#AND HAD TO HAVE BEEN IN MIDDLE/HIGH SCHOOL THEATRE

[year2000electronics]

I absolutely LOVELOVELOVE your Reverse Falls HCs from what I've seen :). I would love to ask more about so much aspects haha.

What is Reverse Ford's main goal in this universe?

What is Ford' and Stanley's backstory?

Mind sharing some info about Reverse! Dipper and Reverse! Mabel?

HOKAY. i will use this ask to talk a little about the reverse stans' backstories because i have Some Ideas. as always full answer under cut bc its got images and rambles galore

in my mind, the gleeful family association with magic & the supernatural starts with caryn's phone psychic business, and ford having "The Gift" while stan ABSOLUTELY doesnt. but in real terms that means just having a really strong intuition and being able to guess well. (at least thats what filbrick and caryn thing. ford genuinely thinks he has some semblance of psychic ability and so does his mom, but they just havent properly honed it yet) and so ford is the preferred child for that, instead of his smarts really. ford is also obsessed with the supernatural still, but it's more focused on the magical aspect.

ford and stan's relationship ends up being close because stan is the only one who believes ford about magic. i mean there are other reasons but thats very important to ford

ford, seeing how stan has always had his back by believing what he says about magic, offers to try and "tutor" stan into having The Gift. drilling him for hours by holding up cards and making him guess, stuff like that. but yknow, since both of them are kinda clamoring to inherit their mom's business, stan kinda ends up relying on ford for everything, and theyre taking on almost a mentor-student relationship when theyre Literally Brothers.

instead of west coast tech, the scholarship ford is being offered is for a famous performing arts school after his teachers saw him take the leads in school plays year after year. they tell him a scout will be at their school's talent show, and ford decides he's going to put on a stage magic show (with stan as his assistant). this time, not only is stan worried about ford leaving, but also, since they've both been working towards a really similar thing (performing for a crowd), he's really worried he'll never get a chance to show off that HE has skill, too! ford brushes him off about this saying that he'll put a good word in for stan when he's at performing arts school and stan is like "ok." and agrees to be his assistant.

in the middle of ford's show, he goes rogue, trying to show the scouts that he can be just as skilled as ford is, and completely screws up the trick he ends up performing. ford doesnt get that internship, ford is furious, so is filbrick, stan gets kicked out, you know the rest.

ford goes to backupsmore and double-majors in both theatre and whatever he majors in in the show. he plans to move to gravity falls because of its high ratings of weirdness. after stan got kicked out, instead of becoming a traveling salesman, he becomes a street magician who doubles as a pickpocket. stealing peoples' watches and stuff. he runs around all over the place

ford digs up four mystic amulets once he gets to gravity falls and stays there for a while, and is like "oh man i can USE these". so how i imagine the amulets to work is that they're kinda like, a conduit through which you can learn legit magic? like casting spells and stuff. but he probably only needs one so he keeps the other three in his house (and that's how the kids eventually find the others)

and of course thats how he starts up the tent of telepathy!

but he wants more. he wants to make the world pay for ever calling him a six fingered freak. and he wants to prove to the world that his magic IS real. he can't just lie sequestered in gravity falls forever. so he goes hunting for more answers about gravity falls' weirdness, and how he might be able to get more POWER to make a show so good the entire world will see... and that's how he summons will cipher! will tells him about the portal, and how itll open up a dimension of weirdness into his own, and ford accepts on those terms, looking out just for himself. then he asks fidds to come help with the portal, fidds walks out on him, he shackles will to him in a deal, but they both realize they don't have the manpower to run the portal. reluctantly, ford calls stan up, telling him to come and that it's important.

...but of course that doesnt go well. stan initiates a physical fight and ford ends up getting sucked into the portal. will is left alone with stan, who tells him he can buzz off because HE certainly doesnt want him around. stan works for the next 30 years to get ford back because he wants ford to finally be the one who has to suck up to HIM and owe HIM something.

at some point, mason and mabel's parents become unable to take care of them and give them to stan. he reluctantly takes them in, but soon after, not only do they find the amulets but also journal 2, and they end up reactivating ford's deal with will, getting passed down to the "next of kin" after stan rejected it. AND THATS SORTA WHERE THE SHOW STARTS. THUMBS UP.

[magicveiled]

.....which one of you fucking theatre kids is behind this

[amuyyi]

she wants me (to be loved) .

synopsis; you have always loved huh yunjin, but not in the way she loved you.

trope; huh yunjin x f!reader, angst, unrequited (?) love, bittersweet ending

wc; 4.6k

cw; idk like one cuss word LMAO

a/n; i swear im still in forever writers block but THIS FIC IS INSPIRED BY THE SHE WANTS ME TO BE LOVED WARRIOR CATS AMV ON YOUTUBE ITS ABOUT BLUEFUR AND THRUSHPELT PLEEEEK WATCH IT AND/OR LISTEN TO THE SONG WHILE READING IM JUST SO ARRGGHHH also its almost 4 am i am half asleep i just realllyy wanted to finish this. also i used to be a theatre kid so.

You have always loved Huh Yunjin. But not in the way she loved you.

You recall very vividly the first day you met her.

It was the middle of freshman year of high school, and you had just moved into New York from out of state. Your father had just gotten a new job opportunity, and practically wasted no time packing all of your things to move in the middle of the school year. Perfect. New place, new faces, and definitely no friends. Everything an emotional teenage girl needed in a cruical stage of her development. All of the other students in your classes were nice enough, but everyone already had their established friend groups by now, and you simply didn't fit what they were looking for.

Despite the different environment, there was one thing that this school provided that provided some sort of familiarity.

Theater.

Back in middle school and for the brief semester you had in your old high school, you had always been a fan of the big stage. The music, the dramatics, the acting… It was all so whimsical and alluring to you. How could you not get involved?

(Okay, honestly.. You had gotten really into musical theater in middle school once you found a Hamilton animatic and it became your sole personality trait for a good two years or so–)

Unfortunately, you were too much of a coward to truly put yourself out there like the actors around you. High school insecurities and poor self esteem truly did take its toll on you back then. So instead, you settled for being part of the stage crew. 

You thought that getting involved with a club would make it easier for you to socialize and make friends. You could join a community. Yet somehow, it made everything all the more difficult.

Everybody seemed to already know each other and have their own established friends. On top of that, everyone also seemed to know who they hated as well. You would always overhear what other actors and techies would say about one another and it only just put you off from making friends even more. The whole environment was incredible… cliquey. 

Still, you had nothing else better to do, so you stayed. It was… Fine. You still had no real friends, but you did enjoy doing various tasks around the stage. Working with stage lights, helping prepare costumes, painting backdrops. It keeps you busy. It was routine.

It wasn’t an uncommon sight to walk in on actors practicing their lines or their songs backstage. Back home, you knew everyone involved within the production– including the actors. You would always compliment them and occasionally even provide help whenever you didn’t have your own techy jobs to fulfill. The main problem? This isn't home. Nobody here was your friend.

But when you found a pretty girl practicing for this semester's production of Phantom of The Opera in an empty hallway, you couldn't help but stop in your tracks and stare. You’ve never seen her before. Well, it's not like you bothered to pay much attention to the people around you anymore— but you feel like you wouldn't miss a face like hers.

She had the prettiest brown hair with highlights and the cutest beauty mark near the corner of her mouth. She was pacing around the hall, script in hand as she did various vocal exercises. The sound of her voice echoes off the walls, and it was just as angelic as she looked. 

“Prima Donna, your song shall live again…!” She sings out, her voice at a steady yet powerful vibrato throughout her verse. Her Bel Canto was skilled and practiced, and you can't help but wonder how long she’s been doing this for. Surely she’s overqualified for a simple high school production? You needed to hear more…

She moves her hands in elegant and dramatic forms as she immerses herself into the self-centered character of Carlotta. She played the roke perfectly, considering how most definitely had your attention now.

 “You took a snub, but theres a public who needs you, think of the cr—“

A loud thud rings throughout the hallway, startling the mystery opera singer as well as yourself. Shit. You look down and see the culprit. Well, it was you. you caused the interruption— but more specifically, it was a freshly decapitated mannequin head with a wig you were going to more securely attach to the top. It was a bit of a horrific sight, in all honesty.

Now that you think about it, this prop might actually be for her. Though you didn't have much time to ponder that thought considering the mysterious brown haired beauty has now caught you eavesdropping on her singing.

The head rolls across the tile floor and lands at her feet. You feel your face warm to what was most likely a bright tomato red as she picks it up by its shortened neck, the wig threatening to fall off as it dangles limply off of the top of its head.

“I'm assuming this is yours?” She smiles kindly at you, though a bit wary. Understandable, really. You would be wary of yourself too if you were in her shoes.

“Y-Yeah, sorry…” you nervously laugh, taking the head from her hands as you try to pat the wig back into place. 

“You sounded good, by the way!” You quickly stammer out, absentmindedly hugging the head to your chest, “Like… really good. Seriously.”

The mystery girl laughs at your flustered words, and she waves her hand dismissively. Her cheeks warm bashfully as she shakes her head.

“Thanks but… I have a lot to work on. My tones off, and I still need to memorize these lines by tomorrow…” she trails off, moving to press her back against the wall, sliding and sitting down on the floor.

Fiddling a bit with the mannequin head, you don't allow yourself to think too hard before you suddenly blurt out.

“I-I can help!”

You watch as her pretty brown eyes widen slightly, and

“Really? You sure you arent too busy?

You were actually quite busy, but she didnt have to know that.

“Of course not,” you lie confidently, sticking a hand out, “I’m y/n.”

She eyes your hand curiously, but ultimately shakes it, “Yunjin. Jennifer, if you’d like.”

From then on, you would spend every other day after school with Yunjin, helping her recite her lines, fitting her for costume changes, and even finishing that mannequin head prop for her.

Soon after, your after school hangouts turned into out of school hangouts and then eventual sleepovers every weekend. You learned everything possible about Yunjin. Like how she had always dreamed of being a performer, how she wanted to make it big in the Kpop industry, how she loves snakes…

Since then, you knew you loved her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

On one seemingly normal spring afternoon, you were abruptly torn away from your sunkissed siesta with the sound of your door being kicked open.

With the growing bond between you and Yunjin, you made the mistake of giving the girl a spare key to your own home. (Oddly enough, your parents werent against the idea. They considered Yunjin like a second daughter.)

You whine out as she grasps at your half asleep form, shaking you aggressively.

“I got accepted into a company, y/n!! I'm gonna be a trainee!”

Eyes shooting open, you try to sit up through the aggressive grip Yunjin had on you.

“No kidding?” You croak out, looking at her with disbelief.

“I'm not!” She cheers, bouncing happily through your bedroom. Trying to match her energy through the grogginess, you slip out of bed, stumbling a bit as you tumble into her arms. Yunjin laughs at your state, wrapping her arms around your waist to keep you steady as she jumps excitedly.

“I’m  going to move back to Korea next month— this is so exciting!!” She squeals out, and your smile falters ever so slightly. Move? To Korea?

Still, you bite back the sickly feeling developing in your stomach as you squeal alongside her.

You were happy for her, and did nothing but support her all throughout her time in Korea. Called her every night after training, sent her pictures of school life without her, even voting for her in that odd survival show she participated in. You did anything and everything you could to be the best friend you could be.

Yunjin always had the stars in her eyes. But in yours? There was only ever her. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The day that everything truly changed is still fresh in your mind.

After spending years chasing after Yunjin, it feels like you have finally caught up to her. She's back in the states after her time in Korea, and she's planning on staying. She looked a little different than before, but it was the same old Jennifer you knew and loved— even when missing a few moles and deeper eyebags.

Upon her arrival back home, it was like no time had passed. Once again attached at the hip, as it should be. You practically made it your job to crawl into her skin at any given moment and to pamper her with all of her favorite things. 

You would treat her to meals, spontaneous shopping sprees, and simple girls nights out. All of the good stuff to make up for lost time. Unfortunately, your attempts to keep your best friend happy came with their own obstacles. you would occasionally find advertisements or clips of idols that would show up during your time together, and for just a brief moment, you would see that usual spark within Yunjin’s eyes falter. It was a stark reminder of what she could have had.

It hurt you to see her get reminded of her time as a trainee. It truly was everything she wanted and more. But it was okay, you were here now, and you weren't planning on letting her go this time.

You’d drop any and everything for Yunjin. You allowed her to vent whenever she needed, to come over whenever she wanted, and to indulge in spontaneous late night meals whenever you two felt like it.

Needless to say, your wallet was crying by the time summer was nearing its end, but you didn’t mind at all. Yunjin was back. She was happy. You were happy. Things were finally returning to normal.

The two of you decide on a college to attend together in Boston, both pursuing a major in business. It's neither of your first choices in majors, but it's a good enough money maker in the long run. 

The pair of you sat in Yunjins bedroom, with you comfortably propped up against her bedframe on the floor whilst the brunette lay comfortably on the mattress. You hugged the  djungelskog plushie you had gifted Yunjin some birthday ago close to your chest as you atared at your phone, with Yunjin crunching away on cheez-its as the entire La La Land soundtrack softly plays from the record player in the corner of the room. 

Its nearly less than a month until move in day at Boston University, and you feel beyond giddy. Actual independence? And spending it with your best friend slash secret crush? Your dreams were coming true. Looking through your college dorms on the website, the pair of you converse about the future.

“What kind of theme do you think we should go for our dorm?” you ask, leaning your head against the bed to look up at Yunjin, who was still crunching away contentedly at her snacks.

“I'm not sure… But I do know I want to cover my wall with all of my posters…”

“Ooh! Yeah!! I can add fake flowers on the walls…”

“ Of course, we need a bit of girlish charm— oh! we need to make room for a record player and my guitar.”

“Google maps says there's a 7-eleven near the campus…” you murmur, your short attention prompting you to immediately shift to another topic.

“ Should we go got late night snack runs?”

“Duh.”

“Or maybe if we get tired of the dorm food, we can get equally as crappy convenience store food for instead–”

Suddenly, the music from Yunjin’s phone gets cut off, being replaced with her ringtone (it was Come Inside Of My Heart by IV of Spades ) as she huffs.

“ sorry, hold that thought..” She murmurs, answering the call.

You didn't know any Korean, the only bits you’re familiar with are the phrases Yunjin taught you to talk with her parents (which you also butchered) so you naturally begin to tune out whatever she begins to say on her end. Despite this though, you easily pick up on the shift in tone as she speaks. Professionalism, skepticism, to Shock. That was all you could read off of Yunjin as you looked up from your phone, curiously glancing at her. Her eyes were boggling out of her skull, and she placed a hand over her mouth before ending the call.

The brunette remains frozen in place, hand still over her mouth as a silence passes over the room.

“So….?” You ask, crawling up onto the bed to sit next to her.

Yunjin’s voice is shaky, yet laced with a twinge of excitement and disbelief as she speaks, “I just got a call from Hybe. I… I have the chance to debut.”

You don’t know what came over you at that moment. It felt like the world came collapsing down on you. Right now, you should be happy. Jumping for joy, focusing all on Yunjin and her chance for success. She's been given a real chance to make her dreams come true, even after it seemed impossible, even after all the years of rejection and work. This was all she wanted in life and more— you should be happy? Right?

But you’ve always been a selfish person. Or maybe you convinced yourself you were ever since that day. You don’t know. Maybe in that moment, you realized you could lose everything you’ve been waiting for. You’d lose the girl you've chased after for so many years now. If you didn't do something now, you wouldn’t have the chance to do it ever again. You were a greedy person, so you confess.

“Yunjin, I love you. I always have.”

The words feel like a slap to the face, and it shows. It shows in the way her eyes widen and smile falls. This was a bad idea, but you can't back out now. Your eyes begin to water as your voice cracks.

“I… I don’t want you to go— to leave me…” you choke out, “What about uni? Our dorm? What am I going to do without you?”

You knew you were being manipulative, you knew you were being selfish. But you didn’t care. You wanted her to know how you truly felt. You didn’t want her to leave you, not again. Your heart couldn’t handle it.

Through tears threatening to spill out, you can see her cheeks slowly dust a faint shade of pink as she processes your words. She seems… hesitant. Over what? You weren’t too sure. You weren’t too sure if you even wanted to know. 

The silence that washes over the two of you is beyond suffocating. You feel like you’re drowning, digging your nails into your palms as you look away. If you looked at her, you were scared you’d break, and the tears would begin to flow. After a few moments that feel like hours, she finally responds.

“I believe you have feelings for me…” she begins, voice soft yet strained. For some reason, those words leave a bad feeling in your gut. You muster up enough courage to meet her gaze. She looked just as hurt and conflicted as you felt. Yunjins grip on her phone tightens as she takes a deep breath, continuing, “...but I can’t give this up, y/n. It's my dream.”

That was the moment you knew you truly lost her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

In another life, you and Yunjin would be at Boston University together, pursuing that business degree that neither of you want.

It's a dream that used to occasionally return to you when Yunjin was overseas. Every now and then, you’d wake up in a cold sweat, and you’d check Yunjins location. She’d still be in Seoul. It was okay though, because you knew she’d always come back. She always came back. Now it haunts you every other night.

The dream is always so incredibly vivid and real. You would wake up to Yunjins many alarms that she somehow manages to sleep through every single time, and you’d peel your eyes opened to your shared dorm room. Though you didn’t have much time to admire the beauty of it all through the sound of an alarm continuously dragging you out of your slumber. She’s always been a heavy sleeper. you’d have to jump on Yunjins sleeping form to even stir her into some form of consciousness.

Yunjin groaned in protest, but you knew her. She wasn’t truly bothered, not when it came to you. Instead of entertaining your futile attempts to wake her up, she would wrap her arm around your waist, dragging you down with her as you squeal out.

She's warm. Her brown bobbed hair has grown out by now, black roots peeking through the top of her head as you join the mess that is her bed (and hair.) She smells like vanilla and wood, and you can't help but laugh into her embrace. You’ll be late to the dining hall for breakfast, but it doesn't really matter. There was a 7-eleven nearby that could provide breakfast while the two of you rushed to your classes– in which you had meticulously planned to have almost every single class together.

After a long day of school, you would return back to your dorm both collapsing on your respective beds as exhaustion settles in. It was decorated just the way you two liked it. With both boy and girl band posters littering the walls alongside some fake vines, flowers, and a multitude of polaroids you two have accumulated over the years. 

Once the two of you move out of the dorms and graduate, you’d find an apartment to share. Dual income and no children, that was the way to live. Alongside a cat and a dog, of course. You’d have a black cat named Binx, and a golden retriever named Dug, something you two had discussed many times before. 

It’s beyond perfect. You lay on the couch, comfortably in Yunjins arms as a blanket is lazily draped over your forms. Binx is settled upon your lap as Dug takes up the space on the rug. The tv is playing Coraline— a staple movie for you two, and you'd smile. Yunjin would lovingly return the grin, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips.

And then you’d wake up, the grim reality of your situation compared to your dream sending tears flowing down your cheeks. You’re constantly reminded how Yunjin wasn't yours. Not in this lifetime. And it hurt more than anything else.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You’ve always been there for Yunjin, both before and after she became famous.

In High school, you of course supported her throughout your brief time in the drama club. But you also provided a shoulder to cry on, a free source of math homework answers, a friend.

When she moved back to Korea to become a trainee, you helped her through the rough patches. Hours of dance training, rigorous workouts, and unhealthy dieting took a toll on her. But you were always there through the phone, no matter the time. 

Even after her debut, you remained loyally by her side. Yunjin grew busier and more distant over the years, and it was understandable. You were busy too. With college, internships, and general “adulting,” it was a challenge to remain in contact. Still, when you two did find time to talk, Yunjin would tell you stories of her members, of the rumors and scandals that would plague the group. It hurt to see her hurting, especially knowing you couldn't be there for her like before. But you were glad to see her achieving all she wanted and more.

You hop into one of Yunjins late night livestreams (even if it was the morning for you.) It wasn’t like you couldn’t just call her whenever you wanted, but it was just another one of the little things you would do to continuously support your friend. Yunjin never made a scene whenever you popped in, but always made sure to look for your comments and read them out every single time.

“Sing something from Phantom or you’re lame?” She reads out, a soft laugh slipping past her lips as she does so.

The idol gives the camera a knowing look, one that only could be read by you, and you smile as she clears her throat. Phantom of the Opera is what brought you two together, after all. She spends a few minutes doing short vocal exercises to warm up her voice, and the sight is oddly nostalgic. Yunjin then sits up straight as she begins to sing, and you feel your heart twinge slightly at her song choice.

“Think of me,

Think of me fondly,

When we've said goodbye.

Remember me,

Once in a while,

Please promise me you'll try.” 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Now here you were, in a completely foreign country, placed in more than accommodating seats within the VIP section of this unfamiliar venue you’ve never even heard of before. There were hordes of men around you, all cheering in a deep voiced mass for the girls on stage. You stuck out like a sore thumb. Yet, there was Yunjin. You watch her, shining brightly on stage whilst donning a fresh head of bright orange hair. It suited her. Her fiery passion, her fierce determination that got her here in the first place, her glowing smile. It was all only a physical expression of who she was on the inside.

Yunjin had insisted on getting you these tickets– even going out of her way to even cover part of your plane ticket here despite you having a very stable and office job now. You tried to tell her you were happy enough to see her from the nosebleed seats in the back, especially since it was all you could afford on such short notice. But she refused, pulling some strings to give you the best seats possible. She wanted you here. More than anyone else.

You’ve seen Yunjin perform before. How could you not? You could vividly recall the way she would sing out and capture the entire crowd’s attention from the stage of your high school’s auditorium. How she would perform with such confidence and precision, how she performed like she was made for this. 

Things have changed a lot since then. There was no business college in your future together anymore. No planned dorms together. No more late night talks. No 7-eleven snack runs. Yet oddly enough, despite the changes, this was seemingly no different than before. Every person in the crowd was entranced, immediately allured by her natural charm and her passionate voice. You included. Just like those many years before, she still managed to have you bewitched on the sidelines while she chases after the spotlight.

So you cheer. Joining the roaring crowd as you call out Yunjins name, a bright smile playing on your lips as you do so. You’ve always been her biggest fan, after all. You swear you saw her make eye contact with you, seemingly providing her an energy boost as she sings out to the audience. She was beautiful, and she knew it.

Once the show is over, you find your way to the backstage area. You tried your best to explain to the security how you were friends with one of the members, and how she invited you back there. Unfortunately, your Korean was less than conversational, and you pretty much looked like an embarrassingly desperate and obsessive fan until Chaewon came and saved the day.

“y/n-nnie! Come, Come!! I saw you in the crowd!!” She chirps out sweetly, abruptly pushing past the guard and dragging you backstage, leaving the security both confused and a bit exhausted. This might not have been the first time the girls have tried to meet with their friends after performances.

There were people everywhere. Stage hands, stylists, makeup artists, and more, all rushing around you two and occasionally praising Chaewon. You felt beyond out of place, and probably looked the part too. Despite having Yunjin as a friend, you’ve never once felt like you were friends with a celebrity. She was simply your Jennifer, and that was more than enough. Being here though, you could truly see the extent of the impact she had on people. How so many people respected her and admired her.

Lost within your thoughts and observations of the crowd, you barely notice when Chaewon lets go of your arm, leaving you to fall victim to a bright orange mass stampeding your way. Without warning, you’re tackled into a hug by none other than Yunjin herself. You swear you see stars as the air gets forced out of your lungs.

“y/n!! You made it!!” She beams, giving you a firm squeeze pulling away to fully take in the sight of you. Her arms are still firmly wrapped around your form as her eyes almost sparkled with pure affection for you. Your cheeks warm at the contact, and you can't help but shyly avoid her gaze. Even after all of this time, she still has the same effect on you. After letting out a soft breath, she quietly murmurs, “I was singing for you, y’know.”

And your heart aches. Aches for what you two could have had. Aches for feelings she chooses not to reciprocate. You want to be angry with her. Despise her for leaving you behind and living this luxurious celebrity life. 

Yet your heart also swells. Swells with pure affection for the girl you love. The way she holds you, how she insists on having you attend, how sweetly she says your name. All of it makes you crumble all too easily. She truly cares for you, and never let the fame change that. You truly were lucky to have her.

“Really, now? You sure you weren't singing for the sea of men you forced me to sit with?” You laugh out, gently shoving her, “I swear I heard a guy say he ditched a family dinner to be there.”

Yunjin loudly laughs at your comment as she shakes her head, “How about you come over to our dorms to celebrate tonight, yeah? We’ll even let you pick a movie – or I’ll make them watch whatever you choose… Please?”

You were a bit hesitant. These were Yunjin’s friends. You didn’t want to intrude, especially after a crazy night like this. Yet, despite your reluctance, Yunjin stares down at you with those damn puppy eyes, and somehow manages to get Eunchae and Chaewon to join in…

“... Okay, fine,” you groan out, feigning disappointment as you see Yunjins eyes light up. “but we’re watching Coraline.”

The girls all cheer and pull you into a tight hug, with Yunjin holding onto you just a bit tighter than the others.

Huh Yunjin loves you. But not in the way you want. Yunjin wants you to be loved. 

And loved you are, even if it means she can't be yours.

[crappymixtape]

because of you • part two

PART I • PART III • PART VI • PART V • EPILOGUE // REQ -> @sattlersquarry ❝ an enemies to lovers fic with Steve? 💙 maybe they have to put aside their differences to fight upside down stuff and realize they actually have a lot in common 👀 • 18+  | ( 3.3k – little bit of king!steve, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, enemies to idiots in love, steve x reader )

B E C A U S E O F Y O U • P A R T T W O 🎶 theatre, etta marcus

❝ IS IT EASIER WHEN YOU DON’T HAVE TO START AGAIN? WHEN YOU DON’T WANNA MAKE AMENDS? ❞

‘Stealing a Winnebago’ had been easier than you’d assumed, but the getaway execution went exactly like you thought it would. Absolute disorganized chaos and the way Steve peeled out of the trailer park dumped you into Robin’s lap for the first mile. Made you even more skeptical of whatever half-assed plan these people had frankensteined together and now? You found yourself browsing the clothing section of The War Zone.

What in the hell were they thinking coming here anyway? From Eddie’s retelling of what happened under Lover’s Lake it sounded like not one of them knew anything about hand-to-hand combat, let alone guns. Couldn’t even land a punch, but thought they could handle this? Walls of rifles on display, rounders full of bulletproof gear and cases upon cases of bullets and god, you wanted to leave.

“Hey,” Nancy’s voice pulled your attention away from the tactical vests you were staring at, her eyes wide and earnest as she looked over at you. “If I go over to the counter, you gonna be okay?”

“Oh, totally,” you lied. “Yeah, was gonna go look over here anyway,” and you thumbed over your shoulder at more vests.

“Okay, good.”

She gave you a small Nancy-Wheeler-smile and left you there alone in a sea of camouflage. In the middle of a store you’d never have set foot in before all this and making you second guess yourself. Second guess what was seemingly more and more a stupid decision to go along with all of this and you huffed a sigh in frustration.

“Should’ve stayed in the trailer,” you grumbled under your breath, fighting the urge to just walk out, but apparently you weren’t the only one wandering around all the puke green clothing.

“Huh, didn’t know you had good ideas.”

The sound of Steve’s voice made your hands ball into fists, nails pressing half moons into your palms.

“Do you ever have anything nice to say?” you sneered and he had the audacity to be so causal. Didn’t even look up from the tactical vests he was flipping through and tossed one into his cart.

“Not to you I don’t.”

Anger rose in your chest like a pot boiling over, so hot it made your cheeks burn as you glowered over at him.

“What’s your problem?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yep,” and still he didn’t look at you. Picked a bomber jacket off the rack and piled it on top of his vest and it was the last straw.

Stalking over to his side of the rounder you got right up in his face, dug a finger into his chest and said, “Liar.”

His eyes flickered at your accusation, sardonic smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he looked down at you and warned, “Don’t say things you can’t prove, Princess.” And he leaned into your finger. Waited for you to fold. Tsked at your attitude and the sound of it triggered a memory so strong you felt like you’d been sucker punched.

Your second ever interaction with Steve Harrington happened the week before summer break.

You heard it while you were walking back to school from grabbing lunch at the diner. A high, sharp whistle followed by car horn and then—

“Owwww, damn baby!”

And you recognized the voice right away.

Tommy Hagan. Leaning out the passenger window of Steve’s BMW. Wolf-whistling at you and being a dick and you tried to ignore them, but then they were pulling up next to you and slowing way down.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Tommy purred at your back, your mouth twisting into a scowl at the sound of Eddie’s nickname on his tongue. “You need a rid–” he started to ask, but his question cut short when you turned around.

Mouth dropped open in shock for a split second as he realized who you were, Tommy quickly recovered and started to laugh. That obnoxious, hyena-like laugh that made you want to punch him and he smiled and whistled again.

“Shit, Stevie! Who knew the freak had an ass on her!”

