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scuderiahoney · 4 months

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Stick Around

Oscar Piastri x bestfriend!reader

Masterlist

Summary: You’ve been searching for your soulmate your whole life. Maybe you’ve just been looking in the wrong place.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: alcohol/intoxication, cheating/infidelity (not by a main character I promise) mild swearing, excessive use of italics

|Age 20|

“You can’t seriously still be reading that stuff,” Oscar says.

You peer at him over the top of your magazine.

“What stuff?” You ask, playing innocent.

“Your horoscope,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Haven’t you outgrown that yet?”

You shrug, directing your gaze back to the page in front of you. Today, you should avoid the color pink and embrace your skepticism. Oscar’s doing enough of the last part for the both of you. You could gain a great deal of information from social interactions. That’s helpful- you’ve been in search of some gossip. Your soulmate is just a click away- wait, no, that’s an ad. You huff and set the magazine down on the table. Oscar nods in agreement.

“I just think maybe it’s better to live your life without worrying about what the stars say,” Oscar says, waving his hands around in a way that you think is supposed to represent the stars. “Just, like… do what you want to do.”

“I do,” you mutter dryly. “Doesn’t hurt to have some advice, though.”

The two of you have always been like this. Oscar is a skeptic, you’re a believer. He calls it being easy to brainwash, says it in a teasing way that makes you glare at him every time. He’s taken it as his responsibility to keep you from falling for things. You’ve told him time and time again that you’re fine on your own. You just like the idea of predestiny, that what’s going to happen was always meant to.

Oscar is just worried you’ll join the first cult you cross paths with.

|Age 5|

It’s the day after you turn 5 when you first hear the word soulmate. Sol-meight. You sound it out through your lips, sticky with jam from your breakfast. Your best friend at the time, a girl whose name you’ve long since forgotten, had said it.

“S’when you’re meant to be,” she explains, in that all knowing tone that only little kids who know nothing at all seem to have. “Like, my mum and dad say they’re soulmates.”

Oscar, who’s sitting next to you, scoffs. “Everyone’s parents say that. Doesn’t mean it’s true.”

He’s taller than you, even sitting down, hair cut short after one of his sisters stuck gum in it a few days ago. His cheeks are rosy red, and there’s cream cheese on his nose. Years later, Oscar’s face will be one of the first ones you ever remember meeting. Right now, he’s just the boy in your class whose mother knows your mother, and because of that, he’s the boy who rides to school with you in the backseat. He’s not the worst, you guess. He’s… okay. Sort of just… always there.

“Is too!” Your friend says, shaking her head, pigtails bouncing. “Mum says there’s signs.”

“What kinda signs?” You ask, and Oscar turns to look at you in disbelief.

She shrugs. “Dunno. I’ll ask later.”

She comes back to the breakfast table the next day with a magazine page, torn haphazardly and slightly crumpled. On it is a list of signs someone could be your soulmate. The two of you pore over the page at every available opportunity for at least a week, barely able to read all the words.

Your friend forgets about soulmates a month later and moves on to an obsession with Barbie dolls. You carry the magazine page with you for years after that, until it’s worn and falling apart. Then you copy down the list into a safer place, worried you’ll lose it forever. 15 Signs He’s Your Soulmate, written with magic marker on pink construction paper and stowed away in your desk.

|Age 10|

“I hate olives,” you sneer, staring at the very last slice of pizza.

It’s a birthday party. You can’t for the life of you understand why there’s pizza with olives on it. Olives don’t belong on pizza- not much does, in your opinion. Just pepperoni, really. Maybe a sprinkle of Parmesan cheese, if you’re feeling fancy.

Katy, one of your classmates, is standing next to you. “I love olives. Here, I’ll pick them off for you and you can have the last slice.”

The pizza still tastes a bit like olives in the end, probably baked into the cheese, but it’s better than it would’ve been. Katy is your best friend after that. The two of you are inseparable from the moment you get to school until the moment you leave. You beg your mothers for sleepovers on the weekends, for day trips during holiday breaks. YouandKaty. Your names melt together until they become one.

