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shares-a-vest · 5 months

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@steddiemas Day 16: Angst-Themed (Saturday Sentence Starters)

wc: 1k | Rated: T | cw: Steve’s parents are arguing (he is overhearing it briefly but there are some descriptions of yelling), toxic family dynamics, unstable marriage, cheating

Tags: Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unstable Marriage, Toxic Family Dynamics, Cheating

“I don’t want to fight with you, Caroline,” Steve hears his father bellow from downstairs, “Not tonight.”

He snaps his comic closed and tosses it on the floor.

Steve has no idea what his parents are arguing about. Hell, they don’t even need an excuse these days, he thinks. Someone can so much as fart and it will start a goddamn screaming match.

He guesses he shouldn’t be surprised. It’s the holidays and his parents are both off work until the beginning of the New Year. It’s snowing heavy out so they can’t go down to the Martens’ house – their best friends-come-buffer zones.

“Oh, John!” his mother chides before there is a lower muffle that he can’t quite make out.

While being hard of hearing allows him not to hear anything below a shout, the broken argument is still frustrating.

His parents might not need an excuse to fight, but he’d still like to know what it’s about. Gain intel for the inevitable coming days of being stuck in the middle.

Steve has a few guesses as to what it could be.

His mother bought a new car with her Christmas bonus finally topping up her bank account and thus justifying an indulgent and expensive purchase. His father always hates that.

Steve smirks.

If his father didn’t like that kind of independence, why did he marry a high-paid lawyer?

But, the more likely scenario considering his father’s apparent insistence he ‘doesn’t want to fight’ is that he is cheating again.

Cindy, his secretary, or someone new – take your pick.

The telltale signs have been there for a month or two. A renewed cheery attitude, longer office hours, a fresh haircut and new clothes.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, it might be a little bit of a motivator behind his mother’s car purchase too –

“ – Cindy!” his mother shrieks.

Yep, there it is.

Steve rolls off the bed, planting his feet on the carpet right by his shoes.

“Fuck this,” he mutters, scooping up his keys and wallet from the nightstand.

He’s just about halfway to Forest Hills, driving at a snail’s pace because he can’t see for snow, when he begins to regret his decision to leave the house.

Maybe he shouldn’t just barge in on the Munsons unannounced. Like sure, his friendship with Eddie is… teetering on not being entirely platonic. But this might be too much.

He always thought it was too much when he’d walk down to stay at Carol Perkins’ house for an impromptu sleepover. And there was always this awkward, knowing going on with the Wheeler’s when he was dating Nancy and spending a lot of time just hanging about.

Lingering for too long in the kitchen chatting to Karen or watching a game with Ted until the guy started snoring too loud to hear the commentators.

It was all there but largely unspoken.

Only Robin knows the details. And even then, he’s sure that her father’s friendliness towards him was partly due to his daughter telling him all about the trouble at the ‘ol Harrington house. He doesn’t blame his best friend for likely doing so. And he doesn’t consider it blabbing, either. Robin’s parents – her whole family – are amazing.

But some of his parent’s shit is stupid at best, hard to take at worst.

And he is scared to let Eddie in on it.

It’s too much.

He’s too much.

Being a Harrington is too much.

Wayne answers the door with a cup of cocoa that seems glued to his left hand in winter.

“Steve,” he says, voice gruff as ever despite a warm smile.

“Hi,” he replies, looking down at his snow-covered boots, “Eddie in?”

Of course, he’s in, his van is parked outside.

Steve can feel the warmth from inside the trailer. See the twinkle of lights from the Munson’s small, but heavily-decorated, Christmas tree. The smell of cocoa overpowering the ever-present hint of cigarettes.

“Eddie!” Wayne calls over his shoulder, “Steve’s here.”

In a flash, Eddie runs to the front door and practically bumps into his uncle.

“Come in!” he insists, wide-eyed as he looks past his shoulder at the falling snow.

And before Steve can even step in, Eddie is pulling him by his parka sleeve. He only just manages to scrape off his boots on the ‘Home Sweet Home’ adorned welcome mat.

“What some cocoa?” Eddie offers, eliciting a grumble from Wayne.

“I asked if you wanted some,” he chides.

“But Steve might want some,” Eddie grins.

“How about I heat up a pot now, and whoever wants some’s got it?” Wayne suggests, pursing his lips at Eddie and moving to the stove before his nephew can make any more requests.

“Follow me,” Eddie says, grabbing his hand, “I made cookies.”

He wiggles his brows and begins leading Steve to the kitchen.

As he is pulled along, Steve tries not to think about the fact that they are holding hands. Or how he wishes his fifteen-minute-ago Self had thought to bring an overnight bag and allowed himself to assume the Munsons would allow him to stay the night.

But it might be even harder to stop himself from squeezing his friend’s hand and lacing his fingers with Eddie’s.

Eddie lets go of his hand to gesture to the tray of Christmas-themed shapes, all looking a little too dark for gingerbread as they rest on the kitchen island.

“Pick one, Big Boy,” Eddie beams.

Steve reaches for a reindeer, flexing his fingers as he goes and commits the feeling of Eddie’s rings to memory.

“No!” Eddie shrieks, lightly smacking his hand enough that he drops it, leaving the cookie to snap in half as it falls back onto the tray, “His antlers are broken.”

“Christ, boy!” Wayne curses, stirring the pot on the stovetop.

Okay, a tree then…

“The star is missing!”

A bell?

“That was already snapped in half when I got them out of the oven”, Eddie admits with a tight-lipped smile.

Steve places his hands on his hips and rolls his eyes. To him, they all look at least a little crumbly – some he would even describe as lightly charred.

“How about you pick one for me then, Betty Crocker?” he chuckles.

Eddie giggles, twirling a lock of his hair as he carefully considers the tray of mostly broken, dry cookies.

He watches Eddie for a long enough time that Wayne pushes a mug into his hand, the warmth of Eddie’s hand remaining in place due to the heat of the cocoa. It’s a Chicago Cubs mug, one that he finds himself holding at some point each time he is here as if Wayne considers it Steve’s own.

He smiles for the first time in three days.