“You kiss Carol with that mouth, Tommy?” you shot back, Steve stifling a snicker from the driver’s seat.

“Bet you could do for a kiss, baby,” Tommy tsked, pouted his lips at you and grinned, “Always so damn sour.”

“Yeah? Wanna find out why?” you threatened and it made Tommy grin even wider. Shark-like. Predatory.

“Park it, Stevie,” Tommy didn’t bother looking at his friend, eyes locked on you as he opened the passenger door and jumped out of the car while it was still moving. Walked right up and crowded over you, eyes narrowing as he leaned in, “And what if I do?”

Your stomach lurched, heart leaping into your throat as you stood your ground. You didn’t think he’d take the bait, but you also didn’t shy away. God, you wished Eddie was there. Tilting your chin up in defiance you glared him down.

“Tommy, c’mon man. Just leave it,” you heard Steve’s voice from over Tommy’s shoulder, tinged at the edges with desperation as he ran up on the two of you, but Tommy couldn’t have cared less.

“Well? What’re you gonna do about it, toots?” Tommy pushed again, toes of his shoes knocking against yours as he stepped even closer, towering over you and it hit you like a ton of bricks how in over your head you were.

“Tommy, just leave–”

“I didn’t ask you, Harrington!” Tommy snapped and you took the opportunity.

Grabbing a fistful of his shirt in your hands, you yanked Tommy down into you and drove your knee into his crotch as hard as you could.

“Oh, fuuuuck,” he choked out, folded in half and hands covering his junk as he dry heaved and you took a big step back.

“Coward,” you turned and hurled the word at Steve and watched it land heavy as his face shifted. Brows pinching together and mouth dropped open, but nothing came out as he struggled to say those two little words. I’m sorry. To tell you he wasn’t like his friend, but his silence betrayed him.

“You bitch,” Tommy grunted at you as he tried to straighten up, one hand still over his crotch.

“Don’t move! I’ll–I’ll get you expelled!” you threatened and it made him laugh. A mean, mirthless thing.

“No fuckin’ way. My mom’s on the school board, who’s gonna take your side?”

And you looked back at Steve for a split second, silently asking him to step in and do something, but he stood frozen in place. Still unable to go against his ‘best friend’ and what little belief you had left in him was shattered.

You were done with Steve Harrington.

Shaking your head, you fought back the tears burning at the corners of your eyes and ran up the path to the cafeteria doors. Disappeared behind them with a loud, metallic slam! and left Steve alone to drown in the deafening silence.

Don’t say things you can’t prove, Princess.

It was like no time had passed, like you were still there in that parking lot with Tommy towering over you and tsking at you just like Steve was doing now, but this time you didn't run away.

“Don’t call me that!” you shoved at his chest and he stumbled back a step.

“Don’t call me a liar!”

“All you do is lie, Harrington! Your entire life was built on lies,” you could see his pulse fluttering against his neck. Watched his jaw tick as he clenched down on the words he wanted so badly to throw at you, but you didn’t give him a chance. “Why are you even here? You don’t give a shit about Eddie. You don’t give a shit about anyone, you’re–”

“Enough!” you flinched as his shout drew the attention of a couple older guys looking at the hunting gear. “You don’t know anything about me, okay? Not a god damn thing,” and the second part was quieter, but they way he held your gaze after punctuated it heavy.

He turned away from you, hastily pushing his cart back toward the cashier counter and walked out the double doors, but you weren’t about to let him have the last word.

“Hey, I’m not done!” you shouted after him across the parking lot. Sharp and biting and it made him spin back around, arms flung out at his sides in exasperation.

“Oh, yeah? Fine. What else you got?”

“Well, for one, I’m not going to sit here while you lord around like King Steve. This isn’t high school. No one here gives a shit about any of that.”

He squeezed his eyes shut at his old nickname. Sucked in a breath and let it out slow to try and steady himself.

“I’m not like that anymore.”

“Seriously? Do you hear yourself? You’ve been a dick to me since I set foot in Max’s trailer! And honestly? I’m not surprised! You think I don’t remember all the shit you put me through, put us through in school?” you shot back and he opened his eyes to glare over at you.

“Like I said, Princess–”

“I said don’t call me that!”

“–you don’t have any idea what this is. What we’re up against. None. You’re in over your head.”

“Okay? And what, I’m supposed to sit here on my hands and say, ‘It’s fine! Steve Harrington and all his little friends will fix this’?? You’re out of your mind!”

“And you think you can?” he shot back and your heart rate thrummed heavy in your ears.

“You know, Eddie says he trusts you now, but hell if I will. No fucking way,” and as you turned and cut past him back to the Winnebago he had to jog to keep up.

“Hey! Eddie almost killed me! With a fucking beer bottle!”

You huffed a laugh and kept walking, shaking your head at the accusation and incredulous at the lengths he was going to prove his point.

“Why should I believe you?” you called over your shoulder, “You’re probably just gunning for a headline: Steve Harrington, Hero of Hawkins!”

“Headline?? I–are you kidding me? You think I’d do all this for a headline??”

And finally you stopped at the bottom step of the Winnebago and Steve seized his chance.

“You really think I’m that superficial?” he shot at your back, but you didn’t turn around. Didn’t even acknowledge him and he spent what little patience he had left. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”

But you were already gone. Frozen in place with the world growing dark. Tree line ahead of you blurring. Unfocused and liquid like water and the ground swam under you as a voice echoed in your mind.

I see you.

The sound of Steve still talking behind you turned to fuzz, crackled like radio static and faded away into ear-splitting silence. Deafening and swallowing you whole and then you felt it. The ground falling out from underneath you and you were drowning in the dark and the voice that echoed in your mind pulled you even deeper.

Resisting will only make it worse.

❝ AND I NEVER HAD A TASTE FOR LIARS OR THE UNIQUELY UNINSPIRED ‘CAUSE I DON’T NEED TO BE DESIRED ❞

Steve glared daggers at your back. Anger hot and fuming and fueled by the fact that you had the nerve to ignore him and god, he wanted to prove you wrong.

“Are you trying to piss me off? Cos its work–” but the words died in his throat as he came around to face you. “Oh. Oh, shit,” with a quick glance over your shoulder he saw everyone else finally coming out of the store and he didn’t wait to call for help.

“Munson!! Eddie!” Steve yelled over your shoulder at your best friend before grabbing your shoulders in his hands and squeezed at them. Leaned down to try and meet your unfocused, far away gaze and when none of it worked he felt his chest grow tight.

Not again.

“Hey, hey! Look at me!" panic clawed its way up his throat as he shook your shoulders, "Stay with me! Munson–hurry up!”

Your eyes were glazed over, tears gathering at the corners as your whole body started to tremble. Breathing stuttered and caught in your throat. Lips parted and trying to pull air in, but it wasn’t enough and Steve felt his hand twitch. Wanted to press it to your cheek to try and ground you, reach you and bring you back, but then Eddie was finally at your side and shoving Steve out of the way.

“Sweetheart! Can you hear me? Shit, shit, shit. What happened?? Honey? Look at me!” Eddie cradled your face in his hands. Did what Steve couldn’t. Voice ratcheted up, his usual low timbre a high pitched thing driven by fear and hearing it doused any remaining anger that had settled into Steve’s chest and replaced it with something else.

With helplessness. Regret. Remorse.

With the slow realization that everything he’d just said to you wasn’t worth it. Remembered how Nancy had yelled at him, just like you, outside of the gym. You’re bullshit! And his throat squeezed with guilt for messing it all up again because he was bullshit. He was a liar and you were right. Had he learned nothing?

He looked at you, your face contorted with fear, and he felt something new flicker within him. A feeling blooming at the pit of his stomach. One he was so certain couldn’t possibly exist when it came to you, but as he stood there watching Eddie try to shake you back from the dark he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Steve, help me!” tears cut down Eddie’s cheeks as he called to him and pulled him hurtling back to Earth. Desperate. Pleading. Begging him to do something and it shook Steve back into action.

Heart pounding in his chest, adrenaline coursed through Steve's body and fought off the fear that had threatened to trap him in choke hold.

“Max, gimme your Walkman!” he shouted over your shoulder.

The rest of the group had started running back to the Winnebago as soon as they’d heard yelling and when Steve asked for the cassette player, Max knew time was running out.

“Shit,” she hissed under her breath and broke into a sprint, scrambling to untangle the headphones from around her neck as she hurried to get to you. “Here! It’s still Kate Bush, is that–”

“Doesn’t matter–Munson get these on, hurry!” Steve, snatched the Walkman from Max and crammed it into Eddie’s outstretched hands.

“Please, please, please,” fell from Eddie’s lips, desperate, praying that this would work as he fitted the headphones on and pressed them against your ears, “Please.”

Blinking heavy, you strained your eyes against the black. Against the suffocating dark you suddenly found yourself in. The stand of vivid, green ash trees lining the parking lot replaced by gnarled branches, dark and leafless. Bright yellow buttercups snuffed out by thick, wet vines that snaked their way across the ground under your feet.

You weren’t in the parking lot of the War Zone anymore, not really, and as you breathed in the sickly, ashen air your heart stopped in your chest.

The Upside Down.

“Eddie? Eddie!” you shouted into the dark, red lightening cracking the sky in two, and when no one answered you knew you were utterly alone.

Panic gripped you like a vice as you thought of Chrissy. Of Fred and Patrick and dread filled your stomach. Utter hopelessness and grief and when you whipped around to run you felt something tangle around your leg. Wrapping up, up, up and pulling you down, down, down.

You braced for it, ready to break your fall with your hands, but you never hit and instead found yourself lifting into the air. Unhinged laughter filling your ears as more vines snaked around your arms and legs and you swore you were going to be sick.

It was

Him.

“Why isn’t it working?? God dammit, work!” Eddie was yelling at the Walkman, his composure unravelling as Chrissy’s last moments flooded his mind. “Is she gonna die? She can’t die!” he pleaded and his voice cracked, a sob caught in his throat, “Please don’t let her die!”

“Hey hey, hey! Get a hold of yourself. That’s not gonna happen, okay? It’s gonna work,” Steve gripped Eddie’s shoulders, looked him in the eye and tried to reassure him, but when he glanced over at you he knew he couldn’t make that promise. “Please work,” he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Where are you going? You can’t leave. Not yet.

Vecna’s voice was everywhere. Flooding every part of you and you feared you would never feel joy again. Would never escape this. Would be stuck here forever screaming into the void, hanging on Vecna’s every whim.

I would like very much to show you where I’m going. Please, take a seat.

And the vines yanked you down, squeezed tight around your wrists and legs and held you fast against the ground, rocks digging painfully into your back.

“Please, let me go!” you pleaded into the dark. “Please, I–” but your mouth went dry as a shadowy figure appeared through the ash. Coming closer and closer in the dark with each heavy step and when it finally stopped, feet at your head, your blood ran cold.

Wet, sinewy skin. Muscles exposed and stretched taut. Eyes that pierced your mind and knew every single one your thoughts. Knew all the dark things spiraling there and made them worse. Clawed at you with spindly, protruding hands and long, dagger-like claws and suffocated you with the smell of something rotten.

Of decay.

Of death.

Reaching a hand down, Vecna held it over your face, inches away from touching you as you struggled against your restraints, but they constricted tighter with your every move.

“Please,” you were crying openly now, tears cutting paths through the ash that had settled on your cheeks, but he ignored you.

I want you to tell your friends, I want you to tell them everything you see. Everything I show you.

“No, please!”

Tell them!

“No, I can’t–”

Tell them everything!

And then your head felt like was being cleaved in two. White hot light fracturing the black sky into thick shards and your screams were the only thing you could hear as Vecna pried open your mind and poured into you his vision for the future...

Hawkins in ruin.

Four gashes in the earth. Cavernous. Hot and angry and full of fire.

Your family. Lying scattered across your lawn. Motionless and still and limbs bent wrong.

Tell them!

Your friends hanging in the air just like Chrissy, Fred, Patrick.

Eyes empty, slack-jawed and lifeless, bones snapped like twigs.

Tell them!

Eddie and Robin and Nancy and Steve and–

“NO!” you screamed, the sound pulled painfully from your lungs as you felt your legs give way and collapsed into yourself.

“Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa–”

Steve scrambled to grab hold of your shoulder and barely caught you before your bare knees hit the pavement.

You heard birds chirping. Sunlight filtering through the backs of your eyelids as you kept them squeezed shut, but the air was clean. Smelled fresh and as you slowly opened your eyes you realized you weren’t choking on ash anymore.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Steve was still holding onto you, your hands pressed into his thighs as you braced yourself, the feeling of nausea overwhelming.

“I saw him,” you whispered, only Steve could hear you and you started to cry.

“Him?” Steve asked unnecessarily, glancing up at Eddie. Hoping, no praying, if he asked maybe you’d give a different answer. One that wouldn’t involve death and the end of the world and everything hinging on this stupid fucking plan, but he knew.

Everyone knew.

Eyes glued on their feet. Arms folded over their chests and uneasy with the weight that had settled over the group.

“Vecna.”

[ NOTE: THIS IS PART TWO OF A – POSSIBLY – FIVE PART SERIES, PART FOUR AND FIVE TO COME SOON ]

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[itscherrylipsforme]

A love story yet to be written: Jason Todd x Vigilante!bookworm!fem!reader

Summary: The mysterious Red Hood has been your loyal teammate since you became another one of Gotham's vigilantes. Many literature puns and "subtle" flirty comments later, he has decided that it's time to meet you when you two are not covered by the city's darkness and your secret identities

Warnings: Just dozens of references to my fave classic lit authors and novels

Requested: yes

Words: About 1570

Author rambles: God, this has been on my drafts for so long. Glad I was finally able to publish it. Thanks to the anon who sent the request, hope you like it 🫶🏼

Masterlist Characters I write for

Likes and reblogs are appreciated ღ

I do not authorize any of my works to be copied, translated or plagiarized ✗

Gotham’s skies were pitch black when you submerged, like every twilight, in its streets and roofs. Masked face, combat boots, dark sweater and jeans paired with a black leather jacket and a bulletproof vest under all of it. Pointed daggers on your belt, a pair of guns attached to your back harness just in case. Being a vigilante was not an easy side job, but you needed to do it.

Some people simply can’t watch their whole world fall apart and stare blankly. And you would certainly not stay back when your beloved city was drowning in corruption and crime. Growing up you had always been aware that they were others protecting you. Batman, Robin, and the other peculiar crime fighters that had joined them with the pass of time. But being honest, Gotham was a criminals dump, and all the help they could get counted.

 So, you decided to do you your bit. Trained hard, learned how to hide in the shadows and started to feel that what you did matter to your people. Recognition was not long in coming, although fame was not what you were after anyway. One night a camera caught you beating up one bastard who was trying to assault a young girl, next day you were on the news. Dusk they called you and you were not annoyed by the nickname, it suited you in a certain way.

You soon became another no-faced admired warrior to your neighbours. Not bad for the girl who used to be bookworm theatre kid back in High School. Becoming one of Gotham’s saviours was not one of your dreams job as a child, but life has surprising turns waiting for us. What was even more unexpected is that you ended up meeting one of the other vigilantes and that he had become an interesting fellow during the otherwise solitaire superhero’s nights.

“Nice to see you here in the dead vast and middle of the night, darling” He greeted you, after hearing your feet landing in the same rooftop he was in. Didn’t matter if he was backwards, you had started to think he had developed a sixth sense to notice your presence. You could almost bet he was smiling bellow his metallic helmet.

“Good night, Hodd” You answered coming by his side. “Shakespeare, wasn’t it?”

“Smart girl. Hamlet, more precisely” You agreeded “You arrived later than you use to”

“Missed me, geekie boy?” A little chuckle broke the silence of Gotham.

“Of course I did! I would not wish any companion in the world but you” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, his gaze locked in the city’s sky. “And admit it, you are as much a nerd as I am”

“The Tempest? Have you been rereading Uncle Willy’s plays again?” The question ended up sounding like a half-joke half-teasing “And you are right, bookworm and proud. We wouldn’t get along so easily if I weren’t. I declare after all that there is no enjoyment like reading”

A slow nod was the only answer you received. You were certain that a smile was decorating his face at the moment. But not in a million of years you could have imagined that his usual smirk was now followed by a pinkish tone in his cheeks. How long he had been like this around you? He couldn’t recall exactly. This flirting slightly hided between book quotes and glances had been part of your friendship for quite sometime now.

The only problem? He couldn’t bear with being just a friend anymore. When it had all started? He didn’t know. Maybe the night he met you. And when the two of you started patrolling together like every other night, he couldn’t help coming back to those sweet memories still fresh on his mind.

“Another superhero wannabe” that’s what he thought when he first saw you moving from celling to celling without the grace and rhythm that only years of practice can give you. And he was not wrong, you were an amateur, one who still need to practice, but you definitely were determinate enough for that. Jason was not aware of this, therefore he decided to have some fun.

“What are you doing here?” He asked jumping to your side with a voice tone much deeper than his usual one.

“Patrolling” You managed to say in a whisper, rising your head to look at him directly. Shivers run through your spine, not knowing what to do. But you would not allow him to notice your fear.

“Scared of me darling?” He leaned a little so he could be nearer to your face.

“Not even a little, I know who you are” You answered and somehow the most daring and wittiest part of your mind chose to add the next sentence “And also there is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others.”

“My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.” He finishes almost instinctively.

He stared at your for some instants, not believed the words that had just come out of your lips. Another vigilante? Who quoted Austen? The night was turning up to be quite interesting.

“You are a sharp girl, with a good book taste” He resolved. “Red Hodd, at your service” He offered you his hand and his presentation, although it was no needed.

And that’s how all started, now a few months later you two keep protecting Gotham from whoever and whatever treats it. This night had been tranquil, a seldom occurrence, and Jason hadn’t talked to much, his mind was focused on a matter which had been troubling him for weeks. When the first rays of light threaten to appear, it’s time to farewell. Not without cracking some bad puns first of course.

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Dusk is the sun.” He smirked once again.

“First, that’s contradictory. Second, you seriously have to get over your Shakespeare era”.

“Does that mean I don’t get a proper goodbye?” Even with his voice modulator you could hear the teasing edge on the question.”

“Of course, you do” You tried to come up with something silly, yet sweet. “Good night, sweet prince, and flights and angels sing thee to thy rest!”

With that you made a small joking bow and left the rooftop to go back home. It had been enough; Jason had made out his mind. He was going to look for you. He needed to see the unmasked face who had been able to be the first one to win his heart. Luckily, one of his many siblings is a professional hacker.

A bookstore, somehow, he was not surprised at all when Tim found your worked there. In his jean’s pocket there was a small piece of paper with dozens of cheesy books lines that made him think of you. "You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read." "We would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and the stars bright." “You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how” … And those were only the first ones. There were not enough words in the books from your bookstore to describe how nervous he was and how much he wanted to tell you he loved you. But he could at least try.

Your elbows were resting on the counter, another novel laying in front of you. When the doorbell rang announcing another client, you immediately smiled and looked at Jason. You left your seat to meat him by the door, the book long forgotten.

“Took you long enough to find me, geekie boy” You gritted him.

All his speech and quotes banished in the air with just a single sentence of yours. He finally came to himself.

“Wait, were you waiting for me?”

“Of course, I did” You chuckle, God he loved that sound “For almost two months, after all your bad pick-up lines I thought you would be ready to come and met me in person”.

“But… How have you recognized me?” Confusion was still seen on his face.

“Easy. Looked for the libraries and bookstores that had your favourite tittle. Cheeked the names of all the men who borrowed or bought them. Looked for their photos on the internet and compared them with the physical description I had from your” You shrug your shoulders as that work was nothing to you “I am a vigilante after all”.

“I have a brother who would love to meet you, you know?”

“Maybe later, but I guess you came here because you had something to tell me”.

He took a deep breath. Just a few hours, that was all he needed to win you over this time. "In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed.” He said softly, but determinate “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I love and admire you.”

Just after he finished your lips were meeting his in a soft and sweet kiss, like the ones written in romance novels.

“You have bewitched me, body and soul” You whispered to his ear.

“Actually, that’s from the movie, not the book”.

You had to kiss him again, this time with more passion, to shut him up.

[homiesexual-or-homosexual]

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Warnings: Eddie lore, you get bullied (sorry), protective Eddie, some petnames, Hellfire teases Eddie and you, sorry for any typos :]

Genre: some angst, fluff

———

A newly 13 year old boy. His mom is dead and his dad was in prison, again. The only thing the boy has left is a small ring with a soft, oval shaped emerald in the middle and mid-back length, curly, matted hair. Well maybe not the matted hair anymore. His uncle, who’d he’d been placed with only yesterday, had sat him in a metal chair outside the trailer and buzzed his hair down to a thick stubble. The boy cried silently, looking down into his lap as he messed with the ring. But once the buzzing stopped, the boy’s uncle crouched down in front of him, wiped his eyes clear of tears, rubbed his scratchy head, and mumbled a “look, we match now.”

All before the first day of 7th grade.

And on that day of 7th grade, Eddie had a girl in his home room. A shy thing with a couple missing teeth (baby teeth, mind you), and short, boyish hair. Rumors started up almost immediately, about him and the girl. Eddie learned that her parents left her with her grandma before driving off to who knows where. And despite not knowing a single thing about each other, the two new kids seems to drift towards each other throughout the whole day.

About half way through 7th grade, Eddie had made it known to the students body that he would not tolerate bullying of those he endeared, whether Eddie realized whether he cared for that person or not. A couple of the more “popular” kids had begun to pick on your quiet, shy self. It started off as pokes and jabs, supposed playful exchanges in the girls’ bathroom, and whispers in the classrooms that weren’t quiet enough to be actually whispers. But the last straw was when one of the “leaders” had tripped you as you walked to your table in the cafeteria. They’d tripped your just perfect to where you slammed your frontal lobe against a nearby table and blood spewed from both your nostrils, and you fled blindly out the doors. Eddie followed the spaced out drips of blood against the cheap tile to a less popular wing of the school and into one of the bathrooms that no one uses anymore. He found you sitting against the wall in the larger stall, thin toilet paper stuffed up your nostrils, hands shaking, and shoulders shuddering with choked-up cries. Eddie was gentle, hands wiping your bloodied ones down with wet paper towels, and soft fingers wiping away your tears. Later that day before walking home, Eddie hunted down the guy that tripped you and took out his young, rightly earned anger out on the guy. It earned him a black eye and split knuckles, but the other guy looked much worse.

From then on, Eddie kept you under his wing. Joining you on activities when you didn’t have a partner or sitting next to you in classes and “distracting” you when the whispering got to you a little more than it usually did. He’d bark back at bullies in the hallways and even the bullies felt even a little brave, Eddie would send them off with a bite at the end of the day.

The bullies seems to back off a bit at the beginning of freshmen year when Eddie finally grew into his limbs. He was taller now, muscles highlighting his body from helping his uncle out around the house. His hair was also longer now, just barely brushing his shoulders, curly and wild. Eddie also seemed a little more intimidating on the days when he wore the leather jacket his uncle gifted him as a congratulations present for starting high school.

Classmates learned not to even look at you the wrong way when Eddie was around. The scar on his chin and the permanent rosiness of his knuckles showed the consequences of a cruel whisper.

The bullying didn’t stop for Eddie though. They seemed the build up when he joined the school’s dungeons and dragons club, held two times a week in the basement in the abandoned theatre room. Especially when he wore the custom “Hellfire Club” shirts.

The summer between freshmen and sophomore year, Eddie had joined Corroded Coffin, mastering solos of popular metal bands and writing a few songs of their own. And because Eddie’s uncle was a bit tight on money that summer, Eddie had started dealing weed to classmates and upper classmen who were interested. And that’s when the bullying started up during the summertime as well, rumoring that Eddie was a low-life stoner that would go nowhere in life, or that when you go missing no one will be surprised that you’ll be found tied and bleeding in some sort of satanic ritual.

So, the poking and prodding was only worse during sophomore year. Extending into lunch and on both yours and Eddie’s lockers. But Eddie’s outbursts didn’t start until a few weeks into junior year. Shouting at those who picked on his friends and getting into a few fights when things got a little too heated.

Eddie lost it when you were hurt though, physically that was. He found you hiding in a dark corner in the Hellfire room, nose bleeding and eye bruised. It was scary when he asked who it was, and you followed him like a scared baby deer followed it’s mom. And it was scary when Eddie shoved the jock against the hallway lockers, growling out that Eddie would kill him if he ever laid a hand on you again. The jock retaliated with a punch to Eddie’s face, causing his nose to bleed and you could tell by his squinting eye that it would be bruised as well. And Eddie, ever the dirty fighter when angry, only grabbed hair and shoved the jock to the ground to serve a few kicks to his gut before walking away with you under his arm to go get cleaned up. And when you were both cleaned up and your black eyes begun to settle in, Eddie smiled at you and said “Look, princess, we match.”

Eddie seemed to hover even more after that, behind you like a shadow. Even more so when he started to drive, legally. Taking you to and fro school, and occasionally when school got a little too much you’d hang out in the back of Eddie’s run down van and talk. And when the occasional stoner client came to Eddie’s driver window, Eddie only shooed them away, his attention back on you in record time.

The touchiness started in senior year though. Hand holding, touches of the lower back or even the waist. Wiping something from your face if need be. Hand on your thigh at any time of day. Sitting in Eddie’s lap because he dragged you in to sit on his thighs. Or even, cuddling. Whether that be in his van or over at each other’s houses, which often resulted in one, or both, of you taking a nap. Which even resulted in sleepovers when Eddie’s Uncle Wayne and your grandma began to trust you both to not get down to any “funny business.”

Hellfire made fun of Eddie, all in good humor. Asking him when he’s gonna ask you out, or if you two are dating yet. Sometimes if they’re feeling peckish for a reaction, the boys would even ask when the wedding was, causing Eddie to sputter and you to hide behind the tall boy.

[vampkittyxoxo]

Hello there!!!!

I am a big fan of your work and I was wondering if it would be possible for you to write romantic relationship hcs for draco? Any pronouns are welcomed and appreciated!

Of course, I do hope not to pressure you! Please do take your time! And of course, if you do not wish to do this request, that is perfectly alright!!! 😁

-🌮

(btw sorry if my request is incoherent😓)

Thank you all for your requests!! I’ve gotten many people asking for Draco!

And may I say thank you for all the compliments!! You are all so sweet!!

I wasn’t sure if the unlabeled requests wanted romantic or just general hcs so I wrote both.

This is also my third time writing this because tumblr keeps refreshing the app if I even change the app for a second, so sorry if this feels rushed!

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Draco romantic/general headcanons

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

~ Obviously, his favorite genre is metal. That doesn’t mean he likes all metal though— he can’t stand sludge metal or glam metal. However, he loves power metal and alternative metal!

~ I’d assume he’s around 23-24 in age, given that he had to have had time to build up his audience and find his sound.

~ Draco would be a bit on the tall side, maybe around 6’3-6’5 (roughly 190-196 cm). He has a nice build that comes naturally from a fast metabolism.

~ Admittedly… He really wants to start drawing. However, Draco thinks he’s too old to start now, so he opts for doodling dragons and wyverns in his free time.

~ Draco has quite a special interest in dragons… and of course, the obligatory hyperfixation on Wings of Fire in middle school. I mean, it was bad. He was telling all his friends about it, made every class project somehow correlate to Wings of Fire, and even wrote... fanfiction.... granted it was terrible considering he was 12. (I am not speaking from past experience with warrior cats.... no....)

~ He has a pretty decently sized vocabulary. This is mostly from reading lots of poetry and literature to help him with lyrics, but he is also smarter than he looks.

~ Draco has always been bad at making friends despite being popular now. He doesn't know how to talk to people for the first time and isn't sure what's all socially acceptable and what isn't. In middle school, he had a small group of four people, himself included, but he was always the odd one out. Then, in high school, he went through three different friend groups of varying sizes. It was very hard for him to maintain friendships, meaning lots of lunch periods were spent alone.

~ He was a theatre kid. I stand by this. Before he got actually good at singing, he practiced by getting supporting roles in school plays during high school.

Romantic Headcanons

~ Yes, he's popular. No, he's never had a real partner. You're what he considers his first.

~ Draco is very, very nervous at the start. The first time he saw you, even if you were dressed lazily, he was awestruck. Given his past with friends, he was very hesitant to talk to you. But God, the way you smiled at him, he forgot all about his past and made conversation.

~ While in the talking/friend stage, he gushes about you through song lyrics he writes in his journal. He would never show you or even tell you about it, though. Maybe 40 years past marriage, on his death bed he would...

~ As friends, Draco tells you about his music (if you're already not a fan... if you are a fan, that's another bullet point). If you react positively, he feels so validated and falls for you even harder.

~ Had you already known he's decently popular, Draco worries that you're only talking to him because of that fame. He obsesses over this fear for a week before finally giving in and asking for assurance.