Oscar still rides to school with you in the morning. Sometimes, Katy does too. Katy doesn’t like Oscar. She doesn’t like most boys, calls them gross. Since Katy thinks boys are gross, you do too.

“Be nice to Oscar,” your mother tells you one morning. “He’s not done anything to you.”

You’re in the backseat of the car, on the way to his house. “He’s a boy. Boys are gross.”

Your mother sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose. She says your name sternly, and you shrink in your seat. When Oscar gets in, you say hello and force a smile.

Oscar’s the one who finds you crying on the playground. You thought you’d chosen a better hiding place, really- nobody had bugged you in your spot between the two large myrtle trees. But Oscar finds you anyways. You can’t even bring yourself to tell him to go away, too busy feeling sorry for yourself.

“Wha’s wrong?” He asks.

His cheeks are red- he’s likely been running around with the other boys. You shrug, pulling up another clump of grass and letting it fall from your fingers. Oscar sighs, scuffs his toe in the dirt.

“Katy doesn’t wanna be friends anymore,” you say, rubbing at your bare knee. “She says I’m not cool enough.”

Katy likes olives. You don’t. It’s on the soulmate list. You’re meant to be best friends.

Oscar’s quiet for a moment. Then- “That’s stupid. You’re like, the coolest person I know.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. “Shut up.”

“M’serious,” he says. He holds his hand out to you. “Wanna come play cricket with the gross boys?”

You take his hand, wipe your tears with your other hand. “Yeah. I do.”

|Age 12|

“Are you and Dad soulmates?” You ask your mother one morning, before you even leave the house.

She’s standing at the counter, a piece of toast in her hand, half eaten. Her coffee is half drank, too.

She tilts her head at you. “What do you mean, love?”

“Like, when you met, did you just know he was the one? Did it feel meant to be?”

She laughs. “Oh, god no. We were polar opposites. Barely spoke to each other for the first year after we met.”

You stare at her in surprise. “What changed?”

She sighs, wistfully, staring into her mug. “He asked me if I wanted an orange. I said yes. And when he handed it to me, he’d peeled it for me.”

You blink. “Because you hate peeling oranges.”

“I do,” she agrees. “Love isn’t just a feeling, it’s an action. I think love is more about the choices we make and the things we remember about each other than whatever is written in the stars, honey.”

|Age 15|

There’s a boy on the football team- Ryan. Ryan has dark, curly hair and long, long eyelashes and this smile that makes your heart melt and your brain all fuzzy. Ryan doesn’t like olives, either, but he has a birthmark on the back of his right hand in the shape of a lopsided heart, and if you squint hard enough, you have one that matches on the back of your left arm. You stare at in the mirror for hours after he points it out, his hand on your arm.

You stare at your lips in the mirror for hours, too, after he kisses you for the first time. You think maybe you look different. You must. You’d never been kissed before, but Ryan hadn’t minded.

You go on group dates with him, because you’re nervous and your parents think you’re a bit too young to really be dating. You go to the mall, the movies, the diner down the street from the school. It’s your first taste of freedom.

Oscar asks you if you really like Ryan, like- “like like him?”, one day when you’re sitting in his backyard. Your mothers are inside, drinking wine. His sisters are in the pool, you’re laying out in the sun. Oscar sits under an umbrella and squints at the brightness of the world around him.

“Yeah,” you say, in the same tone you’d say duh or of course. “I think he’s my soulmate.”

“Why’s that?” Oscar asks tilting his head.

“We have matching birthmarks,” you say, again, in the same tone.

Oscar forms his mouth into a little o shape. You squint at him, pushing yourself to sit up.

“Why’re you so worried about it, anyways?”

“M’not,” Oscar says, crossing his leg over his knee. “S’just. He’s kind of an arse, isn’t he?”

He whispers the curse word so his sisters won’t hear. Oscar’s big into karting and racing right now, and the older boys at the tracks swear like sailors. There’s a swear jar stuffed to the brim sitting on the kitchen counter inside, right next to the half empty wine bottle.

