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temiizpalace · 3 months ago

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☆┊YOU DREAM OF ME??

SUMMARY: entering the dream world was such a strange feat.. especially seeing yourself in somebody else’s dream.

CHARACTERS: jade leech-centric

GENRE: fluff, crackfic

WARNINGS: you act cringe because jade leech is a cringy guy with wattpad fantasies + BOOK 7 SPOILERS + canon divergence (some dialogue is not exact cause i lowkey forgot, some moments didn’t actually happen, and i shortened it a lil so i don’t have to write too much)

NOTES: while writing this, it turns out someone else had a similar idea so i was hesitant to upload the writing. however, I’ve decided to anyways. that being said, crediting said individual is still in order since they had the idea first.

please check out @.paralleljoys post here (IF ANY ISSUES PLEASE SEND ME AN ASK, TY!)

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

🐬∘˙

you didn’t expect this. nobody expected this, actually.

jade leech, cunning, observant, quiet, and mysterious. he was one to keep his cards close to his chest and play it safely to ensure the best outcomes. and yet, here we are, in said eels dreams. a look inside of his thoughts, how he truly saw people, how he—

“jade you’re so cool! i love love love love loveeee the way your mind works sooooo much!” a voice, sounding similarly to yours, chimed. “fufu, you flatter me, my pearl..”

your jaw dropped, grims jaw dropped, you can hear idia falling out of his seat from behind the screen, jamil’s eyes had never been opened wider, floyd cringed, silver looked away, ortho could barely compute, and sebek had the most genuine disgust written on his face.

was that you? you thought azul and floyd looked stupid, BUT THAT WAS YOU? jamil slapped a hand over grims mouth, preventing the direbeast from cackling his lungs out at the sight of your pathetic image. “MYAHAHA, HENCHMAN YOU LOOK SO STUPI—“ “keep quiet.” jamil mutters, slightly smirking. you could tell he was also containing his laughter, making your face change in hue.

“eww, no way. i knew jade was all lovey dovey with the prefect but i dont wanna watch it. what a sap.” floyd groans, looking at dream you, real you, then at jade. “i dont wanna watch this either! if you guys are embarrassed how do you think i feel?!” you murmur, hiding your face in shame.

“my pearl, open wide.” jade grins, holding a piece of shrimp in his hands. “oh my, jade you sweetheart!” you giggle, opening your mouth so jade can feed you. idia snickers, holding back a laugh. you can practically see his smug expression in your mind. “he has the fantasies of a trashy middle school fanfiction, what comedy gold.”

silver clears his throat, trying to regain the attention of the group in order to free jade from his dream. while everyone with a logical mind held an equally logical discussion, you, floyd, and grim were too focused on the scene before you. “jade, you and shrimpy should just get married.” dream floyd grins, pushing you two together.

“agreed. you both are a match made in heaven!” dream azul says in between sobs, wiping his tears away with one of his tentacles. “why, what a splendid idea! azul, please make arrangements right away. we shall wed at once, my dear.” jade chuckles, holding you close in his arms. “j-jade!? i don’t know what to say..”

“do you not wish to marry me?” he asks, his thumb tracing your chin. his voice was low, yet soothing at the same time. “it’s not like i don’t want to..” dream you mumbles, avoiding his eyes by looking at the ground with a pout. REAL you, on the other hand, can’t bear the sight of it anymore. neither can floyd. or grim.

“let’s continue to overcome hardships and conquer many mountains together.” jade laughs, pulling you all in by the shoulders. as the dream variants of jades loved ones cheer, floyd swims in and swoops down, attacking his brother and his dumbed down dream him.

“I CANNOT STAND IT ANYMORE!” floyd grunts, scowling at his dear brother, who held an expression of shock. “f-floyd? there’s two of you..?!” he stutters, looking at his dream twin and his actual twin. “they’re mirror images of each other! how can you tell them apart!” azul exclaims, wiping his eyes to get a better look.

“who is this? can i hug you and eat you? hehe.”

“i originally thought you weren’t interested in other people, but you have a limited memory. “i dont eat dance and eat shrimps stuck in between rocks.” floyd scoffs, staring at his dumbfounded doppelgänger. “floyd.. doesn’t eat shrimps.. or dance..?” jade ponders, feeling his mind begin to waver.

“jade! im scared!” dream you screams, curling up in the boys arms. your eyebrow twitches, tired of the humiliation you witnessed thanks to jades horrible imagination. following your impulse, you run out with floyd, despite the shouts of your name.

“PREFECT! GET BACK HERE! WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU TRYING TO ACHIEVE?!” sebek shouts, but his voice falls on deaf ears. he made a point though, what were you doing? it’d be much safer to just stay back and watch this play out, so why the hell are you trying to get involved?! “p-pearl?!” jade gasps, eyes wide in disbelief.

“th-there’s also two of you.? what in the seven is going on here?” he swam back slowly, unraveling the scene before him. two brothers, two lovers (well not officially..), and a whole school of students that seem familiar, but unsure as to where.. you could tell jade was beginning to wake up! it’s only a matter of time..

“jade, don’t be fooled. floyd shouldn’t be that ugly bastard, he should be more innocent and cute. and look at [MC], they love you so much they don’t know what to do with themselves! don’t be tricked by that fraud.” azul sneers, pointing at you and floyd, much to your dismay. just taking a glance at floyd was enough to be able to tell he was this close to breaking every bone in dream azul’s body and frankly you don’t blame him.

“i see.. floyd has been very charming to his relatives and my pearl wouldn’t leave my side so quickly,” jade hesitates, glancing at his two brothers. “i should go. they all really need me.” he smiled politely, swimming towards what once looked like his loved ones, now forming into large piles of dark goo. as jade was nearly consumed by the darkness, floyd swims past quickly. you stood on the eels back, landing a hit on dumb dumb floyd, crybaby azul, and cringe wattpad you.

“I DO NOT SOUND LIKE THAT.” you finally yell, catching nearly everyone’s attention. “it’s no use. we have to help out.” jamil sighs, lifting his magic pen. “let’s go!” silver shouts, rushing into the spot where you and floyd had already began your attack. as the fight rages on, the others serving as a distraction for jade, floyd had continued to land hits on the watered down versions of yourselves with ease before they finally shouted for help.

“it hurts! help us, jade!” dream floyd cries. “rescue us, jade!” azul cries. “oww! protect us, jade!” dream you screams, finally catching his attention. “how dare you! you fake. get behind me, i got this.” jade hisses, attacking floyd directly. you felt your balance falter on floyd’s back, slipping before falling near the vents. “prefect!” ortho shouts, rushing over to catch you til you fell into jamil’s arms safely. “it’s not safe, the vents are crumbling due to the fighting. retreat for now!” he directs, running towards a safer location.

“your carelessness nearly got you killed, prefect.” jamil sighs, looking down at you with a concerned yet tired expression. “sorry, i just couldn’t take it anymore!” you groan, crossing your arms angrily. “you can set me down now, jamil.” you pat his arm, breaking him from his daze. “..right.” he mutters, placing you down gently. they began to discuss different ways to wake up jade, before sebek finally settled on just electrocuting them.

“be careful, sebek.” silver reminds him, patting his shoulder before the boy ran out. “pierce the cloudy sky, lightning! living bolt!”

the tweels stop their fighting, electricity trickling all over their body leaving them temporarily paralyzed and passed out. after a few moments, their eyes fluttered open, being met with millions of other stares. “jade!” azul shouts, pushing floyd at the way with a grunt. “thank goodness you’re alive! i could’ve lost my cute subordinate!” he sniffles, causing jades eyebrow to raise. “..cute subordinate?”

“i’ll cry if jade is gone! don’t go anywhere!” dream floyd sighs with a dopey expression. “jade you idiot! you could’ve gotten seriously hurt and id never forgive you!” dream you sobs, rushing over to hold his hand hastily. “hm. that’s strange. the floyd and azul i know would never say something like that.” jade scoffs, looking at the two with disgust.

“huh?” they gasp, staring at him as if he said something crazy. “was sebek’s lightning so powerful, jade is finally starting to awaken?” silver mumbles, raising a finger to his chin. “awaken.. why am i here in the first place..?” jade groans, recollecting his thoughts slowly. “so.. i am a student at night raven college.. on land? agh.”

“my head feels like it’s going to split!” he winces in pain, holding his head as he shouts. all his memories finally began to come back to him, all the moments he had during the year turning the gears in his mind til he was finally back to his senses. “how could i possibly have forgotten something so important?” he huffs, looking back at the doppelgängers behind him.

“floyd would never act so obedient, he’s much more domineering. azul would give orders to others without putting himself in danger as much as possible.” he pauses for a moment, staring at your fake before shaking his head. “[MC] would have never acted so defenseless. what an embarrassing feat. i was acting quite strange.” jade sighs, turning his back towards the trio.

they had all began to complain to jade, asking why he would believe such fake things. dream you broke into tears, curling in floyds arms with a sob. jade would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little jealous, but it’s not the real you so he’ll hold back. a little. they all clung onto jade, begging him to reconsider his decision before he finally spared them a word.

“can you please not touch me? creepy.” with a quick slash, the floyd and azul clones were reduced to goo. jade looked at the fake you, slightly hesitating at your trembling figure. alas, they were spared no expense and fell back into the darkness, crying his name and dragging out each syllable.

“no mercy..” idia stuttered, chewing on his nail. “he was protecting them with his life, only to end them once he realized they were fake.” jamil states, scratching his chin while replaying the scene back in his head. “scary..” idia murmurs. “finally awake, jade?” floyd punches his brothers arm, earning a chuckle. “yes, thank you.”

they share a laugh before hitting each other suddenly, startling each and every one of you. “floyd, you dare have hurt your own brother? i thought my whole body was going to fall apart. have you no mercy on your own blood? how terrible.” jade wiped away a tear, floyd not buying it for a single second.

“jade leech.” his banter was cut short by the sounds of your voice, your stern tone telling that this will not end well for him. “w-why, [MC]! how might i be of service.?” jade smiles, remaining his composure well. “don’t “how might i be of service” me! you have some serious explanation to do once we’re out of this stupid dream.” you scowl, staring him down with an intimidating glare.

jade, seemed unfazed. he was certainly embarrassed, but who is he to let it show? “oh dear, is it quite wrong for one to dream of their mate while asleep?” he shakes his head, catching you off guard. “mate?” everyone collectively questions. “uhm, yeah. do you guys not notice?” floyd scratches the back of his neck as if it were the most obvious thing.

what the hell is he talking about? mate? what.. when? that’s.. it’s not possible. “what are you on about, leech?” you sneer, causing him to grab your hand with a smile. “would you care for me to show you?” he grins teasingly, pulling you in til you rested on his chest. “hey! why you—“

“enough. you two are more than free to discuss this mishap after malleus is defeated. right now, we’ve got bigger problems to focus on.” jamil frowns, separating you two from each other. “..right. im not done with you yet.” you glare at the eel in front of you, much to his amusement. “i look forward to it.”

despite the topic being held for later, you couldn’t help but let jade’s words and fantasies linger in your mind for a moment longer. the statements he had said, the actions he had performed, all of it made you feel.. special.

“he dreams of me?”

A/N: i got lazy at the end whoops. anyways what if i write a jamil one?? double anyways what if jamil and jade love triangl— *gunshots*

im not used to writing long fics for characters by themselves and i think you can tell

date published: 8/22/24

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palajae · 3 months ago

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bigger picture.

PAIRING... ceo!sunghoon x model!reader | GENRE... childhood friends to lovers!, romance, fluff, humor | WC... 1.3k | lots of bickering, loosely based off love next door (2024)

you breathe in the fresh air with a pleased expression. this was home. it’s been years since you’ve visited, always overseas doing work. your schedule was constantly packed with shoots and campaigns taking up most of your time (and life), essentially never giving you rest time to come back.

you finally did it.

maybe your mom would kill you—but that was a later problem.

especially since you hadn’t told her of your return.

your suitcase clatters on the rough pavement while you drag it along. your eyes wander around the street you grew up on. strangely enough, it was unfamiliar and familiar at the same time.

you stop at a building, feeling the sense of nostalgia wash over you. wasn’t this the old community pool? the one you used to visit all the time with-

you squint as you look closer to the construction sign posted on the door.

under construction: contact park industries for more information.

you frown. they were turning this place into something else? what a shame. you two practically grew up at this musty pool.

“i wonder who decided to renovate this area-“

a confused calling of your name stops you in your tracks. it was a deep voice, yet a familiar one nevertheless.

slowly, you turn in your tracks. your mouth drops open.

“park sunghoon?! what are you doing here?”

last you heard, he was getting his masters. he looks quite, you swallow, polished in that perfectly styled suit and gelled hair of his.

he pushes up his glasses by the nose bridge, eyes glinting as he studies you. “this is my building.”

your eyes bulge momentarily, “this is your building?! wha-wait. you own park industries?”your finger points accusatorially at him.

“as bright as ever,” he notes while narrowing his eyes at you. you scoff immediately, crossing your arms.

“as snooty as ever,” you snarkily reply back. you instinctively raise a fist at him while he shrinks back. perhaps the situation finally hits the both of you, as silence falls and he clears his throat.

“you… you’re back.” he glances at your suitcase and then at you. “my mother never mentioned anything about you coming home.”

you internally cringe, pretending to scratch the back of your head. you laugh albeit awkwardly.