~ He waits forever to ask you out-- he really wants to make sure you're giving signs that you like him before he does anything. And when he does, he doesn't make it a huge deal. After he takes you home one night, while saying your goodbyes, he pauses to ask if you would be his partner. When you say yes, he has to contain every ounce of his excitement to not look weird or desperate.

~ At the beginning, he's very hesitant to make any big steps forward. You're his first real partner, after all. He starts small with hand-holding, then gradually works up to other forms of affection.

~ He loves touching you, though. Even hand-holding is enough to get him flustered and giggling. He cuddles with you when watching shows or movies, before you're about to go to bed, or any other time he can make an excuse to hold you (or be held by you...). He's mostly the big spoon-- he loves the feeling of protecting you, so to speak-- but he enjoys being held every once in a while.

~ His main love languages are physical touch and quality time. Considering he probably gets gifts all the time from fans, gifts don't mean anything super special to him as it would to most normal people. He does appreciate it when you praise him or reassure him that he's not a bad person/musical artist/etc.

~ Draco will take you on every tour he goes on-- if you want to come with him that is. If you decide to go, he'll show you around every town you stop in, spoil you with good food and small presents, and make sure your trip is just as fun as his. Obviously, you get right up to that barricade at his shows.

~ He would discuss this with you first, but if you were comfortable with it, he would totally bring you up to the stage so you could sing the backing vocals for a song. He would introduce you as his partner (sorry to the other fans in the crowd... sorry Edgar...) and he would make sure the crowd likes you.

~ If you decide to stay home, he's facetiming you every chance he gets. He would probably set his phone up somewhere on the stage so you can watch the show as well. He misses you lots and lots and lots whenever he's away.

~ Draco has definitely written a few songs about you. He just prays you two never break up, because some are his most popular songs...

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

This is all I can think of right now... if I ever come up with more I'll make a new post. Requests are open <3

[tokosparrow]

I NEED MORE MATTHEW PATEL CONTENT IN MY LIFE PLEA

um ummmm Matthew x reader but reader is a huge theatre nerd, and decides to audition for one of Matthew's plays !!!!

a/n: AHHH I LOVE THIS >0< (plus i was in theater from my freshmen to my junior year of high school and still deciding if i should still act my senior year :3!!) and i have no idea if this is considered romantic but it could be read as such if you like!!

you became a bit nervous when deciding to audition, you were never, and i mean NEVER this nervous for an audition before. you’ve don’t this so many times before as far back as maybe early middle school, you watched and acted in many plays and musicals for as long as you remember, they were basically your lives work. you took deep breathes as you practiced many times before since they always seem to help in situations like these, you just need to take a moment to breathe.

“NEXT!!” screamed a familiar voice from the stage ahead of you.

maybe then it hit you of why you were so nervous in the first place, matthew patel. heart racing as you realize that it was you that it was next.

‘oh god…’ you thought as you took steps to enter the stage to face to what felt like a full crowd of people but yet there were only just one person, the person you became a bit desperate to impress with your performance.

“and your name?” asked matthew, having a look on him that he’s been through many of these auditions and was just tired, he even just wanted to go home.

“i’m (Y/N)….(Y/N) (L/N) mr patel sir…” you responded with small voice cracks due to the nervousness you’ve gained.

soon he motioned you to start as he sat back with a bored look still on his face. you let out a deep breath before you started, you just had to remember your blocking and lines you worked so hard to remember to do. as you do so, you felt yourself get in the moment, forgetting how this was so hard to get over with in the first place, you were passionate about theatre and it’s your time to shine to one of canadas theater freaks (as if you aren’t one yourself).

it soon came to a finish for what you put together for your audition, you looked over for some sort of approval from matthew, he seemed much more interested then he was before which surprised you. what surprised you more is that claps he gave you after which were as genuine as they could get coming from the one and only matthew patel.

“thank you for your audition, (Y/N)” he said as he gave a smile which left you a even bigger smile.

“no, thank you for having me here!” you say bowing before walking your way off stage, still as happy as ever, this is just maybe the best moment of your life!

“they’re definitely the one, make sure (Y/N) hasn’t left when i get done with these okay?” he whispered to one of his hipster chicks before continuing with the rest of the auditions of the day.

a couple hours passed, you happened to stay to just play around and eat, maybe you should go home and just wait for a possible callback since you thought it went well, you pretty sure he liked your audition, at least you thought so. something soon caught the corner of your eye, making you look for good measure and sure as hell it’s matthew patel walking your way.

“(Y/N) (L/N), we need to talk about your audition earlier today!” he said in one of the most happiest tones he had.

“i must say, im very impressed, what do you think about having the role in my play?” say whatttttt now :0??

“sure mr patel! i’ll be so honored!” “good :)”

[milf-harrington]

inspired by @flashyysins

Two days after Hawkins was almost split open, Robin saw a woman pacing in the hospital waiting room.

There were plenty of other people as well, sitting or standing or walking the length of the room in a similar pattern, but there was something about the woman that Robin noticed. It wasn't just that she was beautiful, which she was- it's that there was something familiar about her.

She was in blue jeans and an old-school Hawkins High Letterman jacket, light brown hair twisted up in a claw clip. Robin had never met her before, she'd remember that at the very least, but still.

Something about the angle of her nose or the gentle waves of her hair felt like something Robin had seen before, something she'd be able to find in a crowded room or across a street.

But Robin had somewhere to be, so she shook off the odd feeling, and followed the familiar path to Steve's room.

---

"Hey Stevie."

Steve's smile was tired, but he was looking more lively than when he'd passed out in the waiting room the other day, so she'd take it.

"Robbie, you left me hanging yesterday."

She snorted and dropped into one of the chairs by his bed, swinging her legs over the arm rest and cradling the bag she'd brought with her in her lap. "You're the one who fell asleep during visiting hours."

He rolled his eyes, and she happily noted the colour returning to his skin. "You should be exempt from visiting hours, you're like...essential to my recovery or something."

She laughed to hide the way those words curled soft and warm around her heart, eyes stinging until she blinked it away. The dumbass had almost over-worked himself to the point of no recovery. "'Exempt?' Someone's been reading a dictionary- did one of your children leave theirs behind?"

"Oh fuck you-"

They were interrupted by a knock on the door, and Robin was startled to see the woman from the waiting room hovering behind a nurse.

"You have a new visitor Mr Harrington."

Even knee-deep in confused intrigue, Robin couldn't help but dramatically mouth Mr Harrington over her own shoulder, pleased at the face he pulled in retaliation.

And then the door shut, and Steve looked up to find the woman-from-the-waiting room standing at the end of the bed.

Robin saw his brain grind to a halt at the sight of her.

It was silent (well, as much as it could be in a hospital room, what with all the beeping and whirring) as they took each other in, and Robin slowly brought her knees in closer to her chest like it would shield her from the vague awkwardness chewing at her.

And then-

"Fucking hell, Eve." The woman breathed out, white knuckling the bar at the end of his bed.

At the same time, Steve's face scrunched up as he demanded: "What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean 'what am I doing here'? You're in hospital!"

"I thought you were in New York!"

"Yeah and then I got a call from Hawkins General that my little brother was dying in a hospital bed! Thank you for keeping me as your emergency contact, by the way."

"Well-" Steve spluttered and then crossed his arms over his chest, wincing at the pressure on his injuries. "Obviously."

Several things clicked into place like undone locks. Steve had almost been too comfortable about "feminine" topics for as long as she'd been an active member of his life- and even slightly before.

(He'd once run out of Scoops to buy her pads when she'd started her period in the middle of a shift. At the time she'd figured he was just trying really hard to beat the still a douche-bag allegations.)

Then there were the sweaters that he wouldn't confess to the origin of, the jokes he'd make about Robin "not being the only woman in his life" that she'd thought were about Nancy Wheeler, the vehement denial that the rom-com collection in the theatre room were his.

And, while Robin hated to enforce gender stereotypes, he'd always had the kind of mean girl cattiness that was usually only forged in teenaged girls and merely rubbed off on others.

Of course Steve Harrington had a sister.

Now Robin understood why she'd seemed so familiar in the waiting room.

"What happened to you?"

Simultaneously, Robin and Steve shifted uncomfortably, meeting each others eyes and coming up blank on both ends.

Steve's sister swallowed, jaw clenched and lip quivering as she look back and forth between them. She seemed suddenly fragile, like Steve after a nightmare, or right before he'd collapsed in the waiting room after carrying Eddie inside.

Steve cracked first. "Lou-"

"Don't fucking lie to me, Stephen. This is the third time you've ended up in hospital since your senior year."

Steve blinked, startled. "How did you-"

"I'm your sister." She seethed, and Robin could see flickers of Steve with an axe in his hand in the arch of her shoulders. "You might have told the hospital not to call but I still have friends in this town. If that Hargrove asshole wasn't already dead-"

"Lou-"

"Don't-"

"It was a serial killer." Robin blurted, drawing Steve's sisters' attention to her. "I don't now if you heard about it, but someone was going around killing teenagers. It started with Chrissy Cunningham- she was a cheerleader? kind of cute in a preppy sort of way, but, um- she was killed in our friends living room and then he sort of got blamed for it because, I mean, it was pretty sketchy but he didn't do it! I promise, Eddie didn't- anyway, there was this whole witch hunt, and two more people died which just sort of made it worse for Eddie and a group of us were trying to, like, clear his name, you know? Because we knew he didn't do it and we didn't want him to get killed next, but then one of our other friends - this girl, Max, she's a riot - she was being targeted by the real killer so we came up with this...really stupid plan to catch the killer but everything went sort of tits up and Eddie and Steve both got, well-" She waved her hands at the bandage around Steve's throat and the bruising around his wrists from the vines. "And Max, she broke her elbow and her knee when she fell, and I think Dustin twisted his ankle? So now Max and Eddie and Steve are all in hospital and Dustin has these crutches that he doesn't want to use but, I mean, Steve always makes him because it's Steve, and we don't really know if Eddie's okay yet but no one's come to tell us he's not so we're still hopeful-"

"Robin."

Robin shut her mouth, and took a deep breath through her nose. Steve's sister was staring at her in the startled sort of awe that Robin was used to seeing when she got going. She had the lungs of a trumpet player, it wasn't hard for her to talk until she forgot where she'd started.

"You fought a serial killer?" Steve's sister - Lou? - asked, and Robin hysterically felt like she should offer up her seat.

Steve, bless him, only nodded. Lou stared, lips pressed into a thin line and nostrils flared slightly.

And then, quite abruptly, she was straightening her back and stepping around the bed to hold out a hand to Robin. "Louisa Harrington."

Robin blinked, and shook her hand. "Robin Buckley."

Louisa nodded, like that made sense, and smiled the same cupids-bow smile as her brother. "The best friend- it's good to meet the other half of my brothers brain. Clearly the better half, considering you aren't the one in the hospital bed."

Steve made an offended noise, and Robin grinned.

[ggjunkie]

Showmance

27,318 words

Adam x reader

Musical theatre! AU; College! AU

For anyone who'd rather read it on here:

You straighten out your clothes, fingers brushing off invisible lint as you take a deep breath, the excitement bubbling just beneath your composed exterior. The echoing sounds of chatter and nervous footsteps fill the audition room lobby, where a group of hopefuls wait for their names to be called. It's finally musical season at your university, and you’ve jumped on the train with unrestrained enthusiasm.

This semester’s show is Little Shop of Horrors, a classic choice that feels like putting on a comfortable pair of your favorite pants—familiar and comfortable. Though it's a basic pick, you definitely aren’t complaining; this is your chance to shine. For weeks, you’ve been meticulously preparing, working with your private vocal and acting coaches, honing every note and every intonation for this audition.

As a musical theatre major, a spot in the chorus is practically a given, but you’re not one to settle for just that. No, no, no. You have bigger ambitions. Your eyes are set on Audrey II, the mysterious talking, and singing plant. It's a role that demands charisma, vocal prowess, and a certain je ne sais quoi that you’re confident you possess. Or at least you really, really hope so.

Of course, you also understand you aren’t guaranteed a role! It’s really no biggie, you’re just excited.

Although theatre wasn’t always your passion, taking the class in middle school had spurred something in you. Since then, you’ve worked hard at your craft. And it’s definitely paid off! You managed to make it into multiple audition-based schools. At the memory, you pat yourself on the back.

Middle school was where it all began. You still remember the thrill of your first performance, the way the stage lights felt warm and comforting, and the applause that followed. It ignited a spark in you, a passion that has only grown stronger with time.

In high school, you faced more challenges. The competition was fierce, and the stakes were higher, but you rose to the occasion. You worked tirelessly, attending acting workshops, vocal lessons, and dance classes. You balanced your schoolwork with your theatrical pursuits, often sacrificing sleep and social activities to chase your dreams.

When it came time to apply for colleges, you aimed high, auditioning for some of the best programs in the country. The acceptance letters that followed were proof of your hard work and dedication. You had made it into multiple audition-based schools, each one a testament to your talent and perseverance.

Now, standing here, you can't help but feel a swell of pride. You've come a long way from that middle school elective. You've faced rejections and setbacks, but you've also experienced triumphs and growth. Every step of the journey has been worth it, and you're excited for what lies ahead.

Eventually, you finally hear your name called, pulling you out of your thoughts. You smile at the runner, a freshman eager to get their required hours in, and hand them your resume. They take it gratefully, glancing over the neatly printed sheet as they lead you into the audition room. It’s a black box theater, a square room with black walls and flooring. The stark simplicity of the space serves as a blank canvas, allowing the directors to transform it into whatever they need, just as they have for these auditions.

Their table is set up near the back, papers and coffee cups scattered across its surface, giving them a perfect vantage point to observe and take notes without being overheard. They chat quietly among themselves, their voices a low murmur that blends into the background hum of the building. You can feel their eyes on you as you step into the room, the anticipation almost tangible in the air.

Near the door, a piano sits, and at the bench is what you can guess to be your accompanist—a tall, chubby brunette with a messy sort of look about him. He’s honestly kind of cute, but you can’t afford to focus on that right now. You have an audition to nail.

You greet the directors with a confident smile and a nod, then march over to the piano. Handing the accompanist your binder, you ensure it’s open to the marked sheet music. Like a seasoned performer, you’ve already highlighted the 32-bar cut of your song, clearly indicating where he should start and stop.

As he scans the music, you take a moment to explain your plan. You point out the precise places where you’ll be taking breaths and describe the tempo you have in mind. He listens attentively, nodding along as you speak, his fingers instinctively moving over the keys as if mentally rehearsing the piece.

You glance over at the directors, expecting them to be ready, but they’re still shuffling papers and folders on their desk, likely comparing notes from previous auditions. A flicker of impatience might cross another's face, but not yours. Instead, you smile, savoring the rush of adrenaline that auditions always bring.

The anticipation heightens the moment, and you use the extra time to center yourself even more. You roll your shoulders, subtly release the tension in your hands, and take another calming breath. The hum of quiet activity behind the directors' table, the muted clink of pens and rustle of paper, only amplifies your focus.

"So, got any plans after this?"

You frown, snapping back to the present as you turn to the accompanist. "Excuse me?"

He smirks, leaning in slightly. "I can take you out on the town, show you a real good time. My roommate is even out for the night, if you know what I mean." He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

You scrunch your nose, not appreciating the distraction from your audition. You need to get in the zone and focus, but he’s throwing you off. You can entertain the idea after the audition, not during. However, at your reaction, he takes it as a no and furrows his brows. He starts to say something, probably something rude, before you walk off.

You head to the tape marking your spot on the floor, feeling the familiar buzz of excitement mingled with nerves. The directors stare at you blankly, their faces giving nothing away, but you know better than to let it get to you. This is your moment.

Taking a deep breath, you slate in, introducing yourself with a clear, confident voice

“I’ll be performing the song ‘Jenny’s Blues’ from ‘It Shoulda Been You,’ and a monologue from ‘Confrontation’ by Kelly Powell.” You smile before dipping your head, breathing in, and starting your piece. Your voice is strong, resonant, effortlessly sliding into the comfortable range of the song. Each note is delivered with precision, every word infused with emotion. You make sure to breathe deeply, expanding your diaphragm to support your powerful vocals.

However, halfway through your audition cut, you hear the piano falter and fumble, the notes coming out jumbled. You pause for a split second, a flicker of concern passing through your mind, but you quickly regain your focus. Mistakes happen, and you're determined not to let it throw you off. You press on, maintaining your composure and delivering a flawless performance despite the hiccup.

As you reach the climax of the song, you hold out your money note, pouring every ounce of emotion into it. The accompanist manages to catch up, albeit a little off rhythm, but you don’t let it deter you. With a final flourish, you finish the song.

You manage a quick glance at the accompanist before looking back– but wait, hold on. You look back again. That fucker has a smug smirk plastered across his face. His eyes twinkle with amusement, and suddenly it all clicks into place: He tried to mess you up on purpose because you ‘rejected’ him. Any chance you had with him suddenly goes straight down the drain, and now you're fuming.

You grit your teeth, trying to tamp down the surge of anger that threatens to consume you. How dare he sabotage your audition like that? But you refuse to let his petty actions derail your performance. Instead, you channel that newfound adrenaline, that simmering rage, into your audition.

With renewed determination, you throw yourself into the monologue, each word dripping with raw emotion. Your voice crackles with intensity as you inhabit the character, every gesture charged with conviction. The room seems to pulse with energy, your presence commanding attention as you deliver a performance that's nothing short of electrifying.

Well, not like you’d think as much.

You perform your piece, and as you finish, you try not to beat yourself up about it. It was… okay. A little frustrating, perhaps, because you ran more on muscle memory and pettiness than actually existing in the moment, but the dedication and hard work you had put into it still shone through. You remind yourself that perfection is an elusive goal, and what truly matters is the passion and effort you poured into your performance.

As for the song, you try not to dwell on it too much. Otherwise, you know you’ll get stuck in your perfectionist head, picking apart every single detail until it drives you mad. Instead, you choose to focus on the positives, reminding yourself of the moments where you truly connected with the material and let your talent shine through.

You take a deep breath, feeling a sense of relief wash over you now that the audition is over. Whatever the outcome, you gave it your all, and that’s something to be proud of.

You thank the directors, offering them a quick but polite goodbye, and head over to the piano to retrieve your binder. The pianist smirks, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he hands you the binder. But as you reach out to take it, he doesn’t let go. You tug gently, expecting him to release it, but his grip remains firm.

Your frustration mounts as you give the binder another tug, but still, he refuses to hand it over. With a growing sense of annoyance, you pull harder, and finally, he lets go. But instead of handing it to you properly, he lets it slip from his fingers, and it drops unceremoniously to the floor with a thud.

This bitch.

Instead of giving him the satisfaction of seeing you lose your cool, you bend down gracefully, feeling his eyes linger on your backside, and pick up the binder. Straightening up with a sense of quiet determination, you shoot him a subtle, sour look, and exit through the door.

–

You needed to be pinched awake.

There it was, plain as day—your name listed next to Audrey II. The role you'd yearned for, sweated for, poured your heart and soul into securing. And now, here it was, yours for the taking. You stare at the cast list, almost disbelieving, as if expecting the letters to rearrange themselves at any moment. But no, there it remains—your name boldly printed beside the coveted role.

Despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins and the excitement threatening to bubble over, you find yourself remarkably composed. It's as if a serene calm has settled over you, masking the tempest of emotions swirling beneath the surface. You're totally normal about this, you tell yourself, even as your heart races with exhilaration.

But inwardly, you're anything but calm. You're ecstatic, over the moon, practically floating on air. It's a dream come true, a validation of all the hard work, late nights, and sacrifices you've made in pursuit of your passion. And yet, there's a sense of quiet gratitude mingled with the jubilation—a recognition of the privilege bestowed upon you, the opportunity to bring this iconic character to life.

As you continue to scan the rest of the cast list, a few of your friends approach, their faces beaming with genuine happiness and excitement for you. They pat you on the back and offer heartfelt congratulations, their words a chorus of support and admiration. You take it all in stride, offering each of them an easy smile and a gracious thank you. At one point, you even go as far as to herd some of them into a group hug.

As you continue down the cast list, you recognize a few names, but none that you're particularly close with. Still, you can't help but feel a sense of optimism as you imagine the bonds that will form over the course of rehearsals. After all, there's nothing quite like the camaraderie that comes from working together towards a common goal.

One name stands out among the rest—Quinn, the guy playing Seymour. Memories of your collaboration on a project in Theatre History come flooding back, and you can't help but smile at the thought of working with him again. You remember how seamlessly you worked together, bouncing ideas off each other and complementing each other's strengths. With any luck, that chemistry will translate into a dynamic partnership on stage.

You can already envision the two of you bringing Seymour and Audrey II to life, each playing off the other's energy and timing. It's an exciting prospect, and you can't wait to dive into rehearsals and see how your dynamic evolves.

And then there's the puppet—your puppet. God, you were so excited for your puppet.

Still riding high on the euphoria of landing the role, you feel as light as a feather. It's as if you're floating on cloud nine, sipping Shirley Temples and being pampered like royalty. Every step you take feels effortless, every breath filled with a sense of elation. You glide all the way to rehearsal, anticipation buzzing beneath your skin.

But as you step into the rehearsal room, the bubble of bliss threatens to burst. There, standing before you, is the accompanist from before—the same one who tried to sabotage your audition. Instantly, the weight of reality comes crashing down, dragging you back to earth with a resounding thud.

You can feel his gaze boring into you, a silent challenge in his eyes. You roll your eyes in response, refusing to let him see how much his presence rattles you. At least he doesn’t seem too thrilled to see you either, his lip curling into a sneer as if he were growling in disdain.

Redirecting your attention back to the room, you notice that seats have been pulled to create a circle, a common setup for read-throughs. Your eyes scan the space, and you catch Quinn's enthusiastic wave, his smile infectious. You feel a sense of relief flood through you, grateful for the easy decision on where to sit, and you make your way over to join him.

"Hey!" he greets, his excitement palpable. "Congrats on Audrey II!"

You return his smile, the warmth of his congratulations washing over you. "Thanks! And congrats on Seymour! You definitely deserve it," you reply, genuinely happy for him.

The two of you strike up a conversation, the easy rapport between you quickly filling the air with laughter and shared excitement. But as you chat, you can't shake the feeling of someone's eyes on you. You glance around discreetly, your gaze landing on Adam, who's peering at you with a curious expression.

You lean over to Quinn, a puzzled frown creasing your brow. "So, why's the pianist here?"

Quinn follows your gaze before turning back to you, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Adam? I think he's getting extra credit for this. He's a music major, so... It's kinda cool."

You shrug your shoulders, a bemused expression on your face. It makes sense that Adam would be here for extra credit, but what doesn’t make sense is why he's glaring daggers at you. All you did was turn him down, and then get upset because he tried to sabotage your audition. What a dick.

"Are y'all exes or something?"

You shake your head, a perplexed frown forming on your lips. "No, definitely not."

"Then why is he glaring at you like you killed his dog?" Quinn presses, his curiosity piqued.

You roll your eyes, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "He tried asking me out in my audition, and I didn't respond because I was trying to lock in."

Quinn's eyes widen in disbelief. "Oh my god, you should've totally said yes! He's a total hunk!"

You can't help but let out a wry chuckle, acknowledging the truth in Quinn's words. "Yeah, he's definitely hot," you admit. "But he's a dick though. He purposely messed up my backing accompaniment."

At that, Quinn sucks in a sharp breath before nodding solemnly. “So just a one night stand.”

At Quinn's suggestion, you cringe, feeling a surge of indignation rising within you. "What?" you squawk incredulously. "No! I'm not sleeping with him!"

“Sleeping with who?”

As the new voice breaks through the conversation, you and Quinn turn to see a girl– probably playing Audrey, your brain retorts. She's thin and gorgeous, her presence commanding attention. It’s probably best to keep her away from Adam.

However, when you glance over to see Adam's reaction, you're surprised to find that he hasn't even spared the girl a passing glance. Instead, his focus remains fixed on you, his glare as intense as ever. Annoyance prickles at the back of your mind, and you return his glare with equal intensity.

Adam seems to realize that you're looking at him, and for a moment, you see a flicker of something cross his features. But in a swift attempt to maintain his cool guy facade—or perhaps because he enjoys the attention—he smirks and throws up his hands in a playful gesture, as if suggesting a game of rock, paper, scissors.

You surprise him by joining in.

Rock… Paper… Scissors… Shoot!

But instead of throwing one of the three conventional options, you catch Adam off guard by flipping him off, a gesture that leaves no room for misinterpretation. With a satisfied smirk, you turn your attention back to Quinn and the girl, refusing to give Adam the satisfaction of any further reaction.

“Hi!” The girl’s voice is perky and energetic. “Sorry, I hope I wasn't intruding with my earlier question. I’m Sadai! You’re playing Audrey II, huh? That’s pretty cool! I’m excited about your puppets.”

At that, you perk up. “Yeah, me too!”

She glances away before leaning in, just as you had done before. “I don’t mean to overstep but… I can't help but notice a certain someone’s eyes on you. Did you break up or something?”

You frown, sinking into your seat. “No, why do y’all keep asking me that…”

“Well, that’s the more logical explanation.” Quinn pipes up.

“There’s an explanation?” Sadai grins. “Spill!”

As your director calls for everyone's attention, the lively chatter in the room gradually subsides, replaced by an air of anticipation. Rehearsal is about to begin, and you can feel the energy buzzing in the air.

When it comes time for Adam’s introduction, it's surprisingly more formal than what you would’ve thought. But that's probably because your director is right next to him.

“I’m Adam,” he says, his tone serious and professional, “and I’ll be the accompanist for rehearsals. I’m also a part of the actual band you’ll be performing with.”

You can't help but roll your eyes at him. It's a stark contrast to his earlier antics, and you can't shake off the feeling of disbelief at his behavior. You stick your tongue out at him.

As Adam clacks his teeth in response to your gesture, a strange sensation washes over you. It's a fleeting moment of amusement mixed with something else—something you can't quite put your finger on. You quickly dismiss the thought, shaking your head to clear it.

As the read-through gets underway, you find yourself slipping into the mindset of Audrey II, the iconic character you're tasked with bringing to life. It's a role unlike any you've played before, and you can't help but feel a surge of excitement mingled with apprehension. With each line you deliver, you try to embody the essence of the character, exploring different nuances and inflections.

But despite your best efforts, you can't shake the feeling that your choices aren't quite hitting the mark. They're not big enough, not bold enough—at least not by your own standards. Still, you refuse to beat yourself up about it. It's only a read-through, after all, a chance to explore the character and experiment with different interpretations.

However, the distraction of Adam's antics doesn't help matters. Every time you say a line, you can feel his eyes on you, making faces and mocking you. It's infuriating, to say the least, but you try to push past the distraction and focus on the task at hand.

Adam can get fucked.

–

As the ballet class draws closer, the familiar excitement begins to bubble up inside of you. You eagerly anticipate the opportunity to immerse yourself in the world of dance once again. Dressed in your favorite leotard and tights, you feel a sense of comfort and familiarity wash over you. The snug fit of the leotard and the sleek lines of the tights serve as a second skin, allowing you to move freely and gracefully without any hindrance.

As you enter the studio, you take a moment to soak in the atmosphere—the polished wood floors, the mirrored walls, the soft lighting casting a warm glow over the space. You’ve always made a habit to arrive early to class, giving yourself ample time to prepare both mentally and physically. Taking your place at the barre, you begin with a series of gentle pliés, allowing your muscles to awaken and loosen with each movement. From there, you move through a sequence of tendus, jetés, and dégagés, each step flowing seamlessly into the next.

As the warm-up progresses, you feel your body gradually opening up, the tightness in your muscles giving way to a sense of suppleness and strength. You revel in the sensation of your limbs stretching and extending, reaching for the ceiling with each grand battement and arabesque.

But it's during the stretch routine that you truly lose yourself in the moment. Finding a spot on the floor, you lower yourself into your middle splits, your muscles protesting slightly as you sink deeper into the stretch. With each breath, you feel yourself melting into the floor, your body becoming one with the music that fills the room.

But as you're bent over, laying your chest on the floor, you're suddenly aware of a presence behind you. Startled, you lift your gaze to meet the reflection in the dance mirrors, and your heart skips a beat as you see Adam standing there, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Adam.”

“That’s my name, baby. Go ahead and practice screaming it for tonight.”

You ignore that. “This isn’t an open class. You should leave.”

“Aw you’re looking out for me, how sweet. Good news though. I’ve been invited, bitch.”

You finally turn and look him in the eye. “Don’t call me that.”

Adam raises his hands in a mock gesture of surrender, but his smirk remains firmly in place. "Woof. Rough subject, huh?" he quips, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Alright, what would you prefer for me to call you? Sugartits? Sweet thing? Mine?”

Your patience wearing thin, you shoot Adam a withering glare. "I'd rather you leave.”

Adam's grin only widens at your request. "Again, I can't," he replies, his tone smug. "I need this extra credit."