Ryan is a bit of an arse, you’ll admit. To almost everyone.

“He’s nice to me,” you shrug. “He brought me flowers, yesterday. Isn’t that what matters?”

Oscar shrugs. He doesn’t ask about Ryan again.

Oscar is the one who brings you flowers when Ryan cheats on you and the other girl tells the whole school. He brings them to your bedroom door and you let him in. He sits with you, even as you cry, the door open the parentally required six inches. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t tell you he warned you. He just stays.

When Oscar moves to England, you wave goodbye with a smile. Then you lock yourself in your room and bawl your eyes out for a week straight, harder than you ever did about Ryan.

|Age 18|

Your university roommate, Emma, was born on the same day as you, at the exact same time. Down to the minute. You find it out on your second day of living together. It’s fate, kismet, meant to be. The stars and planets were aligned exactly the same way when you both took your first breaths.

Oscar laughs when you tell him, though he does admit that it’s a pretty cool coincidence. You’re chatting with him on the phone, telling him about your first week of university. You talk a lot, despite the distance. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, or whatever.

You and Emma aren’t in any classes together- you have completely different majors. Despite this, you still become fast friends. You study together in your room and in the library, meet up for meals, and join a book club together. When Emma gets invited to her very first uni party, she brings you along with her. Your closets become shared.

You visit her family over the winter break for a week. She lives closer to the beach, and you love getting to soak up the sun with her and meet all the childhood friends you’ve heard stories about. Oscar comes home for his break and texts you, wondering when you’ll be back and if you’ll even have time for me, or are you too cool for me now?

You tackle him with a hug when you see him, standing at the kitchen counter in your house when you get there. He’s laughing and pushing you off of him, acting like he didn’t miss you just as much. You know he did. It’s written all over the smile on his face.

Emma visits your family later in the break, and that’s when you have your first fight.

“He’s definitely in love with you,” she insists from her spot on the air mattress on your floor.

She’s talking about Oscar, who she just met today. You’d brought her with to a barbecue at his family’s house. You’re regretting that choice. She’s spent all night afterwards pointing out all the signs that he’s in love with you- his hand on your shoulder, the look in his eyes, the way he smiled at you.

“He’s not,” you say, cheeks burning hot. “He’s- we’re friends.”

“Friends, right. Guys and girls can’t be just friends,” she says.

“Yes, they can!” You say indignantly.

Emma ignores you, rolls over, and goes to sleep. She leaves for home the next day- not earlier than she was supposed to, but it feels weird anyways. When you get back to campus, things feel different. You never really talk about the fight, though there wasn’t much to talk about, anyways. It’s not like she’s mean to you- the two of you still hang out, still see each other often. But Emma makes new friends, and you do too, and you stop doing everything together. It’s alright, you suppose, it’s just…

You were supposed to be destined to be friends. But soulmates shouldn’t be this easy to let go of. It’s written in the stars, it’s shouldn’t fade away like this.

Months ago, you and Emma had talked about spending the holiday break somewhere far away- somewhere tropical, exotic, so grown up and chic. But it hasn’t come up lately, and then she mentions a trip she’s taking with some friends from her classes. You book a flight to England instead and see Oscar in his new home for the first time.

You have new roommates next year. None of them have the same birthdate as you. You think that’s okay.

|Age 21|

There’s a stain on your dress, someone’s wine or sangria or cranberry juice that they’d been too clumsy with. You suppose it could be yours- you’re really not sure. It’s your fault for wearing such a light color to a club like this.

It’s your birthday. You’ve been able to drink for a few years, but it’s still your birthday, and for once, Oscar is there for it. Or really, you’re there for it, there being England. You’re on yet another trip to visit him, money saved and scraped together from your job on your breaks from school. Oscar helped pay for the plane ticket as a birthday present, and your parents got you a new luggage set to take along.

Oscar’s disappeared- at the bar, you remember, closing out his tab. You check your phone- 2:22 am. It’s really time you should be headed home-

You’re jostled from behind, and moments later, you feel cool liquid deep down your back. You turn, and there’s a guy standing there, sandy blonde hair and a terrified look on his face.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, British accent smoothing the words over. “I didn’t mean to-“

“S’okay,” you tell him, though you wrinkle your nose at the feeling of what was likely beer running down your back. “The dress was stained already.”

