So I haven't been writing.

This is because (insert generic excuse like no time and stress and school and writers block).

...Yeah, that's bull crap.

The truth is I just don't really enjoy actually writing right now. Don't get me wrong, I love all of y'all and your feedback always makes my day, but I just feel like I don't have it in me right now to write. Everything I try to write right now is either a thinly-veiled regurgitation of the same story that I've already written like three times with a different boy, or it's really sad, or it just plain sucks.

I'm a sad boi.

BUT

I will try to keep plugging away and getting chapters out as I can. I know I'm never going to be as prolific as SOME PEOPLE (DaydreamShimmer cough cough) but I will try for you guys because you all rock and I love you.

Whether you comment occasionally or on like, every sentence in the story, or not at all, thank you. Thank you for taking time out of your day to read my stories. Thank you for giving this crazy little fangirl's book a chance. You are all so appreciated and loved, I just wanted you to know that.

So here's a kinda modern Race AU for your enjoyment, because even though he's me from another dimension and my clone and my twin and, like, a cat or something? He's still pretty darn sexy.

P.S.
Don't froget.

-:-:-:-

The day started with your hat blowing away.

And of course you weren't going to run after it; the thing was ghastly. Olive green and covered with flowers and feathers and even a bird figure.

Eww.

Your Aunt Beatrice had proudly presented it to you on your birthday last year. Nothing against Aunt Beatrice, she was a cute, sweet, little old lady who baked the best pies, but the poor woman had no fashion sense whatsoever.

She would be sad that you lost the hat, but it wasn't exactly your fault...

Well, this way you wouldn't have any guilt whatsoever. It was entirely the fault of the wind and that was that.

You heard footsteps approaching you and you turned to face the source of the sound. It was your grandmother, who was all dolled up for the races, just as you were. Well, minus a hat.

"(Y/n), darling where is your hat? Did you forget it? Oh, your aunt will be so blue when she sees you without that lovely little thing." Your grandmother cooed as she fussed over your outfit, straightening your dress and perfecting your hair.

You held back a smirk and put on your best distressed act.

"Oh grandmother, a horrid gust of wind that stole away my lovely hat. How will I ever explain it's absence to Aunt Beatrice?!" You cried, falling onto your grandmother's shoulder and sobbing so pitifully that you really should have received an award.

Grandmother immediately began comforting you.

"Don't worry, Darling. We'll buy you a new one. A better one. I'm sure Aunt Beatrice won't mind one bit."

Wait, no.

"That's alright Grandmother." You quickly recovered. "I can just drop by the haberdasher on the way over to the races today. I couldn't show up hatless, now could I?"

Grandmother pondered this for a moment before sighing.

"I suppose not. Choose a lovely... what color was that hat again?"

"Red." You rushed, before she could think on it any longer. Why red? Well, it was the opposite of that horrid green first of all, and more importantly, Aunt Beatrice was red-green colorblind. She would never know the difference!

"Ah yes. A lovely red hat for a lovely little lady." She cooed, pinching your cheek. You smiled and placed a quick peck on her cheek.

"Thanks Grandmother." She smiled wistfully and placed a wrinkled hand on your cheek.

"You do look so like your mother..." she murmured.

You were a bit taken aback by her words. You rarely heard about your mother, let alone from your grandmother.

"Thank you, Grandmother." You said sincerely. You wished you had gotten to know your mom. She had died suddenly when you were only three years old, leaving your grandmother with the responsibility of raising you. The only things you remembered of your mother was that she married a stablehand, your father, who had passed away before you were even born and that she always sang you to sleep. She wasn't the greatest singer by any means, but the love she poured into the notes was the sweetest sound you had ever heard.

Grandmother patted your cheek gently and sighed.

"Alright, I'm off to the races. Make sure to arrive at least two hours before Thunder Skye's race."

"Of course."

You turned to head off to the haberdasher.

"I love you, dear." You heard from behind you. You turned and smiled.

"I love you too, Grandmother."

-:-:-:-

You happily strolled out of the haberdashery with your brand new, very stylish red hat. No flowers or feathers or bird figures in sight!

Pleased with your clever hat switch, you bounced down the street, not a care in the world. The racetrack wasn't far at all from the haberdasher, so, of course, you arrived at the races in almost no time.

Time to put on your dignified face and stop enjoying yourself.

"Miss (L/n), so good to see you again. Here to take a gander at Thunder Skye's race?" The man at the front gate smiled.