Confusion furrows your brows as you try to make sense of his words. "What do you mean?"

His smile widens even further, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I'm playing piano for your class," he reveals.

"Oh god.”

Feeling the ache in your muscles, you mindlessly begin to pull yourself out of your middle splits, sensing that you're warmed up enough for the time being. But before you can fully relax, Adam's voice cuts through the air, drawing your attention back to him.

"You know what stretch might be good for you?" he asks.

Your eyebrows knit together in suspicion, wary of whatever suggestion he might have up his sleeve.

“Baby pose or whatever it’s called.” he licks his teeth.

“...Do you mean child’s pose?”

“I’m not sure. Why don’t you show me and we’ll find out. If you’re correct, you get a reward.”

The retort slips out before you can stop it, your frustration boiling over. "Go to hell.”

Adam's expression shifts into something more serious. "Hey, that's not funny,"

You're taken aback by the sudden change in his demeanor, surprised by the hint of offense in his voice. "You're... religious?"

Adam's lips quirk into a wry smile, always ready to talk about himself. "Minoring in religious studies, babes.”

“And you act like this?”

Adam looks genuinely offended. “Hey! God loves all His creations.”

You decide to test the waters, aware that this isn't just a question about religion, but more about understanding Adam. “So, you’re okay with gay people?”

“What kind of porn do you think I watch?”

“You watch gay porn?” What the fuck.

“Only the girls– it’s hot as fuck. Besides, look at you– I’ve disrespected everything about you except your pronouns.”

Well you’ve got to give him that.

As your instructor walks into the room, effectively diverting your attention from the unsettling exchange with Adam, you're grateful for the interruption. She calls Adam over, and you watch as he trails obediently toward her, unable to shake off the lingering annoyance from the wink he sends in your direction. The gesture sends a wave of bile rising in your throat, leaving you feeling unsettled and off-kilter.

Thankfully, the start of class offers a welcome distraction as you begin with barre exercises. The familiar structure of the routine allows you to slip into autopilot, your muscles responding to the familiar movements with practiced precision. Despite the discomfort of the exercises, you push through, knowing that each repetition brings you one step closer to improvement.

When the instructor calls for places to run the combination, your heart skips a beat as you realize it's finally your turn. You take a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself to showcase the combination you've been practicing diligently.

But before you can fully focus on the task at hand, you notice Adam's persistent attempts to catch your eye in the mirror. His gaze feels like a weight on your shoulders, but you steel yourself, determined not to let his presence distract you.

As the instructor calls for Adam to take his place at the piano, you can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. With him occupied at the keys, you're free to focus solely on your own performance without the added pressure of his scrutiny.

As you wait for your turn to perform the combination, you can't help but find yourself drawn to Adam's piano playing. Despite the tension between you, there's no denying the skill and finesse with which he handles the keys. Each note flows seamlessly from his fingertips, filling the room with a melodic richness that captivates your senses.

You watch in quiet admiration as he navigates the piano with ease, his fingers dancing across the keys with precision and grace. There's a gentle quality to his playing, a delicate touch that belies his earlier brashness. It's clear why he's been enlisted to help with productions like Little Shop of Horrors and ballet classes—he possesses a rare talent that really elevates the performances he accompanies.

As you square your shoulders and turn out from your hips, preparing to execute the combination you've practiced tirelessly, you can feel Adam's eyes boring into you from across the room. Despite the tension that lingers between you, you refuse to let his presence throw you off course.

With a deep breath, you begin to move, allowing the music to guide your every step. Despite the lingering doubt that Adam's presence instills in you, the music never falters, reaffirming your belief that his attempts to sabotage you during the audition were indeed intentional.

But you refuse to dwell on the past, pushing aside the nagging thoughts and focusing solely on the dance. As you move through the combination, something feels different. It's as if you've suddenly become one with the music, feeling its rhythm pulsating through your veins and guiding your movements with an effortless grace.

A quick glance in Adam's direction reveals that he too is caught up in the magic of the moment, his expression mirroring your own sense of connection to the music. Despite the tension that exists between you, there's a shared understanding in that fleeting glance—a recognition of the power and beauty of the music that transcends any animosity or resentment. In other words, you can forgive him in this moment.

In that moment, as you dance to the haunting melody of the piano, you feel a sense of liberation wash over you. All the worries and doubts that had plagued you before melt away.

As you're swept up in the exhilaration of the dance, an unexpected twist of fate brings you crashing to the floor as your ankle buckles beneath you. Embarrassment floods your senses as you find yourself sprawled on the ground, the sudden halt to your movement jarring and disorienting.

But before you can fully process what's happened, a kind-hearted classmate rushes to your aid, offering you a supportive hand and helping you to your feet. Despite your attempts to brush off the incident with a forced smile, the humiliation of the fall lingers, casting a shadow over your confidence.

With your ankle throbbing painfully, you're guided out of the room by your compassionate classmate, grateful for their support and understanding. As you limp away from the dance studio, you can feel Adam's eyes following your every move, his gaze burning into your back like a weighty presence.

–

Thankfully, you hadn’t torn or broken anything. All that came out of that incident was a rolled ankle. The recovery was straightforward—alternating between icing and heating it. Before you knew it, your ankle was back to normal. You were able to rotate it without any stinging or pain.

The relief was immense. You had been worried that the injury might keep you from participating fully in rehearsals. Right before you walked into ballet class, you tested your ankle carefully, rotating it and putting a little weight on it. No pain. Perfect.

When you push open the doors to the space, Adam is already seated at the piano, idly messing with the keys. You know Adam never made a habit of being early to this class—especially since he didn’t need to be. During warm-ups, your instructor usually played music from her speakers. So why would he be here early?

Curious, you linger near the door for a moment, observing him. His fingers dance over the keys with a casual grace, producing a soft, almost melancholic melody. It's unlike the boisterous, cocky persona he usually projects. For a moment, he seems lost in the music, unaware of his surroundings.

You clear your throat softly as you walk further into the room. Adam’s head snaps up, and for a split second, you see a flicker of something—surprise, perhaps—before he masks it with his usual smirk.

“Good morning,” you say, keeping your tone neutral.

“Morning,” he replies, his fingers pausing on the keys. “Didn’t expect anyone else to be here this early”

“Same goes for you,” you counter, setting your bag down and beginning your stretches.

Adam shrugs, looking back at the piano. “Just felt like playing a bit before everyone else got here.”

You raise an eyebrow, skeptical but not wanting to pry. “Well, don’t let me stop you.”

He resumes playing, the notes filling the room with a soft, intricate tune. You settle into your stretch routine, focusing on your warm-up but unable to ignore the beautiful music emanating from the piano.

However, it seems as though Adam can’t go more than a minute without being a certified dick. He leans over the piano, watching you stretch, before speaking up.

“Seems like you healed up well.”

Your cheeks ignite, embarrassed by the reminder of your tumble. That shame shortly turns into anger, and you’re quick to throw it in his face.

“Yeah, and it seems like you finally know how to play piano, huh? No messing up?”

“Oh baby, daddy never messes up by accident.”

Indignation rises in your chest at Adam's casual confession that he's been deliberately messing with your music. The realization blooms on your face, and Adam smirks, clearly enjoying your reaction.

Just as you're about to take off one of your ballet slippers and give him a well-deserved bitch slap, Miss Nicole, your instructor, signals for class to begin. With a final glare at Adam, you take your place at the barre, forcing yourself to focus on the exercises ahead.

You spend the entire class wishing you were in tap, imagining the satisfying clatter of metal taps scuffing up the floor. Instead, you're stuck in ballet, with Adam just a few feet away, his presence a constant reminder of your frustration. You do your best to channel your rage into your dance, pushing yourself harder with each movement. The burn of exercise helps somewhat, providing a physical outlet for your anger. Your muscles ache as you stretch deeper into each plié and extend further in every arabesque.

By the time it’s your turn to work the combination, the anger has faded to a dull background hum. You step up, squaring your shoulders and prepping your feet before beginning.

Your chasse leads you into a middle leap. As you ascend, it feels good, almost as if nothing can touch you while you’re in the air.

Adam is a rude reminder that you are not.

But then, mid-leap, the music jarringly falters. You miss a beat, your landing is shaky, and the momentary lapse causes you to stumble. He had done it again, intentionally disrupting the music. It takes every ounce of your self-control not to let it throw you off further. You manage to avoid a full-on trip and finish your combination, but the disruption leaves you seething. As you head over to grab your water bottle, you glare daggers at Adam, who, despite appearing focused on the keys, is clearly smiling to himself.

One of these days, you think, you’re going to wipe that smug smirk off his face.

Class wraps up, and you see the clock signaling the end of the session. Why not today? The thought plants itself firmly in your mind. You decide it’s time to confront him directly.

As the other students start to filter out, you march over to the piano, your anger giving you a surge of confidence. Adam looks up, still smirking.

“What is up with you trying to sabotage me?” you demand, your voice edged with frustration.

He has the nerve to act confused. “Whaaaat? Lil’ ol’ me? I’d never! When have I even tried?”

“Just now. And my fucking audition.”

“Okay but is it really sabotage if you got the part? Think about it— maybe they were impressed with the way you continued on. Maybe I helped you,” he retorts, his tone flippant and infuriatingly smug.

Your jaw tightens, struggling to contain your anger. You take a deep breath, trying to keep your composure. “Impressed or not, you had no right to mess with my audition. It was unprofessional and disrespectful.”

Adam shrugs nonchalantly, not appearing at all remorseful. “Hey, it’s a tough world out there. Gotta learn to roll with the punches, sweetheart.”

“There’s a special place in hell for you.” It’s a low blow and you know it. But you get the reaction you’ve been waiting for, his nostrils flaring with offense.

“Bitch, you care way too much about college-level theatre.”

“At least I care about something other than myself,” you snap back.

“Aw, baby,” he drawls, leaning back and crossing his arms, “I can put some extra care towards you. Lay you out all nice for me, make you see heaven. Prove to you I can take care of you. Might make you beg a bit.”

“Eat a dick.”

“I know what you are, but what am I?” he retorts, a childish grin spreading across his face.

“That doesn’t even make sense!” you exclaim, exasperated.

Before the argument can escalate further, your ballet instructor, Miss Nicole, approaches. “Is there a problem here?” she asks, concern etched on her face. You stumble over your words, caught off guard by her sudden appearance and the need to explain the confrontation.

“No ma’am! Just some classic friendly bickering. You know how it is! We were just about to head out and grab some lunch, weren’t we?” Adam interjects smoothly, throwing you a glance that suggests you go along with his narrative.

You grit your teeth, seething at his audacity, but reluctantly nod in agreement, knowing you can’t contradict him in front of your instructor. The last thing you need is to cause a scene and get thrown out from the class.

“Yep. Just….bickering,” you reply through gritted teeth, your frustration simmering beneath the surface.

“Ah. It’s nice to see you getting along with our accompanist. I was a bit worried how everyone would treat him. Where are you going to get lunch?” your ballet instructor asks, oblivious to the tension between you and Adam.

“The campus cafe,” Adam responds smoothly, suddenly looking smug as if he’s won some sort of victory.

“Oh! I was walking that way. Mind if I join you on the walk? I’d like to talk to you about our future classes, Adam,” she says cheerfully, turning to you both.

You go to interject, to protest adamantly that this is NOT okay. But before you can speak up, Adam beats you to it. “Of course! We don’t mind, do we, babes?” he says, flashing a faux-charming smile in your direction.

You clench your fists at your sides, seething with anger at being maneuvered into this situation. With a forced smile, you nod curtly, not trusting yourself to speak.

"Great!" Your instructor claps her hands together in excitement, seemingly pleased with the arrangement.

The three of you walk. Adam seems effortlessly engaged, occasionally nodding and adding insightful comments. Meanwhile, you follow along half-heartedly, tuning out most of the conversation as your frustration with Adam continues to simmer.

You try to focus on the scenery passing by, the rhythmic sound of your footsteps, anything to distract yourself from the situation at hand. However, snippets of their conversation still reach you, reminders that Adam's presence is more entrenched in your academic life now than ever.

“So Adam, are you also the accompanist for the voice recital?” Miss Nicole asks, navigating the three of you past a group of what you assume to be freshmen.

“Oh, no ma’am. One of my classmates beat me to the punch,” Adam responds.

"Really?" Miss Nicole raises an eyebrow. "I thought for sure you'd be the first in line for that."

Adam shrugs, glancing at you briefly before turning his attention back to Miss Nicole. "I guess they were just quicker this time."

“Well I’m sure they’ll be good. Just maybe not as good as you,” Miss Nicole says, her tone warm.

You internally roll your eyes. Barf.

Adam seems pleased to hear that, and not just because his ego is getting fed. “Absolutely,” he replies, his smirk widening.

“You’re not a fan of them?” she asks.

Adam cringes. “You could definitely say that.”

“Is it that skinny blond kid? I know we were warned not to pair you two together,” Miss Nicole inquires, her curiosity piqued.

“Worse,” he says, his voice dripping with disdain. “It’s his girlfriend.”

Confusion clouds your expression as this new piece of drama unfolds unexpectedly. “His girlfriend?”

Your voice cuts through the conversation, drawing the attention of both Adam and Miss Nicole. They seem momentarily surprised, as if they had forgotten you were there amidst their discussion.

"I'm surprised you haven't heard about it, considering you two are friends!" Miss Nicole responded, her tone tinged with surprise and a hint of curiosity, her eyebrows arched expectantly.

"I don't think friends is the right word to describe us," you muttered under your breath, though Miss Nicole's sharp ears caught your words. Immediately, she began to backtrack, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I hadn't realized you two were... Well, you know what? That makes much more sense," she stammered, her words rushing out in an attempt to smooth over the awkwardness.

"What makes sense?" Adam asked, his brow furrowing in confusion as he glanced between you and Miss Nicole. Finally, it seemed, both of you were on the same page, even if it was only because you were confused.

"Well, would you look at that!" Miss Nicole diverted suddenly, pointing upwards. Following her finger, you spotted the familiar sign of the campus coffee shop. Finally, your destination had arrived.

"Here's your stop! I'll see you in class! Bye!" Miss Nicole blurted out, her cheeks now a deep shade of red as she hastily retreated. It was almost comical, and a snort of amusement escaped your lips. Even Adam chuckled softly before his expression turned mischievous.

"She totally thinks we're boning," Adam remarked with a smirk, his tone teasing.

Your smile faded instantly, replaced by a look of disdain as you curled your lip in disgust. "As if. You can only wish," you retorted sharply, the implication of Miss Nicole's assumption leaving a weird taste in your mouth. Not unpleasant, but you wish it was.

"Oh?" He challenged, striding ahead to hold the door open for you. "I'm the dick master over here. One of these days, you're gonna be begging and drooling for my dick, and I'm gonna say no, bitch."

You walked past him, rolling your eyes as he followed you into the store. "You've already been drooling for me."

"I drool for everyone," he retorts nonchalantly.

"That—" you pause, scrunching your nose, "that's not something to be proud of."

"So what're you getting?" he asked casually, not-so-subtly cutting in front of you in line. You sighed inwardly, not having the energy to react, so you let him take the lead. It was hard to gauge whether that pleased him or annoyed him.

"Probably just a chai with oat milk," you replied, your voice neutral.

"No food?" he inquired further.

"Eh, I don't know," you shrugged, feeling indifferent. "I don't feel like getting anything."

"Do you think their blueberry scones would be any good?" he asked, his voice contemplative as he eyed the display case of pastries.

You followed his gaze, your mouth watering involuntarily at the sight of the tempting treats. If only your bank account had a bit more padding, you might indulge yourself. A faint rumble from your stomach emphasized the point. "Yeah, they look really good," you admitted wistfully.

He nodded thoughtfully. "Cool, cool," he replied, his tone casual as he continued to scan the assortment of baked goods.

It didn't take long before it was Adam's turn to order. He stepped up to the counter, clearing his throat nervously. Glancing briefly in your direction, he then turned back to the barista.

"Could I get one large frozen hot chocolate, one large iced chai with oat milk, and two blueberry scones? Actually, make it three," he requested.

The barista nodded, punching in the order as Adam glanced back at you briefly, a subtle smile playing on his lips before he focused on completing the transaction. "Man, you must be hungry, huh? Your piano teacher starving you?" you teased lightly, trying to inject some levity into the moment.

"Piano isn’t my only hobby. I only learned because I have to if I want a music major," he replied with a hint of a pout, sinking into a chair. You took the seat across from him, the uncertainty of how to navigate this conversation lingering between you. Bickering was your comfort zone, but this felt like uncharted territory.

"So," you ventured cautiously, hoping to keep the conversation flowing. "Why did you become a music major?"

"I want to be in a band. Well, I am in a band. But I want to write our own music," he answered earnestly, his eyes lighting up with passion.

"Why the minor in religious studies?" you asked, genuinely curious as you leaned forward slightly.

He smirked, pleased that you remembered something about him. "My dad wanted that. It's my backup, I guess. Makes him feel better about paying all this money."

Nodding in understanding, you replied, "Yeah, sometimes I wish I took a minor—Musical Theatre isn’t exactly the most stable major."

"So then why'd you take it?" he probed gently.

You shrugged, a smile playing on your lips. "There isn’t a world in which I don’t do musical theatre."

Adam looked at you for a long second, his gaze almost penetrating, as if he could see right through you. That same unsettling feeling from before crept in, causing you to shift uncomfortably in your seat. However, before the moment could linger, you were saved by the barista calling out Adam’s order. He stood up and headed over to collect the snacks and drinks.

Meanwhile, you tried to steady yourself, willing your thoughts to stop spinning. He was so... infuriating. Yes, that’s it. You were still annoyed from earlier.

But then Adam returned, deftly balancing the tray of food and drinks. The sight of him bringing back lunch for you softened your irritation. Of course, you were grateful. That’s all it was.

The two of you ate in silence. Adam seemed content, devouring his two scones and his drink without a care. On the other hand, you found it difficult to swallow, the food sitting heavy in your stomach. It felt like you were on the brink of a realization, a sensation that made your stomach churn with uncertainty. Still, you weren't about to waste free food.

Once you managed to finish your lunch, you found yourself unexpectedly thanking Adam. Gathering your things, you prepared to leave. However, to your surprise, Adam stood up too.

“So where’s your dorm?” Adam asks, following you out the cafe door.

"We're not having sex," you retort firmly, making your boundaries clear.

"For once, not my intention," Adam replies with a grin, his charm still evident despite your skepticism. "It's getting late, and I'm offering to walk you back."

"It's like 1:30 in the afternoon," you point out, slightly amused by his insistence.

"Exactly," he counters smoothly, his tone making it clear he’s not backing down. "It’s going to get dark soon. Let me walk you home."

You exhale a dramatic sigh, reaching for your dance bag and slinging it over your shoulder with a practiced motion. “Fine. But I expect payment.”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Payment?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, giving him a pointed look as you start heading towards the exit of the café.

“But–” he sputters, his voice trailing off as he rushes to catch up with you. “I’m walking you! What more do you want?”

“That was your own choice!” you call back.

“Okay, fine!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up in exasperation as he falls into step behind you. “How much do you want?!”

You pause mid-stride, causing Adam to almost bump into you. “How much– Adam, I don’t mean actual money. I just meant filling me in on your drama.”

His eyes widen in surprise as he forms a soundless ‘o’ with his mouth. “What, you mean with my ex?”

The two of you begin walking side by side. “The blond guy?” you ask, trying to piece together the details.

Adam scratches his beard scruff, his expression thoughtful. “No, well—no, I mean his girlfriend.”

You cringe slightly, trying to wrap your head around his words. “His girlfriend is your ex?”

Adam nods, looking somewhat resigned. “Uh huh.”

You frown.

When you arrive at your residence hall, you invite Adam to walk you to your room. His smile widens into a sharp grin as he agrees, and you both head up to your floor.

As you reach your door, Adam pulls out his phone, and you hear the distinct sound of a camera shutter. You glance at him, puzzled, but he doesn’t explain. Before you can ask, he starts to say his goodbyes, but you quickly shut the door in his face. The click of the latch echoes in the hallway,

–

You were backstage, flipping through the program selection, counting down how many performers were left until it was your turn to go onstage and sing. Voice recitals always made you nervous, despite knowing this was what you hoped to do for a living. The pressure for your notes to be pitch-perfect, the intense focus on your singing—it all weighed heavily on you.

Months of preparation with your vocal coach had gone into this moment. Together, you had meticulously chosen and honed your repertoire, though you only got to perform your favorite piece tonight. The culmination of all those hours spent practicing, tweaking, and perfecting was now just minutes away.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. The murmur of the audience beyond the curtain was a constant reminder of the scrutiny you were about to face. You glanced around, taking in the familiar backstage chaos—the hurried whispers, the rustling of sheet music, the occasional burst of nervous laughter from other performers.

So far, only two people were left before it was your turn. If you really paid attention, you could strain your ears and hear the beginning notes of "Some Enchanted Evening" from South Pacific. Your shoulders bounced in a silent laugh—what a classic choice.

The girl after him sang "Memory" from Cats, another timeless and powerful piece. As she exited the stage and entered the wings, she patted your back and gave you a thumbs up for encouragement. You grinned and whispered back, "Great job," before puffing out your chest and walking on stage.

The lights were bright, the audience a dim blur beyond their glow. You took your position at the center, feeling the familiar thrill of anticipation mixed with nerves.

Your vocal coach was busy introducing you and your piece—I Don’t Need a Roof from Big Fish—so you looked at the pianist.

Otherwise known as Adam’s ex.

Something about the thought pissed you off, but you refused to delve deeper into it. Her name was Lilith, and she was, without better words, hot. Which pissed you off even more. You dreamed about grabbing her by her waist-length hair and demanding to know how someone like her managed to date someone like Adam.

…Because she was totally out of his league, that’s all. You were just curious, yep. It’s not like the thought of her dating him filled you with this indescribable rage, something that felt so incredibly close to jealousy. She was hot, Adam was hot, and you... were not.

Lilith glanced up from where she was hunched over the piano, scanning your sheet music and cracking her knuckles. Seemingly unaware of your torturous thoughts, she offered you a small wave. The gesture made you feel incredibly guilty, and you forced yourself to smile back.

At that moment, your vocal coach seemed to have finished with the introductions, stepping off to the side of the stage to watch you. She gave you a wink of encouragement, and you took a deep breath, centering yourself.

Those past months of technique training come to mind, and you breathe out. You relax any tension in your shoulders before expanding your diaphragm, and start singing. Of course, you’re still a musical theatre major, so you act alongside the song. As you began to sing, you immersed yourself fully in the piece. The familiar lyrics and melody took over, carrying you along in a blur of emotion and intensity. You lost yourself in the character and story of the song, each word infused with meaning and purpose.

It goes by in a blur, too caught up in the song to really be conscious of what’s happening, but something feels wrong.

The piano.

It’s not as if Lilith is bad. Quite the opposite, actually. She’s practically perfect, understanding each breath mark and each shift in dynamics. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say the two of y’all work extremely well together.

Except… something is missing.

You don’t feel the music in your soul, like you did that one time in class. When Adam was playing. And even if Lilith is objectively better at piano than he is, it’s missing his spark. The final notes hung in the air, leaving you with a sense of dissatisfaction. In your own critical assessment, it felt like the worst performance you had ever given at a voice recital.

Someone seems to disagree though.

Hidden a few rows back in the audience, Adam suddenly leapt to his feet in raucous applause. His gesture, though likely intended to embarrass you, had an unexpected effect. Instead of feeling self-conscious, a smile spreads across your face. You were delightedly surprised to see him here, especially since Lilith, his ex, was seated right behind you.

As you listened to Lilith mumble something under her breath, your attention was drawn back to Adam in the audience. He was enthusiastically encouraging others to stand and applaud, and though most remained seated, a few near him joined in. When he called out your name, you waved your hand down at your side, a mix of amusement and exasperation at his antics.

His gesture, though somewhat obnoxious, strangely warmed your heart. Despite his teasing and occasional insensitivity, there was something endearing about Adam's unabashed support. He had come all this way just to see you sing—or at least that's what you hoped. Sure, he might be here for other performers or academic reasons, but the idea that he might have shown up primarily for you filled you with unexpected warmth.

As you processed these conflicting emotions, a sigh escaped your lips. Adam was, in many ways, a complicated presence in your life. His unpredictability, his charm, and yes, his 24/7 dickish behavior kept you on your toes. But underneath it all, there was a connection that you couldn’t deny, something past just irritation.

…

Fuck.

–

It's finally a rehearsal where you're called to the stage. The moment you've been waiting for, to step into the character's shoes and bring the scene to life. But for now, you're off to the side, nestled in a comfortable chair, flipping through your script and silently rehearsing your lines. The stage is a hive of activity, filled with the sounds of crew members adjusting lights, actors practicing their entrances and exits, and the director calling out instructions.

Right now, you’re using a facial steamer to help your lungs recover after a night of smoking weed with friends—which, in your opinion, is a good summary of theatre kids. The steamer emits a gentle mist, soothing your throat and helping you clear your lungs for the rigorous rehearsal ahead.

As you look over the steamer, eyeing the lines in your script, you quietly mumble the lines to yourself. Each word feels foreign at first, rolling off your tongue with an unfamiliar cadence. You're determined not to lock in one specific delivery, knowing that variability will keep your performance fresh and dynamic for the show.

You glance up from your script, noting how they’re almost up to your first line. The realization sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine, a delightful excitement curling in your stomach. You’re totally gonna blow the socks off of everyone here.

Speaking of people being here, Adam is in the audience. You aren’t really sure why, considering it’s just a blocking rehearsal. All you know is you'd prefer for him to be literally anywhere else. Ever since you found out you don't hate him as much as you thought you did, you’ve been avoiding the hell out of him.

This strategy has definitely worked against you. Adam probably thinks you're playing mind games with him, ignoring him just to get under his skin. He’s been working hard to try and catch your attention—apparently going as far as to show up to rehearsals. During breaks, you hear him call out to you, likely saying something provocative to get a reaction, but you always turn the other way.

Yes, you feel bad. No, you won’t stop.

The director calls for you, snapping you out of your thoughts. As you flip to the right page in your script, you feel Adam’s eyes boring holes into you from his seat in the audience. You awkwardly clear your throat, doing your best to ignore the sensation of his gaze, and instead focus on preparing for your section of the scene.

The director walks Quinn through Seymour’s blocking for this scene, giving detailed instructions and adjusting positions to ensure everything flows smoothly. You try to stay present, listening closely, but the awareness of Adam’s presence is a persistent distraction.

Finally, the director finishes with Quinn and calls for the two of you to begin. So… you do.

“Oh boy,” Quinn starts, reading the lines off his slightly crumpled page. “Here we go again. Look, I haven't got much left. Just give me a few more days to heal, okay? Then we'll start again on the left hand and—”

“Feed me!” you whine, your voice taking on a pleading, almost desperate tone. It feels good, acting. Not just good, but right. Like stepping into a pair of pajama pants fresh out of the dryer. The warmth of the role envelops you, and the words flow naturally, embodying the character’s urgency and need.

As you continue the scene, there’s a spark of energy between you and Quinn. The two of you effortlessly bounce off each other, each line building on the last, creating a dynamic and engaging interaction. You internally fist pump in victory.

However, you make the mistake of glancing out into the audience and meeting the eye of none other than Adam. Lately, since you’ve been ignoring him, he’s been wearing this resting pouty face that sort of looks like he sucked on a lemon. But not now. Watching the two of you, his eyebrows are raised as if he’s impressed.

You watch as he realizes you're looking back at him, and his expression shifts into something upset. The sudden change throws you off balance, and you stumble over your line. Embarrassed, you quickly avert your eyes to your script, desperately trying to find your place.

Quinn, sensing your struggle, tries his best to help by repeating his line. Your finger traces the lines on the page until you find where you left off. Taking a deep breath, you catch up, delivering your line as if nothing had happened. The brief disruption had felt like an eternity, but you manage to slip back into character, focusing on the scene and Quinn’s supportive presence.

The director, who had been watching closely, gives a small nod of approval as you recover. The scene continues, the rhythm gradually restoring itself.

You’re beating yourself up, disappointed in yourself for getting flustered. You need to get your head in the game–you’re paying a pretty penny to learn how to be the best performer, not whatever that was back there. You need to get it together, unless you want your director to replace you. That thought fills you with fear.

But then your blame shifts to Adam, and that fear transforms into anger, even though it shouldn’t. It’s easier to be angry with Adam than it is to feel the embarrassment and self-doubt that were creeping in.

You clench your fists, letting the anger simmer. It’s a distraction, but one you can channel. You mentally replay the scene, pinpointing where you stumbled and how Adam’s presence threw you off. The frustration fuels a determination to not let it happen again.