#i have a few days i've missed and fell behind finishing so i might go back and post them later #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington has bad parents #steve harrington angst #steddiemas #wayne munson #steddie #steddie fic #lily writes a fic #harrington family TM

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sluts4matt · 14 days

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Hiiiii Ik you are not Latina but you write for latinas (which I’m so thankful for btw because I can’t find many Latina reader fics as a Latina) but I wanted to ask that if you are comfortable with it and you know anything about it if you could right a fic about Latina reader dating either Chris or Matt and her introducing them to stuff like pan dulce, tres leches cake, flan, Hispanic candy and big family parties just how they would react to all of it. Again this is only if you are comfortable with it I don’t want you to feel pressured to do it at all I just really love your work so I had to ask.🫶

TRADITION

pairing: matt sturniolo x mexican!reader

summary: family get togethers happened once every year, this year you were more than happy to bring your boyfriend to share your traditions with.

warnings: swearing, fluff, small argument between reader and their cousin, kinda suggestive in the beginning, i make a small joke about white people which could set a snowflake off so 🤷‍♀️.

word count: 2074

authors note: i can't tell if i like it or if i feel like i didn't do your request justice. i'd like to say that i've never had flan myself, but like everything else i mentioned i've eaten before. (twas not made by white people)

you and matt had been dating for basically a year now. and while obviously your parents, and close family knew matt, your tía’s and tíos did not. however, this month your tía cindy was hosting a family get together.

they typically happen one time each year, each family member hosting a year. last year, your parents hosted. "i think you should come with me to my family get together," you mutter to matt, running a hand through the boy's brown locks as he laid his face on your chest.

the two of you were currently cuddled up in your bed, the babadook playing on your tv. your phone was resting on your pillow next to your head, your phone going off because of the groupchat you were in with your cousins.

"that would be cool," he mumbled, nuzzling his face into your chest. you could feel his eyes close against your skin, obviously meaning he was tired.

"i can introduce you to them as my boyfriend," you spoke quietly, almost as if you were trying not to scare him off, though a small smile was on your lips. though in reality you didn't know how you would. bro had seen you in all your naked glory, as well as seen you breakdown on many occasions.

there really was no scaring him away.

matt pulled his face from your chest, propping himself up on his elbows. the chain he wore dangling in front of your face as his blue eyes stared into your brown ones. "yeah?" he said, a teasing tone in his voice as he tilted his head.

you could feel your face heat up as you rolled your eyes, lightly pushing his face away. "don't tease me, asshat." you pout, looking away from the boy above you.

matt laughed, moving his face back down to press kisses to the top of your breast, before peppering kisses to the valley of your breasts and up to your neck. "i love you," he whispered, pecking your lips before pulling back, sitting back on his heels.

"so when is the gathering?" you snort at his response, "we're not witches matthew, this isn't a coven." you roll your eyes playfully. "mm, could be," he tilts his head.

"it's in a few weeks," you mutter, sitting up and grabbing your phone. you unlock your phone and click on the group chat, seeing what was going on. you rolled your eyes at the chaos that were your cousins.

"fun," he mumbles. "now lay back down," he states, pushing you back down. you look up at him and raise a brow. matt gives a small smile and grabs the blanket, resuming his previous position, pulling the blanket over your bodies.

he pressed small kisses to the spots his lips could reach on your boobs.

"you're such a horny bitch," you laugh, running your fingers through his hair. matt hums and shakes his head, "i am not, i'm just affectionate." he mutters, looking up at you.

"mm, whatever helps you sleep at night, babe." you tease. matt nips at your skin and shakes his head.

the two of you walked hand in hand into your tías house. the foyer was big, decorated with art, that quite frankly you couldn't exactly say where she had gotten the pieces from.

"dios mío, mira cuánto has crecido desde él año," cindy gushes, walking towards you. she incapsulates you in her arms, giving you a good squeeze. "tía, esté es matt," you introduce the confused looking boy. "i've heard so much about you matthew," your tía speaks, her mexican accent thick.

she pulls the boy in for a hug, "so glad you could join us this year." before you knew it, she was dragging him towards the snacks. there had been an assortment of candies, as well as salty snacks. next to it was a drink table, which held different types of liquor for the adults, as well as juices and jarritos for the kids.

you were greeted by other family members as you followed your stolen boyfriend through the people. "tell me matthew," you heard your tío marco say, making your eyes widen as you rush over.

"tío, hi, so happy to see you," you squeak, interrupting, knowing that your tio had a nick for scaring the people you dated away, either that or embarrassing you.

"i was just saying that your boyfriend looks like a real gentleman," he says, slinging an arm around the boys shoulders. "he threaten you?" you ask, looking at matt. this earns a scoff, "now, would a sweet, loving tio do something like that?" he tsks.

he looks over at matt, "tell me son, would i do something like that?" he says, squeezing matt's shoulders. the boys eyes widened slightly, "u-um, no, no sir," he says.

you give your tío a glare. he simply smiles and claps matt on the back, "excellent, glad we're on the same page. now, tell me about yourself." "i'm a youtuber-" matt starts, but gets cut off by your younger cousin who had just walked up the table. "a youtuber?" she squealed with excitement, "no wonder you're so pretty."

"back off kid, this ones mine," you mumble at the ten-year-old, wrapping your arm around matt's waist.

"okay, okay, no need to get territorial," your tía says, pushing her daughter away, "now, matt, let's get you a drink." "i don't drink, i'm sober," he says quietly. she winks at the boy, tapping her tongue on the roof of her mouth. "i like you, that was a test, you passed," she stated, grabbing a jarritos. "have a jarritos."

"and for my favorite sobrina," she stated, pouring tequila into two shot glasses. "don't tell your mom about this," she says, handing you one. you took it with a grateful smile, "cheers to you having a good guy by your side for once," she laughed at the last part. the two of you clinked your shot cups together, throwing them back.

the alcohol burned going down, causing you to make a face. "you okay?" matt asks, his hand rubbing your back soothingly. "woah," you shake your head. "mhm, fine," you hum, answering him.

everyone was seated at the table, the children sitting at the kids table. a bowl of pozole sat in front of everybody, as well as a big plate with some elote on it. "what it this?" matt whispers, ducking his head down to talk to you quietly.

"soup," you say, "tía sofia will you pass me a few limes," you ask. she nods her head, passing the small bowl over for you to grab a few. "look," you tell matt, "like this."

you squeeze the lime into the dish, "or you could just put it on top if you want," you shrug. you stir it around, adding some lettuce and onion to yours. "it's not authentic if you leave out the beats," you cousin miles whispers to matt. "literally shut up, like who asked you?" you mumble quietly, not looking to cause a scene over something as stupid as the way you like your pozole.

"here, let's try a little," you tell him, holding a spoon up to his mouth. he opens his mouth and lets you feed him. his eyes boring into yours as you do, he hums when his mouth closes around the utensil.

you pull the spoon away from his mouth and place it down, "how is it?" you ask, grabbing a piece of elote. "elote will never not be good," you state, "pass me the tajin miles."

the black-haired boy complies, sliding the bottle over to you, the plastic clanging with your glass. "thank you." you open the container and sprinkle the seasoning over the cob.

"isn't that a bit much?" matt says, tilting his head. "white people," you mutter, shaking your head as you take a bite of the corn. "no, it's never a bit much," you say, licking the tajin from your fingers.

you look up and see the eyes of your cousin miles staring at you, "what?" you say, glaring at the boy. "you're mean to him, wonder how you've kept him so long." he was obviously trying to get under your skin, it was what miles did. it was like he lived to be able to piss you off whenever he saw you.