The man sighs. “It’s not okay- let me make it up to you. Can I buy you a drink?”

You frown. “I think I’m supposed to be leaving. My friend just went to pay.”

“Oh. That’s too bad.” The guy’s eyes light up, then. “Wait, how about I take you on a date?”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest. 2:22, you remember. Angel numbers. You are in the right place at the right time.

“I’m only here for a couple more days,” you say, cautiously.

“I’m free tomorrow if you are,” he suggest. “Well, more like later today, but-“

“Yeah, okay!” You’d at brightly, and hopefully not too eagerly. “I’m free.”

He’s holding out his phone for you to put your number in when Oscar pops up. He looks between the two of you with raised brows. “Everything alright?”

“He’s taking me on a date later today,” you explain, tapping the last number. “Because he spilled beer on my dress. Can you check if I put my number in right? My fingers aren’t working right.”

Oscar laughs, leans forward, and nods. “That’s right.”

You don’t remember getting back to Oscar’s apartment. You barely even remember the guy from the bar until Oscar brings it up that morning, a teasing tone in his voice. Suddenly you’re checking your phone every minute, looking for a text from him. You name him Angel Boy, mentioning the angel numbers you’d seen just before you bumped into him. Oscar, well versed in your obsession with things that are just meant to be, rolls his eyes affectionately.

When the sun is trending towards the horizon and Angel Boy still hasn’t called or even texted you, your mood sours. You plant yourself on the couch, an episode of some stupid reality show playing. You’re not paying attention, only staring at your phone.

By the time 7:00 rolls around, you know it’s a lost cause. You can hear Oscar in the other room, shuffling around, and you feel tears well up in your eyes. There’s got to be someone out there who’s actually meant to be yours, right? One of these times the signs will be right, and it’ll all work out. It’s just… you’re getting discouraged.

Oscar appears in front of you and slips your phone out of your hands. He shoves it into his own pocket. He hands you a jacket, one of his, and you stare up at him with wide eyes.

“I’m taking you out to dinner,” he says, as he reaches to brush the tears from your cheeks. “Just because he’s not going to text you, doesn’t mean you should just sit here all night.”

You could cry even harder at that, at the fact that Oscar cares enough to try and break you out of your moping. You don’t really want to go out, but he has this hopeful look on his face. Both of you don’t need to be sad today. So you stand up, pull the jacket over your arms, and take a deep breath. You walk out of the apartment, your arm linked with his.

The ramen bar you go to is probably better than anywhere the guy would’ve taken you, anyways. If you’re being honest, the company is better, too.

|Age 22|

Oscar flies you out to the Netherlands to see him race. You’d been at the Melbourne Grand Prix, of course, but he’d insisted he’d fly you out for at least one race in his first season- promised it years ago, when Formula One was just a dream on his bucket list. Zandvoort works well- it fits into your schedule, and the summer break starts right afterwards, so he’ll actually have time to spend with you.

In the days leading up to the race, he’s extremely busy and extremely apologetic about it. You reassure him that you understand, that you knew what you were getting into, knew he’d be busy. You wander around the paddock, say hi to Logan- who you know only slightly better than all the other drivers- and keep yourself entertained. You spend time with Oscar when you get the chance- between interviews and practices, stolen moments of privacy in his driver’s room. It’s nice, it really is, but it’s also… weird.

You’ve been thinking a lot, lately, about what your mother once said about soulmates and love. For all the soul searching you’ve done, all the stars you’ve tried to read, you’ve come up empty. You’ve resigned yourself to the fact that maybe there’s just not anyone out there for you. Maybe you’re not meant to have a soulmate.

The thing about letting go of that pressure, though, is that it leaves space. Not a hole, not an emptiness, just… space. Room for other things to sneak in and make their home and grow. Somewhere along the lines- you don’t know when, maybe it’s been there all along- a seed had been planted. Now the roots are digging cracks in your heart, the leaves are shading out every other thought, and there are flowers blooming.