"Of course, Mr. Harry." You smiled politely. Harry grinned in return and pulled the gate open. You sighed internally and daintily swept through the gate, entering the racetrack that had been your second home since you had been born.

Your grandparents owned a stable, raising you alongside the foals that would grow to be racing champions. Great things were expected to come out of (L/n) Stable, including you.

Today was your debut. Well, it was your mare's debut. You had raised Thunder Skye since she was born, training her to be your champion racer. Today was her first actual race, and now that you were here, you were terrified. With all the pressure to be as great as your mother and your grandparents before you, one slip up today would mean the end of your entire training career, not to mention a boatload of shame on (L/n) Stables. Because of that, your grandparents had prepared basically everything for this race. You knew next to nothing about how things would go down; all you knew was that The World Stable was your biggest competition today with their protege Bottom Line; a powerful stallion who scared the living daylights out of you.

And with that thought, you began to hyperventilate.

Everything could go so terribly, horribly wrong and at this point there was nothing you could do about it.

Jumpy nerves and what was usually socially acceptable at the races don't exactly mix, so you knew you would need to find a peaceful place to calm yourself down. And where better to do that than in the stables?

Despite the tremendous amount of pressure on you with regards to horses, you still had a deep love for the animals. They were strong, large, and stubborn, yet they were also gentle and even goofy at times. It also didn't hurt that they couldn't talk to you.

You quickly made your way to the stables, expertly avoiding the prying eyes of the stablehands and the stuffy rich people alike. Doing this very thing for years on end taught you how to avoid being spotted in the dirty stables. Oh, how you wished you didn't have to stuff yourself into this frumpy, frilly dress! Though you looked the part at the time, you were far from the respectable lady the race goers perceived you to be.

Carefully keeping your skirts away from the grimy walls, you trotted over to the stall labeled "Thunder Sky." You pursed your lips once again at the misspelling; those idiots never got it right. Last time, it was Thundere Sky because you said "there's an e at the end." Well, at least they spelled Thunder correctly this time...

You grabbed an apple from the sack by the pitch forks and whistled for your mare. She quickly appeared, whinnying a bit in greeting.

"Hey Skye. Ready for your big day?" You said softly, holding up the apple to your prized horse. She sighed as if she were just as nervous as you before eating the entire apple in one bite. You chuckled.

"A little hungry, aren't we?" You said as you have her an affectionate pat on her stormy gray coat.

"You'll do just wonderfully; I know it. Well, I hope so at least."

Thunder Skye snorted at you, then backed up into her stall once more. You took a deep breath and smiled. It would be fine; perfectly perfect.

Maybe.

You turned to go, your mind a bit more organized than it had been a moment before. That was, of course, before you heard the singing.

And whoa boy what a voice.

It was a very familiar tune, a tune you recognized as one of the lullabies your mother would sing. Despite the familiarity, however, it sounded like an entirely different song. the singer sounded like an angel straight from heaven's choir. You listened for a moment longer, holding yourself completely still.

Holy dang, that dude could sing.

You whispered out a soft "wow..." before you could stop yourself, causing the singing boy to abruptly halt.

"Oh." The boy murmured. You turned to see a face that matched the angelic voice perfectly. Curly golden hair, gorgeous blue eyes framed with lashes that were longer than yours, and the most beautifully proportioned features you'd ever seen.

He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, setting down the bundle of hay he had been carrying.

"Ah... A lady person. Uh... hi? Didn't... didn't expect to see someone so... pretty here?" He stumbled, looking up at you. Huh. He was pretty short.

"Yeah, me neither." You said before you could stop yourself. The boy's eyes widened before he smirked and leaned against one of the stall doors. You quickly realized your mistake and tried to recover, but words were failing you at the moment.

"You think I'm pretty?" He asked, winking and trying to look suave. Sadly, his attempt failed epically when the door swung open, causing him to fall right into the stall. Luckily, there wasn't horse in that one.

You stifled a laugh while he quickly hopped up, brushing himself off.

"You ok?" You said, still trying really hard to not laugh at him. He only smiled, running a hand through his golden curls. Cue the heart palpitations because dang.

"I'm just perfect." Yeah he was. Wait what?

His smile grew at your flustered state.

"Betcha didn't expect me to fall for you so soon, huh?" He said, shooting you a pair of finger guns. You let out a surprised laugh and fidgeted with your skirt.

"Well, I didn't expect to find a baby angel here either, yet here we are." You answered, looking into his eyes.

The boy pouted a little at your comment.