"oh yeah, you're the fucking expert in relationships," you say, rolling your eyes. "because you haven't been able to keep somebody for more then five months," you add, looking back down to the table.

"i'm not the one who cheated on her last boyfriend," he says, crossing his arms. "miles," your aunt warns, "not here." "literally a bullshit lie and you know it," you state, getting up, walking inside to the bathroom.

matt quickly followed, leaving behind a table of people that were shocked. he walked in, closing the door behind him, and locked it.

you stood at the sink, gripping the edge as tears filled your eyes. his arms were wrapped around you, "it's not true," you mumble shakily, "i-i didn't," you hiccup. matt shushed you, pulling you closer to him.

"i don't really care if you did," he shrugs, though he knows there would have been a tad bit of fear that it could happen to him. "you didn't," he says, "but even if you did, i don't care. because you're mine, and i love you." he turns you around, cupping your cheeks.

"let's get you cleaned up," he says, using his sleeve to wipe the tears off of your face. you lean into his touch, and nod. "is it normally like this?" he asks, pressing kisses into your hair.

"miles will do or say whatever it takes to get under my skin," you mumble, "he's an immature little boy who doesn't care who's relationships he hurts," you scoff.

matt hums, and holds you close.

"i don't deserve you," you mumble, shaking your head, "i'm a mess." "then i will gladly be a mess with you so we can do it together," he mutters. "let's go back," he says, and unlocks the door.

as soon as he did, your cousin was standing there. "tía wants me to apoligiz-" "save it," you cut him off, holding a hand to his face. you and matt walk back to the table; pan dulce, flan, and tres leches cake gathered in the center of the table.

"here," your tía hands matt a piece of pan dulce. "thanks," he says, smiling at the older woman. he took the sweetened bread from her hands, tearing it in half before handing you one side. he takes a small bite, melting into his chair. "good?" you giggle, glad that most of the family was having their own conversations.

"magical," he hums, "then taste, tres leches," you state, grabbing a small plate with a slice. "tres leches is the only birthday cake i allow," you say, a smile on your face as his eyes light up. "why does this taste better then actual cake?" "because it is," you and your tía selena state at the same time.

matt nods his head and eats his dessert, looking around at all the people. his blue eyes landing on a picture that was hung on the wall. it was a photo of your abuela, the woman who raised your mom. you followed his eyes, "she was an amazing woman," you state, nodding your head.

“she would have loved you if she had the chance to meet you,” you mumble, resting your chin on the palm of your hand.

he looks over at you and smiles, grabbing a piece of flan. he puts the spoon in his mouth and hums, looking at you with wide eyes. "what is this? how did i never know this existed?" "because you never dated a bad ass latina bitch before me," you giggle.

"that's a good point," he shrugs. "and yes, flan is the shit," you laugh, "i love me some caramelized milk." matt's brows furrowed, "milk?" you hum, "milk, sugar, and eggs," you nod.

matt nodded his head and looked back at the dessert. he scooped some more and ate it. by the end of the night, mostly everyone was telling matt what a great guy he was, telling him they'd hope to see him at my cousin delorese quinceañera.

tag list:

@hysteria-things @tillies33ssss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @sturniolossss @freshsturns @etvar12 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloa @chrryclouds @sturniolhoe @sturniolowhore @imwetforyourmom @novasturniolo03 @spencerstits @junovrsmp4 @breeloveschris @skyslondon @stars4chratt @monkeyscientist22 @sophssturn @hearts4chriss @l5ka @sturnlovr @blahbel668 @sturncakez @livvy4realll @raysmayhem-72 @jnkvivi

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morganbritton132 · 10 months

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I feel like Steve's non-Upside Down friends definitely have a group chat for all their Steve-based conspiracy theories that's just filled with really off the wall excuses and tidbits that Steve's said - how panicked is the government agent-babysitter about it?

The first-year teachers definitely do, for sure!

The chat was originally called ‘The Steve Harrington Experience’ because every conversation with the man is something else, but they ended up changing it after Kathy pointed out that it made it seem like they all experienced Steve Harrington, ‘Sexually, u know?’

“Yes, Kathy…” Marissa said in an exasperated voice note. She must be driving. “You didn’t need to spell it out. We’re changing it.”

‘Not saying I’d be opposed 2 the experience,’ Kathy added helpfully in the group chat. ‘U see those trousers he wore yesterday. Not much left to the imagination there.’

‘Thank you, Kathy.’

The group chat was changed to the ‘Support Group for David’s Obsession’ which is just, haha. Funny. David is not obsessed with Steve Harrington. He just isn’t.

Sure, nothing about the man makes any sense.

And yeah, maybe David talks about that fact a little too much. Maybe he has asked the group chat probing questions about Christmas lights. Maybe he even made a dentist appointment with Edward Harrington, DDS just to make sure he wasn’t the Eddie Harrington they knew.

He wasn’t obsessed. He was just due for a cleaning.

The other day in the parking lot after work, Steve asked if David could see the license plate number on the white 2015 Mazda CX-3 that was circling the block. David read the number off for him and Steve wrote it down. He didn’t explain anything.

David texted the group chat about it, ‘Maybe he’s a spy?’

‘Do you think spy organizations sent out a lot of epileptic agents with service animals?’

‘Maybe the epilepsy is a cover.’

Kathy replied, ‘It’s not.’

David kinda hates how he only tunes in to the staff meeting about Career Day when Steve mentions that Erica can’t come. Something about pissing off her constituents by favoring a community in a state she doesn’t represent. Yada, yada, yada, “Dustin’s still coming though.”

“Dustin,” David repeats, feeling the amused way that Marissa is looking at him. He can’t even be bothered by Jordan hiding a smile in her hand. “Your brother is coming to Career Day?”

Steve beams, “Yeah, man. He comes every year.”

Kathy was a second-year teacher that was definitely here during last year’s Career Day. She could have mentioned it. David can’t even fully digest this information when Steve knocks his knuckles against the table and snaps his fingers, “Oh! My ex works for the paper. I’ll see if they can come.”

David somehow gets roped into finalizing the rest of the list of speakers for Career Day (i.e. they need to confirm if Steve’s people are going to be there and Cindy didn’t want to do it). When he stops by Steve’s classroom at the end of the day, he is surprised to find that Steve is not alone.

There’s low music playing from the corner of the room now that the students have gone home and Steve is at his desk grading papers. Eddie is standing at the board, drawing a dragon-like creature with dry-erase markers.

Eddie is humming along to the song on the radio, occasionally brushing his fingers along Steve’s shoulders when he reaches for a new color. It’s a cozy moment and he almost hates to interrupt, but David has leftovers in his fridge that he wants to get home to.