So when your director calls for a water break, you gracefully exit from the side stage and make your way towards the audience area. The theater is a hive of activity during the break, with cast and crew members scattered around, discussing scenes in hushed tones. You find your water bottle among the clutter of chairs

Chugging down over half of it in one go, you feel the cool liquid refresh your parched throat. As you lower your bottle and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, you suddenly come face to face with Adam. He’s standing there, leaning nonchalantly against a nearby chair, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

For a moment, you just stare at each other, the air thick with unspoken tension. You resist the urge to say something biting, reminding yourself to stay composed in the professional setting of rehearsal. Instead, you give a curt nod, acknowledging his presence without inviting further conversation.

Adam’s smirk widens slightly, as if he’s enjoying the discomfort he’s causing.

“So, gonna blame me for sabotage with that one, too?” Adam quips, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans closer.

You roll your eyes and turn away, not in the mood for his teasing.

“Hey,” he whines, reaching out to grab your arm, but you pull away, annoyed. “Don’t be like that. I was only joking.”

“Piss off, Adam,” you retort, frustration bubbling up. “I’m trying to memorize my lines.”

“What, are your lines written in your water bottle?”

You glare at him over your shoulder. “Maybe.”

He laughs. “Yeah, you are definitely crazy enough to do that. How about we grab dinner after this and I can help you run lines.” He walks his fingers up your arm slowly. “And then maybe after dinner… we can have dessert…”

You flick his hand away, irritation simmering beneath your glare. His attempt at humor falls flat, and you feel a pang of hurt at how he’s toying with you, even if he doesn’t realize it. “Haha, very funny,” you retort dryly, crossing your arms defensively.

He frowns, but before you can respond, the director calls for places at the top of what you’ve blocked today. You peel yourself away from Adam and head to your seat on the side stage.

With Adam, it feels like one step forward and thirteen steps back.

–

You were still avoiding Adam, but he finally seemed to take the hint and left you alone. Occasionally, you’d catch him glancing at you from the corner of your eye, but whenever you turned to look, he’d quickly avert his gaze.

Rehearsals had been... okay. No matter how hard you tried and how much effort you put into it, it felt like none of it mattered. You weren't getting Audrey II down, and it was plain frustrating. The other cast members seemed to be finding their grooves, their characters coming to life in ways that left you feeling envious and disheartened. The role you had worked so hard for, the one you were so excited about, seemed to be slipping through your fingers.

You’d run through your lines over and over, trying different inflections, different approaches, but nothing seemed to click. It felt like you were hitting a wall, and every attempt to break through only left you more battered and bruised. The director's notes, meant to be constructive, started to feel like a litany of your failures.

The only thing you could fault was yourself. There were points where you would leave rehearsal in frustrated tears, feeling utterly defeated.

At one point, you had made the mistake of walking past Adam during one of those tearful nights. He stepped in front of you and blocked your path, his presence a sudden and unwelcome barrier. You could feel the heat of your frustration and sadness rising, threatening to boil over. The urge to scream at him, to lay into him and unload all your pent-up emotions, was almost overwhelming. Especially when he was looking at you with eyes full of pity, a look that made your skin crawl.

Instead, you swallowed it down, forcing the words to stay trapped in your throat. The effort it took to hold back was physically painful, like swallowing shards of glass. You clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms, and shoved past him with a force that surprised even you. He let you go, not saying a word, just watching you with that same pitying look that made you want to scream.

Today, though, was going to be a good day. The cast was scheduled to meet the band that would be playing for the show, and you were determined to make the most of it. You had been looking forward to this day, hoping that the energy and enthusiasm of the musicians might reignite your own excitement for the production.

As you arrived at the rehearsal space, you could already hear the faint sounds of instruments being tuned and tested. The anticipation in the air was palpable, and it gave you a much-needed boost. You spotted Sam, one of your acquaintances, setting up their drum kit with a focused expression. When you found out they had volunteered to help out, you had immediately warned them of Adam.

"Where's Adam?" you ask Quinn urgently, scanning the room for any sign of him. The last thing you want is to have driven him away from the show with your own behavior– you’d never forgive yourself.

"Aw, I knew you cared about me."

Startled, you spin around to find Adam standing right behind you. His smirk is evident, and you realize with relief that he hasn't left after all. On his back is an instrument case, not the familiar piano you've grown accustomed to seeing him with.

You purse your lips, still mulling over Adam's earlier comment. This conversation is the most you've engaged with him since that rehearsal.

"I thought you were our pianist," you finally manage to say, trying to sound casual despite the lingering tension between you.

Adam tilts his head, his expression shifting from playful to more serious. "For the extra credit. But piano isn't really my first choice. I learned it for music theory purposes."

Quinn chimes in, always eager to fill the silence. "So if you're not on piano duty for the band..."

Adam readjusts the strap of his instrument case, his grin widening mischievously. "I'm on guitar, obviously," he declares, a hint of pride in his voice.

That… actually makes a lot of sense. He doesn't fit the typical image of a pianist; his personality is more intense and unpredictable. You mentally correct yourself, aware of not stereotyping, but Adam's demeanor aligns more with someone wielding a guitar, ready to bring an edgier vibe to the performances. The image of him strumming away fills your mind, and you find yourself fighting the urge to bite your lip at the thought, because, well, yoohoo! Adam is right there.

Sadai bounds up to the three of you, playfully knocking Quinn on the upside of his head as she enters. Quinn, caught off guard, lets out an unattractive squawk that makes her giggle. Honestly, there’s something there that even you can see. And looking across at Adam, he sees it too.

He opens his mouth to say something, you assume to make a teasing remark on their romantic life, but you instead smack him on his head. Instead of a squawk, he lets out a huff of a laugh. He looks less pissed that you hit him, and more pleased to have your attention.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Quinn and Sadai share a knowing look. Are you that obvious? Embarrassed, you grab Adam by the sleeve and tug him away. Adam, still preening under the attention no matter how harsh, obediently follows you. Once you’re a reasonable distance away, you remove your grasp and it makes Adam frown.

“Listen. I know you have a big, trashy mouth—”

“You love it,” he interrupts with a grin.

“—And maybe no one has smacked actual sense into you—”

“You have,” he quips again.

“—Stop interrupting,” you glare, cutting him off. “But if you intervene in whatever the two of them have going on, I’ll personally murder you myself. Let them figure it out themselves, without any side comments from you.”

He raises an eyebrow, but mimes zipping up his mouth and throwing away the key.

Your glare is still flat. “Do I make myself clear?”

He points to his still zipped mouth and makes muffled noises. Annoyed, you roll your eyes before digging into your pocket for the key. You pantomime unlocking and unzipping his mouth. “You’re hot when you take charge.”

Exasperated, you lock and zip his mouth again, this time tossing the imaginary key as far as you can. Adam pretends to look shocked, making exaggerated muffled noises between his closed lips. You raise an eyebrow, silently repeating your earlier question. He sighs dramatically, as if accepting defeat, before slowly nodding his head in agreement.

In appreciation, you gently pat his cheek and he leans into it. You quickly redraw your hand, feeling your face burning up, before you march off back to your friends. You see the question on their faces, but they never get the chance to ask because your director is calling for everyone’s attention.

As she talks, you see a clump of music students behind her– Adam and Sam included. Using the basic common sense you sometimes have, you’re able to deduce that this is y’alls band. Despite most likely volunteering for extra credit, they seem excitable. Well, minus Adam, but he doesn’t count.

After introductions, your director has the brilliant idea to let the musicians show off. They set up in the pit, adjusting and tuning their instruments. Although they don’t have their conductor with them, they feel confident enough to perform the title song.

Adam and Sam take their positions, with Adam adjusting his guitar strap with practiced ease while Sam eagerly checks the tuning of their drums. The other musicians, a mix of eager students, also seem ready, their faces showing a combination of nerves and excitement.

As they begin to play the title song of the musical, the auditorium fills with the lively melody. Despite the absence of their conductor, the musicians manage to synchronize well, each instrument blending harmoniously with the others. Adam’s fingers move deftly over the strings of his guitar, adding a distinct flair to the music, while Sam’s drumming provides a steady backbone to the ensemble.

The image of Adam with his guitar has absolutely nothing on the actual sight of it. He looks, for lack of better words, sick as fuck. Incredibly hot. You feel yourself getting hot under the collar the longer you watch him.

His concentration is palpable as he strums the strings, his fingers moving with a practiced grace that speaks of hours spent honing his skill. The way his hair falls across his forehead, the slight furrow of his brow in concentration, and the way he leans into each note—all of it adds to his allure.

You’re really fucked.

–

Fortunately for you, the band wasn’t called back until the sitzprobe in a week, so Adam was back to playing the role of accompanist. Although you couldn’t wipe the image of him shredding the guitar, at least you weren’t getting distracted at rehearsals.

Considering how close you all were to tech week, rehearsals had been extended an extra few hours. The long hours were grueling, but you pushed through, knowing it was all for the final performance. Today’s run-through was particularly intense, leaving everyone exhausted and hungry.

After rehearsal, someone suggested grabbing dinner together, and the idea was quickly embraced by the group. It seemed like a good way to unwind and bond after a tough day of work. As you gathered your things, you noticed Adam packing up his sheet music, glancing at you every now and then with that familiar smirk.

“Ready to grab some food?” Quinn asked, nudging you gently.

“Yeah, I could eat a horse,” you replied, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

The cast and crew gradually made their way out of the rehearsal space, chatting and laughing about the day’s mishaps and triumphs. You tried to avoid Adam’s gaze, but you could feel him watching you. He was always watching. You wondered what the dinner would be like with him there, knowing his penchant for stirring the pot. But maybe, just maybe, you’d all have a nice, drama-free meal.

For whatever reason, Chili’s had been chosen as the restaurant for the evening, and the thought of their triple dipper had your mouth watering. Quinn had kindly offered to drive, and you gratefully accepted, settling into the passenger seat and buckling up. As Quinn gripped the steering wheel, he paused, not making a move to start the car. Concerned, you turn to him.

“Quinn? You okay there?”

“I have something to admit.” his voice was serious, the most serious you’ve ever heard him. He was avoiding your gaze, and alarms were sounding in your head.

“...Okaaaaay?” you encouraged him to continue.

“I… hm.. I..” he took a deep breath before blurting it out. “I have feelings for Sadai!”

You stared at him… Did he not think you could tell? You had to stop yourself from laughing, as he was obviously distressed. Instead, you placed your hand on his shoulder. “Quinn, dude, I know.”

Quinn's eyes widened in surprise, and his grip on the steering wheel loosened slightly. “You know?”

You nodded, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah, it’s pretty obvious. The way you look at her, the way you act around her—it’s clear as day.”

He let out a breath he seemed to have been holding. “I thought I was hiding it well.”

You chuckled softly. “You’re not. And you know what? I think she might feel the same way about you. You should talk to her.”

Quinn finally started the car, a small smile forming on his lips. “Thank god.”

“I’m rootin’ for ya.”

As you drove to Chili’s, you felt a sense of hope for Quinn. Maybe things were finally falling into place for him.

When you arrived at the restaurant, the rest of the cast was already there, chatting and laughing. You spotted Adam at the end of the table, waving you over. At first, you ignored him, glancing around for other open seats. However, it seemed fate was against you, as those were the only two seats open. You sighed, making your way over to him. His smile widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes that you were starting to recognize all too well.

Sadai, who was seated next to him, perked up at the sight of you and Quinn. Or, you know what, maybe just Quinn. He froze up in response, so you pushed him down to sit across from her. You plopped yourself in the seat next to him… which was, of course, across from Adam.

Great.

You took a seat next to Quinn, who was looking more relaxed than you’d seen him in a while. “Feeling better?” you asked.

He nodded, glancing at Sadai who got dragged into a conversation with the group next to her. “Yeah. I think I will talk to her.”

Adam leaned over, grinning. “What’s the gossip?”

“None of your business,” you replied, shoving him away.

“Aw,” he whined. “I was nice enough to save you seats, and this is how you treat me?”

You raise an eyebrow in disbelief. “You saved a seat for me?”

“Yep.” he popped the p. “Had to make sure I had eye candy while I ate.”

Adam’s attempt at humor fell flat, and you found yourself frowning, feeling the familiar urge to shut down again. "Gross," you muttered under your breath, not appreciating his comment.

Despite his usual dense demeanor, Adam seemed to sense he had said the wrong thing, even if he didn’t fully grasp why. His expression shifted, suddenly looking bashful. “Besides, you three are the only people who talk to me here. Theatre kids are very...”

He trailed off, searching for the right word while you waited, arms crossed.

“Clique-y?” you finished for him, understanding all too well the feeling of being an outsider. His admission struck a pang of guilt within you. You realized you had been ignoring him, afraid to confront your own romantic feelings. It hadn’t occurred to you how this might have made Adam feel, especially since apparently you were his only "friends" in the theatre department.

He smiled lightheartedly, clearly not deterred by the topic. “Yeah, that’s the word.”

Quinn awkwardly cleared his throat, and you jumped, realizing you had forgotten he was there. You had gotten a little too wrapped up in your vulnerable conversation with Adam.

“Um, sorry to interrupt,” Quinn said with a hint of amusement, “but can we get back to the menu? I’m starving.”

You blinked, feeling slightly embarrassed by the abrupt shift in focus. “Right, sorry. Food. Yes.”

Adam chuckled softly. “Food sounds good. What’re y’all getting?”

Quinn is the first to respond. “I wanna try their quesadillas.”

You nod. “I want to get the triple dipper, but I’m stuck between getting the mozzarella sticks, or the eggrolls.”

Adam paused, gluing his eyes to his menu as he talked. “Get the eggrolls.”

You sigh, nodding your head in agreement. It did feel strange to be getting along with Adam like friends after all the tension between you. You weren’t sure how to navigate a conversation with him without being rude or defensive. Well, guess you’ll have to learn.

Eventually the waiter makes his way to the end of the table where y’all are sat. Adam is the last to order. As the waiter writes down his food, Adam clears his throat.

“Um,” he glances at you before looking back at the waiter. “Can you also add an order of mozzarella sticks? We’re gonna share,” he gestures to you. “Put it on my tab though.”

Your jaw slightly drops as the waiter scampers off. Apparently Quinn is just as shocked, as he nudges you under the table, out of Adam’s view. At your reaction, Adam becomes defensive. “What?”

His remark catches you off guard, but you resist the urge to retort with something sharp, something that would escalate into banter. Instead, you find yourself smiling genuinely at him, a gesture of gratitude you hadn't anticipated making. It feels different, acknowledging his gesture without a layer of sarcasm or defensiveness.

"Thank you," you say, the words soft but sincere. There's a flicker of surprise in Adam's eyes, quickly replaced by a faint smirk that hints at his usual playful demeanor.

"You're welcome," he replies casually, though his tone holds a hint of something softer beneath the surface.

Quinn, sensing the shift in dynamics, nudges you lightly again under the table, his silent approval evident. You keep your gaze on Adam, meeting his eyes for a brief moment before looking away, the weight of unspoken words lingering between you.

Sadai, unaware of the weird tension, turns to the three of you. “Okay guys, help me out. Is Hamilton technically an opera.”

Quinn guffaws, caught off guard by the question. Or maybe he’s just flustered, you can’t ever be too sure. Adam just narrows his brows.

You, on the other hand, nod your head. “It’s a rap opera– it’s completely sung through. Just like how Rent is a rock opera. Duh.”

“Thank you!” Sadai exclaims, clearly relieved to have you on her side. “They’re trying to tell me I’m wrong!”

She turns back to her group, her expression a mix of concentration and amusement as she engages in the lively debate. You and Quinn exchange a glance, silently observing the group.

Suddenly, a light tap on your head breaks your focus. You instinctively turn, catching sight of Adam across the table. He sits with a mischievous grin, busily rolling up straw wrappers into small projectiles. With practiced precision, he flicks them in your direction, each one landing with a gentle thud against your shoulder or bouncing off your arm.

You deftly dodge one of the trash balls, your reflexes kicking in as you narrowly avoid being hit again. "How did you even get those?" you ask incredulously, amusement dancing in your eyes despite the slight annoyance.

"I asked for a bunch before you got here," he replies nonchalantly, launching another wrapper ball in your direction. This time, it catches you off guard and smacks you square in the nose, prompting an involuntary grumble and a playful pout.

Before you can retaliate, another wrapper ball grazes your arm. Determined not to be outdone, you swiftly grab one from the table and send it sailing back towards Adam with a flick of your wrist. The small projectile arcs through the air, landing neatly in his lap with a satisfying thud.

Adam chuckles "Nice shot,"

You smile, finding yourself surprisingly enjoying the playful banter with Adam. Despite his occasional crudeness, his sense of fun is infectious. As you glance over at Sadai and Quinn engrossed in their conversation, a smirk tugs at your lips. It seems Adam has noticed too, his sly expression indicating he's been watching your reactions closely.

With a casual flick of his fingers, Adam pulls out his phone and swiftly types a message before sliding it across the table to you. You pick it up and read the screen.

‘Are they together now or what?’

You slide his phone back, shaking your head. "You're such a gossip, Adam."

He pretends to look offended. "Hey, curiosity killed the cat– but satisfaction brought it back."

As the waiter sets down the plate of mozzarella sticks between you, you and Adam both reach for one almost simultaneously. He's quick to grab one, popping it into his mouth with a satisfied crunch. Following suit, you dip yours into the marinara sauce before taking a bite, savoring the gooey cheese and crispy coating.

Mid-chew, you notice Adam staring at you with a peculiar expression. You tilt your head in silent question, wondering what has caught his attention. Without warning, he leans forward, and you freeze, unsure of his intentions. His hand gently cups your chin, and with a surprising tenderness, he uses his finger to swipe at the corner of your mouth, where a smear of marinara sauce has escaped your notice.

The brief touch feels oddly intimate.

All too soon, he leans back to his seat, bringing his hand with him.

"You had sauce there," Adam says with a smirk.

Is…

Is he flirting…?

The realization sends a thrill through you.

The rest of dinner goes on without a hitch. You and Adam keep flirting– at least you think so. But based on how Quinn keeps sending you looks, you’d say you weren’t wrong. However, with all the water you’ve chugged, you get up to use the restroom. Quinn, probably determined to talk to you about Adam, practically leaps up from his chair, offering to join you.

You accept.

As you make your way to the restroom with Quinn trailing behind, you notice him shooting furtive glances back at the table where Adam sits. The restaurant's ambiance wraps around you, filled with muted conversations and the clinking of cutlery. Quinn waits until you're both out of earshot from the table before he speaks up.

"So, what's going on with you and Adam?" Quinn asks, his voice low but filled with curiosity.

You pause, considering how much you want to share. Quinn has been your friend for a while now, always there with a supportive shoulder or a witty remark when needed. "I don't know," you finally admit, trying to sort through your own thoughts. "It's... complicated."

Quinn raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix of amusement and concern. "Complicated how?"

"I used to really dislike him," you begin, your words slow and thoughtful. "But lately, things have been different. He's been... different. I guess I've been different too."

Quinn nods, understanding dawning on his face. "So, are you saying there's something between you two now?"

You hesitate, unsure of how to answer. "I honestly don't know, Quinn. Sometimes it feels like we're on the same wavelength, and other times..." You trail off, not wanting to voice your uncertainty aloud.

He nods again, his gaze thoughtful. "Well, just be careful," Quinn advises gently. "You know Adam can be unpredictable."

You sigh, feeling the weight of his words. "I know. That's what makes this all so confusing."

Quinn gives you a reassuring smile. "Just take it slow, okay? Figure out what you really want and go from there."

"Thanks, Quinn," you say sincerely, grateful for his support.

You step into the restroom, taking a moment to freshen up before heading back out to join Quinn. There's a smile on your face, anticipation building as you look forward to rejoining Adam and continuing the lively atmosphere at the table. As you walk back towards your group, you feel a rush of excitement.

However, as you approach the table where everyone is seated, you suddenly come to a halt.

You freeze in your tracks, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach as you watch Adam leaning in close to Sadai, his fingers toying with her braids. The sight hits you like a punch to the gut, shattering the good mood you had moments ago. For a split second, you feel a surge of anger and betrayal, mixed with a pang of hurt that catches you off guard.

Quinn notices your sudden change in demeanor and follows your gaze to Adam and Sadai. He frowns, sensing the tension in the air. "Hey," he murmurs softly, touching your arm gently. "Are you okay?"

You swallow hard, trying to push down the swirling emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "I... I don't know," you manage to reply, your voice wavering slightly. “Are you?”

Adam and Sadai seem engrossed in their conversation, oblivious to your presence. The image of Adam flirting with Sadai stings, igniting a mixture of jealousy and frustration within you. You had started to feel a connection with Adam, and now it feels like a slap in the face to see him cozying up to someone else so effortlessly.

“Not really.”

You stand there, frozen in place, as Adam and Sadai continue their animated conversation, completely absorbed in each other's company. Quinn's quiet admission hangs in the air, echoing in your mind as you watch Sadai laugh at something Adam says, playfully smacking his arm. The joy on Adam's face is unmistakable, and in that moment, it feels like a dagger to your heart.

A rush of emotions floods through you—embarrassment, disappointment, and a profound sense of being utterly foolish. You had allowed yourself to get swept up in the playful flirtation with Adam, only to realize now that his attention has shifted elsewhere, toward Sadai. The bile rises in your throat, a bitter taste of rejection and self-doubt washing over you.

You glance at Quinn, who meets your gaze with a sympathetic look, understanding the turmoil churning within you. The urge to turn and walk away tugs at you, to escape this painfully awkward moment. But you stand rooted to the spot, grappling with your emotions and trying to compose yourself.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you reach into your wallet, determined to handle the situation with dignity. Beside you, Quinn does the same, silently acknowledging the need to gracefully exit from what has become an uncomfortable scenario. Together, you count out enough money to cover your meals and leave a generous tip—a gesture of gratitude for feeding the group of loud theatre kids.

With a sense of numb resolve, you make your way back to the table, each step feeling heavier than the last. You avoid making eye contact with Adam and Sadai, focusing instead on the task at hand—settling the bill and preparing to leave. The once vibrant atmosphere around the table now feels tinged with an awkward tension, and you silently curse yourself for letting your emotions get the better of you.

As you approach, you set the money down on the table without a word, your movements deliberate yet distant. Quinn follows suit, his expression mirroring your own subdued demeanor.

As Sadai and Adam remain engrossed in their… position, seemingly oblivious to your departure looming nearby, Adam's intermittent glances in your direction don't go unnoticed.

You instinctively turn away, shielding your face from view, determined to conceal the raw emotion threatening to spill over. You muster a smile as you bid goodbye to the rest of the group.

As you and Quinn make your way out of the restaurant, you're caught in a whirlwind of emotions, trying to maintain your composure despite the disappointment weighing heavily on your heart. As you exit, you catch a glimpse of Adam's face, and for a fleeting moment, you swear you see a frown etched across his features. It's a look of disappointment, unmistakable in its fleeting intensity. Despite your efforts to avoid his gaze, his reaction doesn't escape your notice.

–

The next day brings rehearsal, a welcome distraction from the previous evening's emotional upheaval. You find it easy to avoid Adam; he's at the piano, absorbed in his music, while you remain backstage, clutching your microphone. The distance between you feels like a necessary buffer, allowing you to focus on your part without the complication of seeing him.

You can't help but feel for Quinn, though. He has the unfortunate task of performing a scene that requires him to make out violently with Sadai. This scene had always been your go-to for teasing him, but now the dynamics have shifted. Quinn is doing his best to avoid her backstage, and you choose to keep your observations to yourself, respecting his discomfort.

As you sit there, the quiet moments between cues offer too much space for your thoughts to wander. Each time you think of Sadai, your mind inevitably drifts to her interaction with Adam from the previous night. The memory stirs a sickening emotion within you, a queasy sensation that threatens to unsettle your stomach. The vivid recollection of their interaction gnaws at you, bringing back the bile that rose in your throat.

Your director calls for a water break, and you can't help but watch as Adam immediately stands up. He scans the room, his eyes moving through the various clumps of people, clearly searching for someone—likely you. When he doesn't find what he's looking for, he bangs a fist on the piano in frustration, a gesture that sends a jolt of mixed emotions through you.

As you're absorbed in observing Adam, a sudden presence at your side startles you. You spin around quickly, a small squeal escaping your lips as you come face-to-face with your director. The surprise causes your heart to race, and you notice out of the corner of your eye that Adam's attention has snapped in your direction. Thankfully your director is straight to business… well, once she’s done laughing.

“Sorry, sorry,” she says, wiping away a stray tear from laughing too hard. “I just came to tell you that your puppet is finished. Want to come look at it?”

You nod eagerly, feeling a spark of excitement light up within you. The emotional turmoil from moments before takes a backseat as anticipation takes over. You follow her backstage and into the workshop, your steps quickening with each stride.

As you enter the workshop, your eyes widen in amazement. The puppet, which had only been a concept in your mind and a sketch on paper, now stands before you in all its detailed glory. It's even more impressive than you imagined. Every joint, every feature, every piece of fabric and paint has been meticulously crafted.

"Woah," you breathe, stepping closer to inspect it.

The puppet was a mesmerizing blend of alien grotesquery and organic menace. Standing as the largest iteration of Audrey II, its slender frame defied your expectations, draped in sickly pink with accents of puke yellow that sent a shiver down your spine. The puppet's design looked like it was inspired by a Venus flytrap, with a face that opens like the petal-like maw of a demogorgon.

In other words, it’s sick as fuck.

“Go on ahead, you can touch it.” Your director gives you permission.

Giggling eagerly, you carefully lift one of the plant's roots. To your surprise, it's heavier than expected, its weight adding to the puppet's realistic feel.

You playfully make the root squirm in your hands, marveling at how lifelike the puppet is even in its stationary state. The texture is smooth yet strangely slippery, reminiscent of a reptile's scales. As you manipulate the root, you can’t help but continue to laugh in awe.

“Be careful though,” your director warns. “It’s not completely finished, so it’s easy to tear.”

You nod obediently at your director's warning, fully aware of the delicate craftsmanship that went into creating Audrey II. With careful hands, you gently place the root back onto the workshop's table, ensuring it rests securely.

As you do so, a sense of fondness washes over you. You pat the root gently once, twice. "Goodbye, Audrey II," you murmur softly, your voice filled with a weird mix of affection.

Your director smiles warmly at your gesture, appreciating your connection with the puppet. "You're going to bring it to life on stage," she says encouragingly, her confidence in you evident.

As the rest of rehearsal proceeds smoothly, you notice Quinn standing by the piano, deep in discussion with Adam, probably about the timing in the music. From the subtle shifts in Quinn's demeanor and the tension in Adam's posture, it's clear that the atmosphere between them is strained.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to suck it up like a big boy and offer Quinn some support. Swallowing any residual discomfort, you make your way over to where they're standing, determined to ease the awkwardness if only for a moment.

"Hey, Quinn," you greet him warmly as you approach, flashing a genuine smile that belies the effort it takes to maintain composure. You deliberately avoid making eye contact with Adam, focusing your attention solely on Quinn.

Quinn's relief is palpable as he meets your gaze, a faint smile of gratitude tugging at his lips. "Hey," he responds, his voice carrying a hint of appreciation.

"Have you seen my Audrey II puppet yet?"

Quinn glances at you, a flicker of interest crossing his face. "Oh, did they finally finish it?"

"Yeah, sorta! I was just heading to go look at it again now. Wanna come with?" you offer, hoping to include him in something that might lift his spirits.

He grimaces slightly, apologetically meeting your gaze. "I would, but I HAVE to run through my lines. Sorry, dude.”

"No big!" you reply with a casual shrug, trying to keep the atmosphere light.

“I want to.” Both you and Quinn swivel your heads to Adam. His tone carries a hint of annoyance, likely catching on to the fact that you've been pointedly avoiding him.

“You want to…?” you ask cautiously, unsure of his sudden interest.

“Look. I want to look at the puppet.” Adam interrupts, standing from the piano stool and closing his binder of sheet music. His abruptness catches you off guard, and you awkwardly laugh, glancing over at Quinn for his reaction.

"Are you sure you don’t want to join us?" you hastily interject, silently pleading with Quinn not to leave you alone with Adam.

“Oh uhhhhh yeah sure! Why not! In fact, let’s get the whole cast to come and look!” Quinn exclaims enthusiastically, seizing the opportunity to divert attention away from any potential awkwardness. His declaration gathers the attention of the entire cast, who readily agree to join in.

Grateful for the distraction, you lead the way to the workshop, guiding everyone towards Audrey II. As the group gathers around the puppet, curiosity and excitement fill the air. Conversations bubble up among the cast members, sharing their thoughts and impressions of the intricate design.

When one of your castmates reaches out to touch the puppet, you instinctively slap their hand away. “Don’t touch it— it’s still fragile,” you caution, a hint of protectiveness in your voice.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Adam raising a brow as your castmate apologizes and joins the rest of the crowd to ogle at Audrey II.

After a few minutes of everyone marveling at Audrey II, they begin to file out of the workshop one by one. You watch the group gradually disperse, feeling a mix of relief and lingering excitement from the shared experience.