"I'm not a baby. I'm adulting!" He whined, straightening up so as to appear taller.

"Really?" You challenged, raising an eyebrow at him and smiling.

"Yas! I'm... well, I'm not quite 18 yet, but I will be soon."

"Huh. I sort of assumed you were, I don't know... twelve?"

He bristled a little at that.

"I'm not twelve! Is it because I'm short? Because I'm NOT short! I'm fun sized thank you very much." He scrunched his face up like a petulant child and stomped his foot. You giggled at his antics.

"Hi Fun Sized, I'm (Y/n)." You joked. He continued fuming for another second or two before he suddenly perked up, his mood shifting in an instant.

"Your name is (Y/n)? Mine's Anthony!... I guess..." he trailed off.

"You don't sound entirely sure of that." You said, placing a hand on your hip.

"No, no my name is Anthony, but people usually call me by my nickname."

"Tony?"

"Racetrack. Race for short"

"That's... a weird nickname." You deadpanned. He beamed at you.

"Thanks, I got it for my birthday."

Wut?

"I thought you said it was a nickname?"

He shrugged and skipped over to a bench, flopping dramatically onto it like the two of you were in a soap opera. What an odd boy. You liked him already. I mean what?

"Doctor (Y/n), it all started when I was five years old."

"So last week?" You quipped, holding back a smile.

He glared playfully at you, then immediately went back to his ultra dramatic performance. You had no idea how he kept a straight face.

"I came to see the horses here so often that all my friends started calling me Tony the Pony and I hated it."

You pursed your lips to keep from smiling and pretended to take notes.

"Mhmm... and how did that make you feel, Mr. Anthony?"

He suddenly broke character and looked your directly in the eyes.

"It felt like my world before you walked into it."

You stared back in shock, heat flooding your cheeks. You tried to form a response, but it was all garbled and completely incoherent. Race smirked, then rolled over on the bench so that his head hung off one side and his legs hung off the other.

"So for my birthday, I asked my dad for a new name. And, being a jockey, he chose Racetrack."

"How creative." You commented. He nodded solemnly.

"So that's the story of how I got a new name for my sixth birthday! The end." He jumped up from the bench and curtsied like a proper lady.

You applauded and laughed.

"So what's your diagnosis, doctor?" He asked, fake worry filling his features. You pointed at him, very serious, and said

"I diagnose you with dead." The two of you stood in silence until you both couldn't hold it in anymore and cracked up.

"I like you, (Y/n). You put up with my stupidity." He smiled. You grinned back.

"Well, thank you, Racetrack. I quite like you as well. You've helped me keep my mind off today's race— OH NOES I'm going to worry grandmother!" You gasped, quickly trying to straighten your clothes.

"Your grandmother? Y tho?"

"It's Thunder Skye's first race today and I need to be up in the stands and find our jockey Paul and—"

"Whoa whoa whoa, hol up. You're Thunder Skye's trainer? From (L/n) Stables?" He asked, grabbing your arms. He was dead serious, and you could tell that this wasn't one bit of acting.

"Yes. My name is (Y/n) (L/n)." You answered softly

His face fell. And he let his hands fall away from your arms.

"They didn't say... they didn't tell me how nice you were..." He mumbled to himself.

"Sorry to disappoint? And why does it matter who I am? Are you from another stable or something?"

He sighed almost inaudibly, then looked back up at you, a forced smile on his face.

"Yeah, I'm from The World Stable. I'm their jockey for Bottom Line."

Frick frack snick snack patty whack tic tac.

"You're kidding."

He sighed and shook his head.

"Oh man, my grandmother is going to kill me!"

"Yeah, and my boss is gonna kill me."

The two of you stared at each other in silence.

"Umm... best of luck, I guess?" You said tentatively, reaching out a hand for a polite handshake.

"Best of luck to you, too, (Y/n). Though I doubt you'll need it." He took your hand and gave it a firm shake, determination set on his face.

You turned and began making your way out of the stables, but you didn't get more than a few steps before you heard Race run up behind you. You turned back towards him.

"What are you—"

His sudden peck on your cheek distracted you from what you were saying.

"Wuhh..."

"After the race today, would you want to go out for some ice cream with me? I know our stables will probably hate it, but I don't want some stupid rivalry to be the reason we don't... ahh... keep in touch." He smiled at you, then sprinted away, skidding around the corner with a quick salute to you.

Say it with me now:

SQUEEEE!!!

-:-:-:-

What can I say except you're welcome?

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