system that makes you tense up at first, keening at the sensation that is completely unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. No fumbling hand in your panties could ever come close to the sensation of hot breath and plush lips on your clit. Not that any of the boys that came before him ever even knew where your clit was. This is the kind of pleasure that makes your back arch and your brain shut off immediately.

Humming, he smirks against your mound. Reaching up to push your shirt up so he can reach your tits. Eager to touch them. He’s wanted to see your tits since he’s kissed you. You shiver under his attention, body responding to everything all at once and yet focused entirely on the places that he’s touching you. He grunts in disapproval when he feels you move, but it’s just so that you can peel your tank top off, stripping away your bra along with it to leave yourself completely bare for him.

Groaning, Dieter reaches up with both hands, filling them with your tits and massaging them as he spells his name into your folds with his tongue, making sure to flick it over your clit as much as possible.

The breadth of his frame keeps your legs pinned open, body moving in waves underneath him as you arch up and roll your hips down alternately. You’re trying to chase every single sensation possible as the pressure mounts in your core, unashamedly whimpering and moaning at every turn. By the time your legs are shaking you’ve nearly forgotten your own name, but you sure as hell remember his – chanting “Dee” in increasingly breathless moans until the damn breaks and your orgasm washes over you with an intensity you’ve never felt before.

For his part, he’s incredibly patient for a man in his twenties giving pleasure to someone else. Keeping his tongue sweeping over your nerves with practiced skill and precision, groaning when you shamelessly press yourself harder into his mouth. Wanting and willing you to come apart so he can witness the spectacular sight.

“Oh my fucking god.” Most of the time, you really don’t swear. It’s not a big part of your vocabulary, or at least it hasn’t been so far. But as the aftershocks of that first orgasm at his mercy roll through you, you can’t seem to form a sentence that doesn’t include a curse. “D—Dieter—shit…that was…” It was amazing, but you’re not sure if gushing about it just makes it all the more obvious that he’s the first person ever to make you cum that way.

He chuckles as he gives your soaked folds another lazy lick before turning his head and kissing along your thigh. “You enjoy that, Bambi? I fucking love the way you taste. So sweet for me.”

“You’re so fucking incredible.” Without him holding you in place, you easily twist down the bed to meet him, eagerly tasting your own essence on his lips and tongue. Some people might not like it – most men you’ve known say they don’t – but you don’t care. All you care about right now is being as close to him as possible.

The kiss is messy, frantic. Aided by your fingers pulling at his clothes. The role of shy virgin peeled away and he’s left with his Bambi who is desperate for him. Dieter groans, hating that his lips break away from yours long enough to pull his shirt over his head, he has to be the one thinking rationally. “Condom.” He gasps, nearly whining when you cup him through his pants.

Like a shock to your system, you pull your hand back immediately and look guiltily away. Since you never thought anything like this could happen in a million years, you certainly didn’t come prepared. “Shit…” the murmur that passes your lips is fully regretful and your face drops.

“No.” Dieter cups your cheeks and presses his lips to yours firmly. “I need to get a condom.” He clarifies. “I have one.” He keeps them in his dresser. He was just so overwhelmed he was reminding himself he needed to protect you.

“Oh.” Your whole face burns in embarrassment, but he doesn’t let you look away. “Right. I—I knew that—”

“It’s not on you to provide condoms.” Dieter has a fucked up view on sex and love, but he had always been taught to fucking wrap it up. His father didn’t want scandals about his son catching the clap.

“Okay.” Taking it as fact from someone who knows far better than you, you nod your understanding and tentatively press in to kiss him softly. “Whatever you say.”

He smirks, wonderfully entranced with your easy acceptance and he shuffles over, still kissing you so that he can open the small nightstand and pull out a ribbon of condoms. “Fuck baby, you’re so good to me.” He groans. “Lay back. Let me get this on.”

There is no instinct in you to question him or the situation. Absolutely nothing matters more here or now than him, and you just naturally assume that you aren’t the only girl to have ever felt that way. After all, how could you be? He’s a movie star. Of course he’s had sex with plenty of other people. But your mind rings with him saying he wants to be the only one to touch you and it’s the most utterly special you’ve ever felt in your life.

Dieter hops off the bed and smirks, making a little show of stripping off his pants and underwear. Watching your eyes widen gives him a quick ego stroke. Ripping open the foil packet with his teeth, he frowns slightly as he rolls the rubber down his length and strokes himself a few quick times. “Are you ready?”

It’s not like you’ve never seen a dick before – you’ve had boyfriends after all – but this is more significant than a hand job after prom or messing around on spring break. This is something you’re going to remember for the rest of your life. And you couldn’t be happier that it’s him, feeling like a string exists between the two of you that will keep you tied together forever. “I’m ready.”

Dieter climbs back onto the bed, his protected cock swinging underneath him as he slots himself into the cradle of your thighs. Taking his time to kiss you softly, letting it build up as if you have all the time in the world. The muted taste of rum on your tongue and your need are intoxicating and making him feel drunk off of you.

Desire outweighs your nerves, teaching your body how to move without the need for more formal instructions. Your hands wander and your hips roll, lips trailing down the column of his neck and tracing the prominent veins there in an attempt to memorize him completely. If he was handsome before – and he definitely was – he’s stunning now, moaning in your ear when your fingernails graze over his chest and scrape his nipple — which you somehow hadn’t realized was pierced in the darkness of his bedroom.

“Shit.” He hisses, cock throbbing at the sharp burst of pleasure. He rocks his hips forward, cock laying between your lips. “So sexy.” He moans quietly into your mouth when you find each other in the darkness again.

“What is?” You hum into the kiss, feeling emboldened by his praise. “This?” Nails finding their mark again, this time you bring both hands down his chest to play with the sensitive buds.

“Fuck, fuck.” Dieter whines, snapping his hips forward to grind against you. “I’m supposed to be making you feel good.”

“You are, Dee.” The more he grinds against your mound, the slicker and more swollen your clit gets, making you lean into the motion more and more.

“You want me to slide inside you?” He asks, moans the question in your ear. “Break open your needy pussy on my cock?”

“Fuck.” Needy is definitely the right word, as you actually might combust if he doesn’t. “Please,” you nod frantically, rendering what he said about wanting you to beg. “Oh god, please do it—”

It takes just a moment for him to drop his hips and feel the tip of his cock catch at your dripping entrance. Your legs widen even more to let him in and he captures your lips again as he starts to rock forward. The feeling of fullness is indescribable, beginning right in the core of your whole self and spreading outward until even your fingers and toes feel different somehow. Even kissing him seems fuller now, although that might be from the reverberating moans you share as he sinks deeper inside your body.

“You’re so good.” He praises, breaking away from your lips so he can roll his hips back. “Tell me you’re okay? I didn’t hurt you. Tell me you are feeling this.” He begs quietly between kisses.

“You didn’t hurt me.” You promise him, shaking your head and brushing kisses across his lips and jaw. “Feels amazing, baby.” The little term of endearment slips without thinking about it. You might have been more self conscious or doubting about it if he weren’t inside you, but since he is you just relish it. The physical closeness and the intimacy of this moment that is so much more incredible than you could have expected. It is…different than you expected, though, and you squirm slightly under him. “So full, Dee. Fuck, I—does it feel as good for you?”

“So goddamn good.” He moans, ducking his head and tucking his face against your throat. Needing a minute himself shows how tight you get when you contract those muscles. “So good.”

The long moments – maybe whole minutes or more – that it takes both of you to get your breath back are exquisite. You start moving under him sooner than he moves on his own, not because you're impatient but because it feels too good not to. He takes his time establishing a rhythm. Letting you roll your hips up to meet his thrusts. Pinning you down every other thrust and letting you feel every inch of his cock as he pushes forward.

Every girl you know said that their first time was over in the blink of an eye, but this is practically lazy. Dieter is in no rush to have the night over with and though you're already climbing your way back up that immense mountain of pleasure, you're in no hurry for it to be over. You wrap your legs around his waist, feeling a little bolder every time he groans at the tight squeeze of your velvet walls.

He’s determined to make this good for you. Kissing and sucking on your skin. Groaning because he feels how your walls tremble when he rasps in your ear. “So good baby.” He moans. “You’re doing so good for me.”

You'll feel him tomorrow in every way that counts, from the ache between your legs to the bruises he’s leaving on your skin. You'll taste him on your tongue and have the ghost of his kisses left on your lips, and every time you remember how deep his voice gets when he moans in your ear, your toes will curl all over again. Tonight, though, as you gasp and keen, wailing his name into the darkness, you can't help the curiosity rolling through you alongside the pleasure. "Want to t-try–" Gasping between thrusts, your lips practically tremble at his ear. "More, baby, please. I want to try everything."

“We will, baby.” He promises, twitching inside you. “Fuck, all of it. Gonna do everything with you, to you.” He wraps his hand around your shoulder to have better leverage to thrust into you.

"Everything." It's a vast, bottomless promise but somehow you don't doubt him. Like everything that he's done is everything that you're aching to try, and the things that he hasn't are the things that you were always meant to try together. The new angle he achieves with his arms wrapped around you like this gives him the perfect opportunity to strike a spot inside you that you've never felt before – one that turns keening wails of his name into shapeless cries and shouts, too lost in pleasure to even find words to express how fucking good it feels.

Once he gets that response out of you, Dieter clenches his teeth together and concentrates. Making sure he hits it again and again, wanting to hear you squeal his name. “There it is. Oh fuck, you gonna cum Bambi? You gonna soak my cock?”

Without enough presence of mind to even be able to form the word "Yes", you manage a nod, clinging to him and moaning so deeply you can feel it in your toes. It feels like you're about to shake apart and yet if you let go of him for even a second you might crumble from the inside out. Orgasms have never felt like this before – like a ticking time bomb inside your body might go off if he just strokes that spot inside you one more time.

Rocking into you is as close to secular prayer as Dieter has gotten…ever. “Oh god, oh god.” Is chanted on repeat, barely able to keep his eyes open as works his cock in and out of your pussy, poised on the edge of spasming around him.

It takes two more strokes, not one, but when you fall off the edge of pleasure you manage just a single syllable - crying "Dee!" Out into the night and sobbing as wave after wave of pleasure crests across the two of you. Your whole body seems to draw him in, cunt clenching and arms tightening, legs twitching at his waist before you slip away into a sky of stars that burst behind your eyes. The poets were not exaggerating, not one little bit.

He is tumbling right after you. Pushing as deep as he can with a worshipful groan of your name. Thankful for the condom because he would have never been able to pull out in time as he fills the prophylactic with a shudder.

The rush of endorphins that hits a second later has you giggling, dusting kisses across his lips and every inch of skin you can manage while pinned underneath him. “I—” As articulate as you try to be in everyday life, words fail you now. “Wow.”

As soon as Dieter gets done, he’s burrowing into your neck. Becoming an adorably snuggly koala. Always loving the post coitus high that comes from sex. “So fucking good.” He praises, scattering kisses over every inch of skin he can reach.

“You’re amazing.” Still working to catch your breath, your legs may drop back to the mattress but your arms keep him close.

Dieter’s hand slides between you to hold the condom as he pulls his hips back, but he doesn’t make any effort to move beyond that. “You’re amazing.” He counters. “How do you feel?”

“Empty.” The pout you throw at him and the way you bat your eyelashes is purely playful, but you do already mourn the loss of not having him inside you. “I feel amazing, baby.”

“Yeah? Give me twenty minutes and if you aren’t too sore we can go again.” Dieter chuckles quietly.

“You’re on.” The giddiness of it - the lightness - makes you feel like you’re floating on air. Either every girl you know was wrong, or you now have the world’s best experience of losing your virginity.

“I think I’ve created a monster.” Dieter moans playfully, pulling his head up so he can kiss the tip of your nose. “Wanna stay tonight?”

“Of course I do.” In this moment, you’re certain you would stay forever if he asked you.

“Okay.” Dieter kisses you again before he starts to actually move. “Let me get this condom off.”

******

“Clear the set!” The order goes out after everything has been readied, everyone but essential crew retreating to other tasks to allow for intimacy on set. It’s a day you’ve been anticipating with immense nerves. These last two weeks have been complicated — more time spent with Dieter and less fighting has only left you questioning how you feel about him all these years later. Things had happened that he never shared. That you never knew about. And while he still hurt you, you can understand now why he acted the way he did. Maybe even forgive it, if he ever asked you. This scene is one you have been nervous for, not for nudity but for having to be almost entirely naked in a bed with Dieter? It’s consumed almost every thought for the last few days leading up to this shoot. So much so that yesterday when he sat next to you in your trailer, you erupted in goosebumps and immediately put on a sweater.

Dieter slaps himself, looking in the mirror at his reflection. While the lack of eating had cut some unwanted pounds off of his belly, he was still nervous about this scene. Crazy considering he was never shy about flaunting his body no matter what kind of shape he was in. He was nervous now because it’s you. Since that day, things have changed but he can’t say that you have forgiven him. The awkward moments are still there, but you are treating him like he’s a fragile bird with a broken wing. Which, he is, but he doesn’t want to upset the very relieving truce between you. His own dickishness to keep you at arms length had fallen away, with a quiet desire to be with you starting to take hold.

Only a few people are on set when you come out of your trailer, wrapped in a robe and striding toward the newly-finished bedroom set that makes your palms sweat. But you’re a professional above all else, so you hand off your robe to the only production assistant and slip under the sheets.

“Remember she doesn’t actually want you.” Dieter had actually agreed to the modesty sock, even though he tries to avoid it as often as possible. The last time he had a scene where it called for one, he had taped his dick to his thigh.

“You’re wearing it?” When he hands off his robe to the PA you can’t even hate yourself for looking. You have to work with this man. To function around him. You can’t hate yourself for looking, but you can curse yourself for being affected by him. “I half expected you to show up naked like the Emperor showing off new clothing.”

“Didn’t think you would want to see me in all my middle aged glory.” Dieter jokes, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck as he walks over to the bed. The intimacy coordinator is nearby but she had already said that she wanted to see how you organically greet each other.

“Why do you think I got here first?” You have to laugh at yourself, at least a little, being so anxious around the first man who ever saw you completely naked. It should be ridiculous, but instead your heart is threatening to beat out of your chest.

“Things have changed.” He also didn’t know what you would think about the…piercing he got after coming back to Hollywood. He doubts you’ve heard about it.

“You should get in.” Reflexively, you pull the sheets on the other side of the bedside to let him climb in, studiously keeping your eyes on his face.

It’s hard not to think back to that tiny apartment on the upper East side. Sharing a queen sized bed with you for months and thinking about asking you to move in when your lease was up. He has never told you that. Knowing it would just be another bittersweet symbol of the hurt he had done. Nodding, he slips beneath the sheets and settles on his back.

“I want to give you guys the chance to find a comfortable position organically,” Sam steps closer to the bed on set and crosses his arms over his chest. The director has no idea what has been going on between his lead actors, but he knows things are tense. “But you will have to touch. Sooner than eventually.”

Dieter twists his head and looks over at you, knowing that this scene calls for you to be on top of him. “Not like you haven’t been there before.” He murmurs quietly so no one else can hear.

You snort under your breath, knowing he’s right, and shift closer to him. It’s a simple matter of situating yourself above his waist, but you’re desperately afraid of giving yourself away when you do. Not that you might be aroused - being in a room full of relative strangers - but that he’ll remember the other things. Goosebumps and shallow breath, the way you squirm when something feels particularly good.

“It’s okay, Bambi.” Dieter knows that you are an accomplished actress. He might have a copy of every thing you’ve ever been in, but you are biting your lip like you are that shy virgin all over again. His chest aches with how badly he wants to kiss you. “You’re a professional. Just another day at work.”

“We both know it’s not.” It’s sweet of him to say so, though, and you hate the way it makes you ache that he’s started using your nickname in private again. It takes a deep breath on your part before you have the nerve to sit up, twisting the sheet around you for modesty and making it pool around the place you’re connected. It looks perfectly like you’re straddling him but you’re actually hovering a few inches north of where actual sex would require you to be. And yet? All either of you would have to do is shift once and you would be in place.

“No, it’s not.” Dieter can agree to that and his hand slowly slides up to hover over your waist. “Can I touch you?” He asks before setting his hand on your skin.

Goosebumps. You can feel them the second they happen, but there’s nothing you can do now. They’re there, and Sam has noticed enough to call for the heat to be turned up on set, mistaking it for you being cold. “We’ll never get through this if we can’t at least touch each other.”

“Figured I would ask.” He shrugs, not giving a damn if it takes longer than Sam would like. It’s more important that his partner is comfortable. He can’t flirt and joke like he would with someone else, because of your history together.

“And I appreciate that.” Tentatively, you let both of your hands down onto his chest the way the script had described. If Sam wants it changed, he can say so. Right now you’re just trying to baby step your way to even a tiny bit of comfort. “Are you…okay? I’m not sitting on you weirdly or something, am I?”

“I’m good, just let me…” Dieter slides his hand between the two of you to adjust the ‘sock’. “I’ll try to keep it under control.” He murmurs.

It takes a second, but the half-guilty and half-flattered grin that overtakes your face comes with a snort of amusement to cap it all off. You snort again, suppressing a giggle, and shake your head at him. “Good luck with that. He has a mind of his own.” Sam hasn’t said a word as he watches the two of you get comfortable, but even he smiles seeing you relax.

“Okay,” he interrupts gently. “Let’s just find the motion, before we add in the dialogue. I want you guys to see how easy or awkward or difficult it will be for you to switch places from here. Dieter, just go ahead and roll her over carefully, and that will lead us into the kiss and the rest of the dialogue.”

There is a thirty second pause. Ten seconds of that is Dieter staring up at you, as himself. Then the set of his jaw changes, his eyes darken and his brow pulls down just enough to signal a change into character. He’s not Dieter Bravo now, he’s the character he’s bringing to life. His arm swings around you and his hips roll, making a seamless transition to push you under him and as blocked out, his mouth fuses to yours in a frenzy of need and lust.

It’s acting. It’s all acting, you promise yourself, not letting yourself react in any way beyond wrapping your arms around his shoulders and returning the rapacious kiss. It’s false. Entirely the character in a way that the scenes of the two of you screaming at each other truly isn’t. “Hold.” Sam’s voice cuts through the tension, his footsteps on the wooden floor audible over the heavy breathing in the set. It might have been false, but it was still a kiss. “Try it again,” Sam insists. “Less forceful this time?” He hums while he thinks – a habit of his.

“Maybe we can get a beat of looking into each other’s eyes right before the kiss?”

That seems to be a good idea to the young director, and he nods. “Make the decision,” he tells Dieter. “I want to see you make the decision to have her.”

Dieter nods and resets, waiting for you to get back into position and covered like you had been before. It takes less time to slip into the skin of his character this time and the way he holds your eyes is more assessing before you see the way his face changes almost imperceptibly. Rolling you over again and the kiss is less forceful but just as passionate as the last.

This time your fingers are in his hair when Sam calls for a hold, and it takes you a second to come back to yourself, but the real problem is that kissing him again is doing things to you. You squirm slightly, hoping no one notices, and try to clear your mind enough to pay attention to whatever the hell Sam is saying. At the very least, you’re just determined not to make eye contact with Dieter between these rehearsal moments. It’ll give you away – but you aren’t even sure what feeling you would be betraying at this point.

“Something’s missing,” Sam is saying when you finally tune in. “There’s so much honesty…and I don’t…” He huffs out a sigh. “I don’t believe you. Either of you. When you hated each other, I believed you. The confusion, the yearning, the—everything else. But I don’t believe that when the cameras cut, you’re going to tear each other apart.”

Dieter frowns slightly. “What do you mean?” He huffs, not sure what the director is looking for. The way your hand had tugged at his hair with just the right pressure had made him start to harden. He had been working so hard on holding himself back. Not making it real.

“I mean…” Sam pauses, trying to suss out the right way to explain it. “There’s something about the other scenes that makes me hold my breath when you two get going. Something honest about them. But I’m not holding my breath now.”

“So you’re saying…” you sigh, pinned underneath Dieter and trying desperately not to react to what might be his cock twitching or might just be the fabric of the modesty sock against your thigh. “You can tell that we’re acting?”

Dieter mulls over the director's words, his fingers pressing against the divot of your hip and he nods. “We’ll reset and then I’m going to change it slightly.” He offers, looking down at you and silently asking for permission.

“You have an idea?” The question is more or less rhetorical, but he nods and you swallow your nerves. “Okay. Let’s reset.”

Dieter reaches down between you and removes the modesty sock and shoves it under the pillow to hide it from the crew as you adjust.

The second you sit up again to put your leg over his waist, your eyes widen and you look down at Dieter with an expression halfway in between murdering him and melting. Even if you'd never sat on his cock before you would definitely realize the difference between fabric and skin, and you swallow a gasp when you look down at him. "This is your idea?" You whisper, shifting on his lap to try to raise yourself up off of him so you're not sitting directly on what is now his hardening cock.

“Do you have a better idea?” Dieter shoots back with a snort before he grins at you. “Hey—”

Cutting him off by settling yourself directly on top of him isn't quite the victory you imagine it is, because you have to bite your lip to keep from reacting and end up pinching your eyes shut as you twist to wrap the sheet around you again. Thank god, at least, for pasties. No one needs to see your nipples bud and pebble with arousal. "This is going to be interesting," you murmur, looking down at him from this more-familiar position. There's a pretty solid chance that this counts as cock warming. Or it would, if your own modesty garment weren't in the way.

Dieter bites back a groan and stares up at you. “Do you want to have sex with me?” He asks, smirking slightly.

"The first time you asked me that, the answer was my virginity," you remind him extremely quietly, as if he might have forgotten what had happened then. The problem, though? Is that you want to say yes. You actually, completely, in this exact moment – you want to say yes.

This time, the expression is less the character and more Dieter. Letting his own emotions and confusing needs blend with that of his character, reaching up and cupping your breast over the sheet while he rolls you under him desperately.

You don't gasp this time, but whine. It's your sound, the one you make naturally, and the one that is automatic when Dieter grinds against your core. Your eyelashes flutter of their own accord and your hand reaches to grasp his hip in turn. The internal war of whether or not to succumb to him that your character is supposed to be having reads in your confused eyes as clearly as a neon sign, and this time when he leans down to kiss you, you meet him halfway there.

This time, there's a need that is more raw, realistic. It’s his need. His want that comes through the slot of his lips against yours. The subtle slide of his tongue into your mouth.

The hand you have in his hair pulls a little harder this time, your body lifts off the mattress and your other arm wraps around his torso to drag him closer instead of draping prettily on his shoulders. It's barely acting, in the sense that you're currently presenting as two fictional characters. That's the surface of what is happening, as you moan softly into his kiss. But the fact is that if he slipped inside you right now, you probably wouldn't hesitate to let him have you right there on that set. Which...is something you're going to need to think about later when your mind isn't completely fogged by desire.