Turning back for one last look at Audrey II, you take a moment to soak in the puppet's eerie beauty and the significance it holds for the upcoming production. As you start to turn away, ready to join the others, your heart skips a beat and you clutch your shirt, a startled shriek escaping your lips.

Adam is still there.

His presence catches you completely off guard, the sudden realization causing a jolt of embarrassment to course through you. You hadn't noticed him lingering behind, and now he stands alone in the workshop, observing Audrey II with a thoughtful expression.

You could've sworn Adam had exited with the rest of the group, but there he stands, still in the workshop. Your attempt at a polite smile falters as you realize he’s holding one of the puppet’s roots.

"Adam, put that down," you warn firmly.

"Why should I?" Adam retorts, a playful glint in his eyes as he continues to hold onto Audrey II's root.

"It's not yours," you state matter-of-factly, trying to maintain your composure despite the frustration creeping in.

"Technically not yours either," Adam teases, a smirk playing on his lips.

You bristle at his response, the playful banter hitting a nerve. "It's my character.”

"And yet you don't move the puppets even once.”

"Adam," you warn, your patience wearing thin.

"Baby,"

You huff in frustration. "I'm not going to be nice about it."

"You never are.”

"Put. It. Down," you grit through your teeth. "Adam!"

He moves it again, and this time, you hear a faint tearing sound. Your heart sinks as you see the seam start to pull taut.

"Adam!!" you practically shout, urgency in your voice now.

Finally, Adam looks up, his expression shifting from casual amusement to concern as he realizes what he's done. The tear in the puppet's root is evident, a small but significant damage that threatens its fragile structure.

"Oh, shit," Adam mutters under his breath, his eyes widening in realization.

You stand there, a mix of anger and disappointment washing over you. "Adam, please put it down—" you start to say again, but it's too late.

Rrrrrrrip! The tear worsens, the fabric giving way under the strain. You wince at the sound, knowing the damage is done. You both stare in shock as the root rips from the body of Audrey II. Adam jumps, his hands instinctively letting go of the root, which drops to the floor with a soft thud. Your heart sinks as you quickly bend down to retrieve it, hugging the damaged puppet piece protectively against your chest.

The workshop falls silent, the weight of the moment hanging heavily in the air. You shoot Adam an angry glare, your eyes flashing with a mix of frustration and disappointment. His usual nonchalant attitude falters under your gaze, and for once, he seems genuinely remorseful.

"I didn’t know it was gonna do that!" Adam exclaims, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation as he tries to justify his actions.

Still, you say nothing, your focus solely on assessing the damage to the puppet. The torn fabric and strained seam speak louder than Adam's words.

"Seriously, I didn’t know!" Adam insists, his tone pleading now, seeking validation or perhaps forgiveness.

Silence greets him once more, your expression unreadable as you continue to inspect Audrey II's damaged root.

Adam's nervousness grows palpable. "Really, if it was going to be that fragile, then it totally would’ve ripped on stage!!" he continues, his voice rising slightly in frustration.

But still, you offer no response.

"Why won’t you respond? Say something!" Adam finally demands, his patience wearing thin.

“Why do you have to be such a dick?!”

Adam flinches visibly at your outburst. His expression shifts from defensiveness to a mix of surprise and guilt

“Seriously, you complain and whine about how no one wants to be your friend here, but then you go around and act like this!” Your throat hurts. “Do you have no common sense? No respect for other people? This isn’t some show, Adam, this is my future!”

Adam's tense and nervous laughter only serves to fuel your frustration, his dismissive response hitting a nerve as you confront him with the seriousness of the situation.

"I'm not joking," you assert firmly, your voice edged with determination. "This is my first chance at a lead. If I don't do well now, my director won't consider me for other roles. And without that experience, I'll have nothing to show for when I enter the real world. It's my dream, Adam, and it means everything to me."

"Baby," Adam begins, attempting to placate you, but you cut him off sharply. “I think you’re being a bit overdramatic–”

"Don't tell me how to react!" you snap, your anger bubbling to the surface. "You're such an asshole!!"

"Why? All I did was fuck with a puppet!" Adam retorts defensively, his frustration mirroring yours.

"And then you went behind Quinn's back and flirted with Sadai," you say, your voice cracking slightly with emotion. The reminder of his betrayal overwhelms any lingering anger.

Adam cringes visibly. "I wasn't flirting—" he starts to defend himself, but you’re quick to cut him off.

"Adam," you interject.

"Okay, fine!" Adam admits, his voice tinged with remorse. "I was, but not for the reason you think!"

You meet his gaze, your eyes searching his for an explanation. "Then why?" you ask quietly,

"Jealousy is a very powerful emotion—" Adam starts, but you cut him off, unable to contain your incredulity.

"—you flirted with Sadai to make Quinn jealous?"

Adam hesitates for a moment before nodding reluctantly. "Well, I mean, something like that."

"What the fuck," you exclaim, your frustration boiling over. "You manipulative asshole."

Adam winces at your words, his usual bravado crumbling under your righteous anger. "Sadai was in on it!!!" he blurts out defensively. "We were just hoping that... he'd… make a move on her."

"Because he was jealous," you conclude bitterly, the pieces falling into place.

"Yes," Adam confirms, his voice quieter now, his gaze shifting uncomfortably.

"Well, good luck with that now! Now he thinks he has no chance, so he’s not interested anymore. And I can’t say I blame him," you say, your voice tinged with resignation.

Adam's gaze remains steady on you, his expression unreadable as he waits for your response.

"Are you?" he asks gently, much softer than before.

What?

"Am I..." you repeat softly, the question lingering in the air.

"Not interested anymore?"

You feel a lump form in your throat as Adam's gaze lingers on you, his silence echoing loudly in the workshop. The vulnerability of the moment washes over you, leaving you feeling exposed and uncertain.

"In Quinn?" you ask again, your voice barely above a whisper, hoping for clarity amidst the swirling emotions.

Adam's expression remains unreadable, his eyes searching your face as if weighing his words carefully. He doesn't respond immediately, the tension between you palpable.

"No," he finally answers softly, his voice steady but devoid of further explanation.

Your heart sinks slightly at his cryptic response, the lack of elaboration leaving you with more questions than answers. You struggle to maintain composure, your mouth dry as you attempt to process his words and the unspoken implications behind them.

You're very careful with your words. "If I were in Quinn’s shoes, I wouldn’t be.”

Adam sniffs softly, his eyes momentarily flickering away before locking onto yours again. He seems to choose his next words carefully, his demeanor serious yet contemplative.

"Okay. So you’re in Quinn’s shoes and you’re mad at Sadai. What now?" Adam asks.

"I wait for an apology," you reply firmly, your voice gaining strength as you articulate your stance.

"An apology? That’s it?" Adam questions, his brow furrowing slightly in apparent skepticism.

"No, that’s not it," you clarify, meeting his gaze unwaveringly. "But it’s the first step."

Adam purses his lips. "Okay, she apologizes to you. Now what?"

You shrug. "I don’t know.”

"The fuck you mean you don’t know?" Adam exclaims, his frustration escalating.

"Adam.”

“You’re right, you’re right. Whatever. So what, should Sadai just go up to Quinn and apologize? What if she’s not sorry?”

"Then she better not talk to him until she is," you assert firmly.

Adam frowns, his expression troubled as he considers your response. "What if Quinn doesn’t forgive her?" he asks, his voice tinged with concern.

"Then Sadai better respect that.”

"And what if it kills Sadai that she won’t have Quinn in her life anymore, if he doesn’t forgive her. What if that’s too big a risk to take— to apologize and find out."

You can't decipher if Adam is speaking from a hypothetical standpoint or if there's a deeper personal resonance behind his questions. Nonetheless, you stand firm in your belief, doubling down on your stance with resolve.

“At least then she’d know.”

Adam nods slowly in agreement, his expression thoughtful as he processes your words. "Right," he acknowledges, his voice subdued.

You stare at him, waiting for an apology that never comes. The silence stretches between you, filled with unspoken expectations and unaddressed emotions. When it becomes apparent that Adam isn’t going to apologize, you sigh deeply, the disappointment evident in your voice.

"Alright Adam, time for you to get out of here," you say with resignation, firmness creeping into your tone.

"But—" Adam starts to protest, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Just go, Adam," you interrupt, cutting him off before he can say more. "I’ll see you in class."

"C'mon baby—" Adam tries again, a hint of pleading in his voice.

"Goodbye.”

As Adam begins to muster a response, he catches sight of tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. The defiance in him wavers, replaced by a sudden deflation. Adam nods silently, his resolve faltering. Without further words, he turns and exits the room, leaving you to grapple with the aftermath of your exchange.

You’re left still hugging that damn puppet’s root to your chest. Holding it tight makes your heart hurt a little bit less.

–

After ballet class, you find yourself lingering with a mix of emotions. Adam's absence didn't go unnoticed, and while a part of you is concerned, you're also determined to convince yourself not to care. Getting over a crush is never easy, and you're trying your best to stay focused.

Class was fine. The familiar routines and movements provided a welcome distraction, allowing you to immerse yourself in the physicality of dance. Your muscles ache in that satisfying way that signals a good workout, and your mind feels clearer, if only for a little while.

The sight of Adam waiting outside the dance class catches you off guard. He's sitting on one of the benches, his head buried in one of his hands. At the sound of the door opening, he jumps up, his posture stiff with tension. You watch, puzzled, as he nervously gulps and reveals a bouquet of flowers from behind his back.

For a moment, you just stand there, frozen. The confusion must be evident on your face because Adam's expression shifts from nervousness to something resembling desperation.

"Um, you're late to class," you say dumbly. Of course he knows that.

He glances at the clock. "Yeah, I was waiting for it to be over."

"Why weren’t you here?" you ask, still trying to wrap your head around the situation.

"I wanted to talk to you.”

You glance behind you to see more of your classmates piling out. Contemplating, you bite your lip. “Can it wait?”

“Oh, oh yeah, no, totally, that’s fine,” he stammers, his nervousness evident in the way he shifts on his feet. He passes you the flowers and you take them, cradling them to your chest.

“Okay,” you say, feeling the weight of the bouquet in your hands.

You awkwardly snap your mouth closed and wait for everyone to leave. Ms. Nicole is the last one out. She notices you, Adam, and the bouquet in your hands. She coos, her eyes twinkling with a knowing smile.

“Aww, you two look adorable. Have a good evening, okay?” she says, waving as she exits.

You offer a tight-lipped smile, feeling a flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks. “Thanks, Ms. Nicole. See you tomorrow.”

As the door closes behind her, you and Adam are left alone in the now-quiet hallway. The silence is thick with unspoken words, and you shift uncomfortably.

“So…”

You click your tongue. "So..."

"Uh, listen." He finally looks at you. "I'm not good at apologizing—"

"Yeah, I can tell."

His eyes narrow at your interruption, but you remain firm. He hurt you, whether he meant to or not, and you're willing to hear him out, but you won't make it easy for him. "I'm trying here."

“Yeah?” you ask. “Well, try harder.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated but determined. “I’m sorry for messing with your puppet.”

“And?” you prompt, raising an eyebrow.

He grumbles, his voice dropping. “I’m sorry for flirting with Sadai.”

You nod your head slowly. “Okay.”

“Okay. So we’re good?” he asks, hope in his eyes.

You laugh, but it’s a bitter sound. “Fuck no. You were a dick.”

He winces. “I know, I know. But I apologized—”

“You tore my puppet after I told you to put it down. Who do you think got in trouble for that? Not you. And then you go behind our friend’s back and try to make him jealous. You didn’t even get anything out of it!”

“He wasn’t the only one we were trying to make jealous!” Adam blurts out, eyes widening as if he didn’t mean to announce that.

You don’t stop to think of the implications, your anger flaring again. “Right, because that makes it much, much better.”

“Well, I already apologized!”

“I know.”

“So, I’m forgiven?” he asks, hopeful.

“No,” you reply firmly.

“Cut me some slack here!” he begs.

“I have been. For a long time,” you respond, your patience wearing thin.

“I even got you flowers! I never get any bitch flowers!”

Your eye twitches. “Try again.”

He takes a deep breath, realizing his mistake. “I never get anyone flowers. I promise, I’m really trying here.”

“Trying what? Because you’re certainly not trying to apologize. You’re just saying the words.”

He groans, exasperated. “I’m trying to confess to you, alright! I’d like to take you out, but I can’t do that if you’re mad at me!”

You stare at him, the anger quickly being replaced by a deep sense of disappointment. “…so you’re only apologizing so I’ll go out with you.” It’s not a question.

Adam is silent, the guilt evident in his eyes. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He realizes how hollow his apology now sounds.

You sigh, continuing. “Listen, Adam, you’re a dick. But you can be real sweet when you try. Being around you can be a whole lot of fun, when you’re not being a little shit. I like you a lot too, Adam.”

He perks up, hope lighting up his eyes.

“—but I can’t go out with you.”

His face falls, the hope extinguished as quickly as it appeared. “Why not?”

“You’re not boyfriend material. You’re real rough around the edges.”

He looks desperate, pleading almost. “You can help with that!”

"Adam, I'm not going to fix you. You need to fix yourself before we even consider going out. And that starts with a proper apology. A meaningful one, not just because you want me to forgive you."

For once, he shuts up and nods. "Okay. I'm sorry."

"Nice try. I'll give you some time," you reply firmly, holding your ground.

Adam looks at you, seeming to understand the gravity of what you're asking for. He nods again, more earnestly this time. "I'll do better. I promise."

You give him a small, cautious smile. "I hope so, Adam."

With that, you turn and walk away, leaving him to contemplate his actions and words. It's a step forward, albeit a small one, and you're hopeful that he'll take the time to reflect and make the changes necessary. For now, you're content to wait and see what happens next.

–

The next day at rehearsal, when you walk in, Adam waves at you from a distance. You appreciate the space he's giving you; being around him still leaves your head spinning. The rehearsal proceeds smoothly, with everyone focused on their roles and scenes.

As you go through the routines and lines, you find yourself immersed in the production, trying to put the recent events with Adam aside. Your performance is your focus now, and you're determined to give it your best despite the distractions.

During breaks, you catch glimpses of Adam occasionally glancing your way, but he doesn't approach you. Part of you wonders if he's taking your words to heart and giving you the space you need. It's a relief in some ways, but also leaves you with a lingering sense of uncertainty about where things stand between you.

–

It’s finally sitzprobe time, which means it’s the first time the cast gets to sing along with the band, and not just Adam’s accompaniment. Usually, you’d be a bit nervous about rehearsing with Adam, but he’s been surprisingly respectful with your distance.

That, you’re incredibly grateful for, as opening night looming closer and closer, you haven’t had time to think about romance or drama or whatever. Your free time has been spent going over lines, rehearsing your music, and stressing over this show. Basically, your life is now revolving around your production of Little Shop.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

You were all herded into the music room, music stands holding binders– or for the less prepared, loose papers. The actors were pushed to the back of the area to make room for the band’s equipment.

You flip through your binder, mentally going over your music in your head. The sitzprobe was to start in a few minutes, so you were making sure to have everything down. Since you were just singing along with the band, you didn’t need to worry about lines or blocking– just your music.

As the band fine-tunes their equipment, the room is filled with a low hum of anticipation. Adam, with his guitar perched on his thigh, looks focused as he adjusts his amp chord. The heat and the crowded space have left a sheen of sweat on his forehead, causing his messy hair to stick to his skin. You catch yourself biting your lip at the sight, your mind momentarily drifting despite your best efforts to stay focused on the rehearsal.

When he meets your eye– because of course he would– you almost look away. But you don’t. Instead, you hold his gaze, feeling bold. He stares back. From your side, you hear Quinn call your name.

“Do you have a spare pencil?”

You look over to see Quinn’s backpack completely turned inside out in search of a pencil. You laugh before handing him one of your extras. You nod at his quick and embarrassed “thanks” before looking back to adam–

–Who is still watching you.

You feel yourself blushing under his warm gaze, your cheeks tinged with a faint pink hue. Despite your shyness, you manage to muster a timid smile. His response is a surprisingly sweet smile that melts your nerves and sends a flutter through your heart.

This time, it's he who breaks the gaze, turning away to start tuning his guitar. Each testing strum reverberates loudly through his amp, filling the room with its vibrant sound. With every chord he adjusts, you feel yourself grow more and more hot under the collar.

So he looks sexy playing guitar– go fuck yourself!

When it’s time for the sitzprobe to actually start, you almost miss your cue, too distracted watching Adam. He’s completely focused on his guitar, and you’re completely focused on him. Can you blame yourself, though?

Eventually, it's your turn to sing, and you hear the familiar notes creeping in. Taking a deep breath, you belt out the song with all your heart. A smile spreads across your face as you feel the electric guitar blending beautifully with your voice.

–

Before you knew it, tech week had sneaked up on you. With opening night just around the corner, the days leading up to it were a whirlwind of adding the finishing touches—adjusting lights, fine-tuning sound levels, and perfecting costumes down to every last detail.

Today's agenda had been slated for running through lighting cues and honing the synchronization between your voice and the Audrey II puppet; You were eager to finally meet the puppeteer who would bring your character to life. However, upon meeting her, despite her incredible talents, it didn’t seem like she wanted to be there very much. Or maybe that was just her serious RBF. So instead, you spent your breaks avoiding her.

Since today was focused solely on lights, the band wasn't called in. Despite your best efforts to downplay it, you couldn't shake the disappointment that settled in. After the last sitzprobe, you had been eagerly anticipating another chance to watch Adam shred his guitar. The thought of his skilled fingers dancing over the strings made your mouth water.

Not that you’d admit it, though.

After checking in with the stage manager to confirm your attendance, you heaved your monster-sized duffel bag towards the dressing room. The door protested with a loud squeal as you pushed it open, prompting a wince from you. However, your expression quickly turned into a wide grin when you realized you had the dressing room all to yourself for now. It was a rare moment of tranquility before the whirlwind of preparations began—a brief calm before the storm of tech week.

As you approach your designated spot at the mirrors, you're taken aback by what you find. Sitting neatly on your seat is a fresh bottle of water and a thermos. Intrigued and slightly skeptical, you twist open the thermos lid and bring it close to your nose, taking a cautious sniff. A smile spreads across your face when you recognize the familiar scent of throat coat tea. Score!

You hesitate, momentarily questioning if you should be tampering with these items, worried they might have been placed at your station by mistake. Yet, your curiosity gets the better of you when you notice a card tucked behind the water bottle. With cautious fingers, you pick it up, finding your name neatly written on the back. Perplexed, you carefully tear open the envelope and pull out the card.

"Break a leg. Or whatever the fuck you say. This isn't an apology. Not yet. You deserve something better than a card."

You notice a few lines that have been crossed out, suggesting some hesitation or revision. But at the end, it's signed with a heart—

"Adam"

Giddy butterflies fluttered in your stomach, and this time, instead of brushing them aside, you allowed yourself to revel in the sensation of hope and happiness. It felt absolutely wonderful.

You opened the thermos once more, letting the comforting scent of throat coat tea waft out, and took your first sip. The warm, soothing liquid eased your nerves as you continued to prepare for rehearsal. You carried the thermos with you out onto the stage, still taking generous sips. .

Mid-sip, you choke slightly as your eyes meet Adam's in the audience. There's a moment of surprise, followed by a rush of warmth when you see the pleased—no, relieved—expression on his face as he notices you enjoying his gift. With the hopeful butterflies still fluttering in your stomach, you can't help but smile and wave in his direction, a silent acknowledgment of gratitude.

He blinks in surprise before a warm smile spreads across his face, and he waves back. It becomes clear that seeing you enjoy his gesture was his sole purpose for being here today. With a practiced casualness, he slips his hands into his pockets and begins to make his way towards the exit. For once, you’re the one watching him go.

You totally look at his butt while he walks.

–

The past two days of tech week had been long and grueling, each hour stretching into what felt like an eternity. Yet, somehow, you managed to push through, thanks in large part to an alarming abundance of energy drinks. Who could blame you, though? The relentless schedule demanded it.

You'd developed a strategic habit of stashing energy drinks in every conceivable spot—your bag, your dorm room, and especially your dressing room. This way, no matter where you were, a quick jolt of caffeine was always within arm's reach.

Today, as you arrived at rehearsal, you polished off yet another can and felt the familiar pang of needing a refill. Without a second thought, you made a beeline for the dressing room, determined to grab another energy drink before diving back into the demanding pace of tech week.

Now that the lights and sounds had been meticulously carved out, the band was invited back today to perform with everyone. You had already run through the show once, which meant it was now time for a break before notes and then another run-through.

You felt a wave of relief wash over you at the thought of a second run-through. The first one hadn't been your best, and you couldn’t help but replay every minor mistake in your mind. Although you knew you were your own harshest critic, you couldn't shake the desire for perfection. This show was important to you, and you desperately needed it to go well.

You finally reached the dressing room door, grateful for a moment of solitude. Everyone else was taking their water break and snacking in the lobby, leaving you the dressing room all to yourself, which you always appreciated. The quiet space provided a welcome respite from the chaos outside.

Plopping yourself down in your seat, you rummaged through your belongings in search of another energy drink. When your fingers finally closed around the familiar can (thank god), you quickly pushed on the tab to open it, savoring the crisp sound of the release. Without hesitation, you took a big gulp, feeling the rush of caffeine invigorate your senses.

Suddenly, as you were wiping your mouth on your shirt sleeve, a knock echoed through the dressing room door. Rolling your eyes, you assumed it was someone from the neighboring dressing room, probably looking for more hairspray or some other last-minute item.

However, what greeted you when you swung open the door was entirely unexpected. Instead of a fellow cast member, you found yourself face-to-face with a gigantic piece of poster paper. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust and process the sight in front of you.

"Pretend it's your director," the poster read in bold, messy letters.

"Um," you muttered, looking around in confusion. "I'm the only one in here..."

Before you could make sense of it, Adam's head popped up from behind the poster board. Of course—it had to be him. He looked absolutely giddy, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he took in your bewildered expression.

“At least pretend,” he playfully pouts, his eyes twinkling. It's surprising to see him in such a good mood.

“Okay, okay,” you relent, laughing. You can’t help but join in on his contagious amusement.

He flips the poster.

“With any luck, by next year,” it reads.

He flips it again.

“I’ll be going out with one of these people.”

The next flip reveals a collage of different models and celebrities. Despite yourself, you can't help but burst into laughter.

“Are you stealing this from Love, Actually?” you ask, grinning.

“Shhh, don’t spoil the surprise,” he replies, putting a finger to his lips dramatically.

“But for now, let me say,”

“Without hope or agenda”

“Just because its tech week—”

“(And at tech week you tell the truth)”

“…I’m sorry”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, setting aside the signs to focus fully on him. His playful demeanor has shifted subtly, revealing a softer, more vulnerable side. His gaze meets yours, and you notice a hint of bashfulness in his expression. His Adam’s apple bobs noticeably as he swallows, the tension palpable in the quiet moment between you.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, taking a deep breath before the words tumble out in a rush. “I’m sorry I messed with your puppet, and I’m also sorry I flirted with Sadai. You made this whole point about how it upset Quinn. You didn’t say it, but I knew it upset you, too.”

He pauses, searching your face for your reaction. When you nod encouragingly, he continues, his voice earnest.

“It’s… why I did it. I hoped you would have confessed to me. But instead it hurt you. And so then I messed with your puppet because I’d rather you be mad than sad, but you still were and I was a dick. I’m really, really sorry. I’ll even get on my knees. I—”

"Adam," you interrupt softly.

He flinches, expecting a different reaction—perhaps yelling, tears, or a freak-out. What he doesn’t expect is for you to lean in and give him a gentle peck on the cheek.

Adam blinks in surprise, his eyes widening as he processes the unexpected gesture. His cheeks flush slightly, and for a moment, he's at a loss for words.

“I forgive you,” you say softly, leaning back into your own space.

His mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air, before a dopey smile spreads across his face, lighting up his features.

“I still feel like I need to make it up to you,” he admits, his voice tinged with relief and happiness, as if he's floating on cloud nine.

“You will,” you reply with a knowing smile.

“I will,” he agrees, a look of determination settling in his eyes as he finally comes back down to earth. He smiles at you, then places his hands on your shoulders with a resolute expression.“This doesn’t mean we’re going out yet, though. I need to sweep you off your feet.”

You can’t help but laugh at his declaration. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with a mix of seriousness and playfulness. “You deserve the best, and I’m going to prove that I can give it to you.”

Touched by his sincerity, you nod. “Alright, Adam. I’m looking forward to it.”

He nods, then raps his fist on the door frame. “Welp, looks like we better get back to rehearsal…”

You hum in agreement. “Yep…”

A moment of stillness hangs between you before you grab him by his shirt collar and tug him forward. He grins the whole way, eyes sparkling with anticipation. You plant a kiss on his mouth, and he smiles through it, pressing his lips firmly against yours. The kiss is brief but charged, lasting only a second before you both pull away.

“Well!” you bring your hands together in a loud clap, bashfully embarrassing his eyes. “Gotta go!”

–

The next day, after a long rehearsal, you start packing up to head to dinner. As you're in the middle of a conversation with one of your castmates, your phone buzzes with a notification. You pick it up from the dressing room table, pausing mid-sentence to glance at the screen.

You tilt your head in confusion as you see that the notification is from a random number.

UNKNOWN

You hesitantly click on the attachment, and a video begins to play on your phone screen.

The video is of your song "Feed Me." You watch in awe as the puppet comes to life, synchronized perfectly with your voice. This is the first time you've seen yourself perform as Audrey II, and you find yourself captivated by the seamless blend of your vocals and the puppeteer's movements.

Surprisingly, you’re impressed with your own performance. Your voice sounds powerful and emotive, carrying the song with confidence and flair. Watching the puppet and hearing your own vocals, you realize just how much you've accomplished. A sense of pride washes over you, mixed with a touch of disbelief.

The video is taken from the pit of the stage, where the band is located. You notice the phone recording is propped up on what you assume is a music stand, angled perfectly to capture the stage. A hint of suspicion about who took the video begins to form in your mind.

Your suspicions are confirmed when, after the song ends, you hear an enthusiastic whoop and holler from behind the phone. A drumstick suddenly appears, swinging into view, and you hear Adam curse loudly, likely having been smacked with the stick. The unexpected moment makes you giggle; the scene is endearing and somewhat cute.

When you click out of the video, your phone buzzes again.

UNKNOWN You were super good. -your secret admirer

You can't help but smile as you type back.

YOU Adam

A moment later, your phone buzzes again with a quick response.

UNKNOWN Dammit.

You quickly add his number to your contacts, labeling it with a fond smile. As you finish, you glance up and catch sight of yourself in the dressing room mirror. The realization that you're grinning from ear to ear makes you blush. Your cheeks warm, and you can’t help but laugh softly at yourself.

ADAM Wanna sit next to each other at dinner I won’t bite And I know you won’t either ;]

YOU Are you gonna flirt with Sadai again

ADAM Okay so apparently you /will/ bite. And no I will not.

YOU Then yes

ADAM Ok I’m boutta leave I’ll save you a seat

Just as you're about to put your phone away, another notification pops up. You open it to find a selfie of Adam, flashing a peace sign with a goofy grin. The only caption reads, “Am I kawaii?”

You laugh but decide not to respond, clicking your phone off with a shake of your head.

Determined to get to the restaurant, you gather all your belongings and throw them into your duffel bag. Slinging it over your shoulder, you take one last glance around the dressing room, feeling a mix of excitement and satisfaction.

As you step out into the bustling hallway, you feel lighter, a spring in your step as you head towards the exit.

With your head down, still thinking about Adam’s ridiculous text, you almost run face-first into Quinn. He steps back just in time, and based on his expectant expression, you already know what he's going to ask.

“Yes, I can give you a ride.”

He cheekily smiles, his eyes lighting up. “Sick.”

You both walk to your car in silence. Once inside, you unlock it and slide into the driver’s seat. As you click your seatbelt in place and adjust the rearview mirror, Quinn awkwardly coughs, breaking the quiet.

“So,” he starts, his voice a bit uneven, as if he’s unsure. “You and Adam.”

“Me and Adam?” you prompt, glancing over at him.

“Are y’all… a thing now?” he asks, his curiosity evident.

You awkwardly shrug as you turn on the car ignition and begin to back out of your parking spot. Technically, you aren't lying. Adam hasn’t asked you out yet, but you did kiss—it's like some sort of limbo.

“Are you just going to look past his dick actions?” Quinn asks, his tone a mix of concern and curiosity.

“He apologized. Like, actually. It was this whole thing,” you explain, trying to convey the sincerity of Adam’s apology.

“Oh,” Quinn replies, looking down, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

You get on the road and steal a quick glance at Quinn. He’s anxiously bouncing his knees, his shoulders as taut as a rubber band.

“So, you and Sadai.”