He knocks against the doorframe, “Steve, you have a minute?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” Steve asks, leaning back in his chairs far enough that his head brushes against Eddie’s back. “Babe, you remember David from the cookout?”

“The history teacher,” Eddie hums, distracted by his drawing. He erases a line of red from the fangs with his finger. “Stevie’s saying great things about you, kid.”

“I – wow, that’s – thanks! It means a lot! I, uh. I’m finishing up some things for Cindy and she just needs a confirmation on your people for Career….” David trails off when Steve makes a sound between his teeth like a hiss and gives him a big wide-eyed look. “…Day?”

Steve’s wide-eyed expression forms quickly into an innocent smile when Eddie turns to look at him, “Babe-“

“Career Day?” Eddie asked scandalized, hand to chest. “Career Day is coming up, Steven? I had no idea.”

Steve’s eyes flicker away from Eddie’s over to David’s and he says, “Yes. Yep, they’ll be here with bells on. Henderson and Wheeler. Just them.”

“Wheeler?” Eddie manages to sound even more scandalized. “Stevie, you – you invited Wheeler to Career Day and not your own husband? I have a career!”

“Yes, you do,” Steve says in a voice that’s a little too ‘second grade teacher’ to not be a little bit insulting. “And you’re amazing, and I love you, but they wanted people with career paths that didn’t start so…infamous?”

David starts inching out of the room because as much as he wants to know more about Steve, he doesn’t want to witness an argument he started. He’s almost to the door when Eddie says, “I worked for my success.”

“Yeah, I know,” Steve sighs like he’s remembering something awful. “If only there wasn’t a mob.”

David is out the door when he hears that and he pauses for only a second before pulling out his phone like, ‘what the fuck, guys????’

#Steve unknowing distressing everybody in one way or another #David’s just like ‘mob????’ and also like ‘I might have just caused an argument between a mobster and his spouse’#and Marissa is just like ‘no hun’#I don’t think the cia babysitter is aware of the gc because Steve isn’t watched too closely and also the gc doesn’t even know Eddie’s name #eddie munson tiktok saga #eddie munson #steve harrington

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ladybirdswritings · 5 months

Text

Silken Webs & Pirouettes - Miguel O’Hara x Reader

TW - PTSD, mentions of abuse.

Summary - You realize that maybe working with a man as intimidating as Miguel O’Hara just isn’t for you… Ballerina!Reader & CEO!Miguel. Alternate Universe with most of the characters included as seen in "Across the Spiderverse." Many cameos ahead. Miguel is a successful business owner but personality is canon. This is a steamy reader insert, Miguel x You! Enjoy and pls leave me lots of love and comments as it keeps me motivated <333

next chapter

six

You feel out of place. Stuffy, anxious, like a walking corpse with heavy eyes and an empty stomach. You’ve convinced yourself that once you waltz up those stairs, everyone is going to turn to you. Point and laugh as Mr. O’Hara rips you to tiny, pretty pieces with those awfully sharp teeth of his.

You took the stairs today because the glass elevator seems too dreadful. Each floor rising just getting you closer and closer to your demise, out in the open for the world to see.

You only have one flight left before you know it, though. The bittersweet stamina your body remembers from the times you used to twirl upon a silvered stage. You frown, maybe definitely purposely going slower up the final steps.

Your morning has been hectic. Your curls were in a battle with your hands and the straightener, reflecting the heat away like they were made of ice. Your hair is frizzy, and your ribbon has a tear in it. The sole of your boot is mere threads away from ripping apart and you’re terribly hungry. You had no time to eat, though.

The air constricts you as you reach the tip of the castle where the fanged creature with dark, unforgiving eyes dwells. Your body is overtaken with soft trembles yet you do your best to keep composed. Through the glass door and onto the shiny tiles.

The ambush doesn’t come… you ease.

Your eyes scan through the cold air that greets you. To your complete surprise, your Christmas tree still stands, covered in its pink bows and golden lights. You doubt you’ll ever be as confused as you are right now again at any other moment in your life.

Your eyes wander to the front desk where Cindy is seated, she smiles and nods and you swiftly make your way to her. Mary Jane wears glasses far too big for her petite face, clicking and clacking on her ivory keyboard.

“Hey!” She greets, handing you your bag of ribbons immediately.

It hasn’t been lit up to ash, it shocks you.

“Hey… is um…” thankfully she understands and you don’t have to say much more.

Christ, you’re treating him like he’s a monster tucked underneath your bed.

“Nope, he’s been out all morning… super weird between you and I, he’s never late!”

You believe her, but that doesn’t matter… all the tension in your body floats away like a cloud returning itself to the sky. The breath you’ve been holding since you conquered each step leaves you, and you finally feel as though you can breathe again.

“Uh oh, what’d you do?” Mary Jane inquires as she takes a sip of her peppermint tea.

You can only manage to shake your head, mumbling your gratitude softly and dragging the bag to the tree. The ladder still stands tall, taunting you with rusty screws.

“Hi pretty.” You whisper to the giant thing, hand burying itself in the tote to pluck out yet another pink ribbon. Knowing he’s gone, you work with ease. Gentle on the ladder, the ballerina in your heart still dances even though you cannot. Your balance is impeccable as you blanket the back of the tree now. It doesn’t take long.

Without him here, the office is alive. It’s happy. The women chat as they would while getting manicures at a salon. They giggle and swoon over Mr. O’Hara which is to be nothing more than expected. It makes you giggle. He must feel so high and mighty being surrounded by people bowing at the beck of his hand. Yet when his thumb doesn’t suffocate them, they blossom like roses.

They’re lovely, fun to listen to while you tinker with the tree. This is nice.

This is nice and the laughter and joy and “Santa, Baby” purring on the radio lasts all but an hour before dead silence and gasps soon flood your ears.

You chill, freezing up with your hand in the bag of bows. Your body is kneeling before the tree, the gold shining like starlight on your pretty features. Someone lowers the music quickly, and the man who simultaneously suffocates all the fun with just his presence alone walks through his elevator door.

You hear it ring, you hear the heavy clicks of his shoes and the adjust of his tie. Everyone is dead silent, now. Tense. Back to the normal that is known here.

You? You’re frozen, your head still bowed. You’re afraid of him, maybe. It is rare for you, you’re afraid of no one. Not anymore. Not after… well, it’s a promise you made to yourself.

Closer…

Closer..

Closer his boots near, until?

They stop.

They stop right beside you and god, it is right then in that moment that you’d rather run out and lay in the snow as you’re certain it would keep you warmer than you are in this moment, beneath him.

“You, come with me.” Is all he offers before marching forward on his path.

