wishing on stars
CHAPTER 1 ! SUGAR,
SPICE AND EVERYTHING
THE DEVIL CRAVES

evangeline la bouff fact !!
evangeline's full name is evangeline chanel
spencer la bouff. she's named after coco chanel, the french fashion designer. evangeline doesn't mention the name "spencer", like... at all. she thinks her mother decided to sabotage her when she was born

"WHERE THE HELL IS SHE?"

The crowd of interns that powered underneath the outraged tone of their stage manager, lowered their heads slightly and darted their eyes anywhere else besides the fuming man before them. It was a miracle that the audience beyond the curtains couldn't hear the man screaming.

It seemed that the electronic beat and array of gorgeous people and gorgeous clothes distracted them from the complete shitshow that was happening behind the scenes.

The stage manager's face flushed red, his hair that was once styled with gel at the beginning of the show now looked like a drunken mess from the amount of times he pulled his hair in frustration. His desperate eyes scanned the interns with explosive anger.

"If somebody doesn't answer me in less than two seconds, I'm going to lose my shit! " Felix screeched, gripping the clipboard in his hands as if it was his lifeline.

A brave soul lifted her head and hand in the air. She clenched her eyes shut, afraid of the repercussions. She opened her mouth and spoke as the rest of the interns looked at her in either awe or fear for saying such words, " We couldn't find her ."

Felix snapped his neck in the direction of the woman who spoke, it was like watching a horror film. Slowly, each word was hissed with increasing malice.

"What do you mean you couldn't find her?"

The man continued, spit flying as he began to scream. "I hired twenty of you, and yet twenty idiots still couldn't do what was asked of you!"

The models returning from their walk silently eyed their conversation, each one of them knowing what the subject manner was about — you would have to be a complete novice if didn't. Some rolled their eyes, some pursued their lips, some cleaned their jaws But that was all they could do. They'd just have to sit and watch. It was like placing a singular bowl of food in front of several chained and starved dogs.

   Those stupid bitches wouldn't be able to do shit no matter how much howled or barked.

The stage manager began to mumble to himself like a deranged and crazy man, "I asked one thing, just one thing! Is it really that hard? One thing. One thing!"

The interns stood idly, unsure as to what they should do. They eyed each other in unease as the man in front of them slowly began to slip into insanity.

"Evil schemes in the stupid." An intern discreetly whispered. Rebellious chuckles and giggles ran through the young crowd.

It was a common phrase that the youth of the Fairytale Realm had created. Everyone knew of the fallen wicked Queen, the woman who bent both the Fairytale World and Wonderland Realm to her will. The woman who haunted kids' dreams through the various bedtime and campfire stories that left kids screaming and crying all throughout the night. The woman who was the epitome of all evil and cruel in the world... you could thank her for being the muse of such idiom.

But like all younger generations, when shit gets depressing, you make a joke out of it. It's called coping.

The phrase is meant to make a mockery of a person, that your poor-mannered actions were so fucking stupid that you were being controlled by the dead Queen. The phrase begins with "Evil schemes in the... ", and then you say whatever negative descriptive word.

Honey, no one cares
about your english lesson.

I'm teaching a valuable lesson! I'm broadening their minds with the
power of articulate diction!

Oh, for the love of–! Just
get on with the story!

Their giggles however, were loud enough to be heard by the man in front of them, whose sanity was holding on like a breaking thread.

"I thought I'd actually get to do important stuff, you know, the real behind the scenes." The interns nodded their heads in alike agreement. Another one piped up, "Yeah! I thought we'd get like actual experience."

The manager's presence had become invisible as the interns huddled and chatted with one another. "But instead we're stuck here on babysitting duty."

"Babysitting?"

Everyone shut up real quick. Felix began to giggle. He stepped forward, invading their personal space as he got close to their faces. His giggles slowly divulged into laughter. The lights began to flicker, showcasing a deranged and maniacal side to the middle-aged man. His face no longer red, instead a deep shade of ice blue. The atmosphere of the arena felt colder.