“Me and Sadai,” he echoes, his voice carrying a hint of tension.

You roll to a stop at a red light, keeping your eyes forward as you attempt to carefully breach the topic. He hasn’t stopped bouncing his legs.

“Have y’all talked after that night?” you ask gently.

“No,” he replies, his tone clipped and filled with frustration.

You click your tongue thoughtfully. “Maybe you should.”

“Yeah, maybe…”

You can’t take it anymore. The words burst out of you before you can stop them. “Sadai and Adam only flirted to make us jealous!”

Quinn’s legs stop bouncing, and he perks up, suddenly full of energy. “I knew it!” he exclaims, a triumphant look on his face.

You laugh, relieved to have finally admitted that information. But then you pause, realizing something. “What do you mean you knew it? And you didn’t tell me?”

“Well, you didn’t tell me!” Quinn laughs.

“Touché…”

“But yeah, no!” He sits back in his chair, a smug look on his face. “I totally knew it! They kept looking at us!”

You frown, trying to remember. “They did?”

“Yes! And when we left, Jared said they just... stopped talking to each other entirely!”

You groan, facepalming. “Oh my god.”

Eventually, you both pull into the parking lot of the restaurant. You park your car and step out, Quinn following suit.

“Uh, hey guys.”

You turn to see Sadai perched on the sidewalk, standing up and brushing off any dirt as she sees you. Her expression is tentative, eyes flicking nervously between you and Quinn.

You glance between Sadai and Quinn, noticing the tension in the air. Quinn’s eyes are locked on Sadai, a mix of emotions playing across his face. Just as he moves to open your car door, clearly trying to escape the situation, you quickly press the lock button.

He tugs at the car door handle, but the door remains firmly shut. His frustration becomes apparent as he glares at you, a mixture of betrayal and disbelief on his face. His eyes dart between you and Sadai, his shoulders slumping in resignation.

You stand firm, meeting his gaze with a resolute expression. “Adam’s waiting for me. Don’t take too long,” you say, your tone carrying a hint of finality.

With that, you turn on your heel and walk towards the restaurant entrance, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in your stomach. You can feel Quinn’s eyes boring into your back as you move away, his disapproval palpable even from behind. You almost falter, a pang of guilt hitting you for leaving him to face this conversation alone. But you remind yourself that sometimes, facing uncomfortable truths is necessary for growth and resolution.

You push open the restaurant door and step inside, the lively hum of conversation and clinking cutlery greeting you warmly. Your eyes scan the room, quickly locating your table. A wave of relief washes over you as you spot Adam among your friends, seated comfortably towards the middle of the group.

You wave hi to everyone, your smile widening when you see the empty seat next to Adam. You make your way over, feeling a mix of excitement and relief.

“Hey, dickwad!” you call out playfully.

Adam’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice. His face lights up instantly, his smile spreading from ear to ear. The sight makes your heart flutter, just a little, as you approach him.

“Hey, bitch!” he responds with equal enthusiasm, waving you over. “I saved you a seat!”

He pats the seat next to him, and you slide in with a smile. As soon as you’re settled, Adam wraps an arm around your shoulders, giving you a playful half-hug. The gesture feels warm and comforting, a stark contrast to the awkwardness you left behind outside.

“How’d you like the video?” he asks, his voice light and full of enthusiasm. “Aren’t you just the best?”

You feel your cheeks warm under his praise, and you duck your head slightly, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “My favorite part was when you got hit with the drumstick,” you admit, your eyes twinkling with amusement.

Adam dramatically groans, pulling his arm away and releasing you. “I really thought I cut that part out…” he says, pretending to be exasperated.

You laugh, the sound genuine and joyful, and it feels good to let go of the day’s stress. Reaching for the menu, you start browsing through the options, feeling the familiar sense of comfort and relaxation settle over you as the conversation flows around the table.

As time passes, you find yourself genuinely enjoying dinner. The food is delicious, and the atmosphere is lively and warm. Adam is surprisingly attentive throughout the meal, making a point to include you in all his conversations. He listens intently to your stories and takes an active interest in the topics you bring up. His easygoing nature and the way he makes you feel heard only add to the evening’s enjoyment.

Despite the pleasant distraction, your mind occasionally drifts to the Quinn-and-Sadai-shaped hole in the group dynamic. They’ve been outside talking for what feels like forever, even after your food arrived. The minutes tick by, and you start to wonder what’s going on.

Just as you’re nearing the end of your meal, you catch sight of them finally making their way inside. Your gaze naturally shifts towards the entrance, and your eyes widen in surprise when you see them walking hand in hand.

Your jaw drops in surprise as you watch Quinn and Sadai approach the table, their hands intertwined. You glance over at Adam, who is mid-bite into a juicy rib, his mouth full and his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

You nudge his attention towards Quinn and Sadai. Adam’s eyes follow your gesture, and as he takes in the sight of them holding hands, his face lights up with genuine excitement and happiness.

“They’re holding hands!” you exclaim, unable to keep the delight out of your voice.

Quinn and Sadai settle into the only available spots— a table a few feet away from you. Without a second thought, you peel yourself off your seat, nearly bumping into other diners as you practically race to Quinn.

As you approach, you come up behind him and place your hands firmly on his shoulders. The sudden contact startles him, and he turns his head slightly, looking up at you with a mix of surprise and confusion.

You lean in slightly, a mischievous grin playing on your lips. “Hey,” you say softly. “I need to use the restroom. Care to accompany me?” You tighten your grip on Quinn’s shoulders just enough to make it clear that this is not up for debate.

Quinn chokes, his eyes widening in surprise. “Y-yeah. That’s all good. Let me just…”

He stumbles slightly as he stands up, clearly flustered. Your hands fall away from his shoulders, and he avoids making eye contact as you start walking toward the bathroom. You let him be, content to lead the way

You’re seriously getting deja vu from the last cast dinner.

Quinn, trying to maintain a nonchalant demeanor, shrugs casually. However, a telltale smile tugs at the corners of his lips, betraying his genuine happiness. “We talked,” he says simply, though the glimmer in his eyes suggests there’s more to the story.

You place your hands on your hips, trying to hide your impatience. “You have to give me the details! Now!”

Quinn chuckles, shaking his head. “There’s too many details to go over right now. I’ll just call you tonight and fill you in.”

You sigh dramatically but can’t help but smile at the thought of hearing all the juicy details later. “Okay, okay fine,” you concede. “I wasn’t kidding about needing to pee, though. Wait here for me, okay?”

After you finish up in the restroom, you and Quinn walk back towards your respective tables. As you reach his table, you pause for a moment and give him a quick, affectionate ruffle of his hair. The gesture is filled with genuine excitement and happiness for him.

“You really deserve good things,” you say warmly, your voice brimming with sincerity. “I’m so glad you and Sadai worked things out.”

Quinn's face lights up with a grateful smile, and he nods appreciatively. “Thanks for everything. I’ll fill you in on all the details tonight.”

You give him a final encouraging nod before turning back towards your table.

You slide back into your seat next to Adam, and immediately notice his subtle attempts to inch closer to you. His movements are slow and deliberate, as though he’s trying to discreetly close the gap between you without drawing too much attention.

For the fun of it—and maybe because you actually enjoy the closeness—you let him continue his subtle advances. You shift just a bit, allowing him to inch closer. His arm brushes against yours, and you can feel the warmth of his body next to yours.

Adam seems to sense your willingness and takes the opportunity to move a bit closer. His shoulder lightly brushes against yours, and he offers a soft, satisfied smile, clearly pleased with the closeness.

As you settle back into your seat, you feel Adam’s mouth come close to your ear. His breath tickles your skin as he murmurs, “Wanna get out of here?”

You turn your head slightly, catching the playful glint in his eyes, and nudge him away with a light shove. “I need to pay, dipshit,” you reply with a teasing edge to your voice.

Adam’s face lights up with a smirk, clearly pleased with his little revelation. “Oh, I already took care of it,” he says, his tone almost smug. He reaches over and gently brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch tender and reassuring.

You blink in surprise, your eyes widening. “What??”

He chuckles softly, his smile widening at your reaction. “Yep. I’ve got it covered, baby. It was getting late, and you need to rest up for tech week.”

You let Adam guide you out of the restaurant, feeling a mix of excitement and contentment. As you walk towards the exit, you turn back to give a cheerful wave to the rest of your castmates, your smile wide and genuine. “Goodbye, everyone!” you call out, your voice full of warmth.

Your thoughts briefly drift to Quinn, who are likely only now getting their food. You’re confident that he’ll be just fine to ride home with Sadai.

As you approach your car, Adam walks beside you, his hand still gently holding yours. When you reach the driver’s side, he steps back to let you unlock the door. You’re pleasantly surprised by his gentlemanly gesture as he opens it for you with a wide grin.

You look up at him, your eyebrows raised in playful suspicion. “Did you make me leave early just so you could have a kiss?” you ask, your tone light but teasing.

Adam’s grin widens, and he gives a mock sheepish shrug. “Ya caught me,”

You roll your eyes with a playful sigh, feeling the warmth of the moment. Gently, you cup Adam’s face in your hands, and he melts into your touch, his expression softening into a dopey smile. His eyes flutter closed, and he purses his lips expectantly. You meet him halfway, leaning in for a kiss.

The kiss is sweet and brief, lasting only a second, but it’s filled with an undeniable connection. You’re pleasantly surprised when he doesn’t try to sneak in any tongue action; instead, he keeps it tender and simple. When you pull away, he surprises you again by planting a quick kiss on your forehead, his touch light and affectionate.

Before you can react, Adam’s hand gives your backside a playful smack, and he bursts into laughter. “Adam!” you gasp, your face flushing with a mix of shock and amusement.

He chuckles heartily, his eyes sparkling with mischief, and begins to sprint away towards his car. You watch him run, laughing at the impish grin on his face as he disappears into the distance

What a guy.

–

You’re sprawled out on your stomach, idly kicking your legs in the air, when you hear a knock on your dorm room door. Assuming it’s your roommate who’s forgotten their card key yet again, you roll off your bed with a sigh and pad over to the door, swinging it open without a second thought.

“Heeeeyyyyyy bitch,” a familiar voice greets you.

Your eyes widen in surprise as you take in the sight of Adam leaning casually against the door frame. In one hand, he’s holding a loaf of bread, and in the other, a steaming cup of what you assume is coffee.

“Why are you here?” you ask, the surprise evident in your voice. “How are you here?”

“Remember that one time I walked you home? Yep. Took a picture of your room number so I’d never forget.”

You feel a mix of emotions—both a little creeped out by the fact that he remembered your room number like that, and oddly flattered by his dedication.

“So,” you say, tapping on the doorframe. “what’re you doing here?”

Adam’s grin broadens. “I was thinking about taking a walk around campus. Care to join me?”

You glance down at the loaf of bread in his hand, then back up at him. “Do you need to put that down or...?”

“Nah.” Adam slaps the loaf lightly, careful not to crush it. “This big guy will be joining us.”

“Um, okay.” You smile, amused and curious. “Why?”

Adam tugs at his collar, a bit sheepishly. “I was hoping to take you to the lake down by the library. Maybe feed the baby ducks.”

You can’t help but melt a little. “Aww, cute!” you say, and Adam ducks his head, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Let me go change out of my nasty pajamas,” you add, stepping back into your room.

“Aw, but I like the bed head,” he teases, reaching out to ruffle your hair. You push him off, swatting him playfully until he steps out into the hall.

“Give me a minute,” you call out as you close the door. You quickly change into something more suitable for a walk around campus, then open the door to find Adam engrossed in his phone. When he notices you, he clicks it off and smiles, eyes lighting up.

“Here.” He shoves the hot drink towards you. Confused, you glance up at him through your lashes. He quickly explains, “I bought you an herbal tea. Figured it’d help for tech week.”

Your eyebrows quirk up in surprise, and a slight blush fills your cheeks at the thoughtfulness of it all. “Aw, Adam, you didn’t have to.”

“I know. Just wanted to.” He shrugs, but there’s a genuine warmth in his eyes.

You two had walked the expanse of the campus, mindlessly chatting. It was surprisingly pleasant, and you found yourself enjoying the conversation as you sipped on your tea. It was a bit bitter, but you appreciated the gesture, knowing it would help during tech week. When you finished, you quickly tossed the empty cup in the nearest trash.

Adam was just as bold and brash as ever, but as you looked past his jokes and playful banter, you noticed the subtle signs of his nervousness. The way he kept squeezing the loaf of bread, squishing the slices between his fingers, was almost too endearing. For someone who usually plays it so cool, seeing him so anxious about something as simple as feeding ducks made him seem more genuine.

You couldn't help but smile, appreciating this different side of him. It was clear he was trying hard to make the day special for you, and his nervousness only made the gesture more touching.

You eventually find yourself at the library’s lake, the peaceful setting a perfect backdrop for your outing. The ducks are a welcome distraction, and you both sit shoulder-to-shoulder, enjoying the serene atmosphere. The sun casts a warm glow over the water, and you can’t help but feel content.

You’re deep in conversation about the oddest things when you spot the baby ducks. Your excitement bubbles up, and you grab Adam’s arm, pointing towards the tiny, fluffy creatures. He turns to look and immediately lights up, a soft smile spreading across his face. He places his hand over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze before reaching into the loaf of bread he brought.

You both begin tearing off small pieces of bread and tossing them into the water. The ducks quickly flock to the crumbs, their tiny beaks pecking eagerly. You take turns feeding them, each small piece met with a flurry of happy quacks and paddling.

As one particularly brave baby duck waddles up almost to your feet, you struggle to contain a squeal of delight. The sheer cuteness of the moment makes your heart flutter. Adam chuckles beside you, clearly amused by your reaction.

That doesnt last long, however.

You hear a dramatic gasp of offense before some short, blond twink comes angrily waddling towards you both. Adam, upon spotting him, immediately glowers.

“Um, hey..?” You greet, unsure of the appropriate response.

The blond ignores you in favor of pointing a sharp finger towards the loaf in your hands.

“Is that bread?” He asks, incredulous.

“Yes?”

He furrows his brows and puffs out his chest. “And you’re feeding it to the ducks?”

You look to Adam for reassurance, however he’s too busy glaring daggers at the short man. “…yes?”

The man lets out an ignified squawk. “You can’t do that! You’ll fill them up with nutrition-less food, and then they won’t have an appetite for their actual diet! Are you insane?”

You sheepishly tug the loaf of bread behind your back, hiding it from the man. “Sorry.”

He goes to say something else, before finally noticing Adam next to you. His eyes dart between you both before coming to some sort of conclusion. His once offended face splits into a smug grin. You don’t like how he’s looking at you.

And apparently neither does Adam, because he’s maneuvering you to stand up. Before he gets a chance to turn you around, the man grabs your hand and starts shaking it.

“How rude of Adam to not introduce us! The name’s Lucius, but you can call me Lulu.” The man, Lucius, purrs.

You wrinkle your nose. “You want me to call you lulu?”

Adam forces his way between you both, managing to make Lucius let go of you. You’re thankful for him not to be touching you anymore. “Alright, cunt, leave them alone. You’ve already taken two, that should be enough.”

You’re somewhat offended to be reduced to some number, but your confusion stops you. Whatever dick measuring contest the two of them are holding right now, you want no part of it. “Adam, relax. He’s just upset about the bread.”

“Like hell he is! That’s how he gets you!

“Gets me to do what?”

You look between Lucius, who’s smirking and whistling like he’s in a cartoon, and Adam, who’s staring at the ground with a deep scowl. You feel like you’re missing something big, like there’s an inside joke you’re not a part of. The situation is honestly frustrating.

“Gets me to do what?!” You repeat.

Lucius ignores your question. “You know, you’re rather pretty, aren’t you?”

. “Don’t.” Adam says.

Lucius goes for a more personal approach, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. You instinctively dodge his hand, but he doesn’t seem deterred. Instead, he rakes his fingers down past your head, his touch lingering as he toys with your shirt collar. His eyes glint with mischief as he leans in closer. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing slumping around a tool like Adam?”

“Lucius…”. Adam warns.

“Better to run while you still can.” Lucius laughs. You don’t think it’s very funny. “No one ever stays with him for too long, and it’s better to not find out why. “

Adam’s shoulders slump as his anger melts into hurt. He grumbles something under his breath before turning on his heel and marching off, leaving you standing there with Lucius. You watch him walk away, feeling a pang of disappointment at his sudden departure.

Lucius catches your gaze, his eyes filled with what seems like pity, and it makes you bristle. How dare he assume he knows more about your relationship with Adam than you do? The audacity of this man, who’s clearly intruding on your time together, is infuriating.

Before you have a chance to voice your frustration, Lucius’s lips curl into a reassuring smile. But something about it is far from comforting. The smile exposes unnaturally sharp teeth, making you feel even more uneasy.

You nervously flash him an almost-smile before scurrying off to join Adam. He seems honest-to-god surprised you chose him over that other guy, which is sort of rude, but you try to look past it. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing.” He grunts.

“Okayyy…? Then where are we going? I thought we were getting lunch.”

It looks like it hurts him to say whatever’s next. “No. I’m taking you home.”

“Why? I thought we were going on a date?”

“Because.” He swallowed hard. “The date was ruined.”

You raise an eyebrow, taking a second. You know not to take it to heart— poor dude’s ego was just watered down right in front of him. So you choose a different approach. “Ruined?”

Adam, still sulking, nods his head. “Ruined.”

“Do you think it was ruined?”

“No, but you do.”

You scrunch your face up. “I do? Since when?”

Adam finally looks up from the floor and into your eyes. He’s a bit more energetic than before. “Since Lulu came in and ruined it?”

“First off, don’t call him that. Second off, he was just some crazy twink! What, did you think I was gonna run off with him into the night just because he gave me a compliment?”

“The others did.”

Okay, now you really are confused. “The others?”

Adam rolls his eyes, but not at you. He huffs and sits down on the nearest bench, encouraging you to follow. When you do, he grabs the bread from you, opens it, and starts absentmindedly chewing on a slice.

“I used to have two girlfriends. Not at the same time, though. That’d be way too much drama to deal with.”

Nice to know that that’s where he draws the line…

“But Lucifer—“

“Lucifer?” You balk.

He rolls his eyes and corrects himself. “Lucius set sights on both of them. When I wasn’t looking, he went behind my back and swept them off their feet. Both of them!!! Both of them chose him over me! So excuse me for getting upset when I thought you would too!”

A pang of sympathy plays at your heart, and it takes everything in you to not pull him into a tight hug and never let go. Sure, Adam’s a jerk. A cocky, jerky, dickhole. But he’s been sweet to you. And funny. And thoughtful.

“Well I’m not like your other two girlfriends, am I?” You carefully say.

Adam looks at you with a confused expression, not exactly sure on where you’re going with this. “…no.”

“Then Adam,” you reach for him and feel awful when he flinches away. However, you keep going and manage to pet his hair. “Why would I run away? I want you, plain and simple. I’m still waiting for you to ask me out, ya know.”

Despite everything, he bashfully smiles and looks away. “Yeah, alright. I get it.”

“Do you?”

He looks to you, really looks. And finally— “I do.”

You both stare at each other for a second. You’ve never seen this side of Adam before— vulnerable and open. It’s addicting, and you want more of it. You want to know him inside and out. Before you can think of the overwhelming ache in your bones, you’re standing again and brushing off your clothes.

“Alright, Adam, baby.” Your voice is still soft with emotion. You reach towards him and smile when he grabs ahold of your hand with no hesitation. “Let’s keep walking.”

You pull Adam up, and he follows your lead with ease. As he stands, he doesn’t let go of your hand, holding on tightly. His face is a mixture of emotions—pinched tight with tension and his eyes a bit glossy, but he’s still smiling. It’s a vulnerable sight, and your heart aches for him.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly, concerned.

Adam brings his free hand up, roughly wiping at his face as if trying to clear away the emotions that are threatening to spill over. “Yeah. Yeah, I just… I don’t know. I kind of expected you to run away after all that. I’m just relieved.”

Seeing his struggle, you squeeze his hand reassuringly. The touch is gentle but firm, a silent promise that you’re here for him. He squeezes back, and you both stand there for a moment, connected by this simple but meaningful gesture.

The air between you feels lighter, filled with an unspoken understanding. You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the day’s emotions start to lift. With a comforting smile, you nod toward the path. “…wanna go get food?”

He laughs. “Fuuuuck yes.”

–

Rehearsal later that day was so incredibly hectic, you didn’t get a chance to utter even a word to adam. Your time was spent polishing the show, as you opened tomorrow. The thought alone filled your stomach with dread and excitement.

However, after your songs and scenes, Adam did let out a few cheers. Of course, that led to him getting reprimanded while the director sat you down and gave you notes. You tried to get a peek at him, but he was too far and you were too busy jotting down your notes. Once he was done getting scolded from the conductor, he walked back down to the pit near where you were sat. He caught your eye and, despite having been dug into moments prior, brightly smiled at you. Your heart ached.

Eventually, rehearsal was called to an end. You were grateful that class had gotten canceled tomorrow, as you are quite literally dead on your feet. When you feel a pair of hands land on your shoulders, you jump a few feet in the air. You spin to see Adam, who had grabbed your bag before you could. He slung it over his shoulder, juggling his own guitar case, and held out his hand.

You took it, pressing yourself into his side. Normally you most likely wouldn't have done this, but you’re so exhausted so you lean your weight into him. He laughs and removes his hand from yours, instead wrapping it around your shoulders to pull you in. Together, he silently walks you to your dorm.

–

The velvet curtains closed with a final, satisfying thud, and the applause roared through the theater like a crashing wave. After rushing onstage for your bow, you stood center stage, chest heaving with exhilaration and relief. You had done it. The months of rehearsals, the late nights, and the countless hours of self-doubt had all led to this moment.

You could see the faces of the audience, all beaming with appreciation and admiration. But there was only one face you sought out among the crowd. You felt a rush of warmth, knowing Adam had seen you at your best.

As the house lights came up, you made her way backstage, your fellow cast members congratulating each other with hugs and high-fives. You accepted their praise graciously, but your mind was elsewhere.

You knew you had one more performance to deliver tonight.

Finally, the stage manager gave you a nod. It was time to greet the audience in the lobby. You took a deep breath and stepped out, your heart racing in anticipation. The crowd gathered, forming a semi-circle around the cast. Autographs were signed, selfies were taken, and congratulations were exchanged.

And then, there he was. Adam stood at the edge of the crowd, waiting patiently. As their eyes met, your heart skipped a beat. You excused herself from a conversation with an enthusiastic parent and made your way over to him.

"Hey, superstar," Adam greeted with that charming grin that always made your knees feel a little wobbly.

"Hey yourself," you replied, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "What did you think?"

He grabbed both your hands, bringing them up to his mouth to press a gentle kiss. “You were awesome, really. I loved having you sing along with my guitar.”

You giggled, eyes sparkling. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His smile was genuine, the corners of his eyes crinkling. You batted your hands away from him, relishing in his sickly sweet corniness.

“Oh?”

“I know people typically get flowers, but they die really quickly, so I thought, ‘Hey! Why not make something!’ So I did, but it honestly didn’t turn out very well, so—”

“Adam. Just show me, baby,” you interrupted gently.

He bashfully smiled and dug into his pockets, pulling out a pair of car keys. You balked, eyes wide.

“You got me a fucking car?”

“No!” he laughed, shaking his head. “It’s in my car.”

With that, you both head outside, Adam's hand resting on the small of your back, guiding you gently through the cool evening air. The sky is painted with the soft hues of twilight, casting a romantic glow over everything. When you reach his car, he glances at you with a mix of excitement and nervousness before popping the trunk. He steps in front of you, effectively blocking your view, heightening the anticipation.

You hear the rustling of items being moved around, and your curiosity piques. Finally, Adam turns around, cradling a large, beautifully arranged gift basket. The basket is wrapped in shimmering cellophane and tied with a big, bright bow. Inside, it’s filled to the brim with your favorite candies and your go-to drinks, each item thoughtfully chosen. Nestled among the treats are several gift cards to your favorite stores and cafes.

Your mouth drops open in surprise, and you quickly cover it with your hand, eyes widening in delight and disbelief. Adam, nervously waiting for your response, shifts from foot to foot

You lurch forward, grabbing the basket from him and carefully placing it back into his trunk. With a burst of impulsive energy, you grab him by his collar and pull him down into a passionate kiss. His lips are warm and soft against yours, and the world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect moment.

When you finally pull away, breathless and with your heart racing, you can’t help but blurt out–

“I want you to be my boyfriend.”

Adam’s eyes widen in surprise before his mouth curls into a dopey, joyous smile. “For real??” he asks, his voice full of hopeful excitement.

“For real,” you affirm, your own smile spreading wider.

He pumps his fist in a triumphant gesture.

[lilapplesheadcannons]

The Imaginary Boyfriend

"I have a boyfriend."

Lan Qiren's knife slipped on the dinner plate with an ugly screeching sound. His brother let his piece of steak slip off from his fork, his mouth gaping at the sudden proclamation.

Lan Xichen thanked his lucky stars that he hadn't taken a sip out of his water yet. Looking at the murderous look his mother was casting towards her husband and brother-in-law, they were in for a lecture on proper dinner etiquette expected from adults the moment they got out of the restaurant.

Mrs Lan broke the awkward silence," That's great, A-Zhan. What's his name?"

Lan Zhan shifted in his high chair, "Ummm, his name is..... his name is XianXian."

"That's the name of your bun.. ouch! Honey!"

Mrs Lan, who did amateur theatre in her 20s, conveyed the promise of a slow, painful demise to her husband via a single glance. "That's lovely, darling. Does XianXian study in your school?"

Lan Zhan shook his head, "He doesn't study at all."

He used his fork to spear a piece of chicken before adding as an afterthought, " XianXian draws."

Lan Qiren opened his mouth before closing it abruptly. The rest of the dinner passed without any further interruption. Lan Zhan started to nod off as dessert arrived despite Xichen's best efforts to keep him awake and was fast asleep by the time he was secured in his car seat. Uncle opened his mouth again to say something but seemed to change his mind after catching Xichen's eyes in the rear view mirror.

Later, once Lan Zhan has been deposited safely in his bed, hugging his plush bunny and Lan Xichen has been permitted to stay up another half an hour extra because it's friday, the adults gathered in the living room for a drink before bed.

"He has gotten an imaginary friend," Lan Qiren winced into his drink. "Normal for his age. I wouldn't worry about it."

"An imaginary boyfriend, ha ha."

"I am not worried. And he could be a real friend," Mrs Lan sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

"A new boy? Starting in the middle of the school year? And A-Zhan making friends with him? He doesn't even get along with the Nie kid."

"They just got off on the wrong foot."

All three adults winced this time. It was a good thing the Nies were a close family friend who let bygones be bygones. If it were the Jins or the Wens...

"I just think he might become even more reluctant to get along with his classmates if he's spending even more time inside his own head."

Lan Qiren paused to mull his brother's words. "He'll grow out of it, I am sure. Kids forget things quickly."

Except Lan Zhan proved his uncle wrong. He came down to breakfast on Saturday morning with stories about how XianXian had a mother who was a fairy. In the afternoon, he plopped himself in front of the rabbit hutch and solemnly introduced the bunnies to the drawing of their new parent, a red and black round blob drawn with crayons. At bedtime, Mrs Lan had to kiss 'XianXian' good night as well.

On Sunday, Uncle took both of them to softplay. Lan Zhan took a look at the screaming children and promptly hid himself in a corner of the ballpit. He only mentioned XianXian on the car ride home. "XianXian can climb up the big slide."

At night, 'XianXian' was taken down from his perch on top of Lan Zhan's study desk and was laid down beside his pillow. On a brighter note, Lan Zhan didn't put up his usual resistance to brushing his backteeth once Mother told him XianXian brushed his teeth every night.

The next week, the family was treated with more stories of XianXian. XianXian could eat spicy food. XianXian could draw better than anyone (at this point, Lan Zhan cast a regretful glance at his brother). XianXian was an only child till Wednesday, but by Thursday afternoon, he had gained an older sister and a younger brother. XianXian had parents who were in America. And they would bring toys for Lan Zhan too when they came back. XianXian not only had an uncle, but he had an aunt, too. He was never made to eat bell papers. XianXian loved swimming. XianXian got along with everyone, even HuaiSang.

By week 2, even Lan Qiren was shaken. "He's trying to project his own aspiration on his imaginary friend."

Mrs Lan, who was told by her youngest son only this evening that she was almost as pretty as XianXian, looked slightly miffed. "I just hoped he'd at least be a teenager before he got a boyfriend, imaginary or not..."

They got interrupted by a jubilant Xichen who had wondered in with the cordless phone in his hand. "Mother, Da-ge and A-Sang are going to the beach this weekend. Can we go as well, please?"

Lan Qiren nodded, " We could all use some fresh air."

Xichen removed his palm from the receiver and started urgently speaking into it.