You gulp, maybe you misheard? A cautious glance at Cindy’s wide, sympathetic eyes and you know all you need to. This cruel, cruel man. He let you blanket his stupid, limp tree in ribbons, he let you get comfortable like a mouse under a warm lamp— not knowing there’s a serpent hiding away… ready to strike. Ready to tell you he’s letting you go.

Cindy raises her brows, as if rushing you to do something. To unfreeze. You dig your nails into your palm, hard enough to snap you back and you’re soon up on your feet. Each step you take, you look at nothing but your worn shoes.

The oak door is held open by him. They’re all staring, eyes like daggers stuck in your back.

“Time to actually do your work, ladies.” He commands, they comply immediately. Does he have a spy? Perhaps a meter that starts ringing when there’s too much fun…

The oak door slams, trapping you— the little mouse into his warm den. The sound startles you, making your eyes fall shut.

Keep it together…

He walks past you swiftly, scent of rich firewood and coffee intoxicating your body so much so that if you weren’t so horrified right now, your mouth would water.

“Sit.” He commands as he takes his place upon his leather throne.

You let out a shaky breath, making your way forward with all the force you have left within you. Maybe you should just blurt out an apology and book it straight for the highest hills you can find…

The zombie you are, dressed in clothes you used to wear for rehearsal as it’s all you have. Ivory tights and pom pom boots, a pink skirt and wrapped shirt. You rehearse the moves of walking and sitting like a dance you’ve danced before. The leather is cold when it engulfs you, unpleasant.

You clasp your hands in your lap, picking at the remnants of the French manicure Rio gave you last week. Waiting for it, expecting, remembering. Your head is hung in shame, in submission.

“You look nervous.” He observes.

You stay silent, reluctant to admit how true that really is.

You feel him, you feel him like fire on your skin. His eyes demanding your attention, but you can’t. You won’t. It isn’t good enough for him. He leans forward,

“You’re new here, but if you cared to ask my girls what my first rule is? You’d know that you look at me when I talk to you, do you understand?” He commands, and like a ballerina does, you mend and comply. Heated as your face as becomes, rapid as your heart flutters, and nervous as your being is… your eyes follow the order and shoot up to face his own.

They are dark, scorching into you like hellfire, an incomparable inferno. You want to shrink, but you won’t. You can’t give him the satisfaction.

“Rule two. Answer me.” He commands.

“Yes…” you whisper.

He’s satisfied, at least you hope. It certainly seems that way. He leans back in his leather chair and keeps his eyes locked on you. It is then you’re certain he’s a sadist. It’s obvious, obvious by the way you press your knees together and pick at your polish that you’re uncomfortable. He doesn’t care.

The silence is dreadful, heavy and suffocating. You try your best to hold it, stare into his eyes and ignore the fire burning your skin from the bone but god— it’s too much.

“I didn’t know!” You blurt out, half hoping he is deaf yet also half hoping he understands what you mean.

His eyes narrow and you’re certain you’ve made a fool of yourself again. You let your gaze fall and the subtle sound you hear under his breath makes you snap them right back up.

“I know. Keep it that way.” He forces through clenched, sharp teeth.

If he wasn’t so horrifying, so cruel, you’d feel sorry for him. His words, the subject, it’s painful for him to utter— to think of. You can tell.

The silence blankets the room again, and your eyes beg him to let you glance anywhere but at him. You’re desperate though, the bigger part of you. Desperate to suffer here, instead of home. Maybe he knows just how desperate you are, maybe he’s using it. Maybe he’s delaying the inevitable, maybe there’s nothing you can do to avoid it.

It seems like forever, but he eventually speaks.

“I want you to do something for me.”

Pack your shit and leave…

You finish his words within the confines of your mind, prepared for them. They never come, no… what follows only shocks you.

“I want a tree. A small one for my office. Red and blue ribbons, and soccer ornaments.”

What?

This man, this enigma of a man seems to be the most capable creature alive and able to make your head spin like a record. You shake your head, confused…

“What?” It’s a soft whisper, weak.

“Rule three, I don’t repeat myself. You heard me.”

You did. You did and you still don’t slightly believe it. You’re dreaming, that must be it. You fell on the stairs on the way up and you’ve been tucked away in a coma.

No. It can’t be true. Sure, if anyone on this earth would be intimidating enough to make you truly feel their gaze in a coma, it would be him… but it’s far too real, too intense to simply exist within your imagination.

“I— can do that, sir.”

He only nods, once. Voice louder now, commanding the room, commanding you.

“I want it done by tonight, on my desk before you leave.”

You nod, mind still jogging to keep up with this conversation, to understand it. Your brows are furrowed, eyes searching for an invisible answer around the room. They land back on him and it’s as if he was waiting for them to do just that. A raise of his brow and he gives you an expression you can’t quite understand.

“You’re dismissed.”

Oh.

He talks to you like you’re just a dull-brained creature, incapable of understanding a word he says, an idiot. You stand on your feet and then swiftly turn your back on him, which is somehow more frightening than looking him in the eyes.

That must be it, you suppose. You’re grateful. Baffled but, grateful. You won’t test your luck, you won’t question it. Perhaps Cindy was onto something with her analysis of him. He’s just not— soft.

No, he’s in control and commanding and intimidating and far far easier to deal with than the cavalry at home. Okay… okay, you can manage this.

Even so? You can’t walk quicker to the door, it seems— hurrying out like the inferno from his eyes is just behind you. It is. The oak creaks softly behind you, and you huff as you make it out to the other side, surviving to tell the story of how you evaded the beast. Mary Jane and Cindy’s eyes are wide and waiting.

You only offer a thumbs up and nod, then get straight to work.

You’re happy for the excuse to waltz the city during this lovely time of year. Especially when you’re not paying for the things you buy. The streets are lined with snowfall surrounding cobble pavement, brick roads and sparkling trees that reach the sky. There are smiling St. Nick’s on every street corner and employees dressed as elves in every small shop. It smells of coffee and chocolate chips.

You’re not at all dressed for December. Your check hasn’t come in just yet, you’ll buy warm clothes when it does. Jack Frost is a bite on your shoulder, cheeks and nose pink and chilled from the snow. You’re trembling.

That doesn’t matter though because you’re also dancing, right now. Dancing like you did as a ballerina; that equates to simply following orders. It isn’t until the warmth of the small gift shop nearby embraces you that you ease. Warmth crawls up your spine and burns Jack off of it. You can think, now. You can stop following orders, stop dancing.

Your trembling fingertips are numb, grazing over the snow globes, ribbons and ornaments. Hmm…

Soccer…

Perhaps he’s a fan…

Blue and red ribbon…

Your teeth chatter as you grab a wicker basket and collect each color. You find lights to compliment them and a dark, lonely little tree by the windowsill. Fitting. Ornaments, then. Soccer balls and goals, flags and tennis shoes. It becomes more apparent as you fill your basket that this is not for him.