Dieter doesn’t pull back, doesn’t stop kissing you. His hand squeezes your tit softly, knowing that there are thirty people watching the two of you simulate working up to having sex.

Neither of you heard the command from your director to hold, too wrapped up in each other and too overwhelmed by the pounding of your own blood to have noticed. It's only when you break the kiss to have a gasp of air and turn your head to the side for Dieter to trail his lips down your neck that you open your hazy eyes and see Sam standing there with his arms crossed and a slightly gobsmacked look on his face. "Well," he chuckles, when you snap back to reality and open your eyes in his direction. "That's more like it. Let's reset and get ready to roll cameras."

Dieter pants and closes his eyes, leaning down and pressing his head against your clavicle for a second before he moves over onto his back again. “That’s what you want?” He asks Sam, wanting to make sure he doesn’t need to change anything.

"See if you can add a growl without making it sound forced." Sam chuckles at the thought and steps off the edge of the set, bound for the chair with his name on it.

Dieter chuckles, closing his eyes for a moment and blowing out a deep sigh to try to calm down his raging boner. “Sounds good.”

“Need another second?” Since you know what he did - and have an inkling as to how thin the shred of Dieter’s self control can be, you don’t want to just hop back on his waist without warning. You’d either knee him in the dick by accident or end up making him moan out loud for real.

“I’m good.” Dieter knows that you are fully aware of what is going on under the sheet, and another conversation will need to happen. He will have to apologize to you. But for now, he reaches for you so he can be as close as he can be to you.

Onto his lap one more time, you wrap the sheet around your torso artfully and let the set dresser nitpick the specific placement of things until she’s satisfied and steps away. You place your hands on his bare chest and note with a frown that his own previously pierced nipple has healed through, but school your expression back into place when Sam calls for “Action!”

This time, Dieter gives the scene his all. Taking his need up a notch and just like Sam had asked, he included a small growl into the scene as he rolls you under him again and presses against you.

It’s a fucking miracle you can remember your lines or deliver then clearly enough for the boom mic hanging a foot and a half over Dieter’s head to pick up, because when Sam calls cut you half want to kick everyone off set and just rip the sheet away. “Let’s just set up for the next scene,” Sam instructs, sending the crew scurrying all around you. “Guys, you’re doing great,” he promises, stepping back up onto the set. “I want to try the image two ways – once spooning and once having you face each other. We’ll see which one we like better in post, okay?”

“S-sure—” You manage a vague nod, trying to remember what the next shot even is. Ah. Right. It’s him watching you sleep. The page in the script has whispered words of love and a kiss to your head while you sleep, and you had decided stubbornly not to read it ever again after the read through. The idea of Dieter ever saying sweet things to you again had been horrible at the time. But now? It twists deep in your heart how much you have to admit to missing those days.

The first set up is Dieter facing you. He’s managed to slip back on the modesty sock and his cock is only half hard now that the scene has cooled down and he doesn’t have his hands on you. “You good, Bambi?” He asks quietly after you get positioned.

“I’m good.” You have to be. There’s no option to go running off the set because you got horny and emotional during the last shot. “I just…” A soft exhale comes when you rest your head on the pillow next to him. “I wasn’t expecting Sam to want more.”

“No, no, no.” Sam huffs, like he has developed sonar hearing out of nowhere. “Get closer. You guys look like you’re politely keeping your distance at your in-laws. Sprawl out over Dieter,” he instructs you, coming back onto the set to look at things from the angle he wants. “One leg over his, hand on his chest. Intimate.”

Dieter reaches for you, pulling you closer and draping his arm around you. He moves closer and presses his face right up against you. “Hey.” He murmurs quietly.

“Hey.” It’s just a little whisper, but you smile as you flick your eyes up to look at him before closing them again when Sam pronounces the shot to be perfect. “You’re comfy,” you murmur before you can stop yourself, and squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment.

Dieter sighs softly, reaching up and his fingers brush over your cheek. “Dee! Wait for the call!” Sam yells, making him drop his hand. That part hadn’t been scripted.

“Yeah, Dee,” you can’t help the way you giggle under your breath, like you ought to be sticking out your tongue at him. Under the sheets, though, your hand comes to rest softly on his chest after not really being sure where to go. It’s a small gesture of comfort between you, but it’s there.

There's a small grin, quickly squashed before you close your eyes and Dieter settles down. When the director finally calls 'Action!', he reaches up again to brush your face lightly as he watches your face. "I do love you." He whispers softly, "I'm not a good man, I don't know why I am the way I am. I don't want to say the things that come out of my mouth." He murmurs quietly. "You are my world, even when you aren't around."

Professionalism, you remind yourself, trying desperately to keep your eyes shut and not react at all even though you’re fighting every instinct you have that wants to surge up and kiss him now that that dam has been broken again. It’s all you can do to keep perfectly still until Sam calls cut and tells you to hold your position so they can fiddle with the camera position for another angle. Your eyes flutter open, lip bitten as you try not to smile too much. “Good line delivery,” you murmur quietly, looking up at Dieter from your place in his chest.

"Dee, Dee." Sam tuts and walks over. "You are a man in love." He stresses. "Obsessed and yet completely aware that you have treated your lady wrong. This is supposed to be almost like your act of atonement." He sighs and motions. "Reset."

“You okay?” The direction seems harsh to you, but you don’t want to get in the middle of things. Your only job right now is to not react, but you still check on him.

"I'm good." Dieter brushes off your concern and waits for you to close your eyes again. Channeling images of the last time he saw you twelve years ago, watching you take your bow on stage before he turned around and walked out of that theatre and your life "Action!"

There’s something Sam is looking for but he can’t quite describe it. There’s a feeling that he’s gotten from the other big scenes that has made him want to alternately jump out of his chair in excitement or apologize for intruding on such an intimate moment. That’s what he’s looking for.

There are tears in his eyes when the director calls for the scene to end. The dialogue changed slightly, more personalized. Words that he had wished he could have said to you so many years ago come pouring out of his mouth as his fingers fan your face, tenderly brush over your features as if he’s memorizing every curve and valley.

“I don’t think we need to do the other set up.” Sam decides, apparently satisfied with the set up and the reset he has just gotten. With his hands on his hips, he seems to look at you and Dieter in that bed on set but not see you at all. “Good work today. Let’s call it an early night tonight.”

Blinking, Dieter shuffles back from you as Desiree rushes over with his robe. "Good work, Dee." She coos as he sits up and shrugs into the robe. He's a little raw, unable to look over at you at the moment as the lines between his character and himself have blurred more than he had anticipated. "Thanks."

“Dee?” Sadie has your robe out to you barely a second later, and you thank her with a nod and a silent moment of eye contact before turning back to him. “Can we…um…can we maybe talk?” The last few weeks have been so careful – such a tiptoeing around each other – that you haven’t done much meaningful talking. Just surface level stuff or spending time together in relative silence. Now, though, you feel like you need to talk to him or you’ll burst.

Nodding, he stands and quickly ties the robe shut. “Ten minutes?” He asks, needing a few moments to try and find an emotional balance so he doesn’t collapse against you and sob. “Or back at the hotel?”

“I’ll meet you at your trailer and we can drive back together?” You’re afraid of losing your nerve if you wait too long, but you also don’t want to scare him. Dieter can be like a horse sometimes – he spooks easily.

Agreeing, he gives you a quick nod and turns around to practically run back to the safety of his trailer. Feeling exposed and vulnerable as Desiree rushes along beside him.

“Do you guys have plans tonight?” You loop one arm through Sadie’s on the way back to your own trailer, trying to keep your spirits up.

“Just a night in.” Sadie admits with a grin. The relationship is everything she’s wanted and to be honest, she’s not looking forward to when the filming wraps. “With Dieter behaving, Desiree wants to stick close by just in case and to relax.”

“So if I send a bottle of something bubbly and dessert from room service, should it be to your room or hers?” Seeing Sadie this happy has been such a sweet thing. She’s not only fantastically on the ball as an employee but she’s also been just a wonderful influence on your life in general, and you want to do everything you can to help that happiness grow for her.

“I think I’m staying in her room tonight. But you don’t have to do that.” She protests. “Dieter just has her room number memorized and he might call on the hotel phone since he likes that better than cell phones.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.” At the door to your trailer, you unlock and push inside first to let her in after you. “You take such amazing care of me. If I can do little things now and then to make you smile, I’m going to.”

“Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you back to the hotel?” She had assumed you meant to ride with Dieter and the assistants ride together since the cars needed to get back.

“You and Des enjoy some quiet time. I’ll drive Dieter and me.” Amongst other eccentricities, the man hates to drive. It’s secretly one of the reasons he loves cities and having an assistant. You’re pretty sure he hasn’t been behind the wheel of a car voluntarily since he got his license. “I—honestly I kind of need to talk to him. And I haven’t quite figured out what I’m going to say.”

“The scenes were very…intimate.” Sadie answers honestly. “I know you are on better terms but talking will be good.”

“It was…a lot more intimate than it looked.” Disappearing into the tiny trailer bathroom to peel the modesty garment off your skin – thank god for bikini waxes – you re-emerge a second later and step into the little bedroom for clean clothes. “If not for that shred of adhesive, we would officially be making a porn.”

“Did he remove the sock?” Sadie asks, “Desiree swears she saw him remove the sock.”

Half-dressed, you stick just your head around the door of the little room to look Sadie dead in the eyes. “Oh yeah.” You confirm with a look of slight desperation. “Your girlfriend’s got a sharp eye.”

“Jesus.” Sadie shakes her head in horror. “I– what was he thinking?” She is still operating under the assumption that while things are better between you, you want nothing to do with Dieter Bravo once this movie ends.

“That it would be a more authentic reaction from both of us.” You shove away from the door again long enough to pull on your blouse and cardigan before coming out. “Which, let’s be fair. He was right. But I—” You blow out a breath and shrug your shoulders almost desperately. “I honestly don’t know anymore, Sadie. I don’t know what I feel, I don’t know what I want, and I don’t know what he wants either. It’s going to drive me crazy to do this whole movie without knowing when he’s crossing the line into reality and when he’s not.”

“Oh God.” Her eyes widen and her mouth drops open slightly. Realizing that her boss is falling in love with the man who broke her heart again. “Yes.” She decides firmly, nodding. “You need to talk.”

“The trouble is that talking to Dieter Bravo is like talking to a forest sprite or a fae or something.” With another shake off your head, you reach into the mini fridge for your water bottle and sigh after a sip. “You’re not going to get a straight answer, or if you do, it’s not going to be anything like you expected. And it’s going to cost you just for asking.”

“But you love him.” She murmurs quietly.

“I—” Most of the time, you really would like to think that you know yourself. The things that you want and the things that will help you be healthy and happy. Right now? You really don’t know if the thing you want is going to be good for you at all. “I don’t think I ever stopped,” you admit quietly. “I don’t think you can be as angry as I was with him for so long without there still being love left. That’s why it hurt so much.”

Sadie walks over to you, taking your hands in hers and staring into your eyes. “I love you, you are my friend and I want nothing but the best for you.” She assures you softly. “Talk to him. Be honest and make sure you know what you are getting into.”

“I love you too, honey.” While most of Hollywood would tell you that you were silly or overly sentimental for being friends with your assistant, but you hold her in a tight hug and let the tension roll out of you for a minute before exhaling deeply. “Okay. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck.” She’ll cross her fingers and her toes for you if it means that you can have a significant, meaningful conversation with Dieter.

Dieter’s trailer is only a few doors down, and you walk over together so Sadie can pick up Desiree at the same time. You swear it feels like walking out in front of a judge when you knock on the trailer door, but since you haven’t been sick from nerves in years, it’s still a win.

Desiree opens the door with a grin. “Come on in. Dieter is just finishing getting dressed.”

“Long day.” The sun has well since set, and if it weren’t for how tense the last few hours had been, you would probably be starving.

“It has been.” Desiree nods, having calmed her boss down enough to be able to change and interact like a semi-normal human being after a small cry. “We are planning on marking it an early night. And he asked me to order room service for both of you.”

“That sounds like a good plan. And thank you.” Desiree’s exceptional eye for details and time spent with Sadie means she zeroed in on your favorite foods extremely quickly and anytime you’ve eaten with Dieter or as a group, she’s been pretty on point ordering for you. Although, the last time that the four of you all had room service together, you had splurged on luxury items and watched a few episodes of Black Sails together. That was actually a very fun night.

Dieter emerges from the back bedroom wearing a pair of loose palazzo style pants, a t-shirt and a crocheted sweater with his crocs. Hair still wet from his five minute shower and his face shiny and free of makeup. “Hey.” He murmurs quietly when he sees you, rubbing his hands on his pants nervously.

“Hey.” It’s such a small word for all the big things you’re feeling, but you put on a smile and point your finger at the door. “I’ll drive. You can look out the windows or meditate on the way back if you want.”

Swallowing hastily, Dieter nods. "Thanks, you know how much I hate driving." Especially here he was always driving on the wrong damn side of the road. It was nerve wracking. "Are you ready? I'm ready."

“Yeah, I’m ready.” To drive, anyway. You have no idea if you’re ready for this conversation. At least the hotel isn’t more than a twenty-minute drive away.

“Okay.” Dieter is the last one out of the trailer even though Desiree locks it for him. Trailing behind you and waiting for some kind of sign about what you want to talk about. Fingers twitching as he reaches for the ever-present candy in his pocket.

“You’re not in trouble,” you murmur with a shake of your head, opening his door for him when you reach the rental car.

“Shouldn’t I open the door for you?” He frowns at the reversal of roles and the way that all the women in his life are walking on eggshells around him right now.

“I was just trying to be nice…” It makes you frown much more deeply than you expected when the small act of kindness seems to upset him. And within seconds you’re rethinking everything you wanted to say, wondering if you didn’t just get caught up in the moment with him all over again.

“I know.” He blows out a sigh and shakes his head as you put on your seatbelt. “I just – I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me.” He murmurs quietly. “I’m not – I should be apologizing to you. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” If you surprise yourself with the honesty of it, he must be shocked. “Not really. I mean…I could have told you no. Or to put the damn sock back on. But I didn’t.” Both of you are buckled in and the car is on, but you haven’t pulled out of the lot yet. “Maybe it says more about me than it does about you, I don’t know. But the last few weeks have really…they’ve really proved to me…” You blow out an unsteady breath. “How much I’ve missed you.”

He bites his lip, closing his eyes and wondering briefly if he’s imagined you saying that. He’s had auditory hallucinations when he’s detoxed before and it’s been nearly seventy-two hours since he’s done anything more potent than weed or ‘shrooms. “I– can you say that again.” He begs softly. “Please?”

Your hand reaches carefully over the console, covering his larger one but not pressing any further. Just simple skin on skin in the most innocent way possible. “I missed you, Dee.”

“I miss you too.” Dieter turns his hand over and squeezes yours when your palm hits his. “I– today was– it wasn’t my character.” He confesses quietly. “It was me.”

“Apparently, it was both.” There’s a certain amount of pride in your voice for that fact, and you squeeze his hand back more tightly this time. “But…I was sort of hoping you would say that…that I was right when I heard you through the lines.”

“I’ve never done that.” He shakes his head in amazement. “Never.”

“Not even the first day of filming?” It seems silly to ask, but that moment had felt so real. Hell, it had been real enough for you to go berserk on him at the tea shop.

Dieter frowns and tries to remember what the first day of filming was. His brows shoot up when he remembers. “No.” He shakes his head furiously. “Not– no, I– not even then.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t pull the slap.” It was unprofessional if nothing else, and you do regret hurting him. It had been such a horrible, complicated day. “I shouldn’t have hurt you. No matter how upset I was.”

“I deserved it.” Dieter can admit that. He absolutely deserved that. He had been hurt that you had seemed to anticipate it with glee, but he thinks you hadn’t enjoyed it very much afterwards. You hadn’t gloated, at least.

“This is the kind of stuff I wanted to talk to you about.” Carefully pulling the car out of its space and through the lot, you weave into London nighttime traffic deftly. “I just…I’m anxious as hell to talk about any of this. But I feel like the longer I put it off…I’ll psych myself out or convince myself that I’m overreacting. Or reading into things too much.”

“If I overstepped…..I’m sorry.” Dieter turns his head and looks out at the passing city. His heart aches when he realizes that he had been hoping for some kind of reunion of sorts but it sounds like you are not interested. “I know that when we are done with the press junket and whatever that you won’t want to have anything to do with me.”

“Dee...” His hand is still encompassing yours and you thread your fingers through his when you hear the heartbreak in his voice. “That’s kind of the opposite of where I wanted to go with this conversation,” you admit quietly.

“Wha—” he doesn’t trust himself to ask that question. Instead he just turns and looks at you in confusion.

“I don’t know how any of this will work with us now.” When you sigh this time it’s admitting to yourself that yes, this conversation is happening in a moving vehicle so no, you absolutely can’t cry during it. “We’re different people than we used to be in a lot of ways, but at the same time the fundamentals of who we are…well, they’re kind of baked into us.” At the next stop light, you turn to look at him and are so sure you see hope in his eyes. “And I don’t know how it would work. Or if it would work. But of all the things I regret, I don’t want to regret not taking a second chance when we had it.”

“You want….me?” Dieter asks, bewildered by that confession. “Like– another chance? You want to give me another chance?” He’s so confused, but his voice breaks. “Y-yeah.”

“I had planned on being more eloquent than this.” A whole speech had been forming in your head, rolling over and over as you tried to figure out exactly what you wanted to say. But in the end it has turned out not to matter. “I had this whole plan. I was going to have champagne and chocolates sent to Sadie and Des and to us and make it this whole romantic thing and I just…please don’t take the fact that I asked you like this instead of doing something absurdly romantic to mean that I’m any less sincere.”

“You wanted to give me chocolates and champagne?” His voice sounds awe-filled, as if he had never even had someone consider doing something like that for him. “We can still have them. I’ll order them.” He offers, squeezing your hand again.

“Then it’s you giving them to me and not me giving them to you…” The distinction is important to you, considering there was a time when you couldn’t give him more than a glass of water.

“I–okay.” He murmurs quietly. “Um,” he glances back at you briefly before looking out the window again. “This isn’t because you feel sorry for me, is it?” He doesn’t know if it would hurt him more or less than he had already been hurting.

“No.” The speed of your answer should probably speak for yourself, but you still keep a hold of his hand. “Pity isn’t a foundation for a relationship.”

His sigh of relief is quiet, but he knows you hear it. Realistically, he knows he doesn’t deserve another chance. Not after what he’s done, but you are giving him one. “Good.”

“It’s…” you steer the car into the underground parking below the hotel you’re staying at and glance over at him as darkness overtakes the car. “It’s because kissing you…even on set, even through the lens of characters…” Your voice is shaking as you park the car and you can hear it, so there’s no doubt he can too. “Kissing you today felt like coming home.”

“I’ve never been happier than in that little shitty apartment, wrapped up with you.” Dieter admits, swallowing down the thick emotions. “Not even winning that fucking Oscar.”

Now that the car is parked and things are out in the open, you sink back in your seat and unbuckle your seatbelt. “Maybe we’ll win one together this time,” you tease, trying not to think of the note he sent to your house after you lost a few months ago. That wasn’t really him. It was a coping mechanism.

“Yeah.” Dieter nods. “I meant what I said to you. You deserved it, and hopefully next time you’re nominated, you win.”

“You sent me a note that said ‘Whoops. Better luck when Meryl isn’t nominated.’” Actually saying it out loud makes you pause, and you shake your head at yourself for getting so wrapped up in seven stupid words.

“Yeah,” Dieter nods, wincing slightly. “It’s Meryl, I’m happy I don’t have to go up against her.” He huffs. “You would have won if her movie had come out the next year.”

“Come on.” One more squeeze of his hand and you let it go to pull the keys from the ignition and retrieve your purse from the backseat. “Let’s go upstairs? I’ll catch hell from Desiree if I don’t feed you, and that girl is scary when she defends you.”

Chuckling, he climbs out of the car. “She scares me.” He admits with a grin. “I think that’s why my agent loves her.”

“Your agent loves her because she is impossible for you to talk into your bed.” You grin at him as you round the hood of the car and hold out your hand for him to take again.

“That too.” He admits shamelessly. “Girl doesn’t like dick at all.” He huffs, smirking slightly. She had a knack for putting him in his place and it was something that was needed every now and again.

“She and Sadie have that in common.” The elevator to go upstairs isn’t far away and you let Dieter press the call button as you unconsciously lean into his side. “They’re very sweet together. I think Sadie’s nervous that you and I won’t be on good terms when filming ends. Like that would affect their relationship. I didn’t…I didn’t really tell her what I wanted to talk to you about tonight. Not all of it, anyway.”

“You aren’t giving me another chance because of your assistant, are you?” He’s joking, but he stares at you suspiciously.

“No.” The elevator doors open and you nudge him inside, pressing the button for your floor yourself. “I’m asking if you want to try again because I’ve…I’ve never loved anyone in the world as much as you.”

“There’s a reason why I couldn’t get a relationship to last.” Dieter admits quietly. “They weren’t you. And I fucked up the best thing I’ve ever had.”

“Well…” The elevator car starts to move and you shrug a little. “Better later than never. Isn’t it?”

“Twelve years later.” Dieter sighs, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “I’m sorry, Bambi.”

“The person who owes us both an apology is your father.” Something which you will never get, unfortunately. “But barring that? I’d say…maybe we focus on the future instead of the past?”

The idea of a fresh start isn’t new to Dieter, they talk about that shit all the time in therapy but he bobbles his head, wanting it now. “Okay.” He agrees quickly.

From the elevator to his room, the two of you stay connected long enough to get inside and long enough for you to call room service for those bottles of bubbly and boxes of chocolates that you had planned for. According to the staff member on the other end, Desiree has already arranged your dinners. “I swear,” you hum, resting your head on his chest. “Between the two of them, they might start reading our minds.”

“I think they know us better than we know ourselves.” Dieter huffs, pleased that you have wanted to do something for him. “Um–” Dieter rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, a little shy about showing you his sketchbook since you had freaked out last time. “Do you want to see the rest of my sketches?” He asks quietly. You’ve done something for him, so he wants to do the same.

"Yes." They're intensely personal to him, you understand that now. It was something you couldn't wrap your head around before and you're embarrassed by how you reacted weeks ago. "I'm sorry I–um...is there any real way to repair the book? I'm so sorry, Dee..."

“I redrew it.” Dieter admits. “When I was – when I was high.”

