A Slenderella Story (Slenderman x reader)

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Setting one black-heeled foot into the interior of the muscle car, you dipped your elegantly coiffed head beneath the roof and climbed in the rear seat. "To Dirk Friehart's," you instructed your chauffer, pulling a slip of paper with the address from your purse and passing it forward.

"Yes, Ma'am," the chauffer replied disinterestedly, glancing at the address before putting the car in gear and pulling away from the curb in front of the theater. You had just finished a performance of The Phantom of the Opera as Christine, and the actors were celebrating closing night with a party at Dirk Friehart's – the Phantom's – mansion outside the city. As an established male singer and actor, both on stage and through animation, Dirk could afford the luxury of a mansion and a flat within New York proper. You had only been over once before, on the pretense of rehearsal for the final scene. It seemed the two of you felt something stirring inside for each other, and not much rehearsing had been done at all. There had been quite a bit of singing though.

You yourself were a rising starlet of Broadway, famous for your authentic emotions and extensive dancing repertoire – and, unintentionally, for being one of the few women to have romanced many of her lead partners off the stage as well as on. It had started with your first kiss – playing the part of Sandy in "Grease – The Musical." Of course, the actual first kiss happened in rehearsal, but you instantly felt a connection to the man playing Danny Zuko. It had been far too intimate for you to accept that the kiss was fake, and the day after rehearsing that scene for the first time, you broke the code of not seeing coworkers and asked him out. The thrill didn't last long – within a month, both of you agreed to go separate ways – but for the next few performances, you briefly felt the same connection, the same seduction, and felt compelled to pursue a relationship. Now, at 23, you were an experienced actress with many romantic musicals in your belt, and your outlook on true romance had been irrevocably changed. A kiss was no longer intimate – you had shared them with men you barely knew for a week because the script demanded it, and you knew that all the raw emotion on stage was fake, even if you were still caught up in the moment.

Perhaps it was your love for the phantom, kindled at fourteen when you first saw the play, that ignited and led your desire for Dirk to new heights. You hoped that was not the case, because he seemed like a charming man even without a mask covering half his face. You couldn't help who you felt love for, however, especially as someone who had to pretend most of their lives for the entertainment of others. That sounded harsh in your thoughts, but you really did love acting. You would give anything to perform "Peter Pan" again as Wendy Darling and fly, or sing to your full volume in "The Magic Flute."

Lost in your inner ramblings, you only barely noticed as the sleek car pulled off the main road and onto a long, well-paved driveway whose end was obscured by large pine trees on either side. You were shocked to discover that you had been spaced out for the entirety of the drive to Dirk's, and sincerely hoped that you wouldn't do the same once inside. Broadway was exhausting, and you yawned and rubbed your eyes before blinking to clear the last of the fog from your head. A bit of sugar and caffeine ought to set you for the rest of the party – after all, the female lead couldn't be seen drooping by the rest of the cast. Some theater people were entirely too petty and shallow. Not that the tabloids made you look any better. Hell, maybe you weren't.

"Hello, hello!" You called cheerily as the door swung open to reveal Tasha, the actress for Carlotta. Honestly, you thought she should have been cast as Meg for how sweet her true personality was. But you were probably wrong – you were an actress, not a director, and obviously didn't know all the hard work and decision making that went into being a director. Real quote from your own dear, sweet director of the theater when you questioned him about props and building placement on stage.