Cautiously, you grab your cracked phone and find your watch history. The thumbnail, the picture from last night. Where the grinning ghost sits on his shoulders, she’s adorned in a socccer jersey. No, the tree is not for him at all…

It’s for her.

Sadness swells at the base of your throat but you force it down with a gulp. Gentle thing you are, always so empathetic with the world around you. Even the cruelest parts.

Yet, his words from earlier only echo in your mind.

Keep it that way.

Maybe you’re stupid or maybe you’ve just never been good at following orders when there’s not a wire hanger involved… but you just can’t.

Your eyes glaze over the wooden ornaments stand and land upon a dark oak frame with a vacant place for a picture. You know just what you’ll do…

Time passes quickly and you are back at the office soon. The tree is small, but you handle it with care and adoration. You tie the ribbons by hand and place them snugly upon the blossomed branches. The lights are a mixture of red, gold and blue. The star is gold too and it compliments the rest nicely. The ornaments are small, hanging like icicles from the tips of each branch. Overall? It’s perfect. Missing one, final touch though.

Everyone has left, the office lights dim. It’s just you and the grinch who’s steadily growing a heart. Maybe not three sizes bigger just yet, but you’ll take even a quarter. It’s big enough for him to keep you at least… for now.

You hurry over to the front desk where you print the picture, ink staining the colors vivid and bright.

Her smile was so pretty…

You cut the excess paper and grab the photo frame ornament, adorning it with the heart warming picture of him and his little girl. After you clean your mess, you place the final touch upon his tiny tree and revel in your masterpiece. Perfection, all you ever strive for.

But now? Back into the devil’s den.

You would be lying if you said your heart isn’t pounding as you approach the oak door, but as soon as you make it there— you steady yourself.

You remember who you are, what you have survived.

One cold man who you won’t know in a few months can’t take that. Your fire.

The tree is stable in your hands, but it needs both of them to balance upright. With your foot, you knock.

No answer.

You knock again…

And, no answer.

With a huff, you risk the possibility of angering the beast more than he usually is and use your bum to push the large thing open. You’re very much annoyed to find him alert and well, glasses resting on his face as he types away at a document on his laptop. The square thing looks like a toy compared to his hands.

Christ.

He doesn’t regard you, he doesn’t need to. He already gave his orders. You’re careful to maintain balance as you gently bring the tree to his desk and place it to the corner of him. A switch of a button and it glows. You catch him then, glancing just once at it before continuing his work. The lights reflect in his glasses.

You tidy up a few spots and ribbons that shifted from transfer and then step back to admire. You’re satisfied. You don’t bother saying goodbye, he’s immersed enough as is and you’d rather refrain from unnecessary interaction with the heatmiser.

You smooth your skirt as you make your way out, ribbons bouncing on your locks. The door shuts behind you, you’re safe again.

The tiles squeak as your boots kiss them, gathering your bag and phone— you get ready to leave. Near the stairs and then— oh, right. You forgot to unplug the tree.

You know well how much of a disaster it would be if you set the floor on fire. With a huff, you make your way back and check the moisture with two fingers. All is well. You bend over and unplug the golden shimmer to make the top floor even darker, hearing the oak door shut swiftly as you do. It makes you jump.

Just when you almost missed him.

His steps are heavy… heavier than usual. Quicker too.

He must be tired, anxious for his bed. He’s filthy rich. He probably has the biggest bed with dozens of pillows and the softest of sheets. You wish your bed was like that…

You turn.

Maybe one day you’ll have a bed just as— oh!

Two hands case you up against the wall beside your ribbon tree, and all you see in front of you is that look.

That. Look.

It’s back.

Monstrous, horrifying, furious with you.

The darkness, the redness in his eyes is clearer now. The veins in his neck and the tension in his shoulders and jaw.

He raises his hand, you flinch by habit. Grasped tightly in it is the picture, except now— the glass has been shattered and it’s cutting into his palms. Your eyes widen, hands reaching out to help him. He pulls his palm back before you can, moving his head so that his eyes are staring directly into yours.

That look.

You chill.

“¿Qué carajo es esto!? Huh!? Tell me!” He growls, voice guttural, loud, horrifying— and it is then that you realize now more than ever that you truly are the mouse. And he? He’s the serpent.

With a grunt, he throws the glass ornament with his smiling, pretty girl across the room. It shatters even more once the wall finds it. He cases you in again, and you know now just how trapped you truly are. Just you and him on this lonely floor. He’s angry. You’re shaking.

You’ve seen this anger before. In her… in Katerina.

A gulp, maybe you’re a fish because your mouth bobs open far too many times to explain and yet you can’t. speak. The words catch themselves on the tip of your tongue. Your eyes can’t take it, they fall shut as you slow your breathing. There’s panic on the horizon. Memories so familiar to this flood back like an ocean of poison in your mind.

His index and thumb move to grip your chin, so angry and yet his grip is only firm, not painful. He tugs your face enough so that your eyes shoot open again.

“Did I tell you to do this?” His voice, perhaps it’s scarier now. It’s dark, low, composed like a cap on shaken pop.

“You knew better, girl! You knew better!” Her voice now… Katerina’s. Echoing in your head.

You’re suffocating, the air around you is too thin. You can’t breathe, you can’t look at those eyes.

No, no no. You’re panicking. His features blur as tears pool in your sight. He tugs your chin again, they fall onto his fingertips.

“You already forgot my rules, huh? You stupid, stupid girl…” he spits.

“You ungrateful, stupid girl.” She screams against your skull.

“I told you to keep it that way, didn’t I? Díos mio! What’s the matter with you?” He’s exasperated. He’s asking, eyes commanding an answer from you. You don’t know.

What is the matter with you?

Like the mythology of Rogue, it’s like everything you touch withers by your hand.

After everything Katerina gave you… after he took a chance letting you work here.

Your throat constricts as you gaze into the serpent’s eyes. Your heart is a hummingbird’s then, fighting so hard to fill that clouded brain with oxygen. You’re dizzy. You’re remembering.

You can’t. You need to move you need—

You can’t stop yourself, hand shooting up to dig your nails into the skin of his wrist. His eyes shoot toward the spot and he hisses, pulling it back. You take the chance to escape.

Under his arm and you stumble forward, hugging your midsection with a gasp, desperate for a lick of oxygen to bless your burning lungs.

A sob takes over you, but a close of your eyes and a quick inhale of the firewood and coffee that intoxicates you and you remember just where you are. You’re in his office. You’re not with her. You’re here. You’re here and you don’t want to be, anymore.

No, no not with him. Not after this. All of it, all of him. It’s too much, it’s too far. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve home either but at least there you can save up and flee…

You’re so panicked, all your mind can do is run over the many ways you’re going to call home through the flashing images of her. Images of Katerina bloom like ivy in your mind as you plan out your next steps. You feel glued in place yet so desperate to leave.