"You've been doing that less." There's no judgment behind it. It's just an observation on your part. He's barely touched anything in the last few weeks, and nothing dangerous at that.

“You said you were worried.” Dieter explains. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

"How do you feel without it?" Mostly you were worried that he was going to overdose out of sheer desperation or depression, but from everything you can see, he's actually doing okay being more sober on a day-to-day basis. Or maybe he's just a good enough actor to get through the daily motions of life on autopilot.

“I–I don’t know?” He shrugs carelessly. “Weird. It’s all too bright.”

"That's the pot. It makes you more photosensitive. Not to a degree that could hurt you, but just enough that sunglasses are good." You follow him through to the bedroom of his suite where he keeps his sketchbooks, shrugging your own shoulders in turn when he looks at you in confusion. "I–I did some reading. In case you started having withdrawal symptoms or anything like that."

“I don’t know if I should have known or shake my head at you.” He snorts. “I’m sure you could have asked Desiree. I think the woman has a binder of all the drugs I take and their effects.”

"I wanted to put in the effort myself." It means a lot to you, to be able to step out of your comfort zone for him, and it probably is an obvious clue that you still felt strongly about him far before you were able to admit it to yourself. "What if something happened to you on her day off? Or in the middle of the night when I'm here and she isn't?"

Dieter swallows and feels guilty for putting so much responsibility on you. “I’m sorry.”

"It's okay." Your hand touches his arm gently and you offer him a smile, not wanting to dwell on too many heavy things all at once. "Do you still want to show me your sketches?"

“Yeah.” Dieter picks up the book and hesitates for a moment before he offers it to you. Reminding himself that you wouldn’t tear it up again. Maybe you would be impressed with the sketches now that you aren’t angry at him.

Cradling the book carefully, you sit down on the edge of the perfectly made bed and smile at the fact that Desiree found time to make it – because he certainly didn't do it himself. The early pages of the sketchbook are rough images of your face with your eyes closed, followed by several more that concentrate entirely on your eyes being open. As the book goes on, the images become larger and more varied. A full page is dedicated to a sketching of you wearing a dress that you particularly loved – it had been in magazines, if you recall correctly. The designer was someone previously unknown who had sent you a thank you card for mentioning her name to a reporter. The ones of you smiling are the most remarkable, though. With nothing but pencils, paper, and raw talent, he's made you more lifelike in that book that you are in some days of your own life. "They're..." you exhale shakily when you flip to a page that shows you sleeping. One hand lays in front of your face with a ring on your finger, almost like a dream. "They're stunning, Dee. You're incredible."

“I–” Dieter reaches out and touches the binding of the book. “I bring this book with me everywhere.” He admits quietly. “Desiree never touches my backpack. I don’t allow her to. It’s my carryon.”

"You bring me everywhere?" It touches you far more than you can really say, sticking in your throat and making you swallow thickly.

“Yeah.” Dieter knows that it’s dumb, perhaps even creepy to someone if they were to think about it. “Just– wanted you to know.”

"I'm flattered." When you reach for this hand this time you press a kiss to his palm and smile. "And I'm sorry again for...for being so over dramatic about discovering them. You have every right to express yourself and keep your memories however you want to."

“I get it.” He hadn’t been able to recreate that sketch in the new book. Not wanting to see that look again. “I understand, I do.”

"Maybe in the future there can be happier reasons to draw." Trying as hard as you can to lighten the mood, you tip your chin back to look at him and waggle your eyebrows. "Or sexy reasons?"

“Yeah?” Dieter’s brows shoot up and he gets a hopeful look on his face. “Would you model for me sometime?”

"I'm surprised you never asked me to before." You chew on your lip, brows furrowing. "Or...did you not draw back then?"

“Not really. Nothing beyond doodles.” Dieter snorts. “The idea of Baxter Bravo’s son being an artist beyond the silver screen was never an option.”

"You can do whatever you want now, you know." Arguably, he could before. But abusive parents have a way of caging in their children that cannot be easily broken. "I mean...even if you wanted to go as far as quitting acting altogether, you could."

“What the hell would I do?” Dieter’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. Not even imagining what he would do since he’s not doing as many drugs and he doubts you would be interested in orgies.

"I'm not saying that you have to, or even that you should. You're an amazing actor, and you did deserve that Oscar." A knock on the suite door has you standing from his bed and putting the sketchbook back down on the blankets. "I just want you to be happy. That's all."

Happy. What would that entail? He frowns as you open the door, thinking about what would actually make him happy. You, for one. You would make him happy. He watches as they wheel in the cart of food and you sign off on the bill. “What did she order us?” He asks, striding over as the server discreetly exits.

"Looks like a roast dinner for two." The covered platters of beef, potatoes, carrots, peas, and Yorkshire pudding are as English as it gets, and the boat of gravy is steaming away happily. Beside it, the ice bucket of champagne and box of chocolates are a decadent cap to the meal. "She ordered us a celebration."

“Sounds good.” Dieter has showered but you are still wearing remnants of the makeup from the set. “Do you want to shower before we eat?” He asks, wondering if you would go back to your room after dinner or stay. Feeling off kilter from the way things have turned out. Who knew you would be the stronger of the two of you?

“Five minutes?” Considering your room is right next to his, you could be in and out in no time and come back in pajamas. “Everything will stay warm if we keep the lids on and…if today’s already been a lot we can just watch a movie or something. I don’t really mind…I just…” It feels so silly, yet it’s true. “I just want to be around you.”

“You could always shower here.” He offers quietly. “But – no, that’s stupid.” He shakes his head and waves. “Go shower and change. I’ll be right here.”

“Why is that stupid?” You tilt your head at him.

“You don’t have clothes and I–” he shrugs one shoulder. “I know that it’s dumb to not want you to leave for five minutes.”

“I—” Biting back the suggestion at first, a smirk ends up creeping across your face anyway. “If I shower after dinner I just…might not get dressed afterward?” It wasn’t so many hours ago that he was grinding against you in that bed on set and the memory is still making you a little hazy.

Dieter has been trying sooooo hard not to turn things sexual, especially given the way that he had finally been on even ground with you. Groaning quietly, he bites his lip. “What would you wear?” He’s a little breathless at the thought, remembering how you looked even with the modesty garments on.

“Um…I was kind of leaning toward wearing nothing? But I can borrow one of your shirts if that’s too fast or too uncomfortable.” The question makes you stumble a little, wondering if you misread any of the conversation that the two of you have been having. He had said that nothing this afternoon was faked, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s ready to just dive into bed with you.

Dieter closes his eyes for a moment, lips parted as if he is in prayer. “I–I can’t guarantee I won’t get down on my fucking knees and beg to touch you,” he admits, cock twitching in his pants. “Fuck.”

The reverence and desperation in his voice has your eyes flicking up to meet his again, and your lips twist into a relieved smile. “I wouldn’t be suggesting that I get naked in your hotel room unless you were going to be allowed to touch me.”

“You– want to have sex with me?” Dieter asks, slowly opening his eyes. “Or– is this something where I need to make things up to you?” He’s had partners that have been more dominant and denied him an orgasm. He didn’t mind it, as long as he got to eventually cum.

“It’s not a game.” You never played psychological games with him back then and you sure as hell aren’t going to start now. “I thought…after what happened on set…that you wanted to?”

“I want to.” Dieter nearly makes himself dizzy, nodding so quickly. “I– fuck, I’m aching.” He admits. “Been hard all goddamn day around you.”

“Yeah…” You smirk a little, cheeks burning at the memory. “I noticed.”

“No one could get me as hard as you fucking could with a look.” He huffs, pouting at you like it’s entirely your fault.

“Well I’m very sorry.” You’re not. At all. And your tone would make it obvious even if you weren’t stepping closer to him. “I’ll make sure never to look at you like I want you again.”

“You better.” Dieter whines. “I want sex in my relationship with you.”

Just hearing him say he wants a relationship - any kind of relationship - with you is enough to make you giddy, but this little back and forth you're having is fun. "We generally had a lot more trouble keeping our hands off of each other than not, if I remember correctly."

“I am older.” He warns you with a grimace. “And drugs can sometimes make things…uh, not hard.”

"I don't expect either of us to have the same sex drive we had in our early twenties." That would be completely ridiculous, and you reach out to offer him a place in your arms with a soft smile. "Things aren't going to be the same as they used to be, and that's fine. We're different people than we were. For now, all I care about is that you're willing to give this a try."

“I want that.” He doesn’t have to think about it. Of course he wants to have a relationship with you. He’s wanted you ever since he walked away.

"Then...?" You hold out your arms again with a little shrug, still hoping for a hug or almost anything that isn't propelled by a script or a set. As intense as filming had been, and as honest, it was still not fully you.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you want a hug and Dieter rockets forward to wrap his arms around you. Sighing softly. There's a distinct difference between how Dieter holds people on set versus in real life when he's only himself. When he's himself it's like being enveloped in the beaming embrace of summer sun. He's a blanket of warmth and comfort that could best be compared to hugging a weighted blanket. Your nose burrows into his chest and you let out a sigh that almost matches his, squeezing your arms tightly around him before just relaxing into him.

“This is nice.” He hums. Rubbing your back gently as he tries to stretch out the much needed hug.

"You've always been a sucker for cuddles," you chuckle softly, nuzzling against him as naturally as breathing. "Glad to see that hasn't changed."

“Didn’t get this when I was a kid.” He murmurs, not bothering to even try to move away.

"Glad to change that for you." The food can get cold, for all you care. Having him with his arms around you again is the most heavenly comfort that you've been without for so long. No one gives hugs like Dieter does.

He doesn’t know how long the two of you stand there, wrapped up in each other's arms. The comfort of the moment is one that neither one of you is willing to give up. Not until he realizes that it’s getting late and you have to be uncomfortable with the makeup and adhesives from modesty garments still sticking to your skin. “Go shower. I will set up our plates in front of the tv.” He offers as he pulls away.

"If you insist." It takes you a second to open your eyes, and even longer to be willing to let your arms drop from him. "I'm going to steal one of your t-shirts to wear while we eat, if that's okay?"

“Yeah.” He grins, biting his lip and congratulates himself on not immediately popping off with something dirty. “That’s okay with me. They are huge and comfortable.”

"I'll be right back." It's only a single moment of hesitation, but you decide that you've talked enough for it to be safe and you lean forward to kiss his cheek before turning to head through his bedroom to the large bathroom that matches your own on the other side of the wall.

Dieter rubs his cheek, grinning again as he rushes over to the dresser where Desiree had put all his clothes. Picking out the softest shirt he had that wasn’t currently on his body.

Some old habits apparently will never die, and you’re grateful to see that Dieter’s obsessive exfoliation is one of them. His loofah is perfect for scrubbing away the last remnants of the work day, and whatever fancy formula shampoo he talked about once in an interview that he now has a lifetime supply of, is divine. Five minutes in scalding hot water from start to finish and you feel like a new person when you step out of the shower. There’s a towel on the counter that you didn’t put there and you smile to yourself – an expression that only grows wider when you step out into the bedroom after drying off to find that he’s picked out a t-shirt for you. It’s soft as a feather and a nondescript blue-gray color that looks as though he’s worn it a hundred times or more, and you’re swimming in the stretched out cotton when you put it on. After a quick debate about whether or not to dig through your eternally over-packed purse for the clean panties you know are in there through force of habit, you decide not to. You’ve already talked about having sex tonight. If you decide not to? Well, you can put panties on then.

He has moved the dinner from the couch to the bed and back again nearly half a dozen times. Unsure of when he became this neurotic, he justifies himself with the fact that he wants to make things good for you. Despite you wanting him, he knows he needs to make up for the hurt he had caused you. So now the plates are sitting on the coffee table and he’s even dug out those candles that were in the large gift basket waiting in his room when he arrived a month ago. The small lamp, the only other source of light beyond the tv, already turned to a movie that he vaguely remembers you enjoying.

"I was only gone for five or six minutes..." When you step out of the bedroom to find the living room has been transformed into a little oasis of romance, you almost sigh audibly. Candles and dim light accentuate the still screen of a favorite drama he's pulled up on the tv, and your dinner is sat out in front of the couch with the ice bucket of champagne and two glasses standing ready. It's so sweet that it makes your face burn. "You went for romance and I went slightly slutty."

“I like slutty.” Dieter nearly shouts it. “I like it a lot. Slutty romance.” He nods, patting the couch. “Please tell me you aren’t wearing panties?”

"You want to find out?" Of course he does, but you can't resist teasing him a little. You saunter up to the sofa to sit down next to him and make sure to flash him just a tiny bit in the process.

“Shiiiiiiiit.” He hisses, eyes fixed on the apex of your thighs until you cross them. “Eating– we– we need to eat.” He reminds himself.

"Sorry if the waxing is a disappointment," you eye him as you both pick up your plates. "But those modesty things we have to wear are sticky and the last thing I want to do after a day of filming is pull out my pubic hair by hand."

“It’s your hair.” He shakes his head slightly and shrugs. “Whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

"I distinctly remember being told that you liked the au natural look because it was womanly." It's not as though you've forgotten a single thing from that night. It was one of the most important nights of your life. And happiest, honestly.

He smirks, remembering how suave that had sounded at the time. “That was good, wasn’t it?” He hums, sliding closer to you. “Smooth.”

"Considering how desperately in love with you I already was, you probably could have just grunted at me and I would have thought it was the sexiest thing in the whole world." It's honest, at least, and you lean into his side with the champagne bottle in your hands. "But it was definitely smooth."

“You’ve done really well.” Dieter compliments. “Your career is amazing and Heat Rush is probably one of my favorite movies of yours.”

"You've actually seen my movies?" It shouldn't surprise you, considering you now know he's had feelings for you all along, but it still makes you flush hot and duck your head before concentrating on uncorking the champagne bottle.

“I don’t watch my own movies, but I watch yours.” What that says about him, he’s not quite sure, but he shrugs and tries not to look too pleased with himself for you suddenly seeming bashful. “I was invited to a couple of your premieres, but I’d have ruined it for you if I had shown up.”

"Well, you're going to have to come now." Concentrating on pouring out two glasses means you don't have to look him in the eye, which saves you from looking him in the eye and letting him see how touched you really are. "Can't have my agent trying to manufacture a date for me when I can take an actual date to things."

“That might be better for you, considering my reputation.” Dieter knows the image that he has crafted for himself, so often compared his father.

Frowning, you had him a glass of champagne and examine his face before shaking your head. "Do you really think that I would hide the fact that I love you?"

“People will talk.” He points out, not upset about it, he doesn’t care what people think. About him. You are a different story. “Start a countdown for how long it takes until it blows up.”

"And?" The shrug of your shoulders is pointed as you turn to face him on the couch. "Worst case scenario is we find out we are very different people than we used to be, and we part as friends." A scenario – as you call it – which is highly unlikely because you doubt you could ever just be his friend, but if he decided that he didn't want to be with you after all you would take whatever relationship you got to have with him. "But if you ask me? It will be fun to watch them all eat their words one by one when we prove everybody wrong."

Everyone who has ever tried to ‘date’ him in the last twelve years has tried to change him. To make sure that his image is revamped and they prove to the world that they are the one who ‘tamed Dieter Bravo’, like they used to want to do with his dad and Warren Beatty. Although Beatty was a bigger prize since he had never married. Baxter was always sore about that. To hear you just casually say that their opinions would change is refreshing.

"I wouldn't start something with you if I didn't think it could last," you tell him, hoping that he remembers your policy of honesty in relationships. It had served the two of you well right up until the day his father stepped between you. "And...I would hope that you feel that same way."

“I just don’t want you to regret it.” Dieter admits. “You have before.”

“What I regretted was a situation I didn’t fully understand.” You put your glass down and sit up fully, trying to figure out if this is him telling you to run. If he unconsciously is trying to give you some signal or other. If it is, unconscious isn’t good enough. “The only reason I would back off now is if you told me that you didn’t want me for some reason. But the inability to see the future isn’t a reason not to try.”

Dieter nods and reaches for your hand. “I’m scared.” He admits. “I know if you walked away from me – hypocrisy, I know – it would kill me. Because I walked away and it nearly killed me then.”

“It’s okay to be scared.” Your fingers twine together and you squeeze his hand gently. “I’m scared, too. But…life is kind of terrifying on its own. So I’d rather be scared with the person I love than without you.”

Nodding, he sighs softly. “I know. I just–” frowning, he turns his eyes towards you seriously. “I’m tired of hurting you.” He confesses. “I’m worried that I will.”

“Then how about we talk about things?” It seems so easy and so obvious, but sitting down and having a serious conversation can be one of the most difficult things in the world sometimes. “Any time one of us is feeling off-kilter, or worried, or anything like that - we talk about it before it gets bad. That way we don’t ever get to the point of something dramatic or hurtful happening.”

That’s the smartest thing to do, but no one has ever accused Dieter of being the brightest. Still, he’s willing to do anything in order to make sure he doesn’t screw up again. “Yeah. Yeah, we should do that. And I– I’ll start writing down when I’m feeling off.”

"We can set aside some journaling or sketching time, if you want." You tilt your head at him, knowing he doesn't know you keep a journal. You hadn't back then. "It's...something I've been doing since I started seeing a therapist a long time ago. I don't see her very frequently anymore, but I've kept up with my journal. It helps me keep my thoughts straight."

He winces slightly. “I can only imagine what is written in them about me.” He’s not vain enough to think you’ve thought about him a lot over the past twelve years unless it’s when he runs into you and there’s some little spat.

Frankly, you don't want him to imagine it. There've been some truly not-very-nice things that you've thought about him over the last decade, but they all came from a place of being hurt. A place that you are very much not in anymore. "It doesn't matter anymore," you promise him, picking up your glass again. "What matters is that we are good going forward. Together."

He chuckles and lifts a brow. “That bad, huh?” He teases. “I deserve it. I picked at you to keep you angry at me.” He admits.

"It was easier to be angry than to admit that I was still hurting." You shrug slightly and take a sip from your glass. "But that's...that's when I didn't want to admit to myself that I was hurt because I still have feelings for you."

“I’m surprised you do.” He’s gobsmacked by that if he’s honest. “I would have imagined it would have resulted in you not pissing on me if I was on fire.”

"Love seems to be a very illogical thing." Nudging him to pick up his plate, you trade your glass for your own dinner. "Fortunately, I'm a stubborn and illogical person to begin with, so I'm okay with it."

Laughing, he shakes his head and holds up his champagne glass to yours. “To being completely illogical.” He offers with a smile.

“Here, here.” Now that is something you will absolutely drink to.

Once the mini toast is done, Dieter removes the lids off the dinner. “We should eat before it gets too cold.”

"What a very logical thing to say." You tease, despite doing exactly as he suggests. For the first time in ages, you might truly be relaxed.

“Can’t have sex on an empty stomach.” He jokes, feeling more at ease with the situation. You’ve never lied to him, and if you say you want to have sex with him, that’s the truth. “Have to eat dinner before I can have dessert.”

That earns him a half-snorted laugh as you take your first bite, and you shake your head at him. "Eat up then. I'm in the mood for sweets tonight."

“Yeah? You want to drink champagne and eat those chocolates while I eat you?” The idea has him twitching in interest, the lazy indulgence of it enticing.

"Oh, I just meant that I want you." He always has been, and still seems to be, incredibly sweet. That's part of what his anger and seeming hatred had stung so badly. "But if you want to be fully hedonistic, I'm on board."

“Been a long time.” He admits with a shrug. “Need to get back into the habit.”

"If I ever object to having my pussy eaten, call a doctor because I've been body snatched." You tell him definitively.

He snorts and then busts out into a laugh. “Sounds about right.”

Things really start to feel normal as you eat, joking at the movie and reciting your favorite lines here and there until your plates are empty. You creep closer together on the couch as time ticks by, pulled together with that same magnetic attachment that has always seemed to bring you together. Before you know it you're leaning into his side, fingers threading together and head on his shoulder.

There’s a sweetness to the moment that Dieter is reluctant to end. It could have been twelve years ago, the two of you sitting on his tiny loveseat couch in that apartment. Or in your dressing room.

"I missed this." It's a big thought for such a quiet moment, but you sigh into it and just let the truth of it settle around you. It's not a heavy or foreboding thought anymore, and that feels like a weight off your shoulders.

“Me too.” His hand slides around your shoulder and he pulls you against him even more.

"I'd suggest sleeping right here if we didn't both have the backs of people over thirty now." Back then, the two of you could and would sleep wherever you dropped. It was usually a bed, sure, but not always. One memorable night saw you falling asleep in his lap when you couldn't bear to tear yourselves apart after riding him.

He snorts and shakes his head. “We are getting old.” He admits. “Hangovers take forever to get over now. Do you remember when we used to perform while still drunk from the night before?”

"It's a fucking miracle I could remember my lines sometimes." Theater work really has differences from film work, and you giggle about it almost wistfully. "I think...I miss theater, too. I haven't been on an actual stage in years."

“Me too.” He hasn’t stepped foot on a stage since leaving the production you worked on together. His father would have pitched a fit and he didn’t have the heart to do it anymore.

"Can you imagine?" It earns another small laugh from you. "If we wrapped this movie and then ran off to play on a stage somewhere? Gossip magazines would practically sell our tickets for us."

He snorts and gives a fond smirk. “We find some hole-in-the-wall theatre in Nebraska and make it bigger than Broadway.”

"Would you go all classical on me and want to do Shakespeare and Chekov and Tennessee Williams?" It sounds like fun for once. Like something you could do without looking over your shoulder and making sure you're doing precisely what ten thousand sets of eyes want you to be doing.

“Why not? Or Oklahoma.” He chuckles, smirking at how his father would roll over in his grave. “Or do you think it’s sacrilege to perform that in Nebraska?”

"I think it's a sacrilege to perform Oklahoma! at all," you snort, enjoying the image of him in a cowboy hat regardless. "We'd do Shakespeare and musicals and classics and experimental whatevers whenever we felt like. The king and queen of Midwestern regional theater."

“Build a theatre that rivals Juilliard for performances for students.” Dieter slips into the dream a little more, enjoying the idea of it. “Teach the next generation of performers.” Hell, if he were honest, he thinks of you as a mentee of his.

"An institute for performers, staring with high school." There is a smile on your lips when you tilt your head to look at him. "Not kids. Kids should get to just be kids. No stage parents thrusting their children on our stages. We'd make sure of that."’

“Absolutely.” He nods in full agreement, hating being dragged around to auditions when all he wanted was to go outside and play.

"It's a beautiful dream, Dee." One that wouldn't necessarily be so difficult to achieve, given his multiple generations of accumulated wealth. It would take a little while to bring together the right people for a school, but a theater? The two of you could fund that yourselves without a lot of effort.