For months, now, your heart has been jumping in your chest every time Oscar texts you. You can’t wipe the grin off your face when he calls. You’ve been following every race, waking up at odd hours to cheer him on, sending him selfies with the tv to prove it to him, to make sure he knows you’re watching. You feel a little crazy, because suddenly he’s all you can think about.

Maybe love is about choices. You start making them, start choosing him. The only question now is if he’ll choose you, too.

The whole weekend is chaos. Oscar crashes in practice, sending himself and your heart spinning. He’s okay, thank god- though his mother texts you frantically, asking if he’s really okay. Then the race itself is even more chaotic, between the rain and the crashes and all the stuff in between. Oscar ends up in the points, though not as high as he’d hoped to be. You cheer for him either way.

You stick around the paddock all the way through his debrief, even when he tries to say you can head back to the hotel without him. Eventually, you leave with him and Lando, his arm around your shoulders the whole way to the car that’s waiting. It’s nice. He’s warm. Lando is making small talk, trying to get to know his teammates best friend, the one Oscar never shuts up about. You feel your face grow hot and hope Oscar doesn’t notice.

In the hotel lobby, Oscar makes a stop at the complimentary snack bar. Lando says something about Kim, his trainer, getting after him, which Oscar ignores. The three of you ride up together in the elevator, with Lando demanding most of your attention as he begs for stories about Oscar as a kid. Oscar’s quiet- you wonder if the weekend is weighing on him more than he’d previously let on.

You say goodnight to Lando and then Oscar scans you into the hotel room. Two beds, a couch, and a balcony that the two of you had eaten breakfast on that morning. You walk over to your bed and sit on the edge, flopping down onto your back.

Something lands on your stomach, softly. You look down, and your throat suddenly feels tight. It’s an orange. It’s a peeled orange. Oscar is standing at the window, pulling the curtains closed. His back is to you.

You blink, picking it up delicately. “You peeled it for me.”

“You hate peeling them,” he says. It’s very matter of fact. The same tone he’d use to say duh or of course.

You stare at his silhouette, the slope of his shoulders, the soft puff of his hair. You sit up, stomach turning. Suddenly, you need to be close to him. You stand up, orange in hand, pulling one of the pieces from it. You hold it lightly between your fingertips. Love is an action.

You hold it out to him. He takes it, smiles down at you.

“I love you, you know that?” You say, before you lose the courage.

“Yeah, I love you too,” he says, giving you a goofy look.

“No, like-“ you pause. Maybe you shouldn’t do this. Maybe you should just-

But it’s too late, because a wave of understanding washes over his face. His eyes go wide, lips parting. His hand pauses halfway to his mouth, the orange slice still in his fingers.

“Oh,” he says, voice cracking. His face splits into a grin. “Jeez, took you long enough to catch up, didn’t it?”

When he drops the orange slice on the floor so he can grab your face and kiss you, you’re somehow still so startled that you also drop the rest of the orange. That’s okay, though. He’ll peel another one for you without you even having to ask. Stars light up behind your eyes at the feeling of his lips on yours, and you realize then that maybe soulmates are just the people who choose to stick around.

…..

Deep in your desk in your childhood home, there’s a piece of paper. It’s been unfolded and refolded a million times. At the top, the title says, 15 Signs He’s Your Soulmate in messy, primary school handwriting. You pull it from your drawer and uncap the gel pen that sits in the cup on the desk.

At the bottom of the list, beneath your faded magic marker scrawl, you add:

#16: He peels your oranges.

#16: childhood best friend??

#16: YOU JUST KNOW

little bit of a different format for this one. as always, feel free to check out my other fics and tell me what you think!