You glance at the broken glass and jagged smile of the ghost girl, jumping when the warmth of his palm greets your shoulder.

“Mirame, look at me.” He commands, but softly. Rather, softer than usual.

You feel pathetic yet still, your hand shoots up to push his own away from behind you.

You’ve had enough.

You buried the devil in your past. Your life is far too valuable to dance with another one.

You’d rather be cased up at home forever, working a job around family that think of you as nothing more than scum than be around him for a day longer.

You know, now…

“I quit.” You force out through another sob, not daring to turn and face him. You’re hunched over, shaky and weak. On the verge of suffocating completely. You wipe at your eyes and don’t hear another sound from him before you snatch your bag and phone and practically run to the stairwell.

Two steps at a time, maybe three before December’s chill kisses you in icy greeting. You don’t need to whistle for a cab to brake. In you go, familiar as you’ve done this twice now because of him.

Only this time? You’ll never come back again…

🏷️ ‘s @reirain @needybitez @migueloharastruelove @laysmt @maomaimao @daisy-artfield | chap 6 song 🎧:

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mordredisacoolname · 2 months

Text

FEAR STREET HEADCANONS - DATING THE OPPOSITE "SIDER"

MALE READER

Characters: Tommy, Alice, young Ziggy, Cindy, Kate, young Nick, simon

CW: couple of curse words

(didn't include Deena and Sam cause I'm pretty sure they're lesbians)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Young Ziggy Berman

-she hates your ass

-she thinks you're posh and annoying

-one day you walk in on her preparing a prank for someone from Sunnyvale

-but you don't tell anyone

-she next day when the prank takes action she sees you trying to to laugh, you make I contact and just burst out laughing

-you came up to her after to tell her how her prank was genius

-"I don't know what you're talking about" she smirks

-"right, of course, but if you happen to see does know what I'm talking about tell her I know a couple of tricks she might like" you say and walk away

-two days later you hear someone knocking at your door at night

-surprise surprise, it's Ziggy

-"I may or may not be doing something for tomorrow" Ziggy walks away for you to follow her

-and you do.

-that night a lot of things changed for you both

Cindy Berman

-you don't care about this kind of things

-you already been dating for a couple of months

-you don't care what others say, you love that girl

-one day you Ziggy gets in trouble, and Cindy being Cindy tries to argue with her

-so Ziggy spits out how Cindy only started dating you to "fit in" with the Sunnyvales

-you stand there in shock looking disappointed at Cindy

-before she has the chance to speak to you, you walk away

-a few days later you have to work together

-"so, was everything just a lie? Did you just use me?"

-"no! I mean, at first yes, but.."

-"I can't believe it" you were hurt

-"please 'name', just hear me out! I did start dating you because I wanted to fit in, be like everyone else, but I cought feeling for you, I...I love you!"

-it takes time for you to trust her again

-but you come back together eventually

Kate Schmidt

-you have a kind of friendly rivealry relationship

-every game you meet up and jokingly insult each other

-it just becomes a habit, and you start wandering when you're gonna see her again

-one night you ask her for a quick chat

-away from everyone

-you can't wait anymore, so you just tell her how you feel

-her smile disappears, and she just leaves you standing there

-you think about this all of the game

-how you fucked up, and how you lost Kate

-after the game you feel so devastated

-but Kate runs up to you and drags you to the same spot you took her before

-she kisses you, smiling

-and than she just leaves

-it makes your night

Young nick good

-he always ignores you

-every time you speak at a game or council he looks at you with raised eyebrows, looks away, and continues to talk

-you actually think he's one of the least annoying Sunnyvales

-but you don't like the way he ignores you

-one day you get in trouble with Joan and her boyfriend

-he breaks it up and leads you away

-"what do you want" you're so annoyed, he probably wants something from you

-"what? Nothing, I just saved you from being thrown out of the camp"

-"and am I supposed to believe a Sunnyvale council just saved a shadyside guy he hates just because of kindness?"

-"wha- I don't hate you"

-"sure thing" you storm out

-the next few days you do everything to avoid him, not wanting to face whatever be has for you

-but it doesn't last for long

-you and Ziggy decides to prank some loser Sunnyvale

-but the thing is someone saw you

-"it was that scumbag, 'name', I saw him yesterday"

-you were fucked, now you're definitely gonna get thrown out

-"no, he was with me the whole night, helped me clean the cafeteria" nick came forward

-of course they believed him, he was the sheriff's son

-so you got of with just detention

-you were cleaning the stable when you saw nick coming up to you

-"I didn't as-"

-"I don't hate you, I hate that I like you" his eyes stared at you intensely

-you couldn't believe your ears

-you just stood there dumbfounded

-"but..I realized" he continued "he doesn't have to know"

-and than he kissed you

Simon kalivoda

-literally doesn't give two fucks about who you are and who knows what and who thinks what

-her likes you? You like him? That's all you need

-you always meet after school hanging out

-youre not afraid of going into the shadyside part, but you're worried when Simon goes to visit you

-anyway, that boy lives pda

-so if it was a secret you're dating (for your sake) it won't be one for long

Tommy slater

-he actually doesn't care

-at first he was a little wary yes, but after he got to know you he absolutely doesn't care what side you are

-but he's still unsure about being public

-so you date in secret

-its fun at the beginning, but starts to annoy you later on

-your want to do couple stuff with him like others, not hide your love

-you talked to him a couple times about this

-no your fifth time you threaten to leave him

-because you're really tired of this constant hiding

-always looking over your shoulder so no one sees you

-so after a few days apart he randomly walk up to you and kisses you on the cheek

-after that day he asks you if it was ok, he's not sure you like pda

-defenda you to everyone how talks shot about you

Alice

-youre kinda enemies at first

-always bickering and insulting each other

-at some point it becomes kinda fun

-its just your thing now

-your end up spending more time together

-not your choice obviously

-you both realize the other is not so bad as you thought

-so you start hanging out out of choice

-you two get very close

-smoking pot together

-talking about random shit

-one night she just kisses you

-youre unseparatable after that

#male reader #male reader insert #x male reader #fear street #fear street x reader #ziggy berman x reader #nick goode x reader #simon kalivoda x reader #headcanons

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forzaferraris · 4 days

Text

PUPPY LOVE — po5

pairing: patricio o'ward x stella! reader summary: in which the dog got your attention first but the boy keeps you forever. warnings: tooth rotting fluff, sexual innuendos, inaccurate timeline of events, reader doesn't know much about indycar, arrow mclaren when i catch you arrow mclaren, pato and his fascination with calling reader hermosa, references to the art that is bax lurmans romeo + juliet film, love blooms in abu dhabi and blossoms further in miami. style: social media file faceclaim: isabllemathersx on instagram, however you can picture her as whoever you please authors note: trying a new formatting approach for fics with this one. this is fic number 2/3 of my 3 fanfic options i posted earlier. sorry if this is a little ooc for pato, i also original had thi based this instead of meeting at indycar but instead they meet at the 2023 abu dhabi grand prix instead ! add yourself to my taglist !