“oh, really? that is weird. i just, uh-“

the sound of familiar voices approaching cause your stomach to drop. you could recognize the sound of your parents’ voices anywhere. of course, in this small neighborhood, you had to bump into them right now.

you were screwed.

frantically, you eyes scan the area. aha—you were a genius. you fly towards an empty, large box near the entrance to sunghoon’s building. you can only hope it was used for furniture and not trash.

“what are you-“

you glance up at him and his perplexed expression. “please. just this once.”

and with that, you flip it over and fly under the box to hide. thank goodness it didn’t smell weird. you hear muffled voices of delight as your families spot sunghoon.

“oh, it’s been so long! are you working on this building?”

you hear him chuckle and roll your eyes. what a sucker for parents. if only they knew his true personality.

“yes, auntie. i came to check on the construction progress.”

you hear your mom laugh. your heart pangs as you realize you haven’t heard that sound in forever.

“oh, you must be so busy as the ceo. we won’t bother you anymore but you have to come soon for dinner!”

“but uh,” your dad sounds confused, “who’s suitcase is this?”

you curse.

“what was that?”

sunghoon quickly laughs, harshly kicking the box you were under as you hiss. “oh, don’t worry about that! it’s my luggage—you know, i have to start moving into the office here soon. i thought i would get a head start-mhm. you know-“

you were starting to sweat crouching in this box. but sunghoon was moving his office back home, you note. interesting.

thankfully, your parents leave sunghoon at that and you finally try to lift the box. you grunt, pushing up but to no avail.

“sunghoon,” you grit your teeth, “if you don’t get off the box in the next minute i will actually kill you when i get out.”

finally, you’re able to push the box off you with a huff and a glare.

“i think you should be thanking me.”

one of his perfect eyebrows raises up at you and you want to smack him. unfortunately, he was right though. you sigh, still sitting on the floor.

sunghoon sighs. “you should really tell your family, you know? they barely see you as is.

you bite your lip. of course he knew. you had grown up with each other for twenty years.

“i don’t know why you’re suddenly back, but they deserve to know.”

“alright, alright,” you stand up while dusting yourself off, “i get it mister ceo.”

he makes an offended noise. with a sigh, you grab your suitcase and begin unzipping it.

“what now?” he doesn’t sound surprised. sunghoon was immune to your antics.

you take out jacket after jacket, even forcing him to hold some for you. “you know,” you start casually while putting on coats in the dead middle of summer, “safety precautions.”

“so this is the country’s top model, huh?”

you cough, “well…”

“what?”

you look away, avoiding eye contact. “it’s just a break, for now….”

“who knows? your fiancé?” he shoves his hands in his pockets, studying the floor with an unreadable expression. you eye him warily.

“yeah, right. i broke it off. it was all for show, anyway. you know the media eats it up.”

sunghoon suddenly glances at you with genuine concern reflected in his eyes. you don’t like it.

“so, you’re saying you broke off your engagement and quit your job?“

“temporarily!” you yell, irritated. he was getting on your nerves again.

“you should go find your family.”

“stop telling me what to do, hoon.”

you say it so nonchalantly but it never fails to make him shiver. especially since it’s been so long since he last heard you say that.

it’s been so long since he’s last seen you, really. when your modeling career took off and you left to travel the world, he thought he’d never see you again. all he knew was your photoshoots online and news from the media. especially when your relationship with a top actor was announced, he didn’t expect an invitation to your wedding.

certainly he didn’t expect to see you here, right now, standing in front of him. just like back when you two first met all those years ago.

“what?” you call out, breaking him out of his trance. “you wanna fight? you know you’ll lose.”

sunghoon sighs, checking his shiny watch. “unlike you, most people have jobs. i’m a bit busy, so…”

you roll your eyes again, “as if.”

and with that, you jump him. literally.

despite the (saddening) height difference, one of your arms is tightly locked around his neck as he splutters.

“this is what you get for keeping me in that box. i was dying in there you little piece of-!”

just barely, sunghoon manages to use his strength to pull away. he gasps and coughs as you tap your foot with a rather intimidating stare.

you two make eye contact for a good minute or so, before you turn with a humph to grab your suitcase and continue on.

“this isn’t over, hoon.”

“why me?” he mutters under his breath before making his way to his building slash future office.

what neither of you two realize is the unconscious smiles plastered on both of your faces.

a/n ▸ aghhshdhesn ngl posting three days in a row was so weird i can’t keep up 💀ne ways did i write this with the intention of making a part two? that’s up to you to decide :)

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will-pilled · 1 year ago

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Cringe culture ruined being a kid.

I keep seeing the idea that teen members of Gen Z are the last generation to experience an actual childhood and honestly? I agree.

We as a society have made being a child so hostile, so miserable, that kids aren't interested in being young anymore.

How children are constantly told to grow up, how the color has been sucked out of the world, how because of cringe culture children will be fucking torn apart by grown adults all over the internet, how children are experiencing crisis after crisis. Children are shamed for their interests and hobbies and style by grown ass adults and teens who are far too old to be doing this. How kids aren't allowed to be anywhere without being made fun of by adults who are miserable.

Being a child is fucking hostile now, and I don't blame this generation of kids for trying too hard to be mature/grown. Because people treat children like shit, so who would want to be one?

#Childhood #Cringe culture #anti cringe culture #Not entirely sure what #Youthlib #Youth lib #youth liberation #Is but I'm sure it's relevant #Still learning about that lol #Youth #Kids #Children #child development #Bullying #Anti bullying

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saintescuderia · 6 months ago

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pancakes (pt. 7)

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :) // the pancakes recipe here :)

A/N: here we are! and CHARLES WON MONACO! (also sorry for the lance slander RPM influences me far too much)

P7 - 2.5L water bottle

"Oh for fuck's sake."

The lyrics rapping over the Metro Boomin beat were cut off as you turned off your engine. You huffed spotting the asshole in green getting out of the Aston Martin in front of you.

Mother fucking Lance Stroll.

Stroll got on your every nerve from the fact that he, as a paid driver, was the epitome of what you hated about F1 and the cash is king nature of the sport. It didn't help your opinion of him that his treatment of the Hospitality workers was very telling of his personality (i.e a spoiled little bitch) - but he also treated the rest of Aston Martin like that.

His engineers he bossed around. His PR team he bossed around. His fucking team principle he bossed around. You had never ever seen a driver be able to literally pick and choose what Media they wanted to do until Lance Stroll. Not even Räikkönen had gotten away with things that way Stroll did.

The worst part of it all, though, was that Lance's attitude of I can do whatever I want meant that he really thought he could get any girl he wanted.

Namely - you.

Your Supra wasn't exactly inconspicuous and Lance had (unfortunately) been in F1 long enough to make the connection that the flash JDM car parked in the lot tended to belong to you. And even though your windows were tinted a few shades darker than legal limit, Lance was getting out of the car right next to you. There was no chance he didn't know that it was you.

If anything, he likely made his driver park next to your Supra on purpose.

"Lord give me strength." You muttered seeing him come up to your window.

But then Lance Stroll had the fucking audacity to tap on your window.

You immediately reached for the handle and opened the door which caused him to stumble for the lack of space as you did so. "Oh, woah! Hey!" The Canadian accent pissed you off for no other reason than it reminded you of Drake. Someone else you fucking despised.

"Don't touch my car." You said, voice flat.

"Oh, er. My bad. Nice looking ride."

"Thanks." You said curtly, internally cringing at how he said 'ride' like that. You went around and grabbed the vast array of things you always hauled with you. Said items for today consisted of your gym bag, your workbag, your lunch bag and your comically large 2.5L water bottle. You always were carrying a lot.

"Need help?"

"No."

"I insist."

"Don't."

"Why you always gotta play hard to get?"

You said nothing, forcefully biting your tongue. You were out of practice with Lance Stroll's shit since Domenicali had finally relented and cut the amount of shifts you would be rostered on Aston Martin. Which had been a shame since the crew were quite nice and you really taking the piss with Nando.

Still, Lance Stroll was insufferable - and you were evidently out of practice dealing with his spoiled delusions. You were just glad his father wasn't around. God help you when it came to the European races.

"I have to get to work." You said and locked your car. There was a call from behind where some Aston Martin people were waiting Lance but he ignored them. Instead, falling into step with you.

"I don't see you around Aston Martin anymore." He said, trying to make conversation.

You kept ignoring him, hoping he'd get the hint. Pulling out your phone, you started to compose a to text to Oscar. He would coming here with Lily and had said something about finally introducing the two of you. Your eyes checked the time at the top of your phone screen. Based on what time it was, Oscar should've been here by now - and could save you from Lance Stroll.

to: piazzas 👼

where the fuck are u ?? lance stroll is trying to talk to me send help

"I don't know." Was all you said, typing away with one hand as the other held a bag, hoodie, bottle and lanyard. You lifted the arm to tap in through the gate and then continued to ignore Lance - who continued to walk beside you and speak.

"That wouldn't be because you're working for McLaren." Lance said. This made you fingers pause as the blatant comment caught you off-guard. You sucked your teeth and took a deep breath. You adjusted your grip on your bags and continued to type another message.

to: piazzas 👼

srsly im gonna fucking rage at this point

"I don't know what you're on about." You said and felt relief seeing the Read time-stamp arrive below your sent message and three dots finally pop up as Oscar typed a response.

Lance made that irritating sound - his laugh. "You know my dad will pay you double what they're paying."

from: piazzas 👼

I'm at the McLaren motorhome. In a meeting with some PR. Can you come?

You huffed and pocketed your phone. Your shift was at Ferrari today and so there was no logical reason for you to walk into McLaren. Then again, it was early and you were yet to get dressed. It should be okay. People rarely noticed you since you looked like some random trainer with the amount of stuff you always carried.

Except, right now, Lance Stroll was not getting the hint and pissing off. Meaning you couldn't exactly freely walk into McLaren no questions asked.

Especially after that comment about you working for McLaren.

"What do you say?" The annoying idiot stood there, still waiting on you apparently.

"What?" You asked, shifting the items in your hand and pausing in your steps. You were in front of Ferrari right now and considered going in to dump your stuff before sneaking off to McLaren. That would at least get rid of Lance.

"Just say the number. How much. Dad wants you onboard and so do I. And all that legal stuff we can sort out." Lance said with a nonchalant shrug that pissed you off more than it should've. "My trainer isn't really working for me anyway."

You stared at him. Was he being serious right now? Your mouth fell open at the audacity and you glanced at his manager behind him who was looking up at the sky, clearly uncomfortable.

But, of course, unable to say anything.

"Ah, Stroll! Mademoiselle is with us today!" You turned your head to the French accent of your other favourite Team Principle. Fred Vasseur arrived with one half of the Scuderia drivers beside him. Your eyes widened on the sight of Carlos there, sunglasses pushed up in the head of hair that had its own fan-accounts and was the star of many, many Tiktok thirst edits.

Fuck.

Last night, your uncle had thrown you for a loop. Carlos Sainz had somehow infiltrated your uncle's sphere with a video of him refusing to sign a Barcelona jersey.

This, your uncle took as a good omen and a worth his approval.

"Approval for what?"

"None of these drivers are worth your time. But this one seems good." Your uncle's voice had sounded through the speaker function of your phone as you balanced a ball on your head. Last night you had present for his usual call to his sister and Dia was adamant you cop it.

And cop it you did. His newest idea was not Jude or Vinicius - but apparently Carlos Sainz.

"What? Because Carlos didn't sign a Messi jersey?"

"His name is Carlos?" Your uncle had asked and you had, in turn, just groaned. You half expected him to make some ridiculous comment about the similar names being a good omen or something.

"Yeah. Carlos Sainz."

"Sainz? Hm." There was a short pause from your uncle. "Is his father a rally driver?"

"Yes." You had frowned, not expecting that.

"Ah! I know him. Good family."

"What?" You said, still stuck on how your uncle knew the Sainz family. "How do you know him?"

"Why didn't you tell me about him before?"

"Because... I never noticed Carlos." The football you had been kicking slowed as you found yourself frowning at the phone on the kitchen table. "It's... I don't know. It's just Carlos."

"I want you to talk to him. To 'Just Carlos' as you say." Your uncle was not relenting. "Go have dinner together. He has a good face."

Your uncle's attempts to get you married to what he deemed was a 'respectable man' and not, in his opinion, 'some limpy Frenchman' (you would often remind him Charles was from Monaco nor was it was like that between you two) or 'some tatted up Australian wanna be Italian' (you would also remind that Daniel barely identified as Italian). However, all of your uncle Carlo's options had always been footballers which, you and Dia knew, was just a ploy to move you from car circuits to football pitches.

But last night, you found, Carlos Sainz apparently had the Ancelotti tick of approval and he was adamant you and Carlos apparently go out for dinner.

You took your uncle's comments to be why you suddenly found yourself feeling a little awkward seeing the driver in the flesh. The on you admittedly never paid much attention to before.

"Maybe next race you can have her." The Spanish driver - who apparently had your uncle's approval - said. Carlos took a sip from the small coffee cup in hand. He was on his piccolo, you noted.

Carlos came up to you and you felt yourself caught out and taken aback by him openly reaching for the strap of your gym bag and your bottle, prying them for your hands. The surprise had you letting go and once Carlos had a grip on them, he nodded at everyone in green. "See you guys on track." And put a hand on your back to guide you into the home. His clear dismissal towards Lance made you smile and it made your face warm up even more.