#oscar piastri oneshot #oscar piastri x you #formula 1 fanfic #f1 oneshot #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fluff #formula one fluff #formula 1 fluff #f1 fluff #soulmates #f1 soulmate fic #oscar piastri x reader #Spotify #honeywrites #Oscar piastri

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raspberryfemme · 2 years

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it only took a week for us to talk about serial killers in my psych class

#also my horoscope says I’ll be living in a romcom next week so cool #liz talks incessantly

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abida-lifestyle-beauty · 2 years

Link

. Check out the sagittarius 2022 horoscope: Sagittarius love, work and health - The Gaggler

Know what to expect in the coming next week with the sagittarius horoscope for women. the sagittarius june 2022 horoscope can forecast what the year ahead has in store.

sagittarius 2022 horoscope, sagittarius horoscope 2022, sagittarius horoscope next week, sagittarius june 2022

https://thegaggler.com/horoscopes-sagittarius/

#sagittarius 2022 horoscope #sagittarius horoscope 2022 #sagittarius horoscope next week

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pascallatte · 1 year

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Slip-ups

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x actress!reader

Date: Jan 2019

Warnings: none I think but maybe a hint of something.

A/N: this is from y/n's POV and can be a 2nd part of the series but this is a long way from that. yeahhh. Hope you guys like this!!

Y/N L/N Answers the Web’s Most Searched Questions

“Good Afternoon, this is Y/n L/n and this is the wired autocomplete interview,” you started with the most monotonous voice you could ever make

-Autocomplete suggests the most common searcher on the internet-

“I am very excited, I’ve been wanting to do this since like forever but you guys never invited me, which was sad,” the camera then proceeds to zoom in your faces as you looked at the lens with a very menacing look.

-So WIRED asked Y/N L/N some of the internet’s burning questions-

Giggling to yourself, you sat back and took the first board that was given to you.

With a bright smile you said “Alrighty WIRED let’s do thisss!!!”

“Is y/n l/n….related to Sarah Paulson” with a scoff you shook your head and released a very breathy “NNOooooooo”

“ But I’ve been asked this questions a couple times now and as much as I want to be related to Sarah, we are not.”

You looked back at the board, read it a few more times then nodded.

“ But we are sisters though, just not by blood.”

-Cut-

“ Is y/n l/n Elizabeth Swann”

“Oh!! Yup I am the Elizabeth Swann from Pirates of the Caribbean” you explained as soon as the question was revealed

“ did you know that not many people knew I was in that movie? And the reason?” You excitedly asked as you looked at the staff behind the camera.

“Was my fucking dark blonde hair!! Now hold on before you guys on the internet hate on me, let me explain.”

Hands up in a surrendering position you began “Look I loved that role, the series, the people, Orlando Bloom,..” You winked” but blonde just doesn’t suit me, AT ALL, and keeping that hair as blonde as it can is a freaking nightmare so after I’ve finished wrapping up the last of that film series I told myself never EVER!! Take a role that needed my hair to be dyed.”

-Cut-

“ Is y/n l/n a sagittarius”

Smiling to yourself as you recall a memory, you look down and answered “ Yes, yes I am because as you all know I was born on December 1987- GOSH I’m old” you cut yourself as you’ve registered the words that were said.

“But that is all I can tell you, 'cause I’m not that much into horoscopes or zodiacs or whatever but Pe-“ you cut yourself once again.” But uhmmm, someone once told me that I am the "embodiment" of the Sagittarius sign and that we sagi babes are most compatible with an Aries?? I think”

A small smile was seen on your face as the video cuts to the next question.

-Cut-

“ Are y/n l/n and Pedro Pascal friends”

"Hhmmm are we? I mean we hang out, send tiktoks to each other, and he steals my fuzzy socks a lot….” you nod off while listing all the things Pedro has done to you in the past week, in mind.

“ I guess we are friends? nO, I’m just kidding we are, the best might I add”

You beamed at the lens as you rattled on, “of course we’re friends, we’ve been friends for quite a while now and I thank sister Sarah for that. But yeah, I mean who wouldn’t want to be friends with that guy?”

You once again looked at the staff who was nodding at you to continue.

“ He’s friendly, goofy, a great storyteller, and actor” you winked again that was accompanied by a snort, “and a great person in general…ah he also shares his empanadas so that makes him an even Better Greater person HAHA!!”