"I gave you one job." He no longer shouted, his words remained calm. "One job."

The interns quickly glanced at each other, as if asking where on earth did this icy personality spawn from. "Tell me what was your job."

No response.

"WHAT WAS YOUR JOB! " He screamed, his voice shaking the entire venue. All of the interns looked down and avoided his piercing eyes.

And in practiced unison, they repeated exactly what they were told several hours ago when they first entered the arena.

"Don't let Evangeline La Bouff out of your sight."

"MS LA BOUFF, W-WE REALLY SHOULD GET GOING. YOU'LL MISS YOUR QUE AND—."

Evangeline La Bouff lifted her incredible eyes from her phone screen, her pupils seemingly wide and full of innocent wonder. A moment even in which her new stuttering manager buffers at, the back of his neck slowly reaching a deep flush.

Her lips were both peachy and plump, looking incredibly soft. Her cheekbones were accentuated as her naturally silky midsummer blonde hair was gelled to perfection, achieving a wet look as it cascaded down her back. She looked beautiful. slightly, the manager felt warm at her unwavering eyes intensely gazing at him. And her eyes? Don't even get him started on her eyes—there was only one word to describe her eyes, ethereal.

Adam hadn't heard her speak despite them flying in her mother's private jet to get to the big four: Paris, New York, London and Milan (Ms La Bouff however, insisted that her daughter not attend the Milan Fashion Week due to her own personal grudge with one of the upcoming designers—it was also briefly mentioned that she would be in school by then so there wouldn't be any point in going). He could tell that the young girl was tired, going to each country, walking down the catwalk then immediately heading out to the next designer company until they go to the next country.

The blushing manager wondered what her voice would sound like, perhaps it was meek like a small mouse, or maybe it sounded smooth and enchanting like nectar. He wondered how that hypnotising voice would sound like when she'd call his name, just the thought made the hair on his neck raise.

He didn't understand why everyone patted his back and gave him happy retirement cards when he was chosen to be the new manager of upcoming teen model superstar Evangeline La Bouff. He thought of Evangeline as a shy young schoolgirl, simply too afraid to speak a single word. It make senses considering her who destiny — she must've felt lonely. So Adam thought he would carry the conversation for her, randomly bursting out his opinions on the mundane thing in hope that she would break out of her shell and converse with the man.

But as soon as he noticed the sixteen year old lift her wondrous beautiful eyes to meet his and her slightly open lips, he knew that he had finally done it. He had made a crack in her shell, his eyes practically sparkled with joy. She was finally going to open up to him, she would thank him, even hug him, he would then spin her around and feel her body against his, they would then become best fri–

"God, you're so fucking annoying."

The blonde sighed, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she watched the manager's dumbfound expression. "Did your mom drop you when you were a child?"

The young teen gracefully stood up from the black storage box she was sitting on and stepped towards the older man—it was truly an odd yet (with the right context) believable sight. Ensuring, she held the material of her dress in order for it to not rip, her blue eyes stared holes into him. Her heels clicked against the concrete floor at every step she neared towards him. The man felt himself freeze as if he were stuck in place.

"Despite your mother's casual child negligence, I'm sure she, at the very least, taught you about the basic pre-school mathematical concept of shapes." The image of her wide and doe-like eyes faded and were replaced with beady orbs of a relentless crow, staring at her next meal (Fun fact! It had always been the eyes of a predator, Adam was just blind). "A particular shape called a triangle."

She spoke with a mocking tune as a melody of insults belted from her throat and passed her wicked smirk. Her blue eyes turned to ice, its color becoming more lighter as if it was being surrounded with light fog.

"This may be too advanced for your oddly disproportionate head, but a three-dimensional triangle is called a pyramid." The manager felt their roles reverse—no no no no.