Your smile dropped.

What the fuck?

"Um. Thank you." You said, once you were out of earshot.

"He's an idiot." Carlos said, with a tired sigh. This made you laugh.

"You're telling me."

It was then that you realised your laugh was nervous. You cleared your throat. You were going to rip into your uncle. And then yourself for being so stupid. Because this was stupid. You barely ever noticed Carlos. What? You find out he really hates Barcelona and has really, really great hair and suddenly you're tongue-tied around him?

"Ha. Yeah. I get that. And I can hold that." You went to reach for the strap of your bag on his shoulder. Carlos moved away.

"Don't insult me." He said, tsking you with a grin on his face. "Let's go. Fred spoke all morning about your pizzas."

"Yes! I did." Fred said, reappearing with his assistant who was handing him a paper he was half reading as he spoke. "Guenther didn't let me have any last time."

You couldn't but smile, remembering Guenther's loud curses echoing throughout all of Haas when he found you plating some aside for Fred. You gave Fred a salute. "I'll get right to it. Let me just dump my things in the backroom."

"I'll take them there." Carlos said, evidently not relenting. You sighed and let him carry them for you as you both made your way to the backroom.

Unfortunately, this meant walking through the entire motorhome in which case many Ferrari staff did a double take seeing you walk with Carlos. Whilst it wasn't uncommon to see you around, nor for you to have any interactions with drivers - you literally made their food and coffee - but Carlos was holding all your many, many belongings and walking to the small backroom that were reserved for Hospitality.

"Thank you." You said, appreciating the chivalry. What you didn't appreciate, however, was how your body was reacting to Carlos.

You didn't get why you were suddenly so... hyperaware around Carlos. Seeing driver content wasn't something new to you. Why did it affect you like this? Maybe addressing it would just help.

And so your mouth just came out with it.

"My uncle likes you."

"What?"

You quickly elaborated. "He saw a video of you refusing to sign a Barca jersey."

Your uncle had even sent you said video of Carlos, the driver windswept in his Ferrari, driving off when a fan passed him a pen and the jersey. You had to admit he did look good in the video and the way he drove off like that had made your eyebrows shoot up, impressed.

"Your uncle... Don Ancelotti?"

"Yeah." You said with a laugh at the name. The Don. You were proud of your uncle and what he achieved, earning him such a nickname. Dia always said her brother's intimidating Don cigar smoking aura had been passed down to you - and not his own children/your cousins.

You weren't surprised Carlos knew about who your uncle was. It wasn't exactly a secret. And considering the world of Formula 1, that wasn't even the craziest connection for someone working in the Paddock. An Alpine techie was distant cousins with Mbappé, a Haas mechanic was close cousins with LeBron, and Valentino Rossi's babysister's best friend's brother was a PR manager for George Russell.

So, no. No one really paid much attention to you and your uncle. The most it had ever come up was the odd few comments of the Paddock's EPL fans coming to you lamenting Carlo Ancelotti moving from Everton to Real Madrid.

"Woah, that's pretty cool." Carlos said, his eyes widening. "I definitely need to let my dad know."

"Apparently they know each other?" You asked, hoping he might shed more light on the connection your uncle somehow had to Sainz Sr. Your uncle hadn't managed to explain that curious bit.

"Do they? He never said." He said and you blew a raspberry. You really were going to give your uncle a piece of your mind. You shook your head and Carlos laughed, saying something that went to deaf ears as he took his sunglasses off his head - causing some strands to fall across his forehead as he was looking down at you.

Fuck.

He used the other hand to run through said black locks.

Double fuck.

The man seriously could've made it as a hair model.

You looked down from his hair to meet his eyes and felt yourself flush even more knowing he'd caught you staring at his hair. You cleared your throat again - when had it gotten so dry? - and spoke. "You um, you could really make bank doing hair endorsements, you know?"

"Bank?" Carlos asked, not picking up the slang.

"Money." You explained the slang and then thought of the Spanish translation. "El dinero."

"Ah, so was it the Don who taught you Spanish?" Carlos asked, lips turning up to grin.

"Nah I don't really speak Spanish." You shook your head and explained. "I just know that word from some from lyrics and stuff."

"Stuff? From living in Los Angeles?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. You blinked, surprised he knew that tidbit about you. "I remember you telling Max about it back in Torro Rosso."

Carlos' observational skills evidently had you in surprise. First it was him remembering your Egyptian heritage and now this?

"I, uh. Yeah for a year and a bit. I worked in a garage." You explained, feeling more awkward and, well, something else that you refused to acknowledge as nervousness.

You didn't get nervous. You had literally served countless celebrities and prided yourself on not getting starstruck or fucking nervous.

And yet, here was Carlos running a hand through his hair catching you off guard with how hyperaware you were of him.

"Ah." Carlos laughed and you stared at the way a thin gold chain glittered around his wrist. "Well, if you know any hair sponsors you'd recommend, let me know."

"Oh, yeah. Done." You said, going back to the previous conversation. "But I'm expecting a cut, then." You said, opening up a locker and beginning to stuff the bags into it. "Hoy por ti - "

" - mañana por mi." Carlos finished the phrase, amused. "It's different in Spanish, though, you know?"

"What is?"

"English you say scratch my back or something. In Spanish it's more about generosity. You take care of me so I will take care of you next."

"Oh." You said, taking in the mini Spanish lesson. Admittedly all your Spanish came from working with Tyler in the garage on Fairfax Ave and, of course, song lyrics. There had been a few funny conversations with Fernando - but nothing intimate such as I will take care of you.

You didn't really know what to say next. Your face was already flushed and you'd probably be able to cook something on your cheek from how hot it was.

You were going to kill your uncle. Real Madrid could win Champions League without him. And even if they didn't - well, Guenther would be happy to see another team finally have a chance.

"Also," Carlos casually continued, unfazed - or not noticing - your lull, "there's going to be a game tomorrow night. I'm not sure if you were planning to watch it."

Thankfully, his words momentarily did distract you from the inner monologue. Real Madrid wasn't playing this weekend. Atletico Madrid was.

Maybe it was Carlos being from Madrid or following the Spanish league religiously but, either way, it wasn't a game you had intended to watch.

"Oh, I mean I like Griezmann." You said, referring to the famed Atletico player, "but I don't watch La Liga games unless Real Madrid is playing." Besides, if you showed any interest in any other team, The Don would have your head. Your uncle still didn't know you owned a jersey of another team. Even if it was only for Mo Salah.

"No, the Liverpool game." Carlos corrected. "They're playing Manchester United, are they not?"

This was surprising. There had been no indication in the past of Carlos ever caring about any other team besides Real Madrid - let alone being that interested a whole other league. If you ever were going to talk EPL with a driver, it was probably a passing conversation with Lewis. Maybe George if the Wolves were involved. And that was when the drivers themselves initiated the conversation.

Max, and his love for your team's biggest rival Barcelona, was who you used to talk to about football, who you used to stay up and watch games or play Fifa with.

And since that was no more, you sort of lost any passion for it.

So this was very much news to you.

Carlos Sainz. Talking to you about EPL.

More than that - asking you if you were going to watch an EPL game.

"Uh, yeah maybe." You finally spoke. During your drive to work, you had vaguely thought about changing your schedule so as to be able to watch the game. You had played around with the idea of doing a workout after your shift tomorrow so you could stay up after qualifying and watch the match.

The only issue was that this would you mean you wouldn't be able to work out before the race on Sunday - and you were definitely going to be stressed working a whole weekend at Ferrari.

But if you watched it you could stream it on one of the TVs in the driver's gym - that way Oscar could workout with you also.

Suffice to say, you hadn't yet made up your mind.

"Lando and I were going to watch it. He's a fan of Manchester United." Carlos said, looking at you expectantly. "Don't worry, I won't tell the Don."

It was that look which made your eyes widen slightly, the thought suddenly dawning on you: was Carlos asking to watch the game together?

Something erupted in your stomach.

However, your reflex to any driver interaction had immediately kicked in.

"Oh, nice. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to watch it with the schedule. You guys enjoy, though."

Carlos opened his mouth but thankfully someone, a man dressed in the red uniform, appeared in the doorway calling for Carlos. The interruption was very much welcomed as the driver nodded and was resolved to leave you before your body gave you any more confusing signals.

You took a second, a steading second, before you slammed your locked shut and went out to look for Oscar.

“And there’s the young rookie, Oscar Piastri. Looking really good after his amazing win in Jeddah. 9th, outperforming everyone’s expectations!"

“Yes! He’s just arrived with his - is that his trainer?”

“She looks tough enough to be one. Wait is that — “

The commentators immediately realise and change the subject to something else to do with Fernando’s winning streak and Aston Martin’s upgrades. You sigh at the clip that had been playing on the TV in front of you where you could be seen handing him the Antinal Dia had been adamant Oscar have.

Zak had informed Oscar who had informed you about the conversations had between all the TPs about, well, you.

It was startling to say the least.

"I'm afraid people are starting to catch on." Oscar's PR Manager said with a stern look as she stared at both you and Oscar. Her name was Sophie and despite her young age putting her in the same ball-park as you and Oscar... it still felt like you both were students in trouble, being told off by your teacher.

Oscar had asked you about a Sophie Wright a few months ago. You briefly knew of the girl from her interning days, following other PR members around the McLaren motorhome over the years. She was a little on the shorter side, the chubbier side and, unfortunately, these two appearance traits meant she was excluded from the other PR girls who definitely already had a group chat going.

However, you also knew this meant she would be good at her job. Sophie could blend in the background quietly, unnoticed and do her job well. You also doubted she would easily jump around for a better opportunity and do Oscar dirty. Then there was the fact that when you served her a skinny latte one time, she made sure to read your name badge and thank you with a genuine smile.

And so you had given Oscar the thumbs up.

Never, in a million years, did you think you would be here though. Getting a debrief from her as Sophie tapped on her iPad. You risked a glance at Oscar who looked indifferent and nonplussed.

"Sorry Soph," he said, "but I'm not exactly aware what this means exactly."

There was some noise at the door and in walked Zak Brown himself. He was still talking to someone outside in the hall and said a 'yep, bye!' and then finally turned to address the room he was halfway in. "Ah, here we are. Just the people I need to see." His eyes fell on you and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

"No trouble at all. I know you're friends with Oscar and just wanting to help him out." Zak said, coming to sit down. "Ah, so you've seen the clips." He looked at the TV where Sophie's iPad was still screensharing the clip from yesterday.

Thursday's media days was always the least loved day for everyone - save for the bloodthirsty journalists. Drivers hated all the mundane questions and the paranoia of microphones and cameras everywhere. And you hated media day because it meant extra long barista shifts.

"Yes, Sophie showed me before but I thought Tezza should see it." Oscar explained, using your nickname. Your heart warmed at how considerate that was. You met his eyes and smiled softly at him. Your love for the kid grew daily.

"Good thinking!" Zak said, nodding agreeably to his driver. You fought to keep your face passive as you regarded the McLaren CEO.

Your opinion of Zak Brown was that he got further than he ever dreamt to get from starring on Wheel of Fortune. And whilst you did admire him for not being brought up in the snobbery and pretentiousness of the generational wealth that F1 tends to circulate through... you did note how he sucked up to the those snobs and their pretentious generational wealth.

Namely, how he did anything and everything for to make Lando Norris happy. In your opinion, it was a lil cringe at times.

"Well, the problem is that it's getting harder and harder for me to just make it out to the rest of the Paddock that you and Oscar are just friends spotting one another at the gym." Zak said. "Christian Horner is running rampant, scared you'll turn Oscar into the next Max Verstappen."

You snorted at this. Unfortunately this drew everyone's attention to you and you knew you would need to explain. "Max and Oscar are polar opposites."

Oscar could very easily become a World Champion without you. He was smart, dedicated and very talented. And whilst Max was all those things, he didn't need someone to train him up so much as tame him down after all that Jos did to him. You guys had just as much sessions on anger management as you had sessions on endurance training.

"Either way, it's coming to be viewed as a breach." Zak said. "And if you breach your contract then - "

"I know." You interrupted him. He didn't need to explain that to you.

"There's also the issue that people think you two are dating." Sophie spoke up from the front. She tapped on her iPad a few times and up came up a few screenshots of Twitter threads hypothesising about the two of you. "Your Twitter had a followed increase of 150% since Oscar followed you. Which didn't help."

"And whose fault was that?" You said, looking at Oscar with an unimpressed look. "You're lucky I deleted that shit so quickly."

"Yeah look, my bad. The timing was off." He said, accepting responsibility. You still remember all the notifications of the Twitter shit-storm Oscar set off. You literally had to delete your account because of it.

"Yes, Christian did bring that up." Zak said. "And it's a good thing Oscar's lovely Lauren is here - "

"Lily, sir." Sophie quickly corrected her boss. You wanted to groan. Oscar just looked down to hide his smile. Under the table, you kicked at his legs.

"Lily! Sorry." He gave a sheepish look to Oscar. "Yes, you and Lily this morning was a good idea."

"Unfortunately, Daniel did like a few of these Tweets." Sophie added, bringing up the screenshots of a Tweet about you and Oscar that was liked by none other than @danielricciardo.

You clenched your fist, your nails digging into your palm as you thought of how fucking petty that was. Daniel wasn't a fucking idiot. Aside from the fact that he knew your type - (admittedly, the tall/dark features combination always got you) Oscar was so young.