“It’s been a long time since I had a dream that was fun.” He admits softly. Smiling at the idea and tracing a pattering on your shoulder under the fabric of his t-shirt.

"Maybe it's worth going back on stage first to make sure it's as good as you remember?" Support is something that you know he hasn't really had, and that's definitely something you can give him. Your full and unconditional support for moving in a positive direction. Positive being whatever makes him truly happy.

“Yeah. It’s not good to just jump in.” He reminds himself, not wanting to jump in too deep, too quickly.

"But if you could..." He loves to dream - or at least he used to - and you don't want him to just box up the thought and tuck it away in his brain to forget about. "Where would you want to open it? Anywhere in the country. Or hell, anywhere in the world?"

Dieter frowns and considers it seriously. “I’m not really sure. Where would you want to go?”

"I mean, if we were really thinking about it?" You lean back against his arm on the couch and smile softly, letting childhood memories come through to the surface. "The theater that I did my first show at ever is in my hometown in Washington. It was this big deal summer stock left over from the 1930s or 40s, and they'd built up a hotel around it for a while. But the hotel went under and the theater squeaked by for a few decades more after it was demolished and..." you shrug slightly, knowing how nostalgic you sound. "I grew up in the mountains, so now it's this big, defunct theater in the middle of a valley. I wish it could be restored and turned into something great again. But I don't know if Snoqualmie, Washington is the place you want to build your legacy."

“That’s pretty cool though.” Dieter grins. “You get all the Hollywood types out there for the summer theatre program and then the local kids and kids who dream of theatre and can’t get the lessons.”

“Can you imagine?” It warms through you, the idea of your little town reinvigorated. “We get occasional tourists because they filmed some of Twin Peaks in my town. But a whole theater and a school? It would be something else to see.”

“That would be cool. Bring some more life to the area. Is it a nice vibe? I like a good view.” Dieter asks, not really caring about much, but this is the first thing that’s gotten him thinking about more than himself in a while.

“I thought it was boring growing up, but I like going back for the holidays and family stuff when I can. It’s pretty. And there’s something to be said for having all four seasons.” He sounds like he’s actually thinking about it, which makes you smile more than you would have expected. “If you decide this is actually something you want to do, I can help you look at different places. If…if you want me to, I mean.” It would be a drastic change in how he lives his life, and if he wanted you to come with him it would be a drastic change in yours. Who knows when or if it would ever happen. All you know is that it’s good for Dieter to dream.

“You would want that too?” He asks, surprised. Your career is taking off, still running like a freight train without the hints of or outright scandals he has weathered.

"I mean...I'm not thinking about taking a running leap out of Hollywood anytime in the next year or two, but I've definitely thought about what I would want to do when I get out. And I want to get out on my own terms, not because people have stopped returning my calls or because the only offers I'm getting are witches or overbearing mothers." You shrug slightly, nuzzling deeper against him as you do. "I don't want to wash up or fade away. I want to be present to enjoy every stage of my life. That's what I've always wanted."

“Whatever you do, you’ll be great at it.” Dieter knows that without even considering it very much. You’ve always had the raw talent that most people are in awe of.

"So will you." You're not about to let him think less of himself or avoid the very honest compliment just because he redirected the conversation. "And besides, if you decided to open your theater and drama school in my hometown I would certainly hope you would want me involved in things. It only seems fair."

“Oh it’s fair, huh?” He cracks a sardonic grin. “Because it was your idea?” He knows that if he did do something like that, he would absolutely want you involved. Your talent as an actor has only gotten better.

"Alright, maybe not fair." You have to laugh at it yourself, even a little, and bat your eyelashes at him. "More like...wishful thinking?"

“Wishful thinking.” He hums, enjoying the idea of you being interested in taking that on with him. “It’s something to think about. I think we do need more theatres.”

Empty plates and empty glasses stand by on the coffee table, and you smile from your place, tucked into his side on the sofa. It’s comfortable and also comforting, to be able to sit and talk like this. When you were young everything was about the here and now, but now that you’re adults the dreams are a vital part of pushing through each day’s monotony.

When the two of you are like this, Dieter wonders how the hell he had ever walked away from you. The way you calm him down amazes him, the nervous energy dispelled easily without the need for chemicals.

The movie ends soon afterward, not that you were really paying that much attention. You had talked all through the meal and maybe only sat and watched the last fifteen minutes. But those last fifteen minutes were calm and quiet and saw the two of you happily wrapped up in each other. It’s nice. It’s comforting. And it’s also making your skin tingle any place he touches you.

“Do you– do you want to watch another movie?” Despite having a call time tomorrow, Dieter feels like the two of you have all the time in the world. The way the sexual tension has shifted into something… more has him reluctant to give in to his body’s wants.

“If you want to.” Once upon a time he would have been tearing his shirt off of you at the first possible opportunity, but things aren’t the same as they were – and you have to remember that it isn’t a bad thing or anything to do with attraction. You’re both very obviously still attracted to each other if what happened on set is any indication. This is about being close again, and you reach to grab the remote off the coffee table to pass to him.

“Not really.” He admits with an amused huff at himself. “I kind of want to go to the bedroom.”

"Oh yeah?" The eyebrow you raise at him in sheer amusement comes with a smirk. "You thinkin' about asking me to come with you?"

“Hoping you would.” He chuckles. “It’s either that or I’m gonna need to go jerk off.”

"And that would be a damn shame." Nodding solemnly, you shift out of his lap and stand up before holding out your hand to him. "Come on, Dee. I don't mind leaving a mess for once."

He grins, remembering how you would want to pick up his apartment before going to bed when you were staying practically every night. “Yes ma’am.”

Your clothes from the day are neatly stacked on the dresser across from the bed, and the towel you used hung just as neatly in the bathroom. There's barely any trace of you here at all, but Dieter's marks are everywhere, just as they should be. This is his room and his space, and he's welcomed you into it. In some ways that first night together comes roaring back into your mind - but that night was a lot more about tearing each other's clothes off than this careful tiptoe of a dance you're doing right now.

“You still like the right side of the bed?” He asks, bolting towards the bed to pull the covers back. He wants you, he fucking aches with it, but he also wants to make sure you know that this isn’t just sex. “If you want to stay, that is. I don’t know. You might have a more comfortable bed than mine.” He jokes.

"Dee..." He's nervous, and you sure as fuck are too, but you cross the room to put both of your hands on his shoulders. "I want to stay. And I want you. It's okay. There's no reason to be so nervous." You should probably listen to your own advice. Oh well.

“It’s uh,” he shuffles and rubs the back of his neck. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this…sober.” He confesses, looking mildly embarrassed at the way his life had turned out.

"That's okay." Far be it from you to judge him for coping with the stressful way things have gone for him. "It doesn't have to be tonight. And if it is, it doesn't have to be a marathon."

“I want you on top of me.” Dieter groans breathlessly. “I fucking loved when you would grind down on me and fucking let me suck on your tits.”

"So specific." Yet you can't stop yourself from groaning, remembering how enthusiastic and sloppy he would get whenever the opportunity presented itself. "We should get in bed, then."

He bounces into the bed, flopping on it like he is about to start jumping as he pushes his boxers down and kicks them off.

You can’t help it, you smother your face with two hands to keep from becoming a giggling mess and end up barely stifling a snort in the process. “Is that my seat?” You tease, glancing at his half-hard cock when you put one knee on the mattress to climb in with him.

He pouts and wraps his hand around his cock. “It was hard all day.” He huffs at you. “It’s gotta let the blood flow back to my brain sometimes.”

“Only sometimes.” You move closer to him, about to put one leg over his lap when you stop short and groan softly. “I knew I felt something,” you huff indignantly. With one hand, you reach out to wrap your fingers around his length and moan all over again at the way he twitches in your hand. The thing that has your attention, though, is shiny rather than warm. “When did you get your cock pierced?”

Dieter groans and his eyes flutter while he enjoys the curious trace of your fingers over the metal in his cock. “I– oh fuck, about a month after I came to California.” He admits. “Wanted to rebel and what better way than to get my dick pierced?”

“Enhances pleasure, I take it?” He’s squirming under the light attention and you shift to straddle his thighs while you explore.

“Yes.” He pants, cock now fully hard and curled nicely against his belly. “People– uh, seem to like it. And it feels really fucking good when someone plays with it.”

“Really good, huh?” You’re not as innocent as you used to be. Not by a long shot. And your experiences with men have been varied over the years. What you do know for sure, is that your experiences with Dieter were the happiest you’ve ever been. You tighten your hand around him experimentally, remembering how much pressure he used to like, and let yourself lean in easily to press your lips to his.

“Shit.” He hisses, muffled by your kiss and as soon as you lean in, he’s grabbing a handful of the overly large shirt. Bunching it over your breasts and dragging you closer to him while his tongue begs for entrance into your mouth.

None of the old feverish need for each other is missing from this moment, and it’s a perfect kind of ecstasy to realize that aging twelve years – a death sentence in Hollywood – hasn’t affected his attraction to you at all. You open up for him immediately, tongue sliding against his as you push your chest into his hands and start to pump his cock slowly in your hand.

The sounds that he makes breathe straight into you. Given up willingly and he kisses you like it is the last thing he will ever do. No one around this time, Dieter pours all of himself into you, giving into the need that seems to always come back to you.

There is no reason to hold back this time. No one to witness you or to have an opinion on what is happening except for the two of you, and you are the only ones whose opinions count at all. You shift forward, hand still wrapped around him and stroking his cock eagerly but now the heat of your core is hovering barely a hair's breadth away as you swallow every sound he has to offer you.

You still know how to touch him. His hands slide under your shirt, greedy for the skin he had wanted to touch but couldn’t before. Marveling at the way you still fit in his hands perfectly. “Fuck.”

"You let your nipple piercing heal," you pout, turning your head to kiss down the cut line of his jaw.

“Yeah.” He grunts when your teeth scrape against his skin. “Took it out eleven years ago.” He doesn’t tell you that he had almost had the damn thing ripped out by a jealous lover when he had been found in bed with someone else.

"At least you replaced it with something fun." Running your thumb through the dribble of precum at the head of his cock, you pull away from him long enough to suck the digit into your mouth and hum immediately, shutting your eyes for a moment while you enjoy the long-forgotten flavor.

“It’s supposed to feel good for you too.” He adds, like that had been the entire reason that he had gotten his dick pierced.

"I'm sure it will." You hate the way it makes you pause, but you lean in to kiss him softly and take an internal deep breath. "I...I have an IUD and...and I haven't had a partner in a while. Like...my last tests came back clean and I haven't been with anyone since..."

“I– the insurance physical.” Dieter admits breathlessly. “Clean…and I– it’s only…” he huffs at himself. “I haven’t been with anyone since I found out you were in this. And since the physical. I don’t get laid as often as everyone thinks.”

“We can change that.” One raised eyebrow aims itself at him and you can’t help but look amused with your own reaction. “I mean, it wouldn’t be all kinds of crazy orgies or random partners…but a world where Dieter Bravo gets laid every single night? That’s just about having a partner with a high enough sex drive.”

“Have you– since we– since I–” Dieter can barely think with his cock in your hand. He never could, the feeling of your soft skin gripping him so firmly, always making his brain short circuit into something magically blank to everything but the pleasure. “Orgy?” He finally manages, wanting to know if you’ve ever indulged in multiple partners.

“I–um…no.” The image that you built for yourself – the careful walls you constructed around the person you wanted to be seen as – would never have allowed you something so indulgent or hedonistic. Your image is modest and professional. It has been since the day you hit Hollywood. You were a Girl Next Door type in your first television show and your manager wanted you to keep that image. “But if you want—” You stammer, hands stilling as you try to sort out your thoughts. “I don’t want you to feel trapped with me, Dee.”

“No…no.” His frown matches the urgency in his voice. “That’s not– I wouldn’t–” He’s made a lot of mistakes over the past twelve years, but he would never push you. “If you wanted to, that would be one thing. But honestly?” He looks up at you seriously. “I would be jealous of someone else touching you. Like slapping their hands away to do it myself.”

“You always were a little greedy.” There’s nothing but fondness in your voice as you brush a tuft of stray hair from his face and lean in to slant your lips earnestly against his. “Possessive, I guess is more accurate. But…I’m not going to lie.” You flash him a grin. “I always found it kind of hot.”

“I wouldn’t want to share you.” He grins unrepentantly. “Never liked that idea. You were mine.”

You shift a little, cheeks on fire, and swallow a sigh. “Are.”

Quietly absorbing that new information, Dieter nods. “Then we are together.” He decides. “Just us. No licking frosting off someone’s tits or blowing the hot model from the shoot. Just us.”

“I mean…” Not wanting him to feel like he’s giving up his entire lifestyle, you take your hands away and wipe them self consciously in your thighs without even being able to tell if they’re sweaty. You’re just inexplicably nervous. Tonight had gone from sexy to serious very quickly. “If you want to lick frosting off my tits that’s completely cool — and if you’re doing a shoot for something, I will absolutely be blowing the hot model.”

“I just–I meant just us.” Dieter clarifies. “I want it the way it was back in New York. Me and you.”

“As long as that is what you actually want.” He has the biggest, warmest brown eyes and you just melt into him, feeling so freed by this conversation. The cage you’ve had around your heart for so long is finally open again.

“It’s what I want.” His hands squeeze your hips. “I think it’s what I always wanted when I could make my own choices.”

“We keep getting distracted with promises.” It’s endearing, and honestly pretty romantic, that as much as you might want each other, it’s the romance that keeps taking over. You cover his hands with your own and squeeze them gently. “Second chances don’t come around every day. I’m—I’m grateful for this.”

“I’m the one who fucked up.” Dieter admits. “I wrote you a letter, about six years ago. One of those twelve step programs where you write those who you wronged and don’t send them.”

“Did it help?” While you wish he would have disregarded the direction and sent the letter anyway, you know it’s more about admitting wrongs than reaching out. “To write it, I mean?”

“Not really.” He admits with a sheepish smile. “Because I knew that you still thought I hated you at the end of the day. I got baked the next day.”

“Then hopefully things will start to get better now.” It’s all you can really hope for at the end of the day. That things will return to how good they were between you since you know they’ll never be the exact same. Too much has changed, but it doesn’t mean that you can’t ever be that happy again.

“Okay. Now that I’ve brought the mood down, can we fuck?” Dieter whines, his cock twitching against you.

“Telling me you love me is never going to kill the mood,” you promise him, although you do laugh at the exaggerated pout on his face. Taking one of his hands off your hip, you carefully slip two of his fingers into your mouth and relish the way he groans while his eyelids flutter. Directing those same fingers down your body, you press the pads of his fingers to your slick slit and hum at the contact. No longer being shy about asking for what you want has its perks.

“Shit.” Dieter hisses, rocking his hips up so he presses the length of his cock against your cunt while he starts to rub your clit frantically.

If you had been thinking about it, you would have thought through it enough to expect him to go hard and fast getting you ready to take him, but all you had been thinking about was how good it would feel to have him touch you again. So when Dieter immediately starts rubbing your clit like he’s going for a High Speed score, you end up squealing and shaking against him in a fit of surprise. “Oh my—fuck— yes baby—”

There’s a magic to your breathy cry. Making him smirk and rub harder. Wanting to see if you can cum before he ever fucks you. You really had been planning on returning the attention while he fingered you, but the ferocity he goes into it with is enough to have your legs shaking immediately and your fingernails digging into his shoulders as your back arches and your hips start to roll.

Dieter doesn’t stop, not with you bucking and wailing on top of him. He bites his lip and watches as you shake, a sign you are getting close. “Come on Bambi.”

The tension coiling in your core is pulsing as fast as his fingers move, pushing you up toward the crest of your orgasm with force. You're on the edge almost before you can blink and rocketing over the edge with a high wail of his name that is barely muffled by burying your face in his shoulder as your body shakes. He keeps his thumb pressed against your clit while you buck and shake through your orgasm. Marveling at how gorgeous you look.

"Fuck." Cutting off your own groan, you dive into kissing him as soon as your body sags, wrapping both arms around his shoulders and pressing him back into the upholstered bedhead with determination.

“Hmmmmm.” He groans and kisses you back just as passionately. Loving how soft you are after cumming.

It only takes small shifts to move forward, knees bracketing his hips and core hovering over his leaking cock as you lose yourself in more kisses. Everything about this is better than you could have imagined and you just want to drown in it.

“Baby…please.” Dieter groans. “You don’t– you don’t have to move, just– just put me inside.”

“If you’re inside me, I’m going to move.” It’s a promise as much as anything else, and you reach between you to stroke his cock a few times before notching the head at your entrance and sinking down on him slowly.

Dieter's mouth drops open and he lets out a low, pained whine. Nearly shuddering at the heat of your cunt wrapping around his cock and gripping him like a vice. Not knowing how it's possible that you feel even tighter now than you did when he took your virginity, his heels dig into the bed in an effort to keep himself still.

"Shit, shit, shiiiiit," your head drops back the further down his shaft you slide, eyes drifting shut in bliss and body shivering with pleasure. When your ass is firmly planted against his thighs you rock forward, gasping at the way his piercing creates an extra layer of sensation deep in your cunt when you move.

"Goddamnit, fuck, shit, motherfucking whore." Dieter hisses, eyes closed so he doesn't blow his load right this second. You are just like a fucking glove around him and he's overwhelmed by how good it feels to have you around him again. It was something he had dreamed of, jerked off thinking about but had never really believed it would ever be afforded to him again.

It's counterintuitive, but you smother a burst of giggles at his tirade of curses and lean forward to kiss him. "You okay, baby?"

"Gimme a minute....." He pants, chest heaving as he tries to think about anything but the wet clutch of your cunt. Your walls contract and he groans, cock twitching deep and he grimaces slightly against your lips. "Trying to– trying to make sure I don't fuckin' embarrass myself." He complains, as if it is all your fault. Which it is, but he's not mad about it. "Too fuckin' tight."

"No more Kegels?" You can't help but tease him, feeling the way your pussy throbs around him. It's brilliant and sinful and makes your mind fog with pleasure.

"Those work?" He pops one eye open to stare at you, trying to gauge if you are serious or not. "No bullshit?"

“You tell me.” Whining a little when he twitches deep inside you again, you flash him a grin. “You’re the one feeling the results right now.”

"Mean." He hisses when you tighten down around him again. "Brat." His nails dig into your flesh but not enough that he would leave more than dull marks on your skin, easily gone later.

“You gonna punish me for it?” It certainly wouldn’t be the first time the two of you ever played with power dynamics in bed, and your lips curl into a grin.

Dieter is a cocky enough man, well aware of his abilities in bed to change things up. Enough of an asshole to flip you over onto your back with a quick tilt of his hips and follow you, staying buried inside your body and snapping his hips forward sharply when he thrusts down. "Yes."

“Fuck!” It happens all at once, as the begging mess of a man flips on a dime to being dominant without warning. The true definition of a switch, all depending on how his mood runs in that moment.

His one chuckle is breathless, but the idea of taking charge helps him keep the bare thread of his control. "Yeah?" He rocks his hips back and decides that another rough thrust is exactly what you need. Wanting you to experience what it is like fucking him with a piercing. "That's what I thought."

It’s probably a very good thing that no one is in the suite next door, otherwise they definitely would have heard you wail at that hard thrust that ran the ends of that bent barbell in his cock all along the walls of your pussy, stimulating places you didn’t even know could have extra stimulation and making you gasp in pleasure. “Fuck that feels amazing.”

“Yeah it does.” He groans in agreement, moving down so he can gather you up in his arms as he starts to normalize his sharp, steady pace. It will kill his back later on, but he needs this.

"Goddamn, Dee–" Each thrust pushes the air out of your lungs and you moan without restraint, wrapping yourself around him just as surely as he wraps up in you. Even a puff of air between you is further apart than you want to be tonight.

Lowering his head to your shoulder, he moans your name quietly. Pressing his lips to your skin and grunting with every thrust as your walls quake around him.

Unlike other encounters - even other encounters with him - this isn't about fancy positions or how well you can bend yourself up to take each thrust as tightly as possible. This isn't about the acrobatics of sex. It's the intimacy. It's the way he fills you to aching with every deep thrust and the way you cling to him like a lifeline even when he pulls away again that leaves you breathless, not just the simple act of sex itself.

“Fuck— fuck baby.” He moans quietly. “God I love you. So much, feels so good.” He can’t stop moving, breathing you in. Touching you like he had wanted to so many times while on that damn set. Now he can and like everything else Dieter is greedy with, he is going to gorge himself.

“I — fuck — I love you so much.” It’s like he’s trying to swallow you whole and you would willingly let him. There’s nothing standing in the way of you positively devouring each other and you just as desperately are trying to burrow under his skin or just welcome him fully into your body every chance you get. Time doesn’t matter right now. He could be between your thighs for five minutes or five days. All that matters is that he is right where he wants to be.

There’s something almost ethereal in the air tonight - or that might just be the way your heart is pounding so wildly that you feel like you’re about to take flight. Every time you rise up to meet him he bears down again and meets you in the middle, creating a symphony of gluttonous, lustful sounds as your bodies move together in that bed and your moans twine together.

“Fuck, fuck Bambi.” He moans quietly. Biting the juncture of your shoulder. “Please cum for me.”

It’s barely a request, more like a prayer as you tumble together toward that brilliant and eruptive end. A drop of sweat from his forehead on your skin seems almost as lecherous as anything else, like the tantalizing cream on top of a favorite dessert. Your back aches again as his hands push under your ass angling your bodies so that you cry out with his next thrust – vision going white as the explosion of orgasm washes over your body.

“Yes,” your real name falls from his lips as a prayer, trying to rock into you through your orgasm. Watching as your entire body thrashes under him.

“Fuuuck, Dee—” The more he works you up, the louder you groan and the faster his name falls from your lips. It almost rolls you over into a second orgasm altogether and all you can do is pray he follows you. The way you soak him has him unraveling, the wet slaps of his hips nearly frantic as he shoves himself deep and cries out in the most soul soothing release he’s probably ever had.

Panting for breath, you wrap both arms tightly around his shoulders and hold Dieter to you like an anchor. “This is…not how I expected today to end,” you whisper quietly, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “But fuck…I love you so much.”

Swallowing, Dieter tucks his head into the curve of your shoulder and tries to catch his breath. "I love you." He exhales breathlessly. "I've got– twelve years to make up for, so I'm gonna be a little clingy."

You can’t help but laugh at that, breathless and light, and you find his lips to kiss him gently. “That’s just fine with me, baby. I promise.”

Groaning quietly, he starts to roll the two of you onto your sides. He doesn't want to pull out quite yet, but he knows he's a hell of a lot heavier now than he had been twelve years ago. The skinniness of youth has filled into a broader frame.