WELCOME TO YOU'VE GOT MAIL . . . find a match today !

would you like to send a message? YES / NO

you: what's your dogs name, right now >:( pato: his name is norbi why are you on a dating app? surely finding love isn't all that difficult for you? you: originally i did it to entertain my girls' group chat, but after every loser i've tried to meet "naturally" ultimately fumbling the bad so disrespectfully, why not take this dating app stuff a bit more seriously 🤷🏻‍♀️ pato: what are you even doing in abu dhabi anyway? you: how do you know im in abu dhabi? pato: this app is location-based, you wouldn't have been able to match with me if you weren't in the same location as me, plus you just confirmed it with that question. . . . seen 3 minutes ago

ynstella just posted to their story . . .

seen by racerbia, francisca.cgomes and 12,3009 others [ caption one: why did i say yes to coming to abu dhabi, shit is fucking hot ] [ caption two: abu dhabi gp, i'm here to make you my bitch ] [ caption three: your favourite duo back to cause trouble @/racerbia ] view more story replies . . . landonorris baby stella in the building ! ⤷ ynstella baby? lando norris i'm older than you ⤷ landonorris by like three whole months >:( ⤷ ynstella L + ratio + wrong + get a job + unfunny + you fell off + never liked you anyway + cope ⤷ ynstella im gonna curse the race, are we prepared for max verstappen 3x wdc ! ⤷ landonorris i'm literally going to to dob on you, you're being so mean rn >:( ⤷ ynstella you dirty little dibber dobber cindy !

alexandrasaintmleux prettiest girl <3 ⤷ ynstella says you i'm gonna smooch your face on that podium cmere mwah mwah mwah kissy kissy ⤷ alexandrasaintmleux stop got me blushing, charles it looking at me weird ⤷ ynstella he doesn't have to know baby girl x

francisca.cgomes you're so hot, if dating app hottie doesn't pull you i might ! ⤷ ynstella i'm blushing, flirting with the enemy, whatever will my dad think ⤷ francisca.cgomes babe it's a modern day romeo + juliet, but the baz lurhman edition. ⤷ ynstella who is who in this situation? oscarpiastri lando said stop being mean to him on social media ⤷ ynstella lando give oscar his phone back

racerbia we r so cute, i luv us !

pooknation groupchat . . .

instagram dms between ynstella and patriciooward . . .

ynstella has posted . . .

liked by mclaren, oscarpiastri, francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux and 88,340 others ynstella abu dhabi, i came i saw and max verstappen concurred !

view more . . mclaren our own resident mclaren girl will always post about redbull and not mclaren ⤷ ynstella i'd post oscar but lando is somehow always in the background of the pictures i take, i'm not having lando on my account 🙅🏻‍♀️ ⤷ landonorris can i go one day without you publicly hating me ⤷ ynstella when you get a race win next season pooh bear x username pooh bear? is lando the man she's trying to soft launch? not actually enemies but enemies to lovers?? ⤷ ynstella good lord no. lando norris wishes he could have a chance with me ⤷ landonorris disgusting don't put words in my mouth. you wish you're the one wishing you could have a chance with me ⤷ oscarpiastri nurse, they're back at it again francisca.cgomes i need more of this soft launch shit. it's like a drug to me post more. im foaming at the mouth. ⤷ ynstella can i hard launch our relationship instead ⤷ pierregasly nah bc i am literally right here man ⤷ ynstella get out of my comments with my gf pear

username are we ignoring that y/n is soft launching a man, rue, when was this? ⤷ username recently it seems ⤷ username shocked. i wonder what her dad thinks ?? ⤷ ynstella not that its any of your business, but my dad's actually quite charmed with him x

patriciooward has posted . . . 📍 abu dhabi , united arab emirates

liked by arrowmclaren, elbaoward, racerbia and 63,001 others patriciooward what a weekend, cya next year !

view more. . .

username there's one too many soft launch pictures in this race weekend dump ⤷ username ladies we've lost another one ⤷ username all men are the same. breaking my heart elbaoward since when did "have a good time in abu dhabi" mean somehow get someone to soft launch? ⤷ patriciooward the just a silly lil guy rizz worked unfortunately ⤷ elbaoward i doubt that, so much.

ynstella just posted to their story . . .

seen by alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris, charles_leclerc and 10,817 others

[ caption one: where to next 🛫 ] [ caption two: mother hood looks good on me ] [ caption three: boyfriend reveal ]

francisca.cgomes i can't believe i'm in love with a MILF ! ⤷ ynstella i want you so bad 😩 ⤷ francisca.cgomes lets kiss rn before our boyfriends see

alexandrasaintmleux i think norbi is cute enough to convince charles that we need to get a dog ⤷ ynstella ugh i hate when you mention that man >:( how come WE can't get a dog together ⤷ alexandrasaintmleux my love because you are a capulet and i am a montague </3 ⤷ ynstella as long as lando is the character that dies first i'd happily performe shakespeare with y'all

landonorris this is insane, my brain can't keep up with the events that are unfolding right in front of me ⤷ ynstella pook i think that's both a you issue and a skill issue, double homicide. ⤷ landonorris oh so you hate me again ⤷ ynstella i never stopped, if you have 0 haters i've died <3

patriciooward te mo hermosa ⤷ ynstella shut up, don't tell me you love me over text, that's so foul ⤷ patriciooward i've been telling you i love you for two months now </3 ⤷ ynstella oh shit, i forgot to buy you an anniversary gift </3 ⤷ patriciooward oh hermosa, what am i going to do with you ⤷ ynstella well when you word it like that . . . i could think of a few things

patriciooward and ynstella just posted to their stories . . .

seen by arrowmclaren, racerbia, francisca.cgomes and 22,010 others [ caption one: feliz aniversario (happy anniversary) ] [ caption two: happy 2 months ! feliz aniversario ] [ caption three: came for the dog. stayed for the owner <3 ]

mclaren happy anniversary ! ⤷ ynstella thanks admin, love u so big x

ynstella i adore you, ⤷ patriciooward te adoro mas, hermosa ⤷ ynstella happiest with you in my life i fear ⤷ patriciooward good, i don't plan on going anywhere

authors note: abu dhabi 2023, you are so special to me <3 please enjoy this little pato o'ward fanfic. praying, manifesting the tags let me post this and doesn't shadowban me sobbing crying throwing up

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