If anything, you thought of Oscar, genuinely, as a younger brother. As you had Max. Daniel knew that. So he knew exactly what he was doing by liking those kind of fucking Tweets. Tweets you wouldn't put past Red Bull to send out themselves.

Because, if anything, they would be praying it wouldn't be true about you and Oscar. Otherwise Christian Horner wouldn't have any leg to stand on. That was how you got around being connected to Charles, anyway. Family was the exception.

"I know your contract has you tied to only working for Red Bull and Ferrari's drivers but--"

"Red Bull and Charles Leclerc." You corrected in a tight voice, your eyes falling down to the table in front of you. "I was only granted exemption to work with Charles as he was considered family."

This caused him to frown as he pulled out his phone and began typing at it. "I thought you were allowed to work for Red Bull or Ferrari. No new teams."

"Yeah, no." You said, making Oscar chuckle at the Australianism. "No new teams outside of Red Bull and Torro Rosso." You specified.

"Christian didn't say that." Zak said.

"It was kept really quiet." You explained. "Charles was, um, he granted exemption from my Red Bull contract because he - well, he was considered family." You cleared your throat, not able to even look at Oscar. "I was signed for Torro Rosso and Red Bull. Never Ferrari."

"That's not what Toto said at the meeting." Zak said, shaking his head. "He made it seem that you could work for Ferrari."

You said nothing. Toto Wolff had approached you once or twice but your answer had always been the same, no matter what he offered. Eventually, he dropped it. You just didn't realise he dropped it because Toto had sought out the fine print.

"Wait so why aren't you Charles' trainer?" Zak asked, looking up from his phone. "He'd be insane to not have you!"

You froze. How were you supposed to answer that? For once, you had hoped the F1 rumour mill had properly run its course and Zak would know better than to ask that obvious question.

"Eh, Leclerc's loss." Oscar interjected with a casual shrug. "Let's be glad we don't need to worry about that."

The hidden meaning behind his smooth words were clear and you felt your love for the boy increase tenfold at his save.

"What - if I may," Sophie started, trying to be sensitive with her wording and her eyes darted between you and Oscar, "what were the grounds for family?"

You took a moment to think of how you might answer. You really didn't want to but if this might help the boy beside you, you would. "Charles - and I, like, I dunno. We grew up together? Everyone just knew." You pulled at your hoodie sleeve, feeling every bit uncomfortable with the question.

"You didn't date?" Sophie asked. Your face must've shown something very unpleasant because she was quick to amend. "I'm only saying because the grounds for family are always a grey area."

You pressed your lips together and went back to staring at the table. "There was nothing romantic between Charles and I." You said. The room fell silent for a moment as Zak tapped on his screen a few times and then he spoke up.

"You also trained Daniel. He told me in 2021." Zak said and put the phone down and you wanted to roll you eyes. Of course Daniel would say that. "And I don't want to get into all the drama but you were dating him back when you were training Verstappen."

Zak did have a point.

A key point that you had forgotten.

You paused and watched the screen in front of you and the liked by @danielricciardo Tweet. "Christian's always had a soft spot for Daniel so..." You trailed off. "But yeah, you're right. It was fine even though I was contracted to Max under Torro Rosso then Red Bull."

"Hm." Zak said, bringing a hand to his chin as he leaned back, pensive, in his chair. "I can see how romantic grounds could be argued." He said it with a laugh, looking between you and Oscar.

You raised an eyebrow at the comment. You honestly weren't sure if this was just Zak Brown being Zak Brown - i.e saying dumb things to suck up since he was out of his element - or if he actually meant that. Either way, it pissed you off.

Because there was no fucking way you'd let that happen to Oscar.

"No it can't. Contracts aside, I'm not forcing someone I think of as my younger brother into a PR relationship with me." You said.

"It could work, though." Sophie said, taking a professional tone as you turned your glare to her. "This is what I was trying to say before. The Twitter comments about you and Oscar are not necessarily negative. If anything you've helped increased Oscar's public image and Red Bull wouldn't able to say anything about you two on romantic family grounds."

You were seething.

Thankfully, Oscar was more level-headed than you.

"Yeah, look guys. Tezza's pretty but not my type." He finally chimed in, lighthearted. "Besides, I think we should focus more on the car and that way it's a fair advantage to both me and Lando."

You looked back at him and took a deep breath. Oscar smiled at you, chill as always, and you took another breath. You wanted to give the boy a big hug.

"Look, Zak," you said, looking back at the TP, calming down a little more, "I'm sorry. I'm causing you all this shit."

"You got Oscar into the points." Zak waved off. "Don't worry about it. I just want to find a way that works for everyone." You sucked on your teeth. Whilst it was nice to know that Zak Brown was willing to take risks on you also wanted to know how this conversation would've gone if Oscar hadn't finished 9th in Jeddah last weekend.

Such was the way of F1.

Sophie then tapped on her iPad and the TV showed a picture taken by Ky Millman. It was of Oscar hugging you after the win in Jeddah. Some comments were displayed and you found your lips turning up as you read them. They were, as Sophie said, sort of positive.

kymillman

liked by mclaren, saintescuderia and 15'483 others

kymillman SUPPORT FOR SUCCESS! Oscar surprised many with his amazing performance in Jeddah and goes to celebrate with a F1 Hospitality worker and friend @ynusername!

view all 76 comments

halaaaamadrid girl help his shoe game pls

ln44girlieee @mclaren we need content from this duo plssss u have them right there

logansversion as if mclaren is going to post a couple?

f1fanforever they're friends?

ln44girlieee idc the level of sarcasm between them would be SO GOOD

oscarpastries i love THIS! 😫😫😫

justanotherinchident omg charles finna be RIOTING!

team44roscoes wait why would charles be upset ?? i thought @ynusername was with dannyric?

maxiel4eva_16 yeh 😒 jumping on all them aussies

You rolled your eyes at the last comment. Maybe it was a good thing you were off Twitter and barely used Instagram anymore.

"It'll be hard to argue that Oscar is family since you haven't known him as long as you did with Charles," Sophie spoke up, bringing your attention back to her, "but we can maybe try to build it up from a PR point a view."

"That Oscar and I are family and not dating?" You asked. Sophie nodded. You looked at Oscar, wanting his confirmation.

"Yeah, sure thing Vin Diesel." He laughed.

"Hey, hey. Fuck you." The grin on your face was contagious and he broke out laughing also. You liked this new idea and turned back to look at Sophie a lot more positively. You were glad McLaren gave Oscar the girl.

"Okay, so what do we do to show the world I've adopted Oscar?" You asked.

"I think you'll find my dad's already half adopted you." Oscar corrected. "He wants to see your Supra."

"That's perfect!" Sophie said, excited. "Maybe Oscar can post a story of the interaction sometime this weekend? Make sure Lily is there. Maybe you can play the tired third wheel of them!" Sophie looked at you as ranted off her ideas. You nodded, suddenly less excited.

Whilst it was nice to know there was a plan in place to help you and Oscar continue to work together, you didn't like the way Sophie said for you 'play' a role. The one, sole consolation you had going for you these past few years was the lack of needing to play any PR role. Hearing Sophie speak was giving you flashbacks to times long gone.

"Happy with that gang?" Zak said, placing his palms on the table. "We'll work on building the PR and hopefully that will get Red Bull off our back as we also improve the car!" He stood up and left, not joining Sophie and Oscar as they said goodbye to the boss.

"Wait, does this mean I need to actually start using Instagram?" You asked.

"Yes." Sophie said. Then she looked up from her iPad. "Don't you? You were tagged in it?"

"Like, I have an account but I stopped using it. I'm pretty sure I deleted the app." You said, pulling out your phone to see that yes, there was no pink app downloaded. You pressed the download button, knowing what was in store for you.

"Download it. You're already at 2.4k followers." She said, bringing up your profile on the TV screen.

"The fuck? I had like three hundred last time I checked."

"Five." Sophie corrected. "Your growth has increased since you started training the F2 winner who follower Y/N Tessio after the most controversial Formula 1 Tweet that ever was Tweeted." Sophie said, eyeing Oscar with a raised eyebrow.

"I already said sorry about that."

"Do you know how stressful you made my first day? Helen scared me!" Sophie asked, humour on her face. "Though, nothing like jumping in the deep end."

The Instagram app had finishing downloading and you logged onto it - thank you pre-saved passwords - to be met with a fucking plethora of notifications that suddenly had you overwhelmed. As such, you immediately went out of the app and put your phone in your pocket. You could deal with that all later.

"I'm not using Twitter again." You said, thinking back to the Tweets Daniel had liked. "Fuck that."

"Yes, only Tumblr or Reddit over here." Oscar said, pointing to you.

"Tumblr?" Sophie looked at you, surprised.

"Yeah? What of it?" You asked, defensive.

"Nothing. Just surprised. I would ask to follow you but Tumblr is the safe haven of anonymity. I get it." She nodded. "Alright, perfect. I'll draft up a PR plan. In the mean time, do you mind if I review your profile and send you some tips?" Looking at you for the last bit.

"By all means." You said, half wishing you could give her control of it like Oscar and be done with it. You just wanted to be able to work with Oscar without causing him any trouble and not having to worry about this PR bullshit.

"Perfect!" She said, beaming.

Your phone buzzed. It was a text reminder about you needing to go back to check on some dough you'd prepared. Back at Ferrari. You sighed and stood up.

"Alright, sounds good. I gotta get back to work. Take your supplements and electrolytes. The green one." The last bit was aimed at Oscar as you met his eyes and then turned to leave the room and walk, head down, out of the McLaren motorhome.

You took a deep breath as soon as you made it into the open air. With how things were going, it was likely that you would be having another gym session today. You arrived at Ferrari and saw the back of Carlos' head. You felt yourself gulp and turned to hide behind the coffee machine. Maybe you would watch Liverpool play.

The mention of your connection to soccer was also pointed out in the room you had just rushed out of. Sophie made a small sound and rounded on Oscar, shoving something in his face.

"Did you know that half of Real Madrid are following her? Jude Bellingham just commented on the post!"

She stared at Oscar, hoping he might provide an answer. The young driver just shrugged. "She did say something about her uncle coaching a team." Sophie stared at him, incredulous. "How was I to know? I don't watch soccer."

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eddies-ashtray · 1 year ago

Text

Eddie finds out he’s finally graduating. You and Wayne have a surprise for him.

(CW: Eddie’s feelings of inadequacy and low-self worth). |2.1k|

♡*♡*♡

You know that feeling you would get as a kid when you’d do something you shouldn’t have done? When you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar?

As you grow up that feeling intensifies, it grows as your world does, as you do. Your life and the decisions you make become more messy and complex. And so do the feelings you get when you screw up.

As a kid, you might feel embarrassed that you’d been caught stealing cookies before dinner and maybe a bit disappointed in yourself for choosing to do it when you knew it was wrong.

When you get older, whether it's due to failing to make the right decision or failing at something you tried, embarrassment morphs into immense shame and disappointment shifts to profound feelings of worthlessness.

Eddie is quite familiar with these feelings.

At the end of his first senior year, Eddie entered Mr. O’Reilly’s cramped office–that always managed to feel smaller each time he entered it–and was under no illusions that it was about to be a pleasant visit. It typically never was.

In fact, Eddie had suspected what he was about to be told by the guidance counsellor. But this suspicion did nothing to soften the blow.

It surprised him how much it hurt to know he’d failed. He hadn’t really realized how much he wanted to graduate until he was told he wouldn't. Or, rather, couldn’t.

By the time he got up to leave, Mr. O’Reilly’s office felt bigger than it ever had before.

Or maybe he just felt smaller.

His second go-round, he was motivated more than ever to get it right. Eddie had big plans for himself; he wanted to move out of this town one day, move to the city, work on his music.

He felt like he couldn't do any of that until he finished the business he had here. So he worked his ass off. He gave it his all.

And again, he sat in Mr. O’Reilly’s office, the anticipation stirring in his gut. He felt like he could be sick from the hope.

He felt even worse when he was told that all his hard work hadn’t been enough. For a second time he was told he could not graduate. His heart sank so low in his chest he felt like it wasn’t even there anymore.

Eddie almost gave up then and there. In that moment, once again feeling small, he wanted to drop out.

But more than that, he needed to prove to himself that he could stick it through and succeed. If he could do this he could do anything.

This was his final chance, his last chance to get it right. There was no room for failure anymore.

So, marking his sixth (and final) year at Hawkins High, Eddie completed his senior year for the third time.

***

As Eddie makes the trek to Mr. O’Reilly’s office near the end of the school year he feels like a dead man walking. This isn’t an appointment to determine if he will be graduating, it’s an appointment to tell him he will not be. And he’d have to walk out of here for the last time without a diploma in his hands.

Taking a seat in the muted upholstered chair across from O’Reilly’s desk, Eddie braces himself for the familiar words that made his heart sink into the depths of his being two years in a row.

“Here we go,” Mr. O’Reilly drawls, pulling out a plain manila folder marked “Munson, Eddie” from the locked drawer in his desk.

Eddie fidgets in his seat, crossing his legs then uncrossing them, then deciding to sit up straight with his hands folded in his lap. But then that makes him cringe, so he relaxes into the seat, legs spread wide. Still, he can’t get comfortable. His shoulders tense, his jaw is clenched, his lip is chewed raw. There is nothing comfortable about him.