“Now I know why some people have sex under blankets,” you giggle softly, tucking into his broad frame. “So they can go right to sleep after.”

"You want to stay like this for a while?" He asks, pulling you closer.

“We could lay like this forever.” Would people come looking for you? Sure. But in this moment you could not give a single flying fuck about the rest of the world.

"You might have to pee after ten minutes." Dieter teases, remembering how you used to claim you could sleep right after sex and always had to get up within ten minutes to use his small bathroom.

“Tease me all you want, I’m enjoying the romance of the moment.” You giggle against him and place a kiss over his heart. “I don’t want to go back to reality just yet.”

"I get it." Dieter's eyes are half closed and he strokes your back as he hums. "It's like being on that really good high and not wanting to come down."

“I guess that makes sex my drug of choice.” Or him, maybe — being with Dieter has always felt like a special kind of paradise while it lasts.

“Sex is always a good drug.” He agrees, knowing that tonight isn’t going to be one and done. Not when he’s wanted you all day. It might take awhile to recover, but he wants to make you cum again.

“The best.” Not that you have a lot of experience with others, but that isn’t the point. The point is him and you and getting your together back.

Humming softly, Dieter closes his eyes, the soft edge of a smile on his lips. “If I’m dreaming, I don’t want it to end.”

"I'm not going anywhere, baby." You promise, murmuring quietly in his ear. It's not that you're trying to rub salt in the wound that he was the one who left you back in New York, but the fact is - you probably never would have left him. The way you felt about Dieter while you were apart was a product of hurt, and of betrayal. Not that you didn't love him.

“You were always stronger than me.” He turns and kisses your face blindly. “Always.”

"I don't know about that." After all, he survived treatment from his father that would probably have crushed you if you had it from yours. "But either way? We made it back to each other."

“We did.” He reaches out and caresses your face. “I don’t deserve you. I never did. Just so you know that.”

"You deserve to be happy, Dee. And so do I." One of your hands comes up to cover his and you turn your head slightly to leave a kiss on his palm. "We had that spoiled for us by someone. But this second chance is just for us."

“Just for us.” He nods, opening his eyes to stare at you solemnly. “I love you.”

"I love you, too, Dee." And boy is that going to surprise the shit out of a lot of people.

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle    

My Masterlist!

[blackcatrph]

»   ━━  BARBIE  BIG  CITY  BIG  DREAMS  :  LYRIC  STARTERS.

lyrics  taken  from  the  barbie  big  city  big  dreams  animation.  please  alter  any  pronouns  when  sending  if  needed.

“ i love the concrete jungle. ”

“ i’m a beach girl. ”

“ together we’re the best of both possible worlds. ”

“ our duo’s so dynamic. ”

“ like fire and rain, together we can set it off and make a big bang. ”

“ hey universe, look who’s coming at you. ”

“ for the first time i found my perfect match. ”

“ how did we ever survive before us ? ”

“ all i need now in my life is more us. ”

“ it’s like we’re meant to be, like destiny, so right. ”

“ i just go with the flow. ”

“ i plan out every day. ”

“ our master plan will lead us straight to broadway. ”

“ put respect on this groove. ”

“ through thick and thin. ”

“ we’ve got the brightest future. ”

“ where’ve you been? because i wish i’d met you sooner. ”

 “ look and learn. ”

“ feel the burn. ”

“ just try harder. ”

“ this is tough. ”

“ tighten up. ”

“ my spirit is deflating. ”

“ my fear’s inflating. ”

“ this school is calling my bluff. ”

“ hope i have the right stuff. ”

“ remember how to be brave. ”

“ can i get out of my head ? ”

“ grind on my mind. ”

“ work it double time. ”

“ never fall a step behind. ”

“ this is what you wanted. ”

“ don’t be daunted. ”

“ just be patient and relax, cut yourself some slack. ”

“ why am i the only one who keeps scrambling and face planting ? ”

“ this is draining. ”

“ stop complaining. ”

“ i know it’s worth the trouble. ”

“ did everyone see ? ”

“ of course they saw. ”

“ pull yourself together. ”

“ practice until it’s perfect. ”

“ plant your feet. ”

“ use your core. ”

“ keep the beat. ”

“ get off the floor. ”

“ how can you even show your face ? ”

“ i’m losing my mind. ”

“ i flew in on cloud nine. ”

“ made a new best friend. ”

“ there wasn’t a question that everything would work out perfectly. ”

“ spoke too soon. ”

“ worst in the room, like a total crash landing. ”

“ i’m not going to let that keep me down. ”

“ it’s all about those good vibes. ”

“ take a look at me, so on pointe and savvy. ”

“ the whole world at my feet. ”

“ didn’t know what fear meant. ”

“ guess i’m not immune to the laws of gravity. ”

“ crutches won’t be keeping me earthbound. ”

“ is the glass half full or half empty ? ”

“ let the positivity take over. ”

“ como se dice ? let me put it this way. ”

“ chequen esto, chicas, mi visión loca. ”

“ my imagination soars. ”

“ got to spread my wings and get to higher ground. ”

“ back here again, losing a friend. ”

“ i thought i was strong, but i’m reeling. ”

“ this time felt different, our connection was instant. ”

“ that was pure magical thinking. ”

“ just move on from the pain. ”

“ soon it’ll fade like a memory. ”

“ you’ll start over again. ”

“ evolving from this fateful origin story. ”

“ a chariot streaks across the sky so majestically. ”

“ two girls on an odyssey in the city that never sleeps. ”

“ riding high on a merry go round of modern mythology. ”

“ discovered a new part of me in a fated friend. ”

“ i knew finding you would be an epic journey with no end. ”

“ you can’t see shooting stars in the city of marquee lights. ”

“ fate brough us together then tore us apart. ”

“ i wish i could go back and restart. ”

“ i’ll race across the sky to a work where dreams and friendships aren’t destined to collide. ”

“ stranded on this lonely island. ”

“ great beginnings don’t get happy endings. ”

“ glorious mythologies can slip out of your reach. ”

“ in reality, best friends leave. ”

“ you’re my fiercest competition. ”

“ we’re best friends, no contradiction. ”

“ never let jealousy get in our way. ”

“ help each other up. ”

“ you set the bar, i’ll raise it. ”

“ you won’t catch me holding back. ”

“ why should our drive divide us ? ”

“ let’s let our strength unite us. ”

“ i’ve still got your back. ”

“ see you at the finish line. ”

“ when you need the strength to clear it, i’m gonna be there cheering. ”

“ i’m never leaving you behind. ”

“ if you stumble, just keep your fight on. ”

“ follow my voice to my arms. ”

“ we’re going hard and we’re going together. ”

“ we know what we want. ”

“ we’re giving up never. ”

“ we were born to show the world just who the boss is. ”

“ stopping more traffic than midtown rush hour. ”

“ you know we’re doing it right. ”

“ lean on my shoulder. ”

“ we’ve got each other, that’s the way it’ll always be. ”

“ bank on our future, it’s gold. ”

“ we’ll wake up with our names in lights. ”

[uglygirlstatus]

Curious to see how you’d rank every Riverdale musical episode

this ask has been in my inbox for months because I could not make up my mind whatsoever and had to rewatch all musical eps 2x each to decide.

Splitting rankings into categories for my own sake: Songs (ranked on both quality and integration), Plot (entertainment value of the storyline points featured), and Iconry (ratio of special/memorable/iconic lines and scenes)

#6. American Psycho

Songs ⭐️⭐️

Plot ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Iconry ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I remember somehow being underwhelmed when I first watched this because I had really hyped myself up after reading the episode description. But now in a post-50sdale world, I realize how lucky we were with this one. We got SlaughterCon, Cheryl and Kevin hexing Toni and Fangs, Betty being gay, Kevin not warning Betty in advance that he added a bit to his musical number where Doctor Curdle Jr dresses as TBK and then getting visibly annoyed with her when she interrupts it fearing for his life, Betty finally killing TBK and he’s literally just wrapped in duct tape and garbage bags, AS WELL AS Archie’s Labour Union all in one episode. However, since this IS a ranking of musical episodes, I’m afraid I can’t let the incredible plot compensate too much for the lack of strong musical bangers.

Stand out lines:

“It’s your dad’s knife. I bought it on eSlay.”

“Betty Cooper, are you hot for agent Drake?”

“You’re one of us. An American Psycho.”

Not a line but shoutout to Lili Reinhart’s boobs in You Are What You Wear.

#5. Carrie

Songs ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Plot ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Iconry ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Cheryls heavily autotuned explosion into “THATS NOT MY NAAAAAAAME” will forever tickle me. And her finale drenching herself in blood and coming to her mother with the candelabra to threaten burning down their mansion for a second time is one of the top ten Cheryl Blossom moments for all time. Everything about the presence of Alice Cooper also kills me like she is IN this high school musical. Madchen I could listen to pitch correction software fighting for its life against your dulcet tones forever. I read in a Twitter thread by the duo who produces all the Riverdale music that Madchen had literally never sung in her entire life prior to this episode. And they still gave her a solo. Amazing. The plot doesn’t carry as much weight for me in this one but the I love the integration of the music, and it also gave us the first ever Beronica duet and Fifi appearance. Oh and rip Midge!

Stand Out Lines:

“I will not succumb to thespian terrorism!”

“I’m not the same girl who burned down Thornhill.” “Sure you are!”

“Nightmare child, what do you want from me?!”

#4. Next to Normal

Songs ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Plot ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Iconry ⭐️⭐️

This one has real emotional impact okay. It was genuinely moving. I love when the musical episodes tackle a huge range of plot lines and still try to apply the niche musical choice of the season to each of them. We have Cooper grieving & family choreography and spite-Jabitha and Cheryl attacking her mother with song & holy water and Varchie being useless and Britta becoming Cheryl’s little child servant/protege. Reggie is there too. Also all of the music hits for real. It’s a shame that “I Am The One” and “I’m Alive” had so much cut in the ep because the spectres of Polly and Charles are killing it on the harmonies in the full versions. I could listen to Lili Reinhart sing all day long. Above all though I think my favourite part is the uncanny photoshop of Alice and Betty and Polly in front of the Next to Normal Broadway poster.

Stand Out Lines:

“YOU’VE GOT SOME NERVE JUGHEAD, AND I’M JUST ALL NERVES!”

“I’m gonna eat in the garage.”

“You remind me of Hiram Lodge.” “I don’t know who that is. But please, have a Swelligrino for the road.”

#3. Heathers

Songs ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Plot ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Iconry ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Guys It’s so crazy that Midge literally died in the middle of our musical last year. Anyway time for Heathers! Something fun about this episode is that I first watched it before I was fully Riverdalepilled and was still foolishly rolling my eyes at the show while I watched with my mom and sister. I was like “guys Heathers is actually a great musical, it’s going to be hard for me to see what Riverdale does to it”. We began watching and very soon my mom and sister were commenting on the music. It quickly dawned on me that they were complaining about the aspects of the show that were more or less unchanged from the original musical. And I had a great epiphany moment where I realized 1) Heathers is sort of bad 2) if I loved Heathers the musical in earnest then why should I not love Riverdale? Heathers was actually PERFECTLY CRAFTED to be performed by the Riverdale cast. Anyway. This episode had a lot going for it. Lodge divorce arc straight into Veronica partying. Kevin’s sudden perm. Toni’s threesome fake out. Our favourite Chad Michael Murray Rhythmic cult clapping. And of course KJ Apa doing this

Stand Out Lines

“Did you have a lobotomy for breakfast?”

“Here I invented red. I AM red. *snaps*”

“Evelyn called a closed rehearsal for select members in the Gargoyle Chamber.”

#2. Archie the Musical

Songs ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Plot ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Iconry ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This one had EVERYTHINGGGGGGGG. Fun with the meta narrative and original songs mixed with covers taken from various obscure and specific sources and by far some of the most fun choreography and sets of all musical episodes since they were able to be so free with it. Seeing Gay Kevin back in his natural habitat of directing the school musical was so heartwarming. Jughead and Reggie quitting immediately. Archie going left. And Archie going right. Bisexually. Julian demolishing Archie vocally every chance he gets. And knowing it. Also every single facial expression and mannerism that Julian has in this episode is god tier. Actually kj apa too. Actually also Lili and Camilla. SANDWICH? The loudest in-song sound effects we’ve ever experienced. Archie the happiest he’s ever been in his life on the back of Toni’s bike. BERONICA - PRIMAL AND INTENSE! My review is barely coherent because this one does fill me with silly giddy joy. Plot loses a star because how the hell are we expected to care about Gay Kevin’s divorcing parents. I know “ohh suffering isn’t a competition ohhh” Ethel just watched her parents get murdered by a milkman and no one sang for her.

Stand Out Lines:

“I don’t wanna be a drip, but it’s super distracting when my understudy is singing literally at the same time as me!”

“You completely captured the longing of being in a queer, interracial relationship in the 1950s.”

“Maybe there are other more emotionally complex mountains to climb.”

“The new Archie, Julian, he’s even better than the real Archie!”

#1. Hedwig and the Angry Inch

Songs ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Plot ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Iconry ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

On a 9 hour flight to Europe in the Summer I had all the Riverdale musical eps downloaded to rewatch and then noticed that among the plane’s complimentary movie selections was the original movie of Hedwig and the Angry Inch, which was pure kismet. I decided to watch the movie for the first time prior to rewatching the Riverdale ep and I was blown away. Knowing the context of all the songs and musical they chose to include in the episode made everything so much more insane. The song about feeling like a stranger in your body after surgical malpractice being used for the Bughead conflict over Juggie prioritizing mysteries over finishing high school and Varchie conflict over Archie not telling Veronica about her dad’s epic fail at the gym. 20? something year old gay Kevin proclaiming WE ARE GENERATION Z before jumping into Random Number Generation. The BIZARRELY spliced version of the best ever rendition of Origin of Love all for BARCHIE FODDER?!? Actually all the rest of the songs were perfectly fitting no notes. Anyway hallway full of students in Hedwig drag one of the top Riverdale shots ever though I forever mourn KJ Apa’s absence. At least he got to kiss a man in this one. The plane hit turbulence while I watching the Midnight Radio scene but I was so happy witnessing it in that moment that I thought to myself “it would be ok if I died right now”.

Stand Out Lines:

“Writing a book report? Now I know how Sisyphus must have felt.”

“It celebrates identities, genders, expressions of all kinds.”

“[scoffs] How queer-phobic of you.”

“There’s a problem that comes once you get caught up on your homework. Your mind wanders and evil creeps back in.”

I was convinced Archie the Musical would come out on top for me due to the obscene level of euphoria I felt upon first experiencing it but after intensive review I do have to say Hedwig wins. Ultimately I miss the original timeline that much and I am all for the events that eventually tear apart everyone’s relationships and most of all it gave us Origin of Love full version Riverdale cast edition. But know that it is so so so so so close between the two. And honestly really all 6 are close in my heart as this exercise reminded me just how much the musical episodes are to watch and rewatch.

[ziggy-stardust-is-in-love]

musical rant rn go

goodness gracious I wrote an entire novel yesterday and it all got deleted. Whatever.

OKAY HERE ARE ALL OF THE MUSICALS I THINK ABOUT IN ORDER

Frozen: Every six year old girl was obsessed with Frozen, including me. Good soundtrack and nostalgia. I still really want my theatre to do this show, but I’m not sure which role I’d want. Elsa, Anna, Christof, Olaf? I dunno. Too many good options

Hercules: One of my favorite movies since I was little. Insanely good soundtrack and super fun characters. If my theatre did this one I still wouldn’t know which role I’d want. Hercules would be great, but Meg is so fun, but Hades is even more fun!!

The Lorax: I’m considering this a musical so shut up. This has also been one of my favorites since I was little. Fun fact: as student council president I came up with the idea of making a Lorax themed bulletin board and we did it!! 💪 I think my presidency will be remembered as year of the Lorax or something like that. We’d come in every meeting and I’d play the soundtrack while we worked, it was perfect. I ALSO WANT MY THEATRE TO DO THIS BUT ID WANT TO PLAY EVERY ROLE. THEYRE ALL SO PERFECT

Sister Act: Pretty uncommon. The only reason i really listen to the soundtrack or anything was bc I was in it. This is the first musical I ever did (I’ve done 5 now) and in this I played Monsignor O’Hara, which is a pretty great role for a first time actor. I got to dad dance a deliver cheesy lines. The soundtrack is pretty good to me, but that might just be because of the distinct memories I have with each one. Like the time the power went out during a rehearsal so everyone sat in front of the stage with their phone flashlights on. That was super fun. Or all of my friends and I playing flee the facility on Roblox. 🥹 miss all of that

Dear Evan Hansen: or however it’s spelled. I’ve only read the book and occasionally heard the songs. The book was really good and I should really learn more about the musical.

Newsies: Second musical I was in and my first big role. Jacks best friend. It was awesome!! Before auditions I went over to my friend Emma’s house. She’s the one who brought me to theatre and we were watching newsies bc we knew nothing about it. I immediately, from the very first scene, wanted crutchie. Emma really wanted Katherine. I’ll always remember Emma FaceTiming me as soon as the cast list came out and telling me we got our dream roles and we were in the same cast. That was the best summer ever.

Elf: I don’t talk about this one too much bc it’s just trauma. I simply played a background elf because of my big role last show. I had two lines 😭 We did this for some reason and I decided “wouldn’t it be just great to bring my bf (now ex) to theatre!” So I did. What was I thinking. Halfway through rehearsals he broke up with me. I had to see him twice a week and it really sucked. I’m not gonna get too far into it bc my ex literally ruined my life but anyways

Wicked: My theatre didn’t do this play, I got to see it on broadway in November. It was really great. I went in knowing nothing about wicked and I came out obsessed. I was able to get a full cast signed poster and a copy of the novel. I’d definitely want to do this production at my theater someday but I just don’t know who I’d want to be. Elphaba or Glinda? Either way great show and good soundtrack for sure

Sweeney Todd: EEE!! Okay so the show itself is incredible. Great story, good characters, magnificent music, a 10/10 show for my theatre to do. The bad part is that this was just for the older age group, which means our director put a lot of pressure on us. Ever rehearsal someone went home crying (usually me) and nobody was having fun. I actually had an incredible role because I mentioned wanting Sweeney in auditions and I didn’t realize how much work that actually was. Thankfully they gave me an even better role: ANTHONY!! Still not my favorite role, Crutchie will always have that, but it’s awesome!! Being a lovesick sailor is basically me.

Heathers: Another fun musical!! We haven’t done this at my theatre and I don’t think we ever will 😔 I personally love belting these songs when I’m home alone, but that applies to basically all of these. Also if you’ve read this far that’s impressive bro. (Also I might start a secret side blog of me singing) but that’s a secret between you, me, and anyone else who read this far

American Idiot: The Green Day musical!! The music is obviously super good and the story is a bit strange but it’s really fun to watch slime tutorials of it on YouTube. (For any of you who don’t know, slime tutorials are what we call videos filming broadway productions because they’re illegal and a way for YouTube to not take them down is if you title them “slime tutorial.” If you ever want to see a bit of a musical poorly recorded on a trash phone, look up the name of the musical and you’ll usually find some.)

Peter Pan: Honestly a trash musical. The story makes no sense and most of the music is garbage. I played a lost boy, which is basically the only fun role in the whole show. I knew all of my other lost boys well, someone of them were already my best friends, so we were just a gang of rascals. Little Shop of Horrors: I went to a local production knowing very little and I came out of this one obsessed as well!!!! The soundtrack is sooo goood and my friends and I are super close to getting our theatre to do it. I would def want Seymour, Audrey, or Orin (the dentist)

WOW TYSM FOR LETTING ME GO ON A RANT I REALLY NEEDED THAT!!!!! YAYYY!!!! I think this is a complete list but I dunno. I’ll see if I forgot something at some point

[collecting-stories]

Pablo Neruda - Usnavi de la Vega

Request: no

Summary: reader has a crush on Usnavi and invites him to dinner. Just a bunch of fluff really.

A/N: I don't even know for sure how long this has been in my notes. Literally found it the other day and figured it was high time to finish it and post it here. Even if no one really cares about In the Heights anymore.

Broadway Masterlist

✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎

The sight behind the counter shouldn’t have been a surprising one. It was more common than not that you would find Marco here, chin just level with the counter despite the stool that Usnavi let him stand on. He thought the bodega was the coolest place on earth and frequently told the owner that when he was Sonny’s age, he too would work there.  

His Spider-Man bike was chained up outside, evidence that he’d ridden straight here after school despite your constant reminders that he needed to come home first.  

“Someday I’m gonna report you as a missing child…they’re gonna think Usnavi kidnapped you.” You remarked, the bell jangling as the door shut behind you. The fan set up in the corner blew passed you as it oscillated, trying to keep the store cool in the early heat of June. You took quick stock of what you could see, noting the absence of any adult supervising your seven-year-old. “Speaking of, where is Usnavi?” 

“The cooler broke again,” Marco replied. The thud of his small feet hitting the floor echoed in the space and he came around the counter to hug you, “I got a gold star on my story about Puerto Rico,” he mentioned, pulling away to go retrieve the paper that had already been pinned up to the bulletin board behind the counter. No doubt Usnavi’s doing.  

“Wow, that’s so great baby,” you took the papers that were stapled together, looking over the story that he’d recited to you three times that morning. “You’re like a little Pablo Neruda.”  

“Who?” Marco took the papers back, hanging them in their rightful place once more. A couple of his drawings accompanied the story. Once Usnavi had even hung a spelling test up so everyone could see it. You appreciated the sweetness, the willingness to help whenever you needed it, having someone around that your son could rely on, but it didn’t stop the occasional pang of something indescribable in your chest. You didn’t want Marco to get his hopes up…god knows you kept waiting for something you were sure wasn’t going to happen. Despite Carla constantly insisting that Usnavi had feelings for you.  

“Yeah, feelings of friendship. Feelings of ‘look at this poor pathetic girl I’ve known my whole life, still can’t make it out, got a kid now cause she was too stupid to see when her boyfriend was lying to her.” 

“Trust me, the only thing Usnavi’s thinking with when you come in the store is-“ 

“Oh god Carla!” 

But you couldn’t help feeling more than a little hopeful everytime you saw one of Marco’s tests or drawings hanging up, as if Usnavi was just as proud as you were. As if Marco had a dad (or at least a father figure) who actually cared about him.  

“Pablo Neruda wrote love poems,” Usnavi’s voice sounded from behind you. “He’s your mama’s favorite.”  

You turned to look at him and he winked as if the two of you were co-conspirators. Like you were in on the same secret and it made your heart pick up speed just a little bit.  