You then throw the board to the ground as you jump out of your seat

-Cut-

“Who does y/n l/n play in Narcos”

“ I play a DEA agent from Barcelona, Spain named Catalina “Lina” Mendoza, she is the love interest of Javier Pena and who is played by the one and only Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal, who is the partner of Boyd Holbrook aka Steve Murphy” proudly you crossed your arms and leaned back in the chair.

-Cut-

“What is y/n l/n first movie”

“Ahh this is a great question, uhmmm my first movie was released way back in ’99 and it’s called the sixth sense. Which was a great experience and opened up my little 11-year-old mind up more into the acting industry.” You answered while thinking back on that more to add.

“ I mean it is a minor role but I got to meet Bruce Willis and act with a very close friend of mine, Trevor Morgan.” You added before looking back at the board.

-Cut-

“What is y/n l/n doing now”

“Since this will be released, I don’t know, a few days or weeks from now I’d try to answer what I would be doing at that time” you scratch your chin as you think of what you would do without saying too much.

“I would either be at home, chilling, drinking wine, while watching a movie OR” you exaggerate, “ I’d be out partying or hanging out with a few friends of mine, yeah I think that’s about it.”

-cut-

“ How can I meet y/n l/n”

Laughing you said, “Well, I’ll probably be in my favourite cafe during my spare time so maybe you guys can drop by and have the courage to say hi,” you tease but was followed by an “I'd rather have you do that instead of taking a, what you think is a discreet, picture of me and the one person I’m with” you ended with a forced smile.

-Cut-

“How old was y/n l/n when Pedro Pascal”

“Guys is this asking what I think it's asking HAHAHAHA” you burst out with a laugh while kind of nervous that you would say something out of line.

“ Well uhm, if you’re asking how old I was when we met, we met through Sarah way back in early 2012 she invited me for a new year's party, so that makes me 24??” You answered with an eyebrow raised.

“ Buuutt,” you dragged.”If you guys are asking about that scene in the second season of Narcos, that you guys are thirsting on about. I would be at around 27 years while shooting that I think. Sooo yeah. Kids don’t ask about those narcos scenes please, better yet don’t watch it until you’re like 25 or 50”

-Cut-

“ How tall is -“

“ No No! I won’t be answering that question yo-“

-Cut-

With a huff you looked at the camera, “ I am 5 foot 3....and a half…. On good days I'd be 5'4 and 5'5 with heels. But hey I’m not even that small, the people around me are just giant abnormal-looking non-human beings” you point at the lens

“YES YES IM TALKING TO YOU MISTER PASCAL, so stop teasing me”

-Cut-

“Ooh would you look at that the last question!”

Ripping the paper as fast as you can it says “Can y/n l/n dance?”

You noticeably perked up at this but before you can answer a voice came from behind the camera and said “No!”

“ Hey! I mean I’m not a good dancer but I can dance properly you know. I flow with the vibe of the music you know what i’m saying!!! Yeah?”

-Cut-

You were seen grinning before you were called on camera.

Throwing the board behind you once again you say “ Well WIRED, that was certainly interesting and this might be one of the most... chill... interviews I’ve been on! Can’t wait to do more! Bye!!”

COMMENTS

Fan 1: that was…..entertaining

Fan 2: the slip ups OH MY FUCKING GOD

Fan 3: the way she called out the paps HA serves you right!!

Fan 4: i love how most of the internet asks about y/n and Pedro indirectly. Like girl, we’ve been waiting for years.

Fan 5: Oh so this is the girl, Pedro was seen with the other day. She looks too young, I don’t get why people ship these two, he wouldn’t go for immature younger women. ↳ Fan 4 replied to Fan 5: Girl be fucking for real they've been dating for years now, try to look it up.

Fan 6: I love her friendship with Sarah and Pedro!!! And it looks like she was adopted by Sarah Paulson the same way she did with Pedro HAHAHAH oh and we got crumbs on her hanging out with Pedro with that sharing of food thing

Fan 7: I NEED MORE Y/N CONTENT, SHE IS THE QUEEN, MY LOVE, MY WIFE AND BABY!!!!