Mr. O’Reilly flips open the folder, licking his finger to aid in turning the pages over as he skims them.

Eddie begins pulling at a loose thread on the corner of the chair. He just keeps pulling and pulling and pulling. If he keeps pulling, maybe the whole chair will come apart. Eddie thinks he might come apart too if he hears those dreaded words.

“Eddie.”

Eddie sits up, stock straight. “Yes, sir?”

He stops pulling the thread, stops moving altogether, even stops breathing. The thread is wound around his index finger, making his hand feel tingly and numb, unlike the rest of him which is thrumming with anxiety and hope and dread.

Eddie leans in almost imperceptibly, like he’s watching the finale of his favourite TV show.

As always, Mr. O’Reilly’s expression is completely unreadable. Mr. O’Reilly is relatively young (at least in comparison to some of the dinosaurs that teach at Hawkins High), maybe in his mid 30s, but his eyes are tired, like he’s lived more lives than just this one.

“You will be a part of the class of 1986.” There’s some pride in his voice as he says it, though he still doesn’t show much emotion in his expression as he does.

Eddie almost can’t make sense of it because he can’t be totally sure that he’s heard him correctly since the words sounded somewhat like the parents in cartoons do. Just an inaudible jumble of sounds that don’t quite make up words. “What?”

Mr. O’Reilly repeats himself, this time with definite, sincere pride in both his voice and his face. “You’re graduating! Congratulations.”

Eddie releases his breath and the thread cutting off the circulation to his finger.

He did it. He’s getting his diploma.

He wants to jump up out of his seat and holler and hug Mr. O’Reilly—one of the few staff at Hawkins High who has always treated him with respect.

Eddie must thank him, must shake his hand and they must exchange goodbyes, but he’s blacked out. He knows he must have done these things, but it’s like his mind simply doesn’t care to remember them. They are not important.

In a blur, he’s walking as calmly as possible out of Mr. O’Reilly’s office, slipping into the hallway from the main office, speed walking out of the school, and then booking it to his van.

More than anything, he cannot wait to share the news with you and with his uncle–the two people in his life who have been, and continue to be, his biggest supporters. He was proud of himself of course, but it meant everything to him getting to share it with the both of you.

Suddenly, he’s parking in the dirt patch they call a driveway, hopping out of his van, and sprinting to the stairs. He takes two at a time, reaching the door in two steps.

Eddie throws open the trailer door, out of breath.

***

You’re in the kitchen when the front door to the trailer whips open. Startled, you nearly hit your head on the thermostat control inside the fridge as you straighten up.

Spinning around to see Eddie standing in the living room, breathing like he’s run all the way from the school, you know immediately the news he has is positive. But you want him to tell you. He deserves to say the words aloud.

The moment your eyes are on him he says, “I fucking did it. I’m graduating!”

A gorgeous smile spreads across his face, his dimples popping in his cheeks. Your expression mirrors his.

You can’t run to him fast enough.

Eddie catches you and grunts with the force of your embrace. Momentarily, your feet lift from the floor as Eddie holds you fast, your face buried in his neck with your arms wrapped tightly around him.

“I knew you could do it,” you whisper into his skin. Eddie squeezes you tight. It says, Thank you. It says, I love you.

When your feet meet the carpet again, you pull back to bring your hands to his face. His honeyed eyes are gleaming. Your cheeks ache from how hard you’re smiling. “You’re amazing!”

A crease forms between his brows like he might cry and you lean up to kiss it away, Eddie’s hands wrapping around your back to pull you against him and your arms wind around his neck.

“What’s all the fuss about?” A gruff voice interrupts from your rear.

You pull away from each other, detangling your hands from Eddie’s hair and look back at him. You’d almost forgotten Wayne was here even though you’d spent the day preparing together.

“Um,” You say, trying to shake yourself from the feeling of Eddie’s lips on yours. Then, you untangle yourself from him and push him toward his uncle. “Eddie’s got some news.”

He takes a big, deep breath, then tells him.

You swear you see tears in Wayne’s eyes, the big ol’ softie. Wayne and Eddie are just alike; tough on the outside, but on the inside they’re both sweethearts.

As if to prove your point, Wayne suddenly pulls Eddie into a fierce hug, his hand cradling the back of his curly head. Eddie just melts into him; this man who’s more than an uncle, who loves him like a father loves his son.

You watch the whole beautiful scene and can’t help but tear up yourself. Eddie deserves this win. He’s gone through so much and kicked and scratched for his survival.

And still he’s come out the other end kind and loving and sweet. It’s a testament to how resilient he is, how brave, how smart.

When they let go of each other, Wayne still doesn’t completely let go. He places a rough hand on Eddie’s face, says, “You should be proud of yourself, son. Lord knows how proud of you I am. And…and your mother, she’d-” Wayne chokes up a bit, then seems to pull himself together to say what he needs to. “Well, she’d be over the moon, that’s for sure.”

Eddie just nods, and you think his eyes look a little glassy now too. Then he comes straight back to you and you hold him again and he breathes in deep. You can feel the relief in the slackness of his body.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Wayne wipe stray tears from just beneath his eye. “Alright, I think that’s enough o’that.”

“Can we do it now?” You ask excitedly. This wasn’t the plan, but you just can’t wait any longer.

Wayne says, “Well, I thought we could wait ‘til later, but…why not?”

Eddie looks between the two of you, confused.

“Yay!” You clap enthusiastically.

“Do what?” Eddie wonders.

Racing around the counter and back towards the fridge, you reach inside as Wayne pulls open drawers. Before pulling it out, you glance over your shoulder to find Eddie’s brows knit together as he approaches the counter. “Close your eyes!”

He obliges without a second thought.

A minute goes by where likely all Eddie hears is some shuffling around, the clunk of a heavy plate being placed on the counter in front of him, and finally the switch of a lighter.

“You get me a new bong or something?” Eddie jokes.

In response, Wayne smacks him lightly upside the head.

“Hey!” Eddie squawks, though his eyes remain shut.

You stifle a giggle, pressing your lips together.

“Are you boys done?” You question teasingly.

“Yes, ma’am,” they both reply at the same time. “Okay. Open your eyes!”

In front of Eddie is a thickly frosted cake with red and white piping. There are messy swirls along the sides, some drooping onto the plate it sits on. In scraggly and thin crushed up letters like you’d run out of room, the top of the cake reads: “Congratulations Eddie!!!”

“Wayne and I made it today!”

Eddie looks up in shock, staring at Wayne like he’s gone insane. “You giving up trucking to become a baker, uncle Wayne?”

“Oh hush up and eat your cake, boy,” Wayne grumbles back, but reaches over the counter to tousle Eddie’s hair playfully, causing his fringe to stick up a bit. You smile at the sight of them.

Then you get to work cutting the cake, three hefty pieces for each of you. Nearly half the cake is gone once you plate up the slices.

The rest of the evening is spent eating take out pizza and even more cake.

That night, sometime after midnight, you and Eddie fall asleep together on the couch, but you’re half awake when a blanket gets placed over the both of you.

♡*♡*♡

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please reblog!

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coolprettyleo · 9 months ago

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picking up the pieces - begin again au

tw: lowkey cringe

wc: 856

ryan leonard x hughes sister au

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

frankie decided she loved her life. was she manic? maybe.

she walked to class wearing a cute mini skirt feeling like that bitch. with the song rich girl playing feeling a bit main character. she wanted to look good for this class though.

it had been about two weeks since she's seen anyone. avoiding everyone she knew at all cost. she was finally going to her theater class where she sat with will, gabe, and ryan.

she's decided she hates ryan. frankie just felt like he was an asshole trying to convince everyone he was a 'nice guy' when he wasn't. honestly she was just bitter he pushed her away two weeks ago.

frankie usually didn't get rejected so when she did, she would act like they were the plague and they were the most evil person in the world. it was easier to do in her opinion.

ryan had actually been trying to see her since it happened. he had felt horrible for the way she took it. he just wanted her to know that he was in it for the long game and the serious game; a game that frankie wasn't familiar with. but alas frankie thought he was slut shaming her; something that had been haunting Ryan. he would never shame her for that kind of stuff. if anything he found it even hotter of the way she carried herself and how confident she was.

frankie opened the door to her class, running fifteen minutes late. so when the big wooden doors creaked open it caught the attention of a certain hockey trio. she decided to sit with them again due to the fact she wanted them to see she was thriving. even though her life had fallen apart she was still slaying at life. and they needed to see that.

the professor got to talking their ears off as she scrolled through Pinterest. trying to find a new way to stay interesting as she was trying to rebrand her whole life.

she ignored the worried glances each of the three boys would give her throughout the rest of the lecture, trying to desperately keep it together. the professor ended class early, so frankie tried to pack up as quick as possible hoping to not have to converse with the three boys.

"wanna go get chippers with us?" will offered to her. as if nothing happened. she eyed them before giving ryan a nasty look.

"im good, thanks." she said in a bitchy tone as she walked swiftly pass them.

ryan looked at the other two boys with a wince before grabbing his bag, chasing after her.

"frankie wait!" he called as she raced down the steps. not listening to him.

"please stop avoiding me, I never meant for you to take it that way" he said grabbing her bag. he was desperate to talk to her since he had called her, texted her, looked for her, for two weeks straight. this girl was stubborn.

"im not avoiding you, I just dont see a reason for us to all be friends anymore" she said looking at him with her head held high. trying to play a part she oh so desperately wasn't.

"dont say that, we were friends before you got with drew, remember?"

"just leave me alone! I know what you and your friends think about me. why would I want to be around that?"

"that was drew and the rest of them, it was never me, smitty, or gabe" he said reasoning with her.

"I just feel really stupid ryan. overall embarrassed. I mean you were just trying to be nice to me and I got mixed signals and tried to get with you too, no wonder you think im a whore" she said looking away.

"woah- I do not think of you like that- I tried to kiss you too. when I pulled away it was because I wanted us to kiss under way better circumstances. you dont have to be embarrassed whatsoever. its drew who should be, if anything"

"under better circumstances?" she said confused.

"well I mean- I like you. like I wanted to take you out and all that before we kissed. and to be honest, I want you to be over drew before I take you out" he said putting his hands in his pockets blushing profusely.

ryan liked me? since when?

when she had first met the BC boys she originally wanted to hook up with ryan, but he didn't look like he showed her any interest so she moved on too drew.

"I don't think your over him yet though. and thats fine, im in it for the long game and ill wait, but in the mean time I still want to be friends, I still want to see you, so please join us to chippers" ryan added on after she had looked deep in thought.

she contemplated weather joining them or not. she wss hungry. and she did love chipotle. and its not like she had any other friends.

"ill go" she said after a second as ryan grinned.

it had always been hard for frankie to keep a grudge.

"and by the way, im so over him. he gives me the ick" she said they walked towards chipotle.

"I'll believe it when I see it, princess" he said grabbing her bag.

#nhl imagine #ryan leonard #frankie x ryan #gabe perreault #nhl imagines #will smith hockey #bc hockey #gabe perreault x reader #hockey fic #hockey imagine #jack hughes x reader #quinn hughes #luke hughes x reader #hughes sister

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fauxdette · 5 months ago

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The Procurist pt. 6

Azriel x Elain

Summary: Tensions rise as Azriel confronts Rhysand about Elain. Meanwhile, Elain makes her escape.

Warnings: Descriptions of violence (fistycuffs)

Word count: 1.5k

•••

This was the bath he’d been looking forward to for months and yet he couldn’t scrub his skin fast enough. Being back in Velaris, back in the house where they had almost kissed, back on the land whose gardens she tended to so rigorously, had brought the weight of Elain’s situation crashing down on him.

And Azriel was mad.

He had already dried, changed, and was marching down the hallway of the River House when the wraiths found him.

“Azriel,” they spoke in unison, instinctively falling in line behind him.

“I’m sure we have a lot to catch up on.”

“Reports are already on your desk.”

“Good. And our current status?”

“The fox has found her.”

The relief that swept through him tempered his anger briefly but he didn’t allow himself to react.

“Thank you,” he said instead.

Sensing the conversation was over, the sisters vanished into the nearest shadow, just as Azriel approached Rhys’ office door.

Even muffled by thick walls he recognised each voice from inside. His training allowed him to map their positions in the room, and one voice in particular was currently holding court. Azriel didn’t bother to knock as he opened the door.

“—and you let that Autumn creep go and get her??”

Nesta was standing, one hand in a tight fist at her side, the other gesturing wildly to the office window. Out to the world and wherever her sister might be.

Cassian was cringing in his seat but did not move to interrupt his mate. Upon entering, Nesta threw a glance in his direction.

“Shadowsinger—” Her surprise lasted half a moment. “Finally someone with half a brain. Did you know he,” a finger stabbed toward their High Lord. “Sent Elain on some kind of reconnaissance mission?”

“Oh I’m aware,” his voice was cool as night.

“If you want to yell at me about it, get in line,” Rhys snapped.

“I’m not here to yell, brother.” He didn’t bother hiding his rage; shadows slithered around him like moving armour, hostile and restless. “We have some things to settle. Training ring. Five minutes. Don’t make me wait.” And with that he turned on his heel and left.

•••

“You cut your hair—“

“—what are you doing here?”

Jethro was looking between them, a mix of annoyance and confusion warring on his perfect face.

“So you two know each other?”

“No—“

“—she’s my mate.”

