One-Shots

Lin-Manuel Miranda x Broadway Actress!Reader| Stage Where It Happens Pt. 2

Summary: You have been in a relationship with Lin for a few months now, and a young girl asks for a photo of you after the show.

A/N: This is inspired by another fic, but I can't find it anywhere for the life of me. So, just FYI, this isn't my original idea, and, if you know who wrote a fic with a similar story to this, please let me know so I can give proper credit. Thanks <3

The bright lights shone down on you as prepared for the musical's closing number. 'Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story' was one of the songs that made you cry, no matter how many times you performed it. Close second was 'It's Quiet Uptown,' but that's obvious.

"I put myself back in the narrative."

"I stop wasting time on tears."

"I live another 50 years."

"It's not enough."

You walked to the center of the stage, looking to the ceiling above the theater.

"I interview every soldier who fought by your side."

Oak, Anthony, and Daveed came up behind you.

"She tells our story."

"I try to make sense of your thousands of pages of writings."

"You really do write like you running out of time."

You walked to stage-left, Renee standing a few feet in front of you.

"I rely on Angelica."

"While she's alive, we tell your story."

"She is buried in Trinity Church near you."

You both faced the audience.

"When I needed her most, she was right on time."

You begin walking around the stage.

"And I'm still not through."

"I ask myself, "What would you do if you had more time?""

"The Lord, in his kindness."

"He gives me what you always wanted."

"He gives me more time."

As you take a few steps forward, Johnathan walks up behind you.

"I raise funds in D.C. for the Washington Monument."

"She tells my story."

"I speak out against slavery."

"You could have done so much more if you only had time."

"And when my time is up, have I done enough?"

"Will they tell our story?"

You clasped you hands in front of your stomach as tears cascaded down your cheeks, "Oh."

"Can I show you what I'm proudest of?"

A beat of silence passed.

"The orphanage."

"I established the first private orphanage in New York City."

"The orphanage."

"I help to raise hundreds of children."

"I get to see them growing up."