Fan 8: so is no one else curious about who said “No” as soon as that dancing question was revealed, cause all I know is that it sure ain’t one of the staff. ↳ Fan 7 replied to Fan 8: HOW THE HELL?? HOW IS IT POSSIBLE THAT YOU GUYS DON'T KNOW THEY'RE TOGETHER?! I'm speechless

Fan 9: she’s so smiley and goofy in this interview, must’ve had a lot of fun shooting this. ↳ WIRED replied to Fan 9: 👀 about that…. ↳ fan 9 replied to WIRED: why? what’s happening

Fan 10: The sarcasm when asked if Pedro's her friend is killing me😵 ↳ Fan 8 replied to Fan 10: aren't they friends though? ↳ Fan 10 replied to Fan 8: girl go search it up. i just, can't. this is because of his rising fame, everyone doesn't know that much yet. what more if this continues for the years to come.

Fan 11: The comments of old Pedro fans and new Pedro fans are funny.

A/N: so we got a little back story for y/n and her friendship with Pedro and Sarah ahhhh. ay, this doesn't directly follow my last fic, but I wanted to put this out earlier. Just to let you guys know this series follows a timeline I've done so that would explain why there are dates and stuff at the beginning of each fic. That's all, Thank you!! Bye for now.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x actress!reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #reader insert #pedro pascal fic #pedropascal

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seafoamreadings · 1 month

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full moon LUNAR ECLIPSE (5 libra)

eclipses are not like other full moons. they feel like a full moon but *more* of it. it's inherently volatile, unstable. this scares a lot of people. but ultimately the things that boil over needed to be acknowledged. so pay attention to any chaos, not that you'll be able to help doing so, and adjust your life accordingly. individual effects are quite variable but checking your horoscopes for details is a good start.

you likely have already felt the first rumblings of this one. the aftermath continues probably all week, and for libra/aries types, you'll still be dealing with it by the time of the next eclipse on april 8.

#eclipse season #eclipses #full moon #full moon eclipse #eclipse #lunar eclipse #penumbral eclipse #libra #aries #sun opposite moon #moon opposite sun #moon #sun #astrology #transits

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dynamic-power · 7 months

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Gallavich discover farmers markets when they move to the Westside.

Ian has been trying to make sure they're eating healthy, and how can it get healthier than fresh fruits and veg? So when he sees a few stands teeming with produce and people, he drags Mickey with him.

The first time, they only purchase fruits and vegetables and bypass most of the other stands. They go back the next week. And then they go back again.

By the fourth time, they have added fresh local flowers to their weekly purchases. Mickey refuses to admit he likes having them on their dinner table, but eventually he's the one picking out the bouquet.

On their sixth trip, Ian gets distracted by a local soap maker. He spends nearly 20 minutes picking out a scent that he likes. Or rather, that he thinks he'll like on Mickey. When he finds Mickey again, his husband is munching on a bag of homemade jerky.

Ian loses count after that.

They try honeycomb for the first time and buy honey from the local beekeeper. They sample artisan cheese and jams and jellies, and they listen politely to a candle maker as she excitedly explains her process for the fourth week in a row. Ian aquires a taste for tea thanks to the blends made by a middle-aged man who pays far too much attention to his daily horoscopes. They make sure to stop by a bakery stand every time to buy fresh pastries and bread.

Mickey often lingers at a stall run by a man who does leather and woodwork, and Ian places a special order with him for Mickey's birthday; a matching belt and wallet.

By far, their favorite vendors are an old woman and her grandson who sell beanies, scarves, and the like. The old woman is nice enough, if a little forgetful, but it's the grandson, who is their age, that they become friends with. He did time for armed robbery and learned to knit while he was locked up. "I did it 'cause I remembered Nan doing it when I was a kid." Now, it's his business. And his grandma enjoys the excuse to spend time with her grandson.

By the time winter comes around, they've each got a matching hat, scarf, and glove set, there are four varieties of tea besides Mickey's favorite coffee, and