“You have a mate?” His eyes narrowed on her as he tutted beneath his breath. “Have you been lying to me, fair fawn?”

Elain stuttered, searching for the right words. What could she say? Anything would reveal too much, be too personal.

“If you’ve touched her—“ Lucien made to move inside the cart but was stopped by some kind of invisible shield, bouncing off the doorframe as if it were a wall.

Jethro’s signature smirk reappeared.

“Sorry. Invite only.” He turned his back on the Autumn Prince. “Now tell me, what kind of mate pretends they don’t know the other?”

“She’s not well. That’s how she ended up here. With you.”

“Funny,” Jethro didn’t bother to turn as he spoke. “Because if she is the one who isn’t well, why are you only just noticing a hair cut?”

He tapped his finger against his smooth chin.

“Do you know what I think, little fawn?”

She didn’t. And she didn’t want to be there anymore. Not only had the mission gone south, quickly, but now her mate was here and that golden thread between them thrummed in his presence. She hated it, the pull she felt. Like the fae body she was growing accustomed to was betraying her.

“I think you haven’t accepted your mating bond.” Ignoring her silence, Jethro tilted his head. “Now why would that be?”

Was she that obvious? Had all this training and practice been for nothing? They had to leave. Now. And in that haze of fear and shame, Elain did the only thing she could think of; she threw herself towards the open door, and the male who stood outside it.

•••

Rhysand’s appearance clad in fighting leathers was clear enough, they were going to settle things the way they had for centuries - not with words and reason, but with blood, and sweat, and fists.

Azriel had forgone the shirt of his own leathers, and he stretched his wings behind him as he peeled it off his body.

“I’m surprised no one else came.”

“They wanted to. I told them this was between us.”

“They don’t know about Solstice then.”

To his credit, Rhys’ face remained neutral. “I don’t see how it’s anyone else’s business.”

“I don’t see how it was any of your business but here we are,” Azriel retorted.

Rhys lunged, a sweeping punch with good weight behind it. Azriel quickly ducked and landed a satisfying thud on Rhys’ ribs with his own fist. He sprang up as his brother inhaled the force of the blow and hit him again in the cheek, sending him lurching to the side.

“You’re out of shape.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Sure. Busy holding meetings in your office while Elain is… where exactly is she, Rhys?”

“She volunteered, Azriel. Don’t tell me you have so little faith in her.”

Faster than he could react to, Azriel was on him, delivering a punch to the other side of Rhys’ face. Rhys retaliated with his own fists, landing the first blow, but Azriel dodged the second, instead hitting Rhys in the gut. He launched into the air, a beat of his wings giving him leverage before dropping onto Rhys’ hunched back with his elbow. The High Lord fell forward, hands outstretched, as Azriel landed neatly beside him.

“The issue isn’t that you let her go.” They were both panting heavily.

“What is it then? Because my decisions have been for my court. For my people. That includes you, Az.”

"Anything could have happened to her today! Not because of the plan, or her training, or Koschei’s wards; but because you let her go alone. You let our personal shit stop you from including your spy master on a spy mission."

Rhys stumbled, hesitated. His fists were still raised, knuckles bloody, but the fire that glowed in his violet eyes almost instantly dimmed.

"Shit."

"Shit doesn't even begin to cover it. You want to punish me for Solstice? Fine. But you punish Elain for it and I'll keep handing you your ass in this training ring until Nyx is old enough to walk in and drag you out himself."

“That’s enough!” Feyre’s voice carried across the ring.

They had been so focused on the fight, neither had noticed her enter.

“I don’t know what is going on between you two but you’ll have to finish this another day.”

“I don’t think it’s quite that simple, Feyre darling—“

“We’ll make it that simple,” Feyre said firmly. “Elain and Lucien are back.”

•••

Her arms were still wrapped around Lucien's neck as she slowly opened one eye. They had landed on the front lawn of the River House. Lucien gently lowered her to the ground, and she felt his arms slowly release their grip around her waist. The bond between them cried out in response, but if it bothered Lucien as much as it bothered her, he didn't show it. He didn't appear uncomfortable at all. He just looked...

“What were you doing out there?!”

…mad.

“I could ask you the same thing!”

“I was doing what Rhys asked me to.”

“So was I!”

Lucien shook his head and lowered his voice, "If you're trying to prove something to them," he nodded towards the entrance of the mansion where Feyre and Nesta now stood, the former bouncing Nyx on her hip. “Then don’t. You don't have to be like your sisters, Elain. This court already has enough leaders, warriors, and scouts to gather intel. Mother above they have a whole spy master holding meetings with me in the human lands. You don’t need to do this.”

“You’ve been with Azriel?”

The question fell from her mouth before she realised she’d asked it.

Lucien tensed. “Look. I get it,” he sighed, forging ahead. “The need to prove yourself among your siblings—I get it more than anyone. But today was dangerous. Even though you didn’t get the answers you wanted, what you did was still admirable, really. Considering how risky it all was—“

“Who said I didn’t get the answers I wanted?”

Lucien paused. “I—I mean—the girls are clearly not being kept in the cart, and it didn't seem like you had time to ask where he was living, so I just assumed—"

"I didn't ask where he was living."

"I'm not sure I understand," he admitted.

"Mm," she clicked her tongue and shrugged. "I didn't need to ask."

"You didn't need to ask where he's been staying, but you found out anyway?"

"I did."

"But...how?"

And even though she was furious that he, like so many others before him, had underestimated her, for the first time since that wretched bond brought him into her life, Elain gave Lucien a true smile.

“Because of the flowers.”

Read part 7

•••

Tags: @lavenderbloomsinthegarden @greenleaf777 @sakurakittypeach @diabookmama @downingg2001 @teapagesandpetals @nxs98

#elriel #azriel x elain #elain archeron #elriel fanfic #shadowsinger #elain x azriel #Elriel wip

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months ago

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The Stranger 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Destroyer!Chris

Summary: A stranger buys the farmstead nearby and disturbs your sleepy village life.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You keep a frantic pace away from Clyde's place. Well, it isn't his anymore. You realise then you didn't get a name. You didn't get much of anything. Oh god. That was horrible. You told your grandmother you didn't want to bother. That man doesn't need a pie.

You come to the end of the drive and turn down the country road. At least it's good exercise. You shrug to yourself and cringe as you try to shake off the humiliation. Just stop thinking about it.

'Pie.'

Ugh, could you not think of anything else to say? You mutter to yourself about how stupid you are. What are you going to tell your grandma? She'll have a thousand questions, as nosy as she is.

As you carry on, wiping your sweaty palms on your flowy linen pants, you hear a rumbling. It's the familiar noise of a farmer's truck. You sidle over on the shoulder to make way for the passerby. To your surprise and chagrin, they don't pass. Instead, they slow and keep a snailish pace with you.

"Hey," the man calls. You know it's the stranger, his voice is stamped in your head; 'pie'. His eyes too. His bold blue irises stormy like the ocean. "Hey, let me give you a ride. Must be quite a ways you came down here."

"It's okay," you refuse to look over, "I'm fine."

"It's not too much trouble. I'm headed into town for some supplies. Maybe you know where I can find some chain."

He revs the truck, idling then bouncing forward with each step you make. You ball your fists tight as you stomp on. Why won't he let you go hide in shame?

"It was real sweet to bring that pie," he says, "what kind was it? I couldn't tell."

"Rhubarb," you answer, still bearing down on the country road. "I can walk, sir."

"I... I hope I didn't scare you," he says.

You're silent. You stalk onward. Home, home, always so far away. His stick shift cranks and the truck stops. He leaves it running as the door pops open and his footsteps march over the pavement onto the gravel.

"Will you please stop?" He comes up behind you, "look, where I'm from, we keep things even. You brought me a pie, I'll give you a ride."

You just want him to leave you alone. He might go away quicker if you just let him drive you. Then again, you don't like the idea of being alone in a car with him.

"No thank you."

"Hmm," he as good as growls, "you're the first unfriendly face I've met around here."

"I'm not..." you let your voice trail off, "sorry sir, but it's not far."

"Then it's no big thing."

"I like to walk," you squeak.

"Damn stubborn," he comments as he stops.

You keep going as his footsteps trail away. You don't look back as his engine roars again. He falls back into the same pattern as before, lurching forward little by little with your steps. You want him to go away so badly. You have tears in your eyes.

You look across the field. The Berrys are nice people. You gauge the distance to the trees. There's an old path you haven't been along since Cassidy still lived at home, your old babysitter.

You veer suddenly and fall into a sprint across the expanse of tall grass. You must look ridiculous but you've already made such a fool of yourself that it hardly matters. You're not really thinking, you're panicking.

You hear his engine stop and grumble in place. You pump your arms as you race over the flat ground and disappear behind the old well and down towards the brush. Your lungs burn but you don't stop. You can't.

He wouldn't follow you, would he?

You don't stop until you have to. You gasp and gulp and peer over your shoulder into the trees. There's nothing but the moss and scrambling critters. You stumble and lean on a thick trunk.

Great. You really outdid yourself. That man must think you're insane. Maybe you are.

You catch your breath and set back on the path home. Too bad the village is so small. The only way you'll never run into him again is if you take on a self-imposed exile.

Or you could just become a hermit.

You come in sight of your grandma's house. She's on the porch, swaying in the bench swing as she crochets. You tramp up the steps as she glance over without turning her head.

“That was quick,” she comments. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing,” you lie.

“You're a mess,” she scowls at your pants, mud splattered up the chambray.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you shrug. “Just took a shortcut.

“Mhmm, aren't you going to tell me about them?”

“Um,” you move to lean on the porch railing, “it was just some guy.”

“Some guy?” She wonders, needles clacking. “Young, old?”

“Er, I guess, pretty young…”

“So no wife? Single, hm,” she mulls.

“I think. I didn't ask.”

“Well, what's his name?”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” She narrows her eyes.

“I didn't… get it.”

“Ugh,” she frowns, “I should've gone myself but my hip. I'll have to call Lynette and see if she's heard anythinf else.”

“Sorry,” you pout.

“Well, you never were very social,” she tuts, “but I'd say you're more than old enough to learn. I'd like to have a great grandchild or two before I'm in the ground.”

“Grandma,” you exclaim, “don't talk like that.”

“You need me too. You need sense. You have no sense of urgency, dear. In a place like this, that's saying something.”

You deflate and throw your hands up, “sorry to disappoint… again.”

You push yourself off the railing and drag your feet towards the door.

“Oh don't be a child,” she reproaches.

You ignore her snipe, “what do you want for dinner?”

“Already in the oven,” she states tritely, “silly me, I thought you might invite the new neighbour to meet me, since I'm a but limited at the moment.”

“I… didn't think.”

She hums in disapproving agreement. You continue inside before she can make you feel any smaller. You know you're behind, you always have been. You're just as disappointed as she is.

#destroyer!chris #destroyer #chris x reader #dark!destroyer!chris #drabble #series #the stranger #au #backwoods au

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semperamans · 5 months ago

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(inspired by my angel baby honey love suse and her incredible post that you must read here)

this song is so angst!benny coded :'(

"last night i heard my own heart beating sounded like footsteps on my stairs - six months gone and i'm still reaching even though i know you're not there"

you swear you see him everywhere even though that's impossible because according to a tearful johnny, benny is gone - left the night he broke your heart and hasn't been back since. last you heard he was on the west coast and it's a fucking shame that he would carry your broken heart so far away with no real intention of ever bringing it back. he's not dead, at least you really fucking hope not, but he haunts you just the same. he smiles from the window of the diner you used to frequent and creeps into your mind with every backfiring engine. you can't help but picture the deep crease between his brows and the way you'd thumb it away and smile at him and he'd kiss you and you thought it would be like that forever but now you're sobbing into your pillow again because love like that is supposed to last a lifetime and maybe it did because you feel like you died the second you walked out of his front door. benny's not dead, but he killed you.

"i know people change and these things happen, but i remember how it was back then. wrapped up in your arms and our friends are laughing 'cause nothin' like this has ever happened to them."

is it possible you conjured him in your head completely because nothing feels concrete anymore. it's summer now and the heat evokes memories you don't want to remember, don't want to see, but need to regardless because you're so disconnected that everyone is worried. johnny calls every day but you don't feel like talking, so most of the time you don't. you sit on the phone, static speaking loud and clear. there's a shoe box of polaroids thrown onto your comforter and it's taken you an hour to open it. why do you have to do this? to reacquaint yourself with that now-distant time in your life? it hurts. being happy hurts so you choke on it- wince, and cringe and cry as you flick through the fleeting flashes of a life you can't believe had been yours. the boy who held your waist and nuzzled his scruffy chin against your shoulder and stole your heart-shaped sunglasses and swore he'd marry you and vowed to never hurt you broke your heart. and you know what? fuck him. fuck benny. fuck benny. fuck benny.

"come back, come back, come back to me like you could, you could if you just said you’re sorry. i know that we could work it out somehow."

"would you take 'em back?" cal asks. the two of you share sips from a flask on your front stoop. the moon hangs low over the hazy chicago night. "y'know, if he ever came back?" you don't hesitate. "yes."