He was supposed to be in charge. He was the one who was supposed to be boss her around. He was the manager, so why did it feel like he was the one being managed?

He opened his mouth, about to tell her to sit down and shut up, when then the blonde moved closer, practically circling him. Like a shark finding its prey.

"I am on the top of the pyramid. You, Aaron whatever-your-irrelevant-last-name-is, are on the bottom."

Her smirk turned into a smile, as if she were loving the power-trip high she was on. "You will always be at the bottom. And I will always be on top. A shy young schoolgirl who will always be your boss." She spat out the last sentence with such revolt, looking at the man as if he were merely an inconvenience.

"Therefore, don't tell me what to do." She then stepped back, taking pride in the man's hunched figure and shaking fists.

"Also the idea of ​​​​a thirty-something-year old man trying to make 'friends' with a sixteen year old girl?"

Evangeline raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly with her head tilted in complete judgment.

"Kinda gross."

Adam's face went red as he felt oceans of rage emerge from him at her accusation, but the young girl's confrontation made him feel as if he were drowning, "I'm not blind Andrew. I can feel your pedo eyes on me every time we're alone. Rest assured, I will make sure you will never step in fifty feet of a child's presence ever again."

And with a small satisfied smile, she grabbed the veil of her wet-look garment, its theme of rebirth and spirituality evident through its intricate and carefully tailored designs. It told the story of greeks gods and their connection to water, a beautiful tragedy filled with calm oceans and equally as horrible storms, a story which purely resonated with the blonde.

Evangeline La Bouff's heels clicked against floor as she began to walk away, her veil of white trailing behind her.

"Oh!" She turned around, meeting the angry face of Alex..? Anthony...? Adrian...? Whatever. "Remember when I said I'd always be your boss? I lied."

Evangeline grinned, her pearly whites for show. She turned around and continued to walk, it was her queue any second and while she intended on arriving fashionably late, she did not want to arrive like a slob. She yelled aloud, not bothering to slow down to see his final reaction.

"You're fired!"

          "MISS LA BOUFF, YOU ARE LATE BY THIRTEEN MINUTES." The stage manager stated as soon as Evangeline made her presence known.

Evangeline's blue eyes were once again stuck on her phone (she was pretty sure she had to hand it in like an hour ago) as makeup artists desperately crowded her, touching her up and styling her hair once more.

"And I can make you lose your job in three." She spoke without even looking away from her phone as she tapped away continuously, her obnoxious typing filling the air.

Nearby models' noses turned upwards at the sight of the Evangeline La Bouff. Being Evangeline meant getting special attention—meaning she was a beautiful diamond in a mine full of stone. Evangeline loved the nasty glares she was given because of special attention, she decided to provoke those bitches even more.

She raised her phone, ignoring the persistent hisses of struggling the artists had, and pouting her lips, she took a selfie (with the backside camera at 0.5x of course). She could practically hear their eye rolls as she thought of what to write for her caption. Purposefully making her voice loud enough, she made eye contact with one of her makeup artist, "What should I put for my caption?"

Not even letting the makeup artist respond, Evangeline made a sound of realization and looked back at her screen (she deserves a goddamn Oscar for her nominee-winning acting). She typed slowly, knowing that there was a mini crowd of novice models forming (the normal eyes wouldn't notice it, but Evangeline had a keen eye for back-stabbing vultures).

"Hashtag, BLESSED. And post!"

Seeing their reactions of pure hated was euphoric, but what was even better was when an intern with a bag full of phones stopped to talk to the stage manger, when the bag had suddenly lit up with different sources of light and the same notification sound vibrated the bag.

Fake bitches really be her biggest fans.

The stage manager who finished talking with an intern had taken a deep breath, composing himself as he looked at the powerful nepobaby in front of him.

"Miss La Bouff, You were meant to hand in your phone so if you could plea–"

Evangeline interrupted his pointless lecture, her movements startlingly the makeup artists (one even shrieked), at which she raised an eyebrow as if to say "seriously?". She rolled her eyes.