“Who else is gonna write me love poems?” You managed to say, rather proud that you’d even mustered a sentence together.  

The smile didn’t leave Usnavi’s face, even after you turned back to Marco and told him to get his stuff together so you could go home. While you were used to the moaning and protesting that usually accompanied this request you were rather taken aback when Marco hopped off the stool without question and started gathering his school supplies off the counter.  

“Can Usnavi come over for dinner? He said Sonny’ll be here soon to help and that means he wouldn’t have to hang around too…can he?” Marco asked, eagerly, looking to Usnavi, “do you wanna come over for dinner?” 

“You’re going to abuela’s for dinner, remember?” It was Wednesday and Wednesday meant dinner with your ex’s mom.  

“Well, then you and Usnavi can have dinner.” He suggested, toothy smile (minus a noticeable one in the front).  

You thought about saying that you were more than positive Usnavi had better things to do than come over to your place and eat dinner with you but your mouth worked before your brain could intervene and suddenly you heard yourself saying, “what’d you say? Wanna have dinner with me?” to Usnavi.  

Maybe it was the heat or the work trying to fix the cooler that had him flushed but you swore he looked almost nervous when he nodded his head, like the offer was too good to be true. “Yeah, definitely.”  

Usnavi wasn’t one to get his hopes up. Benny constantly swore that you were basically in love, (“you’re practically raising Marco together, now if you could just get together”), but Usnavi didn’t want to take the chance and look like a fool. Not to mention, he liked Marco a lot and he didn’t want you to think he had some ulterior motive for being nice to your son. He wasn’t expecting you to want to be with him and he didn’t want you to think he was.  

You told him seven o’clock and he got there at 6:45, standing at the bottom of the stoop and contemplating the flowers he’d brought. You didn’t say it was date or even imply that this was anything more than you offering a meal while Marco was at his abuela’s. Maybe you just didn’t feel like eating alone. Or maybe you felt bad because Marco had offered dinner and you didn’t want to be rude. Maybe the flowers were overkill, maybe you were allergic.  

“You stand outside all night, you’re never gonna get a chance,” Daniela teased as she walked passed him, bumping her hip against his playfully.  

“We’re just having dinner,” Usnavi didn’t bother to ask how Daniela already knew about the dinner. No doubt everyone in Washington Heights knew about dinner.  

“Yeah?” She plucked a flower out of the bunch, “hoping for dessert?”  

Usnavi choked on his reply, swallowing down the last bout of nerves and heading up to the door before Daniela could continue teasing him. You were on the second floor, the black and white tiled hallway was missing a piece right beside your door and when you complained the landlord told you there was nothing he could do. Now a large pot sat over it with monstera growing next to a welcome mat that you changed out for the seasons. It was getting close to valentines and the mat had red and pink X’s and O’s.  

The green door was cracked open, a “come on in” gesture that Usnavi had encounter a few times before when he’d offered to keep Marco while you worked and then walked the boy home at the end of the night. He rarely saw you without your son and it occurred to him as he pushed the door open that this would be the first time he was at your place without the seven year old buffer leading the conversations.  

“Uh, hey, the door was open,” Usnavi offered as he walked in, shut the door behind him, and walked further into your apartment. He was still holding the flowers, down by his side, their petals directed at the hardwood floor.  

“Hey,” you moved away from the frying pan to give him a hug, laughing gently at the sight of the bouquet. “Are those for me?”  

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” he apologized, whipping them up so fast a few petals fell off. “Daniela stole one, actually.”  

“Well they’re beautiful, thank you.” You took the bouquet from him and Usnavi watched you move around the small kitchen, grabbing a vase and filling it with water and arranging the flowers. He thought about something Abuela Claudia had told him years ago about knowing when he was in love and he turned away, looking around the rest of the small space as if he’d never been in it before.  

“Sonny didn’t mind watching the store I hope,” you mentioned, looking for something to say. It felt different without Marco there. Not the sort of different that made it awkward, despite you grasping for something to say, but the sort of different that felt like talking and having dinner were the furthest things from your mind. The sort of different that had you thinking Daniela and Carla and everyone else in the Heights that had an opinion on it was right.  

“As long as I bring him back something,” he replied. He’d made it to the bookcase near the front door, looking through all the books at eye level first. Pablo Neruda caught his eye and he took the book down, skimming through the pages.  

“Whatca got there?” You asked, coming over to look around his shoulder at the book he was holding in his hands. 

Usnavi tilted his head to look back toward you, “estás aquí. Oh, no te escapes," he began, reciting the poem as you stood there listening, dinner forgotten. His voice was smooth, the way it always was but somehow different too. Sweeter, like honey.  

That different sort of feeling that you were trying not to fall into settled over you as you listened to him read. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, and when he finally reached the end of the poem and he looked over at you, the fall you were trying to avoid suddenly crashed over you.  

“...quiero hacer contigo lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos,” he recited, eyes meeting yours.  

“¿Es así?” You were only just barely aware of Usnavi placing the book back on the shelf, the thin volume of poems falling to the floor from its haphazard placement. He turned into your space, kissing you without hesitation.  

Benny always said he was too slow, that he overthought all of his actions before he did them, and that what he needed to do was just act. It wasn’t advice he ever actually took. Usnavi just wasn’t the kind of person who acted on impulse. And then all of the sudden he was holding your face in his hands and kissing you in your living room. Impulsive, absolutely. When you finally pulled away, only to catch your breath, Usnavi smiled. That irresistibly boyish smile that always gave you butterflies. “Dinner?” He asked, only to avoid any more impulsive acts like telling you he loved you.  

“Dinner can wait.”  

- 

The door to the apartment slammed open and Marco came through, kicking his shoes off as he called out, “Mama! Mama!”  

Behind him, the door shut, his grandma stepping into the kitchen and looking suspiciously over the food that was left on the counter, still in the pan though the oven was off. The door to your bedroom was open and before Marco could make it that far you appeared in the hall, holding a zippered sweatshirt closed, semi-nervous smile on your face.  

“Hey baby, how was dinner?” You asked, hovering near the door of your room. 

“Abuela made dulce de leche! I brought you a piece!” He held the tupperware out toward you proudly, “Is Usnavi still here?”  

“Uh, he’s...he’s in the...” you floundered, trying to think of something to say. He was very much still there, on the other side of the open door, pulling his clothes on as fast as possible.  

“Why don’t we put this in the fridge Marco,” your ex’s mother suggested, taking the tupperware back from you and putting her arm around your son’s shoulders, “wait for your mama and this Usnavi to join us.” 

If you didn’t know you’d hear an earful from her about almost getting caught by your son, you would have thanked her for intervening when she did. Instead you just ducked back in your room, closing the door so you could change quickly, clocking Usnavi standing there with a massive grin on his face.  

“Don’t smile at me like that,” you whispered. An empty warning, really.  

“I don’t know what you mean,” he replied, grin still in place.  

“Come on, I still owe you dinner.” You held the bedroom door open for him to go out first, “and now we’ve got dessert too.” 

Usnavi stopped in the doorway to kiss you, “I’ve already had mine.” When you smacked his arm he only laughed and continued into the kitchen, Marco’s excited greeting putting a smile on your face as you walked into the kitchen after him.  

✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎

The poem Usnavi reads is Pablo Neruda's Everyday You Play .

Translations:

estás aquí. Oh, no te escapes - you are here. Oh you do not run away

quiero hacer contigo lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos - I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees

¿Es así? - is that so? / it's like that?

[popcornforone]

April

From the Marcus Pike Fan Fic Diary

Master list

March

How are we already at April? Seriously?! I’m not sure & I’ve finished May as well. That’s already to go for next month. But Marcus & his partners diary is getting steamier.

Synopsis:- You & Marcus are having a mini break in New York for a friends 30th

Word Count:- 1300

Warnings:- DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! PIV sex, established relationship, swearing, alcohol, tasting, oral & fingering both receive this, window sex, possible for people watching, I think if you’ve read the rest of the diary you know where this goes. As always this is the readers story so it’s written from their perspective.

Thanks as always for the read peoples. All feedback is welcome. I hope you enjoy.

There I stood by our huge window, looking over the New York skyline looking at the concrete jungle. We are almost as high as the clouds birds & planes. We both needed out of DC & a friends birthday in New York was the perfect way to go else where. Yes I can’t believe that Gina is 30 as well, I mean I know im older than that & Marcus is nudging the 40 in a few years but how can she be 30. She performs on broadway, so her party is musical based.

I turned my head back around to look at our room. Marcus’ Amex points had paid off. We weren’t penthouse but it’s the best view I’ve ever had of the city. Our room is bigger than the first apartment I shared at university. So many fresh flowers, a bed so big you could get lost in it. A bathroom with his & her mirrors. This was one hell of a way to have a mini break.

Marcus came back out of the bathroom freshly showered ready to put on his outfit for the party. He smirks as he sees the bottle of champagne turned upside down in the ice.

“Does my beautiful best girl need more fizz?” He asks as he notices me standing looking at the view empty glass in hand. I smirked at him. I wasn’t drunk but I was feeling much more relaxed & happy.

“Depends”

“Depends on what”

“On if I want to taste the finest things in life” I intentionally swish my long white robe, my own dress was hanging up by the sofa for me to put on soon.

“I’d say we are getting the finest things in life baby” Marcus slowly walks up behind me, he’s had a towel around his neck, he was dry & he presses against me so I can feel his bulge beneath his boxers. “Magnificent view” he mumbled into my ear. I felt his erection grow.

“We’re both talking about the same but different things aren’t we.” I said as I turned my head. My thin fingers graze his chin & he makes that little ooo noise that dampens whatever I wear.

“Depends?” He said echoing my previous words before he slapped my bum. Not to firm, but enough that if I wasn’t wearing my white silk panties that I would feel more.

“Hmm we’re playing that game are we Marcus?”

“I think we are” the way his lips always find mine still makes me giddy. The first contact knowing it will lead to more gives me butterflies.

“Marcus” it’s moaned & he turned me around & undoes my robe. My naked breasts exposed for him. It’s not long before both of us have hands that wonder. I’m always so vocal when he makes contact with my clit. I know he’s gonna do it, but I genuinely do think it’s that first warm rub from those fat flat fingers, I quiver every time. My own hand as he arouses me is gliding up & down his length. The inside of his boxers stained with Precum, I’m certain of it.

There is a good thing being so high up above the rest of city jungle, you don’t need to pull your blinds when you have sex. I’m not sure what this hotels policy is on having sex up against a window but it felt good. I didn’t know my panties are off, I was to lost in my own pleasure & making sure Marcus was feeling his when he removed my hand from his boxers & dropped to his knees to remove my panties from my ankles. He dealt with his own underwear there. He pulled a small m chair across & slowly peppered his kisses all the way from my feet, around my ankles, up my legs, & then to my thighs before he sucked. My clit was so ready for his lips. My cunt ready for his fingers. It was more ready for his cock but I knew I’d have to wait.

“Mmm…marrrr oooh fuck Marcus” my foot instinctively goes up on the chair as he licks away at me. I felt incredible. My hands running through his hair, over those broad shoulders. Crumbling at his own moans, mine were just added noise. My robe that I was still just about draped in falls to the floor & my bare arse rubs against the glass. “God Marcus… I’m gonna” I didn’t get the words out. Next thing I know sticky lips grace mine. His face glistening in my slick. I licked every drop off him as he called me a good girl. My cum tastes better when I kiss it off his lips.

Now earlier I said I thought my cunt was ready diary but it wasn’t. His cock slid so well in, after my oral explosion & Marcus was rampant. My hand thrust against the window. Held in place. If we had steamed up it would have been like that scene in titanic. Two hot sweaty sexy bodies moving against the glass, as he rampantly took me. Each thrust making my next orgasm even closer. Each warm oooh fuck from his mouth a hot release before the kisses started again. I know my Marcus is a passionate lover but that afternoon, he became a sex god. Maybe it was the fact we were against a massive window, maybe the people a few buildings away could see this couple getting their freak on, but it just felt right. The way his hand covered every inch of me. His bum felt Divine as I squeezed it every other thrust. My foot that was on the chair was wrapped around his own leg.

It was the deep cry he let out as he filled me up. Earthy. Manly. Feral. It made me cum for a 4th time that hour. My body spiralling down the rabbit hole yet again. He held me like his life depended on it. I love that Marcus is so passionate that my body trembles for a while. Even as he sat in the chair afterwards & my mouth accommodated his length as that large thumb wiped the tears from my eyes, I still felt like I was in heaven. I am his girl, his partner but for a couple of hours in that hotel room he didn’t treat me like a lady, he fucked me hard, like I was his whore. & it was fucking delicious.

I remember my phone notification going off as I sat in his lap about an hour later, my bum bouncing, his balls aching before they emptied once more inside me on the Chair we used for balance.

“Marcus we need to stop or we will never make Gina’s party” I mumbled after one last climax was reached.

“A room full of crowded people or me & you staying here? Our own party?”

“Hmm tempting but we need to go & I will dance so close to you tonight.”

“But we’re doing our own dance” he raised an eyebrow & my lips met his forehead. “I know I know” he nodded. “Also your dress for the party is so sexy, we might need to go so then we can come back & make out in the taxi” he had that glint in his eye. I didn’t want to leave his arms but I knew when we got back to our room we would just continue exactly where we left off.

& as much as Gina had an amazing birthday & we had a lot of fun, I tend to remember that it was my private after party that was the next best thing of that day.

May

[blankvort]

you've probably answered something like this but favourite songs from the stage show and i want details, GO‼️

pezberrywhoreee i cannot even begin to describe the dearth of times i have answered anything related to mean girls and the amount of times i have internally cried and screamed wanting to interrupt a conversation to talk about mean girls. i say that god is dead but you are doing his work right here. putting this under a read more because you said details and this became a study of why every song in the stage show is better than opioids and thin mints combined <333 no articulacy here just 8000+ words of vibes and ranting

first of all if cady sings a single line i am violently shoving every note of the song into a mental folder called faves in such eldritch fonts that my brain computer is halfway to summoning cthulhu whenever it loads the soundtrack. she is described as the heart of the story on the backstage casting call page for a reason and that reason is her absolutely incredible range as she struts from the plucky guitar gyrations and membranophone-focused percussion of it roars into the candid, confiding, crescendoing (and other c words you can probably guess based on the verbiage i use in dms) keys of stupid with love and then climb the vocal volcano that is apex predator and akfjskhfidbdihgshejfhiajw i love her and i love her songs and i need to shut up now i’m sorry

second (but not really because i’m still going on and on about cady i’m sorry) i’m upset abt most other productions burying cady’s fourth-wall breaks and kind of making the segue into revenge party less. i don’t know riled up?? because 1) where did my girl janis’s influence go it is so much more impactful when cady’s main reason for going along with the revenge plot and pushing it further is hearing about janis being outed from janis herself! when her main motivator becomes aaron, who she likes super superficially by the time more is better rolls around, you think wow! what a bitch! for even longer! like you don’t even have to cut the “your hair looks sexy pushed back”/”are his eyes gray or green” conversation that prods her into sending gretchen over the edge this isn’t a time issue 2) where did cady’s brain go bring me a whole box of profound regret and impulsive decisions let the people in the back hear the hows and whys of her descent into plastichood and moreover i would like her to sing more and most of all i love it when characters break the fourth wall. by that i mean i want the “sounds kind of bad right to spy on someone but they’re the first friends i’ve had and i don’t want to have none” things back because the narrative nudity and the way it follows the melody of the verses in fearless is a+++

now. my legitimate favorite songs from the stage show in chronological order

a cautionary tale: the repartee the art freaks have is elite and so are their riffs. The lyrics are 3am notes app poetry lines and that’s an amazing thing for mean girls. It’s not the typical broadway opening number but it’s rough and brash and brilliant. To me the cast of mean girls strikes the perfect balance between caricature and lived-in character and the insouciance of this song towards seriousness reflects that wonderfully. Janis assuming the worst of everyone by saying that the temptation to be popular and hot is far too great and saying that you can’t buy integrity at the mall is some nice, if blatant, foreshadowing regarding cady losing her integrity as she gets caught up in the perilous biome of shopping centers with such dangerous patrons as build-dat-bear. The last line of the chorus abruptly changing the amount of beats in the measure adds an extra kick layout fosse quality that i love too. The ending is the apotheosis of mezzo-soprano/tenor harmonization. Need both janis and damian to step on me but for different reasons. No i will not elaborate

it roars: i have a soft spot for wild life but it roars is superior in every way to me because it introduces cady, the show’s sense of humor, the cast’s incredible skill when it comes to singing and dancing (seriously i had never seen an ensemble that made me want to be ensemble before mean girls), and the perfect transition from a cautionary tale will always get me hyped. i have many thoughts about the many changes the mg script and score have gone through throughout the years but oh my god my jaw dropped at the breathtaking belting of “i have danced with the maasai, i have climbed kilimanjaro” when i first heard it mashed up with it roars and the callback the verse gets in fearless 2.0(?) totally dislocated it. Also i know that it’s a pairing so unpopular it’s basically nonexistent but hear me out when i say that it roars is just a more optimistic, afrobeat inspired version of what’s wrong with me. Cady never seems to think that it’s the student body that needs to change, she thinks she needs to fight and win to belong just as gretchen thinks she needs to serve the most powerful person in school to be deserving of… idk anything?? Of course you cannot trust me on this because i will ship cady with anyone if you give me the chance. Writing cady/the marymount girl fanfic as we speak

it roars is the first indicator that musical cady is pretty different from movie cady in that she earnestly wants to go to the us, wants to have more/better friends, wants to try high school and skateboards and rapping and starbucks venti chai. which makes sense because you know you gotta have that sick i want song so characters feel less tossed about and more thrusting into. there’s a better way to word that but i don’t have the skull size to summon a less immature dictionary right now. a curious thing about it roars, though, is that kenya, being a country and all, has high school and skateboards and rapping. no starbucks because apparently rwanda was an easier location to settle into but that’s a good thing actually nobody should support starbucks. either way you can really see that cady’s been sheltered from the realities of any society past the stone age and idolizes this incredibly abstract view of friends and people. she’s equal parts desperate and determined, artless and acute. it’s ironic, i feel that at first her speech patterns (lions and birds and stuff) seem at odds with her sub-saharan surroundings as though she’s already trying to integrate herself with this slangy teenage culture she knows nothing about and then when she finally finds herself in slangy teenage culture she compares everything to the survival-based rules of the savannah. i know this is probably for streamlining purposes but it’s also so interesting to me that her immediate reaction to her parents’ funding being cut is wow adventure wow possibilities. she knows that everybody wants connection but she doesn’t yet know why connection has to be culled by all these arbitrary rules like fashion or acting cool. like i don’t remember where i read this but some novel said that the only thing worse than being smart is being smart and sensitive because then neither the logical nor emotional explanations for any event can make sense. i swear i will find that book someday to take a photo but today i am bedridden because i walked the five or so inches from home to the grocery store

back to it roars. i hate the grammar in the line “none of my closest friends even has hands” but i love everything else about the song. the beat is so bouncy and the ostinati of the wind and brass sections are top tier. the comedic beats are underscored by cutting the music and then the vocals come back in soaring alongside the strongest bass since george perry and i could die happy if hospitals changed the flatline noise to any cady singing “so exhilarating”.