"if you're out there, if you're somewhere, if you're moving on I've been waiting on you every day since you've been gone. i just want it back the way it was before and i just wanna see you back at my front door."

it's colder now. you need a sweater whenever you go out, and you're going out more often, which is good. sonny tells you he's missed your smile, been awful dark without it, and you smack him good-naturedly across the chest. you're a bit more alive these days; johnny calls you a zombie - the girl who died and is now slowly starting to come back to life. it still hurts and some days you can barely tug yourself out of bed, but you do because you deserve a life. the holidays are quickly approaching and you break down when your momma asks if she needs to set a place for benny (your parents came around too late) but it's okay. you're okay and no, benny doesn't need a place at your table even though he's always going to have a place in your heart and hey, you'll be back - you've gotta run to the grocery for something - but you don't even make it out the door because a familiar figure is hunched on the front steps.

"come back, come back, come back to me like you would before you said its not that easy, before the fight, before i locked you out, but i'd take it all back now."

#Spotify #GO READ SUSE'S POST BECAUSE SHE IS THE MASTERMIND BEHIND THIS #benny cross x reader #benny cross #austin butler #austin butler x reader #the bikeriders x reader #the bikeriders #angst!benny #benny's songs #clo is in love with suse #✍🏼#benny boy :')

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gingerbearbaby · 6 months ago

Text

Superstitious (Lockwood x Reader!AU)

I am absolutely obsessed with Lockwood and show choir and I was desperate for someone to write it. So this came out. It's my first (and likely only) work, so enjoy! Best read with F!reader (sorry!).

Basically, Lockwood and reader are co-dance captains in their show choir. Barnes is their director and Holly is their choreographer. Their girls group is called Elegance and their mixed group is Fusion. Also Kipps and reader used to date.

As for their ballad, it's called Maybe I Like It This Way from the musical The Wild Party. It's such a good song!

Tropes: enemies to lovers, fake dating, forced proximity

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: cussing, mentions of cheating, one line of slut shaming, kissing, a little bit of angst but plenty of fluff, they're idiots your honor, mentions of unrequited love (but it's really requited), regular mentions of superstitions

“Luce, I’m not so sure I can do this anymore.” You looked to the redhead next to you, shrugging your rehearsal bag further onto your shoulder.

“You said that last year.”

“Well last year I didn’t have to dance with him.”

Lucy opened the school door, a heavy sigh escaping her. “He’s not that bad once you get to know him.”

“Correction: he’s not that bad to you.” You swung open your locker door, wrestling your duffle bag into it. “You guys are friends we are…”

“Two people with intense sexual tension.” Lucy interrupted as you trailed off. A quick smack to her thigh was received.

“Not every rivalry has sexual tension.”

“No, but yours does.”

“Oh shut up!”

“Why is Lucy shutting up?” You looked up to see Norrie wrapping her arm around her girlfriend.

You stood up and began walking to the choir room. “She’s trying to convince me that I have sexual tension with that asshole.” You gestured to the lanky figure at the front of the room, fixing his hair in the mirrors whilst vehemently arguing with George.

Norrie gave you a look as if to say ‘Is she wrong?’ which left you shaking your head as you walked to the front of the room.

“Ah, my vice captain. Nice of you to join us.” Lockwood poked.

You raised your eyebrows. “Vice captain?”

He nodded. “Like a presidency? I’m the captain, you’re my vice captain.”

“You’re mistaken. I’m the captain and you’re my vice captain. I mean,” you crossed your arms in an effort to seem more nonchalant, “I have more experience as a captain, being the dance captain of Elegance too.”

“If I was a girl, there’s no doubt that I would be the dance captain of Elegance and you would be my vice captain there too.”

“There is no such thing as a vice captain. You’re co-captains. Sit down.” Barnes spoke, gesturing to an empty spot on the risers.

Lockwood leaned to whisper quickly in your ear, “He only said that to save you the embarrassment of losing that argument.”

You flicked his thigh, whispering back a, “Fuck you.”

He gave you a wolfish smile in return. “In your dreams.”

You simply rolled your eyes. You don’t truly remember when you really began hating Lockwood. You suppose it had always been that way. You never really spoke much except for talking about choir in history your freshman year, and even then it was brief comments about upcoming concerts. Then came your sophomore year with a shared English class, which began this weird competitiveness between the both of you. Though you have to admit, your rivalry was the primary reason you escaped that class with an A. But that didn’t make him any more bearable.

You turned to your right to see Lucy already looking back. She mouthed ‘tension’ before flashing an innocent smile and turning towards your director.

“Your show this year will be a kind of romance-y theme. Think rom-com. Weird tension to soulmates.” Lucy nudged you. “To combat any… hormonal drama,” you cringed at his words, “we’re gonna pair you up for the show. You’ll each get a designated dance partner, bond with them throughout this season. Learn to trust them. There will be a lot of partner dancing.”

“Just make smart choices.” Holly smiled. Barnes gave her a quick thumbs up for her addition to his little spiel.

“Our first pair is our two dance captains.”

“Kill me now.” You muttered through gritted teeth.

“Kill me first.” He muttered back.

You were in for one hell of a season.

The first rehearsal was admittedly rough. Every chance you and Lockwood had, you were whispering insults underneath your breath or coughing while the other demonstrated a move.

By the fourth rehearsal, you and Lockwood began to trust each other in your dancing. And even began to bond a little. Sure you still traded little insults whenever he stepped on your toes (or vice versa), but for the most part you became friends.

By the tenth rehearsal, you realized you actually enjoyed your little dynamic. Your hatred turned to teasing and you even began talking to him after rehearsals. This of course earned you more teasing from Norrie and Lucy, but soon even George began to join in as your friend group developed.

Next thing you knew, it was the night before your first competition. You turned to Lockwood after your final runthrough of the night, hoping to give him a high-five, but was caught off guard as he ran his hand through his hair. Dancing and singing was no easy feat so you weren’t surprised that he was sweating, it was just the fact that you found his sweaty hair attractive. It was probably just the stage lights, but you quickly found yourself staring at him.

“You alright?”

You quickly nodded, shaking yourself out of your thoughts of, well, him. “Just thinking about our competition tomorrow.”

“Hey, we’ll be fine. It’s not our first time competing against Fittes. There’s nothing to be worried about.”He reassured as your face dissolved into one of horror.

“Shit.” Lockwood raised an eyebrow at your choice of words. “Kipps.” You answered. His brows furrowed.

“You worried your boyfriend isn’t gonna like our show or something?” You shook your head in dismissal, your face changing to one of disgust.

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore. Cheated on me with Kat Godwin about a month ago.”

“Oh, I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” You shrugged off his sympathy till his lips forged into a grin. “It’ll make our win even more rewarding. We’ll put that motherfucker in his place.”

“Yeah, except there’s one step of our little revenge plan missing.”

“Oh?”

You nodded. “In my heartbreak, I may or may not have made an ill-advised decision. And let's say that I told him that I already found a new boyfriend.”

“Oh.” You nodded, pursing your lips as the reality of your situation sunk in.

“So we need to find you a boyfriend.” You nodded. “They don’t sell those at the supermarket, how are we gonna find one overnight?”

“You don’t.” You sighed. “I’ll need to find someone to fake date me for the season.”

“One hiccup with that plan. Fake boyfriends aren’t sold at the store either.”

You nudged him with your shoulder as you began the walk to your car. “I know they don’t. But to get the ultimate revenge, I happen to know someone who he very much hates.”

Lockwood paused beside you, leaving you to turn to him, facing the consequences of your suggestion. “You want me to fake date you?” You gave him a sheepish smile.

“Maybe?”

You watched as he considered it in silence. “If I said yes, I would be doing this the whole season?”

“Preferably.” You watched as he fiddled a bit with his ring. A habit of his you began to notice more as you increasingly spent time together. “But only at competitions. The rest of the time you can go back to hating my guts.”

“I don’t hate your guts. I never have.” You felt heat begin to creep into your cheeks at his words. Maybe you won’t have to worry about finding a fake boyfriend overnight if you get sick before the first comp. “So we’ll just piss off Kipps?”

“Only at comps,” you assured. You sat in silence once more, the cold February air leaving you impatient at the length of his consideration. He was likely finding the best way to turn down your proposition.

You turned to walk away, reaching your car door as he called out, “Let’s do it, babe.” You looked to see him wink at you, feeling the heat flush once more. “Let’s get our revenge.”

You sent him a smile, climbing into your car, and hoped that the feeling in your stomach would subside before tomorrow morning.

The bus ride to the competition was spent huddled over your phone resting atop your shared mountain of garment bags, conversing the details of your fake relationship, and drinking a coffee that Lockwood gave you earlier that morning. He told you they gave him the wrong order and offered it to you, saying it was “too sweet” and that he only wanted an americano. Luckily for you, they mistakenly gave him your favorite latte.

By the time you arrived at the competition, you were a bundle of nerves just itching to finally perform. A quick glance at the clock (and your comp itinerary) left you and Lucy in a rush to find your dressing room to get ready for your performance with your girl’s group, Elegance.

You and Lucy stood backstage after your warmups, watching your stage crew and band load on. You fidgeted with your dress as you double checked your heels were on the right feet. You made that mistake once in a rehearsal your freshman year and vowed to always check before each performance. Just in case. It was a superstition you’d developed.

Thinking of superstitions, you grabbed Lucy’s wrist, giving it a quick tap as you watched Barnes motion you all on stage. Taking your places, the show began.

It was an utter blur, the adrenaline melding the whole show together into what felt like seconds, until your solo began. As you grabbed the mic, you looked to the audience and finally acknowledged the brunet boy sitting front and center. You met his eyes from the stage as he smiled brightly at you. With a quick wink in his direction, you returned the mic to the stand as the rest of Elegance returned from their costume change.

The bows began too soon. You could’ve spent all day on that stage just to know that Lockwood was watching you. He was smiling at you. And not one of his teasing smiles, a real smile.

Still in your costume, you met him in the hallway, running to give him a hug.

“You were incredible. That was incredible!” He was muttering in your ears, as he placed your feet back on the ground.

You simply smiled up at him, caught up in your proximity to him. It wasn’t uncommon to hug people in the midst of a post show reverie. It’s just that you’ve only ever been so close to him when choreographed. It felt different to feel his hands on your waist when it was a choice of your own volition. Your attention shifted as you felt a tap on your back.

Lucy, who you lost earlier in the hallway as she ran to find Norrie, was now pulling you back towards your homeroom to get changed.

“What the hell was that?”

You looked at her. “What the hell was what?”

“Your sexual tension turned romantic.”

“It did not.”

“It did.”

You jumped. “Jesus, George! Where did you come from?”

“I was right next to Lockwood. You were just so caught up in your little rom-com moment that you didn’t notice me.” You frowned.

“Not true, it was not a rom-com moment.”

“You literally just reenacted running through the airport to stop him from flying to Amsterdam to start a new life without you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t kiss him,” Lucy added.

You simply groaned in response. “Lockwood and I are just friends who are fake dating.”

The two raised their eyebrows. “That’s new.”

“That’s really new.” George agreed.

“Kipps is here. We’re trying to piss him off.”

The two nodded. “You’re going for a Proposal kind of thing.”

“Luce, what does that even mean?”

“We have to get you caught up on your rom-coms.” Lucy nodded at George’s comment.

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. Just, if Kipps asks, Lockwood and I have been dating for a couple of weeks since the breakup.”

And with that, you entered your homeroom to change back into your normal clothes.

“They’re hopeless, Luce. Hopeless.”

“They’ll figure it out sometime soon. Just give them till the end of comp season.”

Once changed, you met Lockwood in the cafeteria, the two of you looking for a seat in the expanses of the cafeteria.

“Well, what do we have here?” You steeled yourself at the sound of your ex’s voice and looked to Lockwood who had already spun around.

“Kipps. What a surprise.”

“Tony! Always a misfortune to see you here.” He turned to you. “I see you’ve become the rebound for our little princess over here.”

“She’s not your princess.” Lockwood stepped forward as you reached for his wrist. “Why don’t you find someone else to bother? I’m sure some of Tendy’s kids are getting bored without someone to insult.”

Kipps simply ignored Lockwood and looked at you. “Tony? Really?”

You let out a dry chuckle. “I could say the same thing about Kat.” Kipps’s face twitched with anger as you continued. “And at least I found someone who actually cares about me, something you could never manage.” You laced your fingers with Lockwood’s. “And his name is Anthony, not Tony.” And with that you pulled Lockwood away.

When it was finally time to perform, you found yourself fidgeting backstage again. Lucy quickly tapped your wrist, leaving to go back by George, her own dance partner. Still toying with a sequin on your dress, you glanced at Lockwood whose hair was in spikes as he continuously ran his hand through it.

“You look like a mess.” You whispered. “Are you always like this before a performance?”

He only nodded. As stage crew was almost done loading on, you quickly grabbed his wrist to stop him. “There’s no way I’m letting you go onstage like this. You look like you’ve been electrocuted. Can I fix your hair for you?” He simply nodded once more as you went on your tippy toes to fix it, wobbling a bit in the process. Lockwood’s hands flew to your waist to steady you, giving you a rush of that same nauseous feeling in your stomach. You brushed off the thought, rationalizing it as nerves, and quickly admired your work with his hair. Adjusting his tie, you flashed him a smile. He responded with a simple squeeze to your hips before he turned to see Barnes gesturing the choir onstage.

The performance was a whirlwind, and before you knew it, Lockwood was dipping you in his arms, his hands supporting your waist. He gave you a little squeeze, identical to the one before you began performing. A large smile had engulfed his features, as he pulled you out of the dip, twirling you as you both exited the stage to the sound of a thundering applause.