   She raised her phone high and stood next to... Felix! (As it said on his name tag). She took a selfie, her deadpan eyes turning into obviously fake crescent moons and her too-wide to be true smile.

Her eyes then focused on her phone, clicking away as if the whole ordeal never occurred. "Miss La Bouff, it is company policy that you hand in your phone and I must emp–"

"Frank. You've worked as a stage manager for how long?" She continued to type.

"3 years." He answered tensely, ignoring his new name.

Evangeline looked up.

   Felix now understands why the brand demanded that all cost that Evangeline to be the closing for the show (even if it meant dealing with the animosity from both her and other models).

   It was her eyes.

Her eyes were blue.

No.

Blue was too simple of a word to describe her eyes.

   Calling her eyes simply blue was like questioning truths and weaving it into lies, and lies striped naked into truth. There was just too much of a story to ignore.

   Her eyes told stories both present, past and future. It was like looking into a reflection of water, like the early sun refracting on its calm oceans and yet despite its peace, many only saw the reflection.

   Her eyes told of thunder and lightning. Aggressive with frenzy bursts of anger in the form of lightning strikes. Frustration bouncing off every wall. A storm of color with hues of all kinds of blue that sang beautiful melodies, calling sailors to their death.

   Her eyes told of after the the storm. The rainbow. Child-like wonder, a child—small and rarely seen, hiding in cracks and crevices but a child nonetheless, hiding under quiet drowning, hidden under brick walls tall enough to touch the sky, hidden under liquid gold that poured down from the crying eyes of gods.

But woven through all of its layers, was arrogance.

   Perhaps it was genetics, a strand that ran only through the generations of old money. Perhaps it was age, arrogance comes easily with immaturity. Perhaps it was her upbringing, years spent in a spotlight and constant flashes of light from paparazzi. Her story, that a story with such morbid ending needed such armor to protect herself from such a destiny. Perhaps it wasn't real at all, instead it was arrogance that purely born from insecurity.

   And despite all its wonder, with enough hues of blue that could paint every color of the sky, from dusk till dawn, it felt tragic. Like watching the beginning of a film, no matter how much you pause or rewind, you will always watch the ending. You will always see the tragedy collapse and fall into a silent screen as people move from their seats and continue with their lives.

   And yet Evangeline defied its normal. She had refused to be someone that people 'moved on' from. Her presence screamed louder than glass shattering, she'd slam her foot down and screamed at the people who were leaving their seats, demanding them to sit back down. The attention, the fame, whatever Evangeline wants, she gets. That's why she was the closing model. She refused to be the first person to enter and be the first to leave.

   Evangeline blinked.

Although such movement didn't make a sound, it felt like a whip cracking in the air. Felix flinched, scaring him out of his thoughts, feeling as powerless as a lion bowing down to its circus ringmaster.

   "Fred. Has anyone ever told you your voice is really squeaky?" She smiled, an actual smile. She whipped her head, towards one of the makeup artists. "Doesn't his voice get squeaky when he pronounces certain letters?"

   The makeup artist for a split second looked torn, to chose between her employer whose she's known for several months or the blonde devil dressed as an angel in disguise.

   "He does! I think it's his Rs." Oh fuck you too Samantha.

   Evangeline then pouted. Her tone became whiny, dragging his name as she playfully tilted her head. "Finn. What's with the bitch face? It was just a joke," She smiled, shaking her head at the man's silliness, "Don't take it so seriously. I just wanted to take a photo." Her smile turned into a chilling grin. "Do you not like it when people take photos of you?"

   Translation: Get rid of the attitude or I won't fucking hesitate to get media outlets involved as they rip you out from the inside.

He understood and stayed silent.

Evangeline tilted her head, looked him up and down. Her lips pursued at his silence, disappointed at his lack of bite. She sighed, that was no fun, all bark no bite. "La Bouff enter in thirty seconds!" Someone called out.