two paragraphs and we’re still going strong dead god help me. personally i feel like the best delivery of the ensemble lines have to be as obnoxious and deafening as humanly possible but i get people who feel differently. it’s just really great to me when cady is polite and confused and very presumptuous and sonja aquino’s actively going through act two of the exorcist in real time. i think that’s why danielle wade is my cady of choice too. love it when autism: the song is put through the epiglottic funnel of anxiety. also i’m wiping tears right now about the fact cady refers to phones as little screens in her first act one song and in the act two opener she’s glued to her phone because she wants attention so badly and still doesn’t feel like she has enough even though she talks about how america and the plastics are so much more than what she’s used to. Also very interesting that cady views inclusion as a game that needs to be won (and eventually comes to view baleful adoration as winning) even though she later exhibits a sort of survival of the fittest mentality that shows up as early as her mention of baboons attacking those that go near their pack. Fun fact i think her takeover of the plastics mirrors dispersal in male baboons wherein mature male baboons leave the pack they were born into to find another troop to temporarily stay in and usually if they end up replacing the alpha male of that non-natal troop they commit infanticide because then he can reproduce with the alpha male’s old mate/s. That’s not super fun but it is a fact to me. but i’ll talk about the strange views musical cady heron seems to hold about winning more in my do this thing essay which i am definitely going to write despite my best efforts to make this post under five thousand words

gonna slide the it roars reprise in here too because it’s not on the soundtrack but it still makes me feel things. “i’m sixteen just like everyone here but not like everyone here” and what if i said mean girls is the best dissection of the torturous dichotomy between being desperate to belong and being desperate to be unique. There’s a thing called theatrical exaggeration but for mental health purposes i choose to believe that north shore class of x immediately clocked cady as a weirdo utterly undeserving of trust or respect when they saw her wear socks and sandals. I know i just complained about people calling every iteration of cady boring but i feel like i haven’t seen actual hate for musical cady (at least not as much slander as i’ve seen sent to og movie and especially movie musical cady) because you can better bear witness to her most vulnerable moments when she’s singing directly at you instead of saying things in a soundproof recording studio. She’s not quitting she’s regrouping! Which is a fascinating choice of words to me because regrouping in math is basically carrying over values because they’re too much. She gets sucked into this idea that more is better even though she has to compartmentalize the information she’s learned from hostile classmates and teachers and draw connections to her experience with animals because more is not better without proper management. Also this bitch is gonna get e coli if the janitors don’t care enough to clean the slut-shaming graffiti on the wall they are not wiping down those cubicle doors

where do you belong: i love gay people. “so what if all the ducklings think you’re ugly it’s because they’ve never seen a swan” is ted talk worthy material. never getting over the fact that damian knew this girl for all of maybe one introductory french class’s worth of interaction, accused her of doing drugs, and then built her confidence back up from the seventh circle of hell. the “your mother called you baby girl?” “singing!” exchange is peak best friend banter and showcases the art freaks’ dynamic of frank, funny jerk with a tarnished heart of gold and budding broadway babe with a shocking amount of wisdom obscured by hilarity and hypocrisy. the debate team rejected damian because he was too fabulous to be deigned to one oregon-oxford role i’ve decided. i love unreliable narrators and damian shooing cady away from the mathletes as soon as she shows the barest interest in them is an entertaining way of showing that nobody in this story is free from social norms. the lunch tray percussion is something all marching bands should adopt and so are the lighting cues. janis’s reactions to damian killing his dance breaks are the best. rachel hamilton is my fave ensemble student i don’t care if she gets maybe two or three lines total.  she was giving bombastic side eyes before anyone knew the word bombastic. i desperately need to know if she knew what cady was actually saying or if she thought cady was just a lion king stan asking to be canceled. damian painting everyone but his two-person clique as problematic is also peak teenage behavior. everything at that age is just finding the lesser of two evils and figuring out whether or not you want to meet the bigger evil anyways. janis deriding “the geeks and the freaks” despite being labeled as an art freak by every mg promo is also amusing and barrett and mary-kate’s deliveries of “christian believers” could send me to heaven any day they want. the ending is so satisfying to listen to and even more satisfying to watch. also i do mean it when i say that cady was adopted by the local gays in this number. are janis and damian aware that having their own table in a school that makes juniors and seniors have lunch at the same time makes them more powerful than all the politicians of the globe combined

stupid with love: ALSKAJLDJASLDAJLLKJ. stupid with love is the best musical representation of how a crush driven by hormones and being treated with the barest sense of humor and dignity can devour a person taylor swift eat your heart out. the music really sweeps you up into this story like you’re a close friend privy to even her most embarrassing thoughts and the way her love life flashing before her eyes just shuts out whatever aaron was going to say about lebron james is the funniest thing because yeah! you can be convinced you’re totally in love with someone when you’re that age while ignoring everything that makes them a well-rounded human being! the way cady’s clearly grown up in a caring household that’s so chock full of trust that her parents can’t fathom that she’d do anything remotely dangerous while having the whole house to herself for more than one hour BUT also feels like she doesn’t “get” love is super interesting to me to like most sixteen-year-olds have the idea that their parents don’t understand them sure but has she come to the conclusion that familial love isn’t enough? that she doesn’t get enough familial love anyways? that love is unknowable? does she wholeheartedly believe that she fell in love at age five? stupid with love is a song of so many possibilities and it’s as giddy and delusional as you’d expect, every emotion heightened by cady’s new brand of eloquence. fetch may never happen but calculust absolutely should. the little snippets of dialogue in between are so endearing on both cady and aaron’s ends to the point where i can forgive ms norbury clearly not knowing how to conduct a class. who’s gonna tell cady to raise her hand before she answers. i’m kidding she can do whatever she wants, even ignore the existence of multiplication. multiplication is a bitch cady i get it

we once again see that cady is determined almost to the point of self-destruction and that she’s desperate to live a ‘normal’ life by getting together with the normalest boy of all time and the song so perfectly sets up why we should care about cady and aaron as a couple–he’s the only person thus far to not even suggest what she should think/do, encouraging her in a teasing way to be herself (ie smart) instead of telling her to be dumber so he can feel better about himself. cadaaron is the only straight ship ever argue with the wall. also the instrumental on its own is literally such a bop?? i’d drop a grand piano on myself daily if the keys could just perpetually play the song. quoth my own blog my heart belongs to every video out there of a cady opting up on the last “i learned math so i can learn love” it just fits so well thematically and makes the song even more satisfying because it makes you think yes!! summon that girlfailure swag and learn love. also this song is so next to me from twihard: a new musical coded with the pencils and/or feet providing the musical pulse. this is me very subtly begging you to listen to twihard: a new musical as put on by the esoteric ensemble productions and uploaded like a full decade ago starring danielle wade 

apex predator: i love women. i love bon jovi. i love zoology. this song was made for me tina fey told me herself. i can even forgive whoever made halls rhyme with dolls because of the regina furry confirmation. the first few chords kind of give me jaws theme vibes. it’s grinding and warning and doused in grit. you get the brightness of cady’s other songs cut with the flinty, darker strings of janis’s numbers. the heavy drum sort of sounds like a heartbeat, quickening as cady realizes the might of the pride and considers how regina’s help compares to janis’s in an almost clinical manner. shout out to erika henningsen’s “exotic pet” obviously. that line should be studied by every ivy league with a literary program because regina and cady considering the other an exotic pet instead of a real friend but still seeking each other’s approval……. maybe the narrative foils are really reflections of my tin foil hat but hear me out. it’s so interesting that they refer to regina as an apex predator because apex predators are animals without natural enemies but almost every single friend or admirer of regina’s exhibits an envious kind of awe when it comes to regina. regina’s so magnetic that you can’t be her enemy but close enough to pseudo-celebrity that you can’t exactly be her friend either. also the harmony at the end combined with the epic percussion deserves its own award. no longer does egot mean anything. One must be an egota (emmy grammy oscar tony apex predator singer) to be considered showbiz royalty

stupid with love (reprise): cady is so so smart and so so stupid. aaron getting confused at a genuine compliment not solely based on his looks is adorable but i also love it when the line delivery gets changed to be more like “wow i already know i’m cool but it’s nice to hear it from the cute possibly murderous girl who sits behind me”. same goes for cady’s “shit” right after aaron swears off dating–it’s funny as hell whether she’s smiling through the pain or so disappointed in herself she looks like she’s experiencing medical shock. her making love into a function is similarly messed up but funny as hell. i literally have a google drive folder full of audio clips of the “i just don’t get it–i’ll never get it–i just don’t get it–somehow…” part it’s so serious

sexy: this is modern feminism talking i expect to run the world in shoes i cannot walk in - the greatest mind of our generation karen smith. if the national emergency alarm was changed to the ending riff i would become an arsonist just to hear it over and over again. a youtube commenter said that she sings every line like she’s waiting to be shown the script and redo it and whenever acting and singing can waltz along in magnificence together i sob in joy even if that waltz is set to trashy pop. literally every costume shown is worthy of fashion week and then some. the sex doctor bit is beyond saturday night live. sexy rosa parks deserves the world. modern feminism is a mess but at least it built the last verse of this incredible song.

someone gets hurt: regina pretending to cry and aaron being confused again and then being manipulated into a makeout session is so so funny. so terrible but so funny. the incredible blare of noise after that first “until someone gets hurt” feels like being pushed off a cliff and into a sea of warning sirens which feels fitting. if any song from the stage show were to be played by a chamber orchestra i would want it to be someone gets hurt because everything about it is almost four seasons by vivaldi to me. as i said do not expect sensible comparisons from this review. it’s really dark and intense like all of regina’s numbers but this time her style of seduction is on full display, highlighted by some heavy timpani work and a male ensemble that’s carrying more than just regina on their backs holy cow. squidward would worship regina with how she made the bass clarinet sultry despite hitting something in the high fs during each “hurt” and holding that “go” for like five seconds. the ending is giving celine dion’s villain arc. it’s also maybe the first time the audience sees aaron through the eyes of anyone other than cady who’s so starstruck she might as well be blind and we see a guy who’s still susceptible to regina’s yknow reginaness. she guilt trips him about his potential infatuation with his body and then gets extremely touchy with him while wearing a playboy bunny costume. she asks if she was a game he wanted to play despite (maybe devoid of remorse) playing him just to get back at cady. she’s making so much shit up because peeling away too many layers of her perfection would be dangerous but so would losing aaron to cady’s actual openness. first she says “fine” to mean that she’ll be fine without aaron in the reverse psychology sense, then they say “fine” to mean that they’re both hot af, then he says “fine” to agree to get back with regina and possibly to convince himself that his interest in cady can and should be pushed aside because being with regina is better for them both. love this song. hate being unable to sing a single note of it.

revenge party: my overall fave song of the obc album, the stage show, and the movie musical. words alone cannot describe the excitement that electrocutes my nerves when i hear “now you know, caddy—” because everything from that line onwards is going to be stuck in my head for at least a week. some people can’t function until their first cup of coffee in the morning, i can’t function until my first listen of revenge party. in slight relation to that gretchen’s squawking will make me spit out any drink; such has been scientifically proven over the course of several years. i actually have a line-by-line analysis of revenge party drafted so i won’t go into detail right now because i need viewer retention but i mean it when i say art freak harmonization is the best kind.

whose house is this: if kevin g has one fan it is me. let the man rap even if half his lyrics don’t make sense. i have heard the big fun from heathers comparisons. i have heard the halloween from be more chill comparisons. all of them are so incorrect i could set several houses ablaze with the rage i feel at the very suggestion that whose house is this isn’t a masterpiece. no joke this is the first song on my workout playlist. the way nobody even cares about cady in this number is hilarious and so is kevin refusing to swear. gretchen deserves all the thank yous and so does the horns section. karen’s actions are just. Absurd as they always should be. the mario kart ass instrumentals during that “turn the freaking music up” segment make me pleasantly stressed. there are traces of jungle techno but little to no traces of cady’s signature sound and the usually lax but articulate and expressive rhyme scheme of her songs switching to frenzied verses full of immaturity and inconsideration makes me feel things that should not be felt while listening to a rave number with flatulent bass.

more is better: the only romantic duet to ever exist if you ask me. the fact that cady switches from the more sincerity-charged love to like most likely because the plastics’ philosophy is to be cool about things makes me want to bite the bars of alcatraz prisons. the way cady’s signature sound only really returns after aaron chooses to leave her because she’s become regina 2.0 without even acknowledging it is the stuff of emotionally resonant legend. as i said in my aaron review post the only thing that bothers me about this number is aaron kissing cady while she’s clearly drunk and he isn’t but cady kind of gets him back after do this thing so. yay equality. aaron’s so tired of being manipulated and told to shut up i feel so bad for him. cady’s so in denial about missing her old home in any capacity and being uncomfortable with the skin she’s tried to grow into for aaron’s sake and i feel so bad for her. the shimmering sound that comes with cady singing “stars” makes me feel better though. 11/10 would be sad again. say no to excessive air conditioning and light pollution

someone gets hurt (reprise): i like it when gays have bad breakups without even dating. what more do you want. but actually i am obsessed with the way this is blocked out because the way the chaos of cady’s house gradates into the dark street where there’s nothing but her and her crumbling friendships. the link between janis and regina is really reinforced by this song and it makes me feel insane.

world burn: the only way regina can redeem herself for wearing a black turtleneck and black pants is by slaying so hard you forget she’s just printing shit and polluting the corridors and she does it in world burn. her having a recurring set of notes to follow until she absolutely loses it is iconic. i learned so much about hernia formation through this song so i think it’s also an educational heritage site. the contrast of her 1984-esque lyrics and beats with lines like “trang pak is a grotsky byotch” is beyond hilarious but in the context of the show it makes my timbers shiver. she is both manipulated and the master manipulator. renee rapp’s opt up for the ending is golden but every regina brings their own flair and intensity to it. something that really interests me is how different actresses interpret the lines “this is what i get for helping / helping someone lame fit in” because to generalize regina either thinks she was actually helping cady or is trying to convince herself/the audience that her primary motivator was controlling cady’s every action before she got too hot to ignore or because she saw her hanging around janis and damian or because regina can’t ask a girl out like a normal person. idk it’s very fun and very satisfying to listen to and ramps up the ante for all antagonistic songs ever!

i’d rather be me: did you mean the feminist anthem of the twenty-first century? i’d rather be me is pure janis in her sort of jumpy, edgy, eleven o’clock exasperated glory tuned to this effusive fusion of pop and rock. the energy this has is soooo good because every girl in school is tired of being treated like shit because of the expectations placed on them by society and the idea that by i’d rather be me the female student body of north shore is so exhausted of the plastics’ bs that they parade janis around despite shunning her for years is amazing. most criticisms of this are abt how wordy it is or how it’s not worded right but hello janis is a teenager her inner and outer monologue is not going to be as mature as fucking grizabella the glamor cat and it can include words that anyone would study for the sats like sycophant. sycophant is not that fancy a word i learned the word sycophant from a star wars fanfiction i read when i was seven how could you not know the word sycophant at age seven squared after making a living out of reviewing shows written by wordsmiths like sondheim. sorry that was mean i’m just tired of people either going “they wouldn’t talk like that they’re teenagers” or “they shouldn’t talk like that they’re part of a theatrical production worth millions of dollars!” lmao

ok so i think that janis was losing herself just as much as cady over the course of the revenge plot taking place because okay she’s ruined regina but she’s barely changed anything about herself and if her plan had worked without hitches wtf was she going to do. was she going to keep hanging out with cady. was she going to fill the power vacuum left by the plastics herself. was she going to run regina over with a bus herself. i’d rather be me is the culmination of the crushing pillars of her revenge plot and the full realization that revenge wasn’t what she wanted–she wanted to change the way the world works, change it into a place where people can just do and be without being ostracized. to me the instrumentals and the mockery in the lyrics are almost stinging?? someone with even could describe this better than me but the strings during the instrumental section between verses remind me of a mosquito bite because they’re high and sharp and put against the heavy drums and cymbal crashes they really paint this picture of a dam of anger breaking and giving way to a new wash of awareness. 

also i cannot stand it when ppl say this song is the show giving endorsement to janis being a hypocrite there is a reason why all the lyrics are in future tense. she is wrapping her mind around the notion that there is no pleasing everyone, that there is no true gratification gained by holding grudges and letting them control your every thought, that if you don’t let yourself have the liberty of lashing out you’re only going to manifest your maliciousness in worse ways with longer-lasting effects. that being said let girls be haters

also the obc album should’ve let janis swear. every public performance of i’d rather be me should let janis swear. let her have a line with bite before her throat turns into a cavern where vowels go to melt into a singular solution

also janis’s costumes over the course of the whole show are amazing but her look in i’d rather be me goes so hard. if i had any of janis’s jackets i think i’d curl into it like a cocoon and wait until the heat death of the universe for metamorphosis into coolness

do this thing: no joke this is the second song on my workout playlist. i hate the title so much but i love also the audience reaction when ms norbury starts singing as if she didn’t just slay the what’s wrong with me reprise gets me every time. truly the actresses in the adult women track are so underappreciated and so are the adult women in general. kevin g’s unabashed doing of the thing regardless of the haters is iconic. the return of the heavy percussion is so enjoyable and so are the mathletes’ lines lining up with the steaming kettle sound somehow behind each buzzer even though i hate buzzers because in real life mathletes nobody wants to answer on beat. ms norbury best matchmaker ever i LOVED the detail of aaron being present for the mathletes’ win but cady clearly focusing on the competition above all else. i’m pretty sure the mathletes are also the only characters to drop an f-bomb in a song which is just fantastic + the gretchen/regina parallel between kevin and marwan regarding schquillz is phenomenal. “the limit does not exist” being both the answer to the question that signifies cady’s return to her old self with more self-assurance and the theme of the musical in terms of not limiting other people is a level of genius i will never reach.

i see stars: i’m sorry they gave cady a big finale where she calls everyone beautiful and bright and holds hands with the other girls she’s hurt and you expect me to not love it?? this one had to grow on me though because i was so bothered about the stars imagery coming up maybe like five songs before when we’d been following animals and math for the whole show. as we all know characters can only have one or two interests before they become completely incoherent. but now i know more about light pollution and have played the video of this song with the pride chorus more times than i’ve blinked so i get it. shane oman also breaking his crown during the escalation of the instrumentals from a very optimistic but singular combo of strings and cymbals into the violins and heavier drums and whatever else is such a good detail. i still get goosebumps with that “you stars” there is just so much emotion packed into this finale and the rest of the ensemble joining in is as effective as onions being cut directly into my eyes when it comes to crying. obviously my fave version of this is the one with cady and janis’s mini duet during the rhinestones don’t shine part but guaranteed this one will make me cry no matter what

now. for the songs that didn’t make it onto my absolute fave list they are still my children just bastard ones and i will go into detail about them too because there is no point in writing this post if it does not crash the tumblr dashboard for you

a cautionary tale (reprise): akin to its origins, the reprise of a cautionary tale kicking off act two is there to introduce the act, but unlike its first iteration, the reprise is literally just there. no jokes no nothing. would love to see it reworked into something that reminds the audience they’re north shore freshmen being told this story by janis and damian because i forget about that framing device until the dialogue break in i see stars every time lmao but other than that it’s serviceable and any song that involves art freak harmonization is a solid song

meet the plastics: maybe i don’t love women as much as i claim to. I don’t know why i don’t like this song more truly. Maybe i just need to listen to it more lmao because the lyrics are great, the tempo changing with each introduction is great, and gretch waiting until regina’s out of earshot to try and convert cady into a fetch truther is great. Maybe it’s the “humps my leg like a chihuahua” line that turned me off from it because nell benjamin i do not care that you wrote legally blonde i do not think regina george would bring up animal humping imagery considering what her mother puts her through unless she was hopped up on pain meds. All that being said i would die for the polyphony at the end and karen playing with cady’s hair near the end is so cute

what’s wrong with me: gretchen it’s not you it’s me and i like songs with a specific sort of climax and what’s wrong with me really does feel like a music box piece played by some dusty not-quite-antique you find in the attic that makes you feel a particular, peculiar strain of melancholy because it’s so cyclical and fragile. which is the point, probably! It just sounds really different from the rest of the show and i feel like the lyrics don’t quite fit the language we’ve heard gretch using so far but maybe that’s also part of the point. That being said the line “see that you see what’s wrong with me” makes me go mad because there are so many ways to interpret it. Is she telling the audience that they should be able to see what’s wrong with her? Is she saying that the audience sees something good in regina that she can’t see anymore because of her constant mistreatment? Is she once again asking what’s wrong with her or has she finally had a breakthrough about her dismal self-esteem?

fearless: oh my god a cady song and act ender that i’m not totally into sound the sirens. but really fearless without the revisitation of the it roars/wild life passage that tells the audience what makes her fearless aside from wanting to move to america (which might make her more fearless than i thought now i sound that out but still) isn’t my favorite songs despite it having some of my favorite moments like karen’s ribbon dance, gretchen’s very cool dance, cady mirroring regina’s pose on top of the cafeteria table at the start of meet the plastics at the end, the mini someone gets hurt reprise at the end, it isn’t my favorite to listen to because the lyrics are just all over the place. Cady why are you saying that she’ll go cry to mama do you think mrs george is sober enough for that. Cady why are you spouting live love laugh merchandise ass quotes. Cady why are you quoting dwayne the rock johnson “imagine stronger, better, bolder” are you going to play a lacrosse game against regina. Why does karen not wear more vests after this number

You know what made me care about fearless?? The fearless reprise. Oh my god the fearless reprise. I need to make a separate post about the fearless reprise but i can’t listen to it more than once a day or i’ll end up crying for hours on end.  

stop: is it homophobic of me to put three damian songs on this list? probably but i make up for it by filling that broadway cares bucket every time i can. and it’s not that i even really dislike stop!! I have so many thoughts about stop!! i just don’t like it when compared to the other songs that can hold up inside and outside the context of the show!! i just feel like it has to be experienced live to understand its award-losing enormity unlike where do you belong and even then it sounds noticeably different from the rest of the show + essentially pauses the narrative to talk about a whole other story that never gets resolved outside of damian being ghosted (i thought theater was supposed to provide escapism 😔) and then frays a bunch of threads out from the ensemble in a way that doesn’t feel quite as well sewn in as the worship we see during apex predator or after rockin’ around the pole because like. it’s funny sure but just the act before we saw that things can be funny while also moving the story along past attempting to hammer in the message “stop ignoring your real friends” in cady’s thickened-by-makeup head. 

also how does damian even know about her word vomit. cady barely even word vomits in the stage show. it’s all just word coughing fits of confusion and unintentional comedy under peer pressure. whenever she says something embarrassing she either gets cut off or turns it into a whole song. i’m sorry damian i love you and your stupid straw hat but we just saw the whole show we don’t need a recap of everything that happened in the last hour with almost zero internal rhymes and without the frantic pacing of ya got trouble from the music man. cmon.

onto things i love about stop tho which are a) the gaiety (and gay-ty) b) the dancing and c) the staging. i love it when gay characters just get to be silly goofy instead of singing themselves to their graves and even if damian was built off the dramatic thespian homostereotype he gives me the impression of a silly goofy teen trying to balance the interests of his best friends with his sanity through the medium he’s most comfortable in which happens to be literally show-stopping song-and-dance number. also we get cadnis content in the background and the choreo i’ve seen for how janis plays keep away with cady’s phone only gets better (which of course is a synonym for gayer. let the babies hold hands before they yell at each other in the street and see a 15-second death they’re both sort of kind of responsible for). the dancing of course is wonderful. i mean does it make sense in-story for damian to somehow be popular enough with the ladies to rally them into a giant dance break after asking them to divulge their biggest, darkest secrets like an hour after being kicked out of the girls’ bathroom and calling one of them danny devito? probably not. is it really enjoyable when you aren’t itching to get back to the main story? yes. it also makes north shore feel more authentic in a sense?? obviously there’s so much about the social hierarchy exaggerated for comedic effect but yeah public high school is that crazy one day you’ll hear that a classmate got into a drunk driving accident and the next you’ll hear that the same classmate scored an audition for the x factor. and the transition from the art classroom, which is one of my fave sets in the whole show because aghhhh i want to pause everything and analyze art whenever it comes up in a tv show or movie or video game or musical because it’s almost never just art present for the sake of filling the set! there’s a reason why the set designers put that there or downloaded that asset or whatever! based on the official yt video in stop we see a sort of cubist portrait of janis ian, a few monochrome figure studies, and some more abstract pieces and i so want to know what this number would’ve looked like in-universe. did cady legit just run out of class to confront damian and get swept into a gay tea spilling session until the end of the day. be glad you got suspended girl

so. while i cannot begin to fathom the stamina it takes for damian to go from that gorgeous dance break into the grand vocal ending—philip doesnt know what he’s missing out on for sure—stop is not something i play on purpose but if the obc album shuffles to it i won’t complain!

what’s wrong with me (reprise): is it homophobic of me to put every gretchen song sans whose house is this on this list? probably but again it’s just not something i can put on repeat/a number i think depends on the production to arouse much entertainment value. it’s fucking hilarious though i’ll give it that. like it might be in the top three of mg songs when it comes to unadulterated comedy. my heart breaks when gretchen realises she’s stuck in this cycle of servitude and is still being hurt by the people she most desires the approval of and her work is still going unappreciated and then i get a heart attack from laughing because regina’s reign of terror is so absolute even her own mother has feared her from the age of three onwards?? in addition to that what’s wrong with me reprise is why i cannot stand for mrs george hate she’s just a girl too. a toxic girl who never emotionally developed past high school but like. what do you want her to do. she has never had a heartfelt conversation with her daughter ever. also “why couldn’t it just be drugs” is so funny to me because yknow. reggie gets hit by a bus and spends the rest of the show so high she forgets her love languages are acts of slanderous service, passive-aggressive gifts, weaponized physical touch, quality time spent playing hard to get, and words of refutation. taylor louderman deserved a tony for pulling the kalteen bar scream off every night too i think it’s night queen aria levels of difficulty.

the funniest part of this song to me is probably the way it starts and ends so abruptly. usually you can tell when a song’s about to start in a musical but gretchen nearly breaking down into sobs as soon as cady turns her non-self-tanned back without missing a beat is both relatable and hysterical. my girl is clinging to les mis motifs and middle school herd mentality in a world meant for fosse tributes. the spotlight is only on her when she talks about how dim her light feels in comparison to other characters. then mrs george joins in and you get the first female/female duet to rival defying gravity since idk. everything in fun home. i take cash and credit not criticism.

but really the gretchen/mrs george connection is so interesting because they tether themselves to regina in a style that’s irreconcilable with happiness on either end and they know that but possibly for a mix of selfish and sympathetic reasons don’t want to leave in any capacity. the way they’re separated on stage by little more than a change in colored lighting is interesting too and raises the question of whether or not they’re aware that regina’s sun is burning those closest to her in general.

also. can plastic cady snap and yell at me i want to feel something

in conclusion i love you pezberrywhoreee thank you for asking this. i think i said the words “also” and “but” more times than i said the word “gay” and that’s a real hurdle to fly over. i think i expect many random things in your inbox hereafter as retribution/reward depending on how you see it

[pealeii]

hellllooo hows the new york (girl who cares very deeply that people have a good time in her city)

I’M BACK TODAY!!! And it was so fun!! It was a missions trip so I was primarily doing that (serving at food pantries, cleaning, prayer walking, etc.) But we had a free day where we went to the Natural History Museum (we were there for three hours!! It was life changing!!) Central Park (such a beautiful space!!) Times Square (I got to see ads for my fav shows on Broadway rn, decrying that I couldn’t go to a show but YKNOW STILL FUN) and then we took the Staten Island Ferry!! The ocean breeze was amazing ☺️☺️

Plus I loved the Subway SOOOO much. I don’t really have transit like that in my home city so it was so cool!!! I went on it like everyday so dope. ALSO ADKDJSHA THE FOOD WAS SO GOOD. I HAD THE BEST BAGEL I’VE HAD IN MY LIFE

Also just love the city in general!! It was my first time actually walking in NYC and woo! So great. It was epic. You live in a great city.