“Holy shit.” You exhaled a laugh and turned to Lockwood.

His hands had found their way back to his hair, spiking them up yet again. You found yourself thinking back to yesterday’s rehearsal when he had done the same thing. Without the stage lights, he somehow looked even more beautiful, with his leather jacket pulled taught around his arms. He smiled at you before leaning in to whisper, “We put that bitch in his place.”

You simply laughed along with him, walking back to the homeroom to meet up with Lucy, George, and Norrie.

Later that evening, your choirs were huddled together in a corner of the vast auditorium awaiting the emcee to announce the finalists. In a swarm of the students, one Lockwood was missing, leaving you frantically searching for him. Swatting a sophomore from the seat beside you, you felt Lucy lean over to whisper, “You’re whipped.”

Her words were quickly forgotten by the arrival of the boy holding a pretzel. He tore a piece, squeezing through the row to settle beside you. “Want some?”

Wordlessly, you took it, and turned your attention back towards the stage as the emcee, one Mr. Fairfax, entered. Reaching to Lucy, you linked pinkies with her.

“Going first in your large mixed finals is Tendy High School Swing Sensations!” Squeezing Lucy’s pinky harder, you felt Lockwood’s knee knock into yours, his hand opened beside him, inviting yours.

Lacing your fingers, you heard Fairfax continue. “Second in the large mixed finals is Bunchurch High School Encores!” You felt your body tense. Only two more finalists.

A thumb brushed over the back of your hand, softly. Like a whisper of comfort that one was unsure to offer. You squeezed his hand again. He squeezed right back.

“Your third finalist tonight is Fittes Academy Vocal Excellence!”

You dropped your head, holding your breath to better hear the announcer. “And last but certainly not least, Portland Row High School’s Fusion!”

You exhaled, leaning over to Lockwood and linked your arms with his. “One step closer to revenge.” And with a smile you turned back to Lucy to discuss the possible results of the competition.

On the way to your warm-ups, you felt Lockwood reach over to lace your fingers together. Looking up at him, you saw the pure anxiety on his face. Squeezing his hand, he turned to you, his brow unfurling ever so slightly.

As the Fittes crew exited their warm-ups, Kipps shoulder bumped Lockwood, knocking him into you. His once anxious features dissolved into one of anger, his jaw clenching.

“He’s only doing that because he knows he can’t win.” Lockwood turned back to you, taking a deep breath before the warm-up began.

Once again huddled backstage, you checked down at your shoes while Lucy tapped your wrist again.

“Can you fix my hair again maybe?” Lockwood whispered.

Back on your tippy toes, you checked his hair and straightened his tie. “Are you superstitious, Lockwood?”

Without words, he squeezed your hip before turning to wait for Barnes’ directions.

On the stage, you only got to see Lockwood performing. With his big smile and irresistible charm, it was impossible to think of the boy you saw backstage. The one who holds your hand and squeezes your waist. You’re not sure which Lockwood you liked more: the dazzling performer or the one who needs you to fix his hair. Once your second number was finished, you hit your pose, one Holly was quite proud of. It’s not necessarily even a pose, it’s just a hug. In your quick embrace, you heard Lockwood exhale into your ear, quiet enough to not be picked up by any of the mics, but loud enough for you to hear his words.

“I like when you call me Anthony.” As Norrie began her solo, your mind kept repeating his words. It was as though he was stuck in your head; a broken record on repeat. You found yourself suddenly relating even further to the ballad as you began to sing once more.

Once the bows commenced, you met Lockwood’s eyes as he dipped you for your final pose. It was then you decided that the Lockwood you liked most was Anthony. And as he twirled you offstage, you felt that same nauseous feeling settle into your stomach.

Smiling at him, you rushed to find Lucy and Norrie. “You were right,” you whispered. “Our tension has gone romantic.” Lucy grabbed your elbow, pulling you closer to the wall. “He told me he likes when I call him Anthony.”

“What, during our show?”

“Yes!”

“When is there time to do that?” Norrie asked, huddling around the two of you. “We’re singing the whole time.”

“He whispered it during the hug. Before the ballad.”

“Oh shit.” The two whispered. “Well is it so bad that he maybe has a crush on you?” Lucy continued on. “We’re all waiting for it to happen.”

You ran your hand through your hair, squeezing your eyes shut. “No! No. He doesn’t have a crush on me. I have a crush on him.” The two shared a look before turning back to you. “Telling your friend to call you by your first name is normal. It’s the fact that I can’t stop thinking about it that’s throwing me off.”

“Well it happened only 10 minutes ago, I’d say it’s fine to think about it after such a short duration.” You groaned.

“It’s not that it’s recent. I don’t get thrown off by things like that. Especially not onstage. He’s gotten into my head.”

“What he’s gotten into is your heart. Is that so bad?”

“Yes! Because it’s Anthony fucking Lockwood! We’ve hated each other for years, he’s only being like this because of forced proximity. Or a bet or something.”

“Keep telling yourself that. But the longer you deny it, the worse it’ll get.”

You sighed, beginning down the hallway. “I just need space from him. It’s just like a showmance, right? None of this is real.” You began nodding slowly. “I don’t like Lockwood.”

“No, you don’t. You like Anthony.” You smacked Norrie’s arm and entered the auditorium, finding Lockwood’s leather jacket over a chair. As soon as he noticed you, he began waving his arms, leaving you no choice but to shimmy your way down the rows and into the seat beside him.

“Thanks, for saving me a seat.”

“Anytime. What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn’t save a seat for you?”

“A pretty crappy one.”

“Well many sources have said I’m the best fake boyfriend on the market.” You wrinkled your nose.

“What are they grading you on?”

“Charm, chivalry, and chemistry.” You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t think the person who judged you had their proper credentials.”

“Rude.” He whispered, as Fairfax entered the stage.

Reaching for his hand, Lockwood laced your fingers together and gave you a quick squeeze.

“Your third runner up, from Bunchurch High School, it’s the Bunchurch Encores!” Snapping with your free hand, you felt Lockwood’s grip tighten. “Your second runner up is the Swing Sensations from Tendy High School!”

You closed your eyes, bending your head as you awaited for the caption awards to be announced. “Best vocals go to Fittes Academy Vocal Excellence.” Holding your breath, you heard Fairfax continue. “Best visuals awarded to Portland Row High School Fusion!” You let out a sigh of relief. There was still a chance.

“And now, for our first runner up. From Portland Row High School, it’s Fusion! Which means that Fittes Academy Vocal Excellence is our Grand Champion. Congrats!” Jumping up and down with the rest of the choir, you turned back to Anthony.

“Sorry we didn’t win.” You bumped your shoulder into his, breaking him from zoning out.

“Why are you sorry? I’m sorry I talked it up so much.” You shrugged. “We’ll get our revenge at the DEPRAC comp, right?” You smiled at him.

“Until then, you’re off duty as my boyfriend.”

“You know? I was really starting to like it.” You watched him wander over to George before Lucy tackled you from behind.

“First runner up for our first competition means we can only go up.”

“Let’s hope so.”

Three weeks later, you found yourself smashed in the bus seat with Anthony for three hours. Holding an empty latte cup— they messed up his order again— you had dozed off on his shoulder halfway into the ride. Feeling a shove, you woke up to see the high school in front of you. The DEPRAC Invitational was an exclusive competition filled with dozens of the best show choirs from your area. You were lucky to even walk the halls.

Placing your garment bags in the homeroom, you heard your name being called.

“You’ve got the solo today.” You looked at Barnes quizzically.

“What solo? Elegance isn’t performing today.”

“Norrie’s out sick. You need to cover the solo.” You nodded. You had auditioned for the

song earlier in the season so you knew the part. But covering for Norrie left some huge shoes for you to fill. “Can I trust you?”

“Yeah, I’ve got this.”

Meeting Lockwood in the cafeteria, you told him about the switch before being interrupted.

“Come to lose to the big dogs again?” This time it was you turning around first.

“Fuck off, Kipps!”

“Woah, calm down, sunshine. It was just a question!” Lockwood scowled. “And remind your little guard dog here that you were mine first. We both know you’ll come crawling back in the end.”

“That’s enough, Kipps. Leave my girlfriend alone.”

“Sure thing, Tony. No one wants a slut like her anyway.” And with that, Kipps turned sharply, leaving the two of you fuming.

“If it didn’t mean getting us disqualified, I would have kicked his ass for you.”

“That’s not your job to do. I can handle myself!”

“I know that but I’m your boyfriend I wanna-”

“You’re not my boyfriend!” You seethed. Not sure where this anger with him was coming from, you stormed off to avoid any further arguments.

You avoided him for the rest of the day, only going near him to fix his hair and tie or to dance. You didn’t squeeze his hand or hug him after performing, despite his attempts to compliment your solo.

As finals rolled around, you found yourself more anxious than ever before. As Lockwood squeezed your waist one last time, you finally met his eyes before snapping out of his trance. You refuse to get blindsided by his pretty brown eyes, but distancing yourself from him was impossible as the whole group was packed like sardines in the wings. With a small smile, Lockwood turned around and entered the stage.

As the second song ended, you realized the breath you were holding as Lockwood posed in your hug again. His breath warm against your ear he whispered again. “I want to be your real boyfriend.” Masked by the applause, you allowed your breath to stutter before the music to the ballad began.

Departing his embrace, you grabbed the mic with shaking hands. This love song, this twisted and toxic depiction of love you were singing about found a resolve deep in your bones, the chills of the rest of the choir singing behind you settling across your skin. The fear of a boy who found a chink in your armor resounded in your heart and the anger of a confession you were too blinded to accept. It felt like hours when Lockwood finally squeezed your hip one last time as you twirled off stage.

Gripping his leather jacket, you pulled him into a hidden vestibule, the adrenaline of your performance still coursing your veins.

“What the hell was that?” You seethed.

“The truth.”

“Couldn’t the truth have waited?”

“You’ve been avoiding me all day! When else was I supposed to tell you?”

“Never! You were never supposed to tell me!”

He groaned, running his hands through his sweaty hair. “I had to tell you! It was killing me! I’ve wanted to be your boyfriend since freshman year. And the second I finally thought I had a chance with you, you came to school with that stupid Kipps as your lock screen. How do you think that felt?

“To be second place to an asshole like that for so long! I hated how I still liked you, so I pretended to hate you. To drive you away. And it finally worked! But the instant you asked me to fake date you was like a dream come true. I couldn’t deny it anymore that I still wanted to be yours. To even pretend you actually reciprocated any feelings was as good as any other. But it wasn’t enough for me! I need you.”

“You’re making this up. You got caught in the whirlwind! It’s just a showmance!”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do! You don’t mean any of this and you’ll regret it all by next week. Trust me I’ve-”

He pulled your waist, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. Grabbing his lapels, you quickly found yourself kissing him back. Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he further pulled you into him till your bodies were fully flesh against each other. Pulling away, you tried to lean back in but he further pulled back. “Since you’re so sure it was fake, there’s your proof. I’m done waiting for you.” And he turned down the hallway.

The second you snapped from your daze, you ran to find him, but he was already lost in the crowd. Finding Lucy, she pulled you aside, taking you to Barnes. “Found her!”

“Perfect, where’s Lockwood?”

“Behind you,” you turned to look at him but his attention was fully on your director.

“You two are our reps for awards tonight. Got it? Head backstage.” You both looked at him. “Now!” Turning back towards backstage, the two of you departed, a heavy silence falling over you.

“Can we talk about this?”

“What is there to talk about?” Crossing his arms, Lockwood turned from you.

“Anthony, please?”

“Some lovers quarrel.” You look up to see Kipps and Kat. “This is just your first heartbreak of the day. Can’t wait to watch you lose.” And with that, you were beckoned on the stage for the presenting of awards.

“Your second runner up, from Rotwell High School, the Rhythm Makers!”

You brushed your pinky against Lockwood’s, smiling when he relented and linked them together.

“Your vocal caption award goes to… Portland Row High School Fusion!” Your smile spread further as Lockwood squeezed your pinky. “And our visual caption award goes to… Fusion again!” Turning to smile at Lockwood, you found him already looking at you.

“And now, for your first runner up.” You began holding your breath, squeezing Lockwood’s pinky even tighter. “Fittes Academy!” Your jaw dropped as you began smiling in realization. “Congratulations to our Grand Champions from Portland Row High School!”

Holding the caption awards and trophy, you and Lockwood watched as the rest of your choir joined you on the stage. Each given a medal, tears and hugs were shared. Exiting the stage, you grabbed Lockwood by his medal, pulling him back to that same vestibule.

Pulling his lips to yours, you felt his hands find your waist, squeezing it gently. “Revenge is only fun if it’s real.” You muttered, lips still brushing gently over his. “This is real for me, Anthony.” Looking into your eyes, he pushed your hair back before capturing you in another kiss.

You felt him begin to smile into it, brushing his thumb over your cheeks. Reaching to play with his hair, you deepened the kiss until finally pulling apart for air.

“I think we should kiss after each performance.”

“Yeah?” He looked at you, the teasing smile you were so familiar with painting his face.

“Maybe I’m a little superstitious.”

#lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x reader #lucy x norrie #kipps x reader #anthony lockwood #george karim #george cubbins #lucy carlyle #x reader #fluff #lockwood fluff #show choir #show choir au #superstitions #they're idiots your honor

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