   The blonde didn't seem to care as she went back to scrolling on her phone (not caring for the nasty glares she received). She took her eyes away from her phone for a few seconds and she already had ninety likes, twenty-four comments, twelve snaps, four insta DMs, and seven follows.

   She ignored all of them, continuing to scroll down her insta page. Her manicured nail pausing as she spotted Briar's private instagram, a vibrant green rim around it. As she opened Briar's story, she could hear shouting queues of models coming on and off stage. She still had like fifteen seconds left, she was fine (Felix however, was full out shit-stressing behind her, she zoned him out though).

   A selfie of her and several... not-so-child-friendly bottles behind her with the caption, "MOM AND DAD OUT, BACK-TO-SCHOOL PARTY AT MINE AT 8!" Evangeline's lips raised upwards, classic Briar. Evangeline loved the messy bitch but she wouldn't be surprised if the Afro-Latina fell into a coma because of alcohol-poisoning instead of a spinning wheel needle.

  "La Bouff enter in five!" Evangeline huffed. The makeup artist stood back as she watched the young girl straighten her back and wordlessly pushed her phone into the makeup artist's hands.

   FOUR.

   "Lose it and you'll never step foot in here again." The artist meekly nodded her head as Evangeline stepped forward into place right before her entrance.

   THREE.

   The makeup artist whose name began with S... Samantha? Sarah? Sophia? Evangeline can't remember (Look. She's not oblivious or anything. She deals with all kind of people, she doesn't have the time to be memorising each and every one of them, she just... doesn't have the time to be observant!). Whatever her name is, softly speaks. As if she were hesitant in giving such spoken fortune. "Good luck. "

   TWO.

   The blonde's eyes sharpen, like a cutting knife aiming to bleed blood. Her wet design making her seemingly glow as if a halo were around her (how ironic!). This was her last and final show for the summer, and thank god for it. The young teen hadn't gotten a break out of her entire "summer break" (she can thank mommy-dearest for that!) . Her schedule was 60% fashion weeks and prep with each brand for it. 30% was modeling for magazines and billboards. 20% was every pandering event you can think of — charity balls, mental health campaigns, volunteer work (of course all of them having paparazzi, her mother wasn't stupid to make her do manual labor without cameras capturing how perfect she was). And 10% for all the pedicures, manicures, styling and makeup combined for every activity.

   Some may say that that was more than a hundred percent, Evangeline would say math is subjective and stupid. And if it were more, then it only proves how much the girl needs a break, she had been living off Pepsi for the past week for god's sake. Even pervert Alan could tell she needed a break, constantly asking if she was alright or tired. She never responded to his questions but she must've looked as bad as she felt if a total stranger was saying that to the literal princess of catwalks.

   ONE.

   An aggressive smirk appeared on her red-stained lips as her eyes continued to face the stage where hundreds of people sat, patiently waiting.

   With her head high, she spoke. "I don't need luck."

   GO FOR LA BOUFF.

@EVANGELINE DISASSOCIATING EVERY TIME SOMEONE SAYS THEIR NAME

OKAY BEFORE ANY OF YALL COME AT ME, i'm aware that the faceclaim of evangeline (madelyn cline) has brown eyes, I COULDNT FIND ANYONE ELSE WHO DIDNT FIT THE VISION BESIDES MADELYN. so just-! imagine aight !

fyi the second part was meant to be creepy, adam is a perv and pervs deserve torture, ergo , evangeline. also was adam's character meant to be a statement on all the inappropriate age-gap relationships in hollywood?

yes. yes it was.

does evangeline have a sadist kink? ...uhh—

I HOPE YALL LIKED THE FIRST CHAPTER, DONT FORGET TO VOTE, COMMENT AND FOLLOW! (also follow my tiktok @pattayexpressway for edits!)

Published: 25/7/23
Word count: 3.7k