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

how do u come up with your titles? they read like song lyrics- and if they are could u drop the songs 👀👀++ to what extent does that song influence the story? (my bad if you've answered this before I have terrible memory)

-🦀

Ooohhh crab anon, the bag of worms you opened!! You are completely right, (almost) every title of my stories have come from song lyrics. And not only have I compiled the songs for you, I’ve written a lil blurb on why I chose that song and included recommended songs for each fic with applicable lyrics. I hope these satisfy!

another cup of wine | “Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl” Looking Glass

Listen, I’m gonna be real with y’all. This one is just because Darlin’ and Sam drink wine out of cups instead of glasses. No deeper meaning here, just an applicable lyric I liked. The song does have a sort of swag and divorced dad rock vibe that I think Sam in particular would listen to.

Recommended listening

“He Needs Me” Shelly Duval

“I’ll take a chance / I will because he needs me”

“No Choir” Florence + the Machine

“And it’s hard to write about being happy / ‘cause the older I get / I find that happiness is an extremely uneventful subject”

the only anchor i have left | poem by Andrea Gibson

The only one not taken from a song. I’ll link the poem below. I think the whole thing is very good for Bright Eyes. Lost and anchorless without something to be angry about. A common Andrea Gibson slay.

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/9548512-what-if-i-don-t-want-the-monster-to-stop-being

Recommended listening

“Your Needs / My Needs” Noah Kahan

“To see a friend, to see a ghost”

“your life, your dreams / your mind, your needs/ my needs. / Your needs, my needs.”

“Second Child, Restless Child” the Oh Hellos

“And they saw the trouble in my eyes / they were quick to recognize the devil in me.”

i always wanted to die (clean and pretty) | “Last Words of a Shooting Star” Mitski

One of two or three Mitski lyrics I’ve used since she is just so good. Tbh I don’t know where I was going or where I want to go with this one. The general vibes are… tragic. I might retool later on.

Recommended listening

“Lonesome Town” Ricky Nelson

“There’s a place where lovers go / to cry their troubles away / and they call it Lonesome Town / where the broken hearts stay”

“This Too Shall Pass” Danny Schmidt

“We think too big / we think our self is one whole thing / and we claim that this collection / has a name and is a being / but deep inside / when every cell divides / well, it sets upon the rule that states / self-interest is divine”

let this whole town hear your knuckles crack | “Damn These Vampires” the Mountain Goats

Somehow the only fic so far with a title from tMG, my favorite band of all time. I’m sure I’ll find more in time. This song has western vibes that I don’t think fits the DAMN crew very well, and somehow I paired this song in my one fic that doesn’t involve Sam. However, the vibes are immaculate.

Recommended listening

Seventeen Going Under” Sam Fender

“I was far too scared to hit him / but I would hit him in a heart beat now / that’s the thing with anger / it begs to stick around”

“Saint Bernard 2” by Lincoln

“Lord make me a liar ‘cause I swore to god / when swearing still felt like the truth”

it’s my gut i can’t ignore (i’m hungry) | “Gone, I’m Gone” Eva Noblezada and the cast of Hadestown.

Also surprising I haven’t used more broadway lyrics, but here we are. My absolute favorite musical which, in part, is about hunger driving you to do desperate things. This piece was so largely focused on food insecurity for me. Every chapter revolves around food to some degree, and even the metaphors and similes Angel uses to describe the world around them are tied to food. It’s something that those of us who grew up with food insecurity can relate to; when you’re hungry, everything reminds you of food. When you live hungry, it consumes your every thought. When Noblezada as Eurydice delivers the line “it’s my gut I can’t ignore / Orpheus, I’m hungry,” you can hear it in her voice. It’s worth a listen for that line alone.

“Abbey” Mitski

“I am hungry / I have been hungry / I was born hungry / what do I need”

“Class of 2013- Audiotree Live Version” Mitski

“Mom / will you wash my back this once / and then we can forget / and I’ll leave what I’m chasing / for the other girls to pursue”

as long as you’re with me (you’ll be just fine) | “Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby” Cigarettes After Sex

This whole song has excellent David vibes. The protectiveness, the quiet possession. He’s a soft soul at heart, I think, and this song fits well. This collection is one of my faves just because we get to see many different sides of him and ways in which he can be protective, possessive. From quiet reassurance to acts of service to beating the shit out of people. As long as his pack is with him, he will keep them safe.

Recommended listening

“Cold Cold Man” Saint Motel

“Oh my love / I know I am a cold, cold man / quite slow to pay you compliments / or public displayed affections. / But baby, don’t you go over analyze / no need to theorize / I can put your doubts to rest / You’re the only one worth seeing”

there is a light (i feel it in me) | “Abbey” Mitski

Already tied to this series, this Mitski song is just perfect. An exploration of how trauma can effect us in ugly ways, this piece pairs perfectly with Mitski’s music. This song explores the deep hunger within the singer, countered by the lightness she feels within herself. Angel, in this piece, is haunted by their hunger and treats David poorly because of it. The light that he shows them helps them to reach for the light within themself. We love healing in this house!!!

See the recommended songs under it’s my gut i can’t ignore (i’m hungry).

the rest of you, the best of you (honey belongs to me) | “NFWMB” Hozier

Oh boy I could go on for ages about Hozier. His songs are on almost all of my Redacted playlists and so I listen to his work pretty much every time I write for Redacted. His lyricism and prose are evident in my work, I think. This piece, one of Angel’s first indications of how protective David is, fits so well with this song. Swinging wildly between protectiveness and possessiveness, David mirrors the song’s progression throughout the piece. I think “Belongs to me” is the operative part of this title.

Recommended listening

“You’re Mine” Phantogran

“(No one’s gonna love you) / (No one’s gonna touch you) / ‘cause you’re mine! / (No one’s gonna look at you)”

“Always Forever” Cults

“You and me, always forever / We could stay alone together / You and me, always forever / Say you’ll stay, never be severed”

i assume you’ll be coming for blood (that makes two of us) | “Venom” Little Simz

Alright so… for real… this piece should have been named “is it wickedness? is it weakness?” after the first (or last, depending on how you play it) track on Kendrick Lamar’s “Damn.” That entire album is a work of art, and it can be played cohesively forward or backward, each play telling a different story. Forward is Kendrick’s life as it is, and backward is how it might have gone had his father died when he was young.

In this story, the inciting incident for Sweetness to be so different from the Sweetheart that we know is their mother dying when they were young. I’m positing here that Sweetheart in the main universe still has their mom and that’s why they’re kinder.

Anyway. I stand by “Venom” being a banger. It’s themes don’t run as cohesively with this story as Damn.‘s do, but I can live with it. For now.

Recommended listening

“Damn. Collectors Addition.” By Kendrick Lamar.

Yes the entire album. This particular edition, too, since it is the “wicked” timeline.

“Love’s gonna get you killed / but pride’s gonna be the death of you”

“United in Grief” Kendrick Lamar

“Pray none of my enemies / hold me captive / I grieve different”

remembering again the full extent of what forever is | “Through Me (The Flood)” Hozier

More Hozier! We know I love him and the new stuff he’s put out for Unreal Unearth and all of it’s EP’s are changing me fundamentally as a person. Hozier’s work has always connected with me deeply, all the way back to when I was a repressed queer kid listening to “Take Me To Church.” Now, as he’s putting out this big push of music, I’m finding myself connecting with the core of his music again. This song, a song about surrendering to the impossibility and incomprehensible nature of love, is perfect for William and Alexis. Will’s love for Alexis isn’t healthy, and it doesn’t lead him to sound choices, but he feels he has no choice. So he surrenders to it.

Recommended listening

“Eat Your Young” Hozier

“It’s a kindness / highness / crumbs enough for everyone / old and young are welcome to the meal”

“My Love Is Sick” Madds Buckley

“You’re an infection / I am keeping / No matter the sepsis / you are staying / I’d rather the wound / Than have you removed / Enough rotting for two / Killing me, keeping me high”

the world (it burns through me) | “Through Me (The Flood)” Hozier

Oh boy two for one! I for sure snagged this from the same song as the last piece I posted too. Yada yada surrendering to love and all of that. Love is something that’s has happened to Darlin, not something they have taken an active part in. They take the opposite message from William in this song; they fight the current, don’t let the world take them under. They are a fighter, in the end.

Recommended listening

Arsonists Lullaby” Hozier

“All you have is your fire / and the place you need to reach / don’t you ever tame your demons / but always keep them on a leash.”

“Problems” Mother Mother

“I’ve found love in the strangest place / ties up and branded / locked in a cage”

and my body remains (but the person is gone) | “Divine Loser” Clem Turner

Asher’s main trauma response in this piece is dissociation, pulling away from himself and his body to protect himself. While “Divine Loser” isn’t necessarily about dissociation, there are a number of apt lyrics that tie in with Ash in this story.

Recommended Listening

“To Someone From a Warm Climate (Uiscefhuaraithe)” Hozier

“You’d shake for minutes there and move your legs / wrap the blanket over you and keep your head within / let your breath heat the air until you’d feel it getting thin / Uiscefhuaraithe.”

“Wait” Get Set Go

“Wait, wait for the dawn, my dear / wait til the sun gets here / and you will wait too long / he will be gone”

when i call, you come home (a bird in your teeth) | “I Know The End” Phoebe Bridgers

Ooohhh boy! I love this song. Phoebe does something to me y’all. This song is sad, which makes it an interesting choice for a, generally, happy ending fic. This piece, like most things I write about the pack in childhood, is tinged with a sad sort of nostalgia. It’s the knowledge that we as readers have that, whatever comfort and love David gets from Gabe is temporary. We know how this story ends. We know that Gabe will die. And so even these happy moments are seen through that lens. I Know The End.

Recommended listening

“That Funny Feeling” Bo Burnham

“That unapparent summer air in early fall / the quiet comprehending of the ending of it all / there it is again, that funny feeling / that funny feeling.”

“Black Eyed Dog” Nick Drake

“I’m growing old and I wanna go home / I’m growing old and I don’t wanna know / I’m growing old and I want to go home / Black eyed dog, he called at my door / The black eyed dog he called for more.”

[azaleapaperpad]

Red Curtains and Chandeliers

Phantom of The Opera (Broadway version)(Merik) x GN! Reader (Part 4) WC: 1249

Upon Opening Night, you and your best friend were getting your costumes set out and ready, minutes before the last rehearsal. You had dusted yourself off and waited for your friend to finish up so you could walk to the rehearsal hall beforehand. As you walked through the halls, you noticed policemen, heading towards the stage. Your friend made a face at you that indicated the question you were both thinking. What on earth are they doing here? 

The realization hit you like a freight train. They were here for him. Fear, worry and anxiety overtook you, making your breath hitch at the revelation. Your friend seemed to notice and catch on, and took your arm so you could move out of the way faster. Your vision was blurring, sending you into a panic attack. You couldn’t bear to hear that the man you loved might lose his life tonight, you just couldn’t handle it. Your friend, however, noticing this was one of your panic attacks, snapped you back into reality.

“Darling… darling I need you to focus on me!” They said, sternly and somehow gently at the same time. You looked up at them, tears threatening to meet the bottom of your eyelids. They shook their head to try and reassure you. “They aren’t going to hurt him. Your Phantom is more clever than that, we both know it. He’s eluded the eyes of most everyone here, he’ll be okay.” Your friend said, trying to comfort you. Your head was still racing, but you tried to ground yourself in their words, and nodded slowly, agreeing with them. You leaned on them a bit for comfort, and they wrapped their arm around you. 

You stood there for a good minute, before you were able to compose yourself enough to go and carry on with the rehearsal. He will be okay… He’ll be okay… You kept telling yourself so. Eventually, you and your friend arrived to the rehearsal room, and Madame Giry was not happy about you two being late. She made an announcement about the policemen. Her cane slammed on the floor with a loud thud.

“As I’m sure, most of you have seen the policemen here. I would like to remind each and every one of you to pay them no mind, and focus on the production tonight.” She punctuated her last part of the sentence, glaring around the room. Her eyes landed on you and your friend last before she signaled to start the first act. 

As you all carried on with rehearsal, suddenly you all hear a bang. Your heart dropped to the floor, your knees became week, and the rest of you joined your heart. A few of the ballerinas screamed, mostly the girls of course. Madame Giry slammed her cane on the ground once more and told everyone to carry on. She walked over to you and gripped your arm to bring you back up, using her cane to steady herself, and she pulled you to the side. 

“I suggest, you center yourself more on dancing, young one. You’re not easily startled, so keep on your feet. And stop thinking about what’s going on outside this room.” She warned, barely whispering. She let go of your arm and gestured for you to go back to your spot. You did so, slipping back into your spot. 

Rehearsal carried on, and eventually came the Opening Scene. You shook your nerves off and began dancing in the first act. The show carried on relatively smoothly, and when the latest act was over, you finally caught a break. You rushed with all the other ballerinas to the dressing room and changed, as well as found something to drink. The shot you heard earlier, still ringing in your mind. Your friend approached you, and put a hand on your shoulder. You two barely had time to catch up between the rehearsal and the show, and currently, you two had a few minutes to spare before the finale. Your friend tilted their head to find somewhere a bit more quiet, and you followed suite. Once you two found yourselves in a more secluded area, they spoke.

“I heard from some of the other ballerinas that he’s still alive. He merely taunted Rauol and the officers. So he should be okay.” They explained. You sighed in relief. 

“Are you okay mon cher?” They asked gently. 

“Y-yeah… just shaken. I was worried there for a while-” You were rudely interrupted by someone knocking at the door. It was a policeman. Tall and fit, it seemed, with blonde hair and hazel eyes. 

“Pardon me you two, but could you direct me to box 2? I was making the rounds and… I seem to have gotten lost.” He asked, a little bashfully. Your friend stood straight up and all but ran to his side. 

“Ah, yes monsieur, right this way…” Your friend started leading the officer to said box, and turned to you and winked. Flirting fool you thought. At least they stayed long enough to make sure you were okay. You stayed in the room by yourself for a few minutes, processing the new information and thinking of what to do next. 

Since you had confessed to your best friend, you felt a weight off your shoulders, and quite possibly forcing you to realize just how strong your feelings were for the Phantom. The mere thought of him, especially in a state of pain or possibly even dead… you just wouldn’t know what to do with yourself anymore. You missed his gaze and instructions for choreography, the witty comments he would produce, and the ones you fired back at him. Looking back, you thought it might have been foolish to just leave him instead of just confessing your feelings when you had the chance. You seemed to be his friend for a while, his confidant, and you left him because you felt jealousy overpower you. 

After coming to this revelation, you realized it could be now or never to confess to him. After all, Christine would likely leave after this show, giving you the perfect opening to tell him your true feelings. As you came to and realized the time, you saw a shadow pass the door of the room you were in, a black cloak. You assumed it was Piangi, getting ready for the final act and hurrying to the stage.You decided to try and catch up with him to see if he’d walk you back to the dressing rooms. You swiftly left the room, and called out.

“Signor Piangi, wait! Would you possibly mind walking me back to the dressing rooms?” The cloaked figure turned his head momentarily, still unable to see his features. You took note of just how much weight he had lost for this role, and you meant to congratulate him. As you stepped closer, the cloaked figure turned on his heel and sped up his movements. Confused, of course, you decided to go after him. 

“Sir Piangi, please wait for me!” You called out as you almost sprinted to catch up, but he turned a corner. You caught up to the corner, but didn’t see him down the hall at all. You huffed out, still puzzled as to where he could have gone to. There weren’t many doors down this hall, and certainly not any dressing rooms. You decided to shrug it off, perhaps he was anxious to get to stage for the next scene. You wandered back to the dressing room and finished up for the last act.

[fionajames]

prompts

A/N: Hello guys!!! I decided I'd send a list of various prompts for you guys to send me as requests. Absolutely anyone is free to use this! There are one word, dialogue, idea and song prompts!!!

One word prompts

hiraeth 

lost

catacombs

bloodhound

whisper 

broth

brine

froth

angel

wheat

camp

cry

shadow

bramble

herd

pack

wild

runaway

solstice

courage

tracks

woods

hike

firefly

quill

moon

sun

stars

spirit

song

splinter

clear

ice

sea

clouded

hum

jinx

limbo

wire

barbed

spear

sword

breath

holly

sink

drown

canine

willow

twine

whistle

Song prompts

not strong enough (boygenius)

meet me in the woods (lord huron)

cherry wine - live (hozier)

sweet tooth (cavetown)

1979 (smashing pumpkins)

bloodhound (the foxing)

rory (the foxing)

still feel (half alive)

best friend (rex orange country)

be nice to me (the front bottoms)

wires (the neighbourhood)

running with the wolves (AURORA)

the night we met (lord huron)

i’d rather be alone (boodahki)

cocaine jesus (rainbow kitten surprise)

romantic homicide (d4vd)

duvet (bôa)

breezeblocks (alt-J)

me and the devil (soap&skin)

heavydirtysoul (twenty one pilots)

father (the front bottoms)

waterfalls coming out of your mouth (glass animals)

genesis (grimes)

devil like me (rainbow kitten surprise)

rockstar (boywithuke)

bad habit (steve lacy)

my ordinary life (the living tombstone)

notorious (neoni)

nothings new (rio romeo)

lighthouse (the waifs)

step on me (the cardigans)

inside out (duster)

the man (taylor swift)

mind over matter (young giant)

rises the moon (liana flores)

sparks (coldplay)

mama’s boy (dominic fike)

way down we go (kaleo)

evergreen (richy mitch & the coal miners)

yorktown - the world turned upside down (original broadway cast of hamilton)

i love you so (the walters)

505 (arctic monkeys)

labour (paris paloma)

worldstar money - interlude (joji)

willow (taylor swift)

leave a light on (tom walker)

pretty boy (the neighbourhood)

lovers rock (tv girl)

the last great american dynasty (taylor swift)

you’re on your own kid (taylor swift)

ho hey (the lumineers)

stubborn love (the lumineers)

dear arkansas daughter (lady lamb)

watching him fade away (mac demarco)

o children (nick cave & the bad seeds)

Idea prompts

running through wheat fields

running through garden hose droplets

dancing in the rain

walking in the bush

splashing in the sea

horse riding

rolling down grass fields

trekking through forest

swimming in forest creeks

rock hopping

daisy chains and crowns

collecting wood for fire

bonfire at night

walking on abandoned highways and roads

lighthouse exploring 

cartwheeling and playing in fresh grass

morning dew and crisp morning air

dirt under your nails

tree climbing

abandoned towns

walking on train tracks

wooden boats

island exploring

baking in then morning quiet

watching movies very late at night

staying up late at sleepovers

corn mazes

wheat fields

frozen lakes

frozen forests

paper planes

jam jars

friendship bracelets

barbed wire fences

blood dripping on tiles

scratchy vinyl music

empty dark cold nights

canine teeth

fireflies in fields

camp cabins

sea shanties

sibling play fighting/rivalry (blood or not)

road trips with loud music

picnic dates in the forest

busy arcades

bookstore dates - the smell of old books

playing soft acoustic guitar in nature

playing fiddle and dancing around campfires

stargazing

laying in bed awake

Dialogue prompts 

“please kill me”

“i’m everything you can not control”

“i am the monster you created”

“am i that easy to forget?”

“i will never hesitate to put my life on the line for you”

“stars can not shine without darkness”

“i miss the old you”

“remember who you are”

“please don’t leave”

“listen here pal”

“how much is enough”

“i remember smiling the whole way home”

“i never told you i was falling in love”

“do you want to go wander around aimlessly?”

“you still feel like home”

“no matter what, you’re still my brother”

“i could never hate you”

“let me help”

“help me, please”

“we’re just kids”

“water is so exciting with straws”

“i can’t stop thinking about you”

“get in the blanket fort”

“when they smile, i forget how to breathe”

“platonic love is just as important”

“i’m homesick for a place i’m not sure is real”

“smile more, it looks beautiful on you”

“runaway with me” 

“dance with me?”

“come back to bed”

“your bleeding on my floor”

“stars sparkle in your eyes”

“sarcasm is a weapon”

“can we just go back?”

“i miss how it used to be”

“hold me”

“any closer to them and i’ll kill you”

“i’ll be by your side forever”

“are you ok?”

“it’s going to be okay”

“i’m going to cry, but happy tears”

“can i crash on your couch?”

“we’ve got more than two people crashing in our house”

“i belong with you”

“you’re my soulmate” 

“hold my hand, please?”

“they smile when you message them”

“i want to live”

“sing to me”

“we’re finally home”

A/N: @techs-goggles9902, @skellymom