Lan Zhan took the news surprisingly well. Instead of his usual silent tantrum at the prospect of spending time with A-Sang and other children, he nodded sagely saying, "XianXian likes the beach too," before going back to his drawing of another red and black blob.

Lan Xichen was able to spot Nie MingJue and HuaiSang in the car park before their car came to a full rest. He ran towards the boys while they started waving at him. Lan Qiren followed him because leaving a pair of 10 years old in charge of a 5 years old in a beach is just asking for trouble no matter what Lao Nie said about self-reliance.

Mrs Lan yelled at them, " We will see you guys at our regular spot."

Except their regular spot was taken. A bronzed man carrying a baby in a sling was spreading his supplies on a purple beach towel. A girl slightly younger than Xichen frowned in concentration as she dug at the sund with her toy shovel. The man raised his head and smiled at Mrs Lan, showing a crooked canine. She smiled back in response and then started to spread her own beach towel. Lan Zhan solemnly put down his own baby bucket and started helping.

"Nice day, isn't it? I was worried it might get cloudy."

The baby squirmed in its sling and made a dissatisfied mewl. Lan Zhan scrunched his nose before moving to stand closer to his mother. Mrs Lan put her arm around his shoulder, " This is A-Zhan."

"Hello, A-Zhan. This is A-Li, and A-Cheng." The man pointed at his kids. "My wife has taken our nephew for ice-cream."

Mrs Lan opened her mouth, probably to continue with the pleasantries, but she was shocked into silence. Lan Zhan suddenly yelped out a short cry before breaking into a run. Before an aghast Mrs Lan could gather herself to give chase, Lan Zhan was met by a boy his size wearing red and black swimming trunks. The two boys were apprehended by a woman who herded them back towards Mrs Lan.

"A-Zhan, why did you run like that?"

"A-Ying, that's dangerous. Don't run..."

Both sets of parents started at the same time. But they got interrupted by A-Zhan, who proudly declared, "This is XianXian."

Mrs Lan continued to gape. The woman was the first to recover, "Oh my, you must be A-Ying's A-Zhan. He has been talking about you for weeks now."

Lsn Zhan nodded. The woman turned to Mrs Lan, " We don't know how to thank your little boy. You see, poor A-Ying had to move in with us because his parents are on a research trip. We were so worried he'd have a bad time getting along with his new classmates. But, it seems like A-Zhan here was a perfect angel."

Mrs Lan weakly smiled. " Yes, A-Zhan kept talking about his new friend, too. But why does he call him XianXian? "

The man extended a hand to ruffle the boy's already messy hair, "His courtesy name is Wei Wuxian. A-Ying is more of a nickname."

The boy jerked his head away but didn't release his hold on Lan Zhan's hands. The boys started to talk earnestly. Or more like Wei Ying talked while Lan Zhan seemed to absorb every word with his entire being. A-Ying's aunt offered to go get more ice cream to replace the ones she had dropped. Mrs Lan spotted her brother-in-law, leading the small team of children towards them. She relaxed her tense muscles and laid down on the towel; then jerked back up because of Lan Zhan's solemn declaration to the group, " XianXian and I are getting married."

[ace-and-the-rpg-horrors]

infodump about my unit swap AU!! mainly how the units formed :>

the idol group: Shizuku (leader), Ena, Tsukasa, Minori

Ena's photos on social media led to her being scouted by the same modelling agency that Shizuku worked for. they become good friends and both end up as idols at Cheerful Days. Shizuku quits earlier though, because Ena saw how the other members were treating her and almost immediately was like "err no, i'm not having that" and they both left, believing that their idol days were over

meanwhile, Tsukasa has decided to take a different path to stardom, aspiring to be a world-famous idol instead of an actor, somewhat inspired by his childhood friend. however, he isn't as successful, and similarly to Minori, many of his applications have been rejected. after Shizuku left Cheerful Days, learning of his bad luck, she tries to cheer him up by suggesting he join an unofficial group with herself and Ena. he accepts reluctantly, though insists it is temporary and that he will make it to a "real" idol group one day

Shizuku begins her second year of high school like Haruka in canon, going as a normal student. one day, she finds Minori on the rooftop practicing and is reminded of the most fun parts of being an idol. she offers to help Minori improve, and- having been missing Ena and Tsukasa since the two, while still friends, weren't able to talk as much once school started- contacts them to see if they'd like to help Minori out. Minori and Tsukasa, with their similar ambition and upbeat personalities, get along instantly and Minori is now the fourth member of their group

the online indie group: Kanade (leader), Saki, Ichika, Nene

the same circumstances led to Kanade starting to compose. one day, while bored and surfing the internet in hospital, Saki came across her music and started to write lyrics for it since it has resonated with her. she eventually decided to send her lyrics to this K person, who, to her surprise, responded, and even offered that Saki join her as a lyricist

once well enough to start high school, Saki excitedly tells Ichika all about her new hobby. Ichika still longs to bring their band from their childhood back together, but with little luck talking to Honami and Shiho, eventually joins Saki and Kanade's little group. she uses her guitar to add to Kanade's music and sometimes sings Saki's lyrics

Nene was still very much affected by what had happened in her middle school performance. yet, her desire to sing remained, even though she felt she could never face an audience again. one day, as she was listening to random music while gaming, a piece from K's group turned up. she stopped what she was doing and tried singing along to it- it fit her voice perfectly, as if it was made for her. with some encouragement from Rui, she made up her mind and asked if she could be a singer for their group. the other three, impressed by her clear skill, accepted

the theatre troupe: Emu (leader), Rui, Mizuki, Airi

Emu and Rui's meeting goes similarly to canon. desperately searching for cast members, Emu catches one of his illegal shows at PXL. she sees the park security before he does as he's distracted with his performance and whisks him away to the Wonder Stage, where she asks him to join her troupe. of course, he has no reason to refuse- and in addition, he has another possible member in mind. his old friend Mizuki, who would be great help with costumes, making the stage "cuter"- and something tells Rui that they'd make for a good actress too

the next rare occasion he sees them at school, he asks them to join. hearing of the state of the stage, as well as wanting to repay Rui for his company back then, Mizuki instantly agrees

meanwhile, Emu is on the hunt for more members at her own school. Airi, having quit her old work at this point, runs into Emu at one point. Emu recognises her from TV and excitedly tells the older girl that if she joins her troupe, she'll get the chance to make many people smile and spread hope. although it isn't exactly the idol future she wished for, Airi is convinced by Emu and becomes the main singer of the troupe whenever they do musicals

the street musicians: An, Akito, Haruka, Shiho

once An and Akito found out they had the same goal, they teamed up from the start and became a duo, so An didn't try to find a singing partner and Akito never ran into Toya singing, though i think they would still be decent friends through school, but not as close as canon

Haruka went through the same situation with Mai that led to her quitting as an idol. one day, wanting a change of scenery, she decided to meet up with An at Weekend Garage and when she arrived, she was greeted with her and Akito bickering over how they should sing lines in song. Haruka stepped in with her suggestions and the pair took a liking to her singing voice and asked if she wanted to join them. for a few days, Haruka was reluctant, but eventually gave into An's pleas and started singing with them on Vivid Street

while headed to the Miyajou music room to practice her bass, Shiho walked in on Haruka practicing her singing and was impressed by her work ethic. for a few weeks, they would practice songs together, Haruka singing along to the music Shiho played on the bass. eventually, after talking to An and Akito, Haruka invited Shiho to their group

Shiho was sceptical at first, and a bit put off by An and Akito's personalities when she first met them, but once she saw how serious they were about their goal, she felt she could relate to them a little with how driven they all were. Akito, inspired by Shiho's ability to both sing and play an instrument, decided to start learning the guitar

the band: Honami, Mafuyu, Kohane, Toya

Honami, even though she feels like it's a bit pointless since Saki, Ichika and Shiho have found different music groups, as well as not having the confidence to reach out to them all again, still continues to practice her drumming, even though she doesn't really know what her aim is

Mafuyu, not having ever come across K's music, hears Honami play one day as she walks past the school's music room. she senses a fellow person who doesn't really know what they're doing with their life and wordlessly enters and begins playing the piano in the room along with the drumming. Honami is surprised but doesn't stop. that is their routine for a while, simply playing the same song together without exchanging many words, but there's a silent understanding between them

Kohane did run into An's group practicing at Weekend Garage, but didn't return after running away the first time. however, her newfound interest in music remained and she visited the music room one day as Honami and Mafuyu were playing. she recognised the song and absentmindedly started to sing it as she stood by the doorway, accidentally catching their attention. however, Honami quickly stopped her from walking away and asked her if she'd like to continue singing along to their music

the three of them eventually became a band, but it did feel like something was missing. i'm going to say that in this AU, Mafuyu and Toya's parents are friends, so they know of each other. although Toya didn't particularly want to continue with classical music, he figured playing with people he could potentially befriend was much better than complete strangers, so when Mafuyu offers him a place in their group, he accepts. he becomes best friends with Kohane and agrees to become the violinist for their band. they often play at the Aoyagi house since it's got the most space

cross unit relationships

Rui and Nene: as childhood friends and neighbours, they are still extremely close despite not being in the same group. Rui is often in the background when Nene's on Nightcord calls. they share ideas with each other- though Nene does feel slightly down when she hears about everything Rui gets up to in his new theatre troupe as she somewhat wishes she was still able to join one

An and Kohane: never fear, Anhane will still occur despite them being in different units. Toya and Kohane head to Weekend Garage one day because Toya heard that their coffee was good and Kohane gets the opportunity to actually speak to An. they agree to stay in touch

Shizuku and Airi: they briefly met while they were both in the idol industry and remained good friends. Shizuku takes Airi's advice regarding being an idol and Airi is often inviting Shizuku to come see their shows. however, Shizuku always ends up lost, especially with the Wonder Stage in such an obscure location, so Airi has to send Rui to go looking for her- since he often plays the villain, he tends not to appear in performances until a bit later, giving him the time to go searching even when the show's due to begin

there are others but i am soooooooooo tired. this ended up well longer than expected

[trash-soup]

Weird and fun and slightly unhinged (and SPOILER FILLED) Stardew Valley headcanons i have:

My cows are transmasc (like Otis from Barnyard) so every time I (the player character) see them i say "Gentlemen" and give them a nod

Maru and I share notes on things we've built in the past few days every time we see each other

M. Rasmodius had two kids with two different women in town (which is why the witch divorced his ass): Abigail (duh) and WAIT FOR IT...Sebastian. We know nothing about Sebastian's father, but Seb himself is very attuned to nature and has the same slight smugness at the beginning as the Wizard. Do Seb and Abigail know they're related? No. Will they ever? Who knows. Do they feel a strong connection between them? Yes. Has it been confused for a crush and will it dissapate into a sibling-like relationship eventually? Absolutely.

Marnie knows she deserved better than Lewis. That's why she's been considering Marlon.

Gil (the monster slayer rewards guy) is Jodi and Harvey's dad.

Lewis siphons money from the town's taxes into various "town _____ funds", most of which he keeps for himself. (gold for a solid gold statue is expensive) the only reason he doesn't keep the agriculture fund is because I moved into the farm.

Evelyn and Grandpa had a long and storied romance before she met George. They were middle school sweethearts all the way through high school, but when they graduated, she left for a job in the city, and he stayed behind on the farm. He eventually met our grandmother, who he married, and when evelyn came back she was a bit saddened but she kept in touch with both of them. Soon after she met George, and that was that.

Pam and Clint are cousins

Gunther is actually running a small smuggling ring with his wife, the Travelling Cart woman (I call her Maureen). They smuggle artifacts and supplies over enemy lines.

"Our beloved Mona" in the cemetery is actually Jas and Shane's Mom, Marnie's Sister. Shane had a rough relationship with her, opting to go with his dad in the divorce, but when dad turned out to be an abusive ass, he came back to mom's. He and Mona got along a bit better and he even started thriving in school. She would make him homemade Jalapeno bacon pepper poppers as a reward for good grades, and threw him a pizza party when he made the Varsity gridball team. After he graduated, she had Jas and named him her godfather on top of being her half brother. Then she had an awful accident about a year and a half later. Shane spiraled, latched on to the addictive tendencies given to him by his father's genes, and began drinking. He asked aunt Marnie if they could crash with her for a while. He's still reeling from his mom's sudden death 7 years later when we move in.

Demetrius is working on secret military projects but can't let his family know, so he wanders off (to the lakeside and to the fountain) to work on them.

Harvey has a shelf in his apartment full of ultra expensive and intricate model planes, half of which were gifts from Jodi

Kent and Harvey have a strained relationship due to Kent having seen the true horrors of war and Harvey glorifying service in the armed forces. They get along but only just.

Pierre's secret stash is not porn, but Money. He keeps a rather large sum of gold tucked away from his family "just in case".

Shane and Alex hang out and talk about gridball more than you would think. In fact, Alex is one of the very few people Shane likes.

Claire (the cashier from Joja) hates Morris. She hates working for Joja. She hates the fact that they're causing problems in the valley. She wishes she could just own her own business here some day. And she does. When the Junimos restore the Joja building into the movie theatre, she gets a mysterious letter in the mail that says "Come bak tu valley, muvee plase is yours" (Junimos had to ask hat mouse to write it)

I have a ton more but that's it for now.

[ssruis]

i like youre posts, thoughts on ruinene ?

As a romantic dynamic: I don’t really think abt them that way… it’s the unrepentant emunene/ruikasa bias. Also a lot of rui & nene’s interactions read as very… sibling-like? To *me*. Personally. I hesitate to say sibling-like, because people get really weird about assigning family dynamics to characters who aren’t related or raised as siblings and have never referred to each other as siblings (“it’s basically incest” no it is not what are you on), but it’s something similar to that imo. Gestures at nene’s new 3rd anniversary 2* card story where Rui is like “I remember when you were reading picture books… and now you’re reading more advanced books… how time flies…” & she’s like “stop treating me like a kid 😑” despite being him being only one year older than her.

I don’t have anything against it (& I think taking shipping fictional characters seriously enough to fight over it is ridiculous), it’s just not for me & I don’t see it romantically. But for the people who do: you do you have fun enjoy yourselves. (I also personally think Rui is gay coded but again. Idc if people disagree it doesn’t affect me I’m glad they’re having fun. Also that’s a hot button topic & I don’t want the people who do take this shit too seriously to hunt me down with pitchforks and torches please go outside it’s not that deep.)

As a platonic dynamic/going off what’s in canon: I’m so obsessed with them (as I am with all wxs dynamics). They’re so fascinating to me. They make me so sad. Another reason I hate the “they’re siblings” thing is it feels like a boring restrictive box people want to shove their dynamic into that does a disservice to how interesting it is. It waters it down.

Nene was the only person Rui really had as a friend when he was a kid, and the only person who trusted in him and his ideas. They grew their love for theatre together. At some point they grew distant - we don’t know why, but my personal take on it is this:

1. Rui slowly growing to think he would never find anyone who got him after experiencing rejection after rejection, and pushing Nene away. A combination of “I need to leave her before she leaves me, this way it will hurt less because it’s My Choice”, “I shouldn’t inflict myself upon other people it’s better for everyone if I stay by myself”, and “Nene has her own friends now I would just be dragging her down.”

2. Nene having her own friends (new troupe) and slowly pulling back - or, at least, not actively trying to prevent him pushing her away. “I don’t want to experience the same social rejection, and I don’t know how to help Rui, there’s nothing I can do.” Nene, especially in the early days, has never been very assertive, and I don’t think favoring blending into the background over standing out (in a potentially embarrassing way) due to Rui’s stunts and ideas would be out of character for her.

3. I don’t think they went to the same middle school/junior high (I could be wrong) (did they even go to the same elementary school?) which meant they didn’t spend time together without one of them reaching out, which became increasingly rare.

I don’t think either of them are to blame. Or they share equal blame, depending on how you look at it. I see people placing more of the blame on Nene though, which is… Nene get behind me. Leave her alone. If you held my prsk account at gunpoint and said “ok but seriously who is more to blame for the relationship breakdown you have choose or your 4*s are gone forever” I would say Rui. Wouldn’t even have to think about it. Given his abandonment issues/avoidant tendencies/habit of pushing others away/pre main story mindset, it’s what makes the most sense.

They don’t really reconnect until the main story, and even then I wholeheartedly believe Rui was less interested in reconnecting than he was interested in getting Nene to perform again. He accepts Tsukasa’s invitation to WxS under the condition that he gets to bring in a fourth member and then immediately tries to leave the second Tsukasa is like “I don’t want to die wtf.” like he doesn’t even try that hard to convince him he just goes “ok bye have fun nene :).”

Rui builds Nene a robot so she can perform again which - I’ve talked about it before briefly, I need to talk about it at length at some point, but while that’s very sweet it’s also… not helpful. Not in the long run, at least. It wasn’t a *bad* thing, it was just the only solution he was capable of offering. It was a bandaid over a gaping wound situation - Nene couldn’t hide behind a robot forever. Rui couldn’t always be there to fix nenerobo, she couldn’t pursue performing seriously behind a robot, and she *wanted* to be on stage again. What Nene needed was the courage to get on stage again, and Rui didn’t have the skill set to help with that, because it was something Nene needed to find on her own (with support).

The thing about them in the early days is they both enabled each other to stagnate in situations they weren’t happy with. Maybe more so Rui than Nene, in that he literally built he a robot to allow her to avoid confronting her anxiety around performing, but Nene also lacked the ability to challenge or discourage Rui’s “I’m better off on my own” mindset. The tragic consequences of two people who lack social skills (one of which has pretty severe social anxiety) trying to help each other. Nothing really gets done.

(As an aside: this is why the emu+nene and tsukasa+rui dynamics are so crucial. Yes even outside of a ship dynamic I promise I’m accounting for my own bias. Emu+tsukasa did actually have the ability to encourage nene+rui to come out of their shells - Emu is Nene’s no.1 hype man and always encourages her in everything she does and pushes her outside her comfort zone socially. Nene doesn’t have to guess at what Emu is thinking & get caught up in the weeds of anxiety bc Emu will just tell her outright. Rui credits Tsukasa specifically with giving him the chance to change for a reason, and Mizuki/pandemonium NPCs point out that Rui has seemed so much happier and less closed off since becoming Tsukasa’s friend. Pointing @ the thing Rui’s CV said about as you like it.)

There’s still some degree of guilt on Nene’s side wrt being unable to help Rui even now, but that’s lessened over the course of the story. There’s a lot that goes unsaid between them about their shared past, but they also understand each other incredibly well after knowing each other for ~10 years. By virtue of knowing each other forever they’re both well acquainted with how the other’s mind works.

Nene can tell what’s bothering Rui in wonder halloween before even he realizes it, and she understands that he struggles to explain/articulate his feelings and issues in curtain call. Rui is tuned into Nene’s anxiety saw trap of a mind and is well versed in getting her to realize she’s overthinking things (I.e. “why don’t you just ask tsukasa what he did in the acting camp” in her emu3 2* card. I think that’s the right card) as well as getting her to speak up (shutting emu up with a donut in one of the earlier nene card stories so nene has a chance to talk. source here is just trust me I don’t want to hunt the card down).

Nene is always in his corner, and the reverse is true. They want each other to be happy and they’re so so so pleased that the other is doing better now. Nene often points out that Rui seems happier, and Rui is very proud of how far Nene has grown both on the stage and off it. Love their dynamic it’s so good… I care them…

[jgroffdaily]

Jonathan Groff won the 2002 Beth Bash Memorial Award at the annual High School Theatre Festival at the Fulton Opera House. He directed and starred in production of the musical "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown," that a Conestoga Valley High School took to the festival. Groff won a Tony Award Sunday, June 16.

'Always gave 150%': Directors, actors remember Tony Award winner Jonathan Groff as eager young performer

MARY ELLEN WRIGHT | Staff Writer

When Ronks native Jonathan Groff took to the stage Sunday night, June 16, to accept his first Tony Award he paid tribute to where he grew up. He thanked his family, his teachers and people he has been in musicals with.

He was humble, grateful and, well, nice.

None of that surprised those in Lancaster County who have known him since he was a teenage actor. When Groff was young, they recalled in interviews Monday afternoon, he was already a passionate theater professional and a hard worker — and, yes, already humble, kind and grateful.

They were also thrilled that he won a Tony Award (for best leading actor in a musical, for “Merrily We Roll Along”), but not really surprised, given the talent they saw in a young Groff.

“Jonathan was always so respectful to everyone,” Edward Fernandez, artistic director of Ephrata Performing Arts Center, said. “He was a director’s dream, quite honestly. ... He was born professional.”

Fernandez directed Groff as one of the Lost Boys in “Peter Pan” at what was known in 1999 as the Fulton Opera House.

“His voice was changing; that’s what I remember,” Fernandez said.

Later, at EPAC, Fernandez directed in the 2002 musical “Honk!” in which Groff played Ugly — the swan-in-a-duck’s nest who’s the subject of the “ugly duckling” fairy tale. There’s a moment in the show when Ugly hatches from an egg and utters his first honk, Fernandez said.

“I’ll never forget this. When he comes out of that egg and does his first honk, you knew you were seeing a star being born,” Fernandez said. “Whatever ‘it’ is, he had ‘it.’”

Groff’s middle-school English and drama teacher, Sue Fisher, saw “it” when Jonathan played the lead in Conestoga Valley Middle School’s eighth-grade play, “Best of the West.”

“He wanted it so badly,” Fisher said. “He worked hard. He was constantly focused, and when he was on stage, he was magnetic. ... He would never drop his character once he was on stage. He would be so immersed in this person he had created. And it was something I didn’t see much coming from middle school actors.”

Fisher had the distinction of being singled out in Groff’s speech as he thanked his former teachers.

“After he said ‘especially Sue Fisher,’ I have no idea what he said after that,” she said. “Because that’s where I completely lost it.” She appreciated that Groff acknowledged the impact all his teachers have had on his life.

“My phone started blowing up as soon as the applause started at the end of Jonathan’s speech,” she noted.

Fisher stays in touch with Groff. They text frequently, and she goes to see his shows in New York — and always brings him homemade chocolate chip cookies.

“People always ask me the same question: ‘Is he really as nice as he appears to be?’ And the answer is yes, absolutely,” Fisher said

“He is the most humble and grateful person that you would ever meet,” Fisher said. “He’s kind and generous. ... He doesn’t like to talk about himself. He wants to find out about you. He’s interested in people.

“He talks about gratitude. He talks about the impact other people have had on him and how grateful he is for that,” Fisher said. “That is the hallmark of him.”

Groff also gives back to his mentors in Lancaster County. He has visited school classes, performed in benefit concerts for EPAC and did a voiceover video for a nonprofit Fisher is involved in.

“I’m so happy for Jonathan,” Fernandez said. “But what makes me really happy for him in my heart ... is how brave he is and the path he has chosen, to be honest to others about himself. .... He’s a trailblazer.”

Groff is openly gay, has starred in the LGBTQ+ TV series “Looking” and mentioned coming out at age 23 in his Tony speech.

“It’s not about the accolades,” Fernandez added. “It’s about the choices he has made and what that means to other .... LGBTQ [young people] who feel marginalized, and they have him as a guiding star, which I didn’t have when I was a kid.”

Longtime local actor Tricia Corcoran, now in the cast of “The Full Monty” at the Dutch Apple Dinner Theatre, appeared in “Honk!” and 2004’s “Bat Boy: The Musical” at EPAC with Groff.

“He would come to rehearsals and just give 150 percent at every rehearsal,” Corcoran said. "Knowing his lines, knowing his songs, sang full out at every rehearsal, knew his blocking, knew his words.

“He was always joyful and happy to be there,” she said. “He never complained about anything. The adults were like, ‘We have to up our game to keep up with this kid.’

Kevin Ditzler, long involved in theater in Lancaster County and director of the spring musicals at Lampeter-Strasburg High School, was house manager for EPAC’s production of “Honk!”

When Ditzler was cleaning the theater before every performance, he’d see a teenage Groff “put on roller skates and start skating around on EPAC’s floor. Every night on roller skates, making sure it was safe, making sure it was right.”

Corcoran said Groff taught himself to roller skate for one scene in which Ugly learns to swim — just like he taught himself anything he was asked to do on stage.

Ditzler said he tells his L-S students who want to go into theater as a career to follow Groff’s example.

“That’s the only way you’re going to find success,” he tells them. “You want to get it right, you have to try and try and try and do that extra work. Jonathan is the perfect representation of that work ethic.”

(Ditzler is also associate director of development for WITF, LNP’s parent company.)

Fisher added that she appreciated Groff mentioning being from Lancaster in his Tony speech.

“What a great shout-out for Lancaster County and Lancaster County values,” she added. “Jonathan’s proud of that. He’s proud that he’s from here. And we are so proud that he is from here, too.”

In 2004's campy musical "Bat Boy," at Ephrata Performing Arts Center, Jonathan Groff, right, played a half boy-half bat who couldn't control his murderous urges. With Groff is "victim" Andrew Kindig, and Kristen Comyns as Bat Boy's love interest

Jonathan Groff, left, performs a duet with his former director, Edward Fernandez, at a 2007 benefit for the Ephrata Performing Arts Center.

[andyxd151]

Fun facts about my YV OC’s

Dante is the oldest (not confirming their ages though)

Marina’s nickname is Rina

Oliver can dislocate his rists at will and it freaks everyone out every single time he does that

Ryu has a sunflower tattoo on their back bc of their petname

Amari is ambidextrous

Kaliska’s name means ‘coyote chasing deer’

Cyrus actually hates meatloaf, but their aunt gave it to to them to have something to eat and they were to nice to say no, so that’s why it was just sitting there when Lucien came in

Amari’s dad and Rina’s and Oliver’s moms are siblings making these three cousins

The day she gave Charlie the mixtape, Amari was sent home early so she wouldn’t have to find out Charlie’s answer to the note he (never) got with the tape because she was almost certain that she’d be rejected

Ryu practiced the whole scene where they confessed to Finn with the tickets all night the night before in front of the mirror because she was sweating and shaking at the thought of it

Rina likes to crochet in her free time

Cyrus was a theatre kid in both middle school and high school

Kaliska has a pet hog nose snake named Pringle

Dante had a weird anime kid phase in the 5th grade, he cringes every time he remembers it

Dante actually met Ryu in college and even dated for a bit

The three cousins lived in their own apartment that the three of them rented thanks to the help of Amari’s connections during college

Oliver chose to move out straight after college in order to open up his small bakery

As soon as she moved out, Rina wanted to move back in saying she felt to lonely

Amari was the last one to leave the apartment

Amari is the oldest, Rina is the middle, and Oliver is the youngest but they were all born in the same year

Dante was born and raised in Japan by his mom and her family, he moved to the US for college

Amari and Ryu were fun buddies that also didn’t get along for a bit but now kinda get along and bond over the fact that they both like oblivious blondes with freckles

Amari has a pool in her backyard and Charlie has yet to look back there, she doesn’t mention it because they want to see how surprised and bewildered he’ll be when they get to tell him how it’s been there the whole time and the only reason he never know was because he never asked

Cyrus has a pet European rat named Remy (I snuck in my baby)

Marina has a succubus womb tattoo

Amari’s skateboard nickname for Charlie is “Ollie” like the backward Ollie

Oliver has a fear of the dark and even has a night light for the nights Al doesn’t sleep over

Cyrus hates being too hot or too cold but loves the heat from their living space heater

Ryu works as a tattoo artist in shop just down the street from Finn’s flower shop

Kaliska is the best at playing rock paper scissors

Rina sometimes needs to FORCE the food down Auron’s throat not because he doesn’t like the food, but because he claims to be to busy to eat, and by force I mean having this man in some sort of a head lock while trying to get the fork in his mouth, the whole experience is like trying to give your pet their pills

Dante HATES apricots he likes peaches and every other variation of peaches EXCEPT APRICOTS, he’s not allergic he just has a really weird hatred for specificity apricots

Before meeting Faust, Dante would go to Comicon and Anime Expo with Cyrus every year, now he goes with them both

Cyrus likes to watch the Hangover movies when they’re stressed

Before they met Finn, Ryu was actually kind of a grumpy person, but now they have their sunshine:)

Oliver was a tube baby and a C section baby, he sometimes questions if he’s even really human

Rina was allergic to cats when she was little

Cyrus is double jointed in their thumbs and can dislocate them at will, it weirds the hell out of Lucien every single time

Dante has a scar on his back from being whacked with a branch by another student from when he was a kid

Ryu actually loves animals

Cyrus can’t cook for shit but can make a MEAN cherry pie

Kaliska and Jack have matching bracelets

Finn always packs Ryu lunch

Same goes for Lucien and Cyrus

Kaliska is lactose intolerant but continues to eat anything and everything with dairy whenever she gets the chance

Dante is an Xbox guy

Cyrus likes to watch Lucien sleep in order to make themself sleepy

Ryu has a snaggle tooth

That’s all for now! I have more but I don’t want to put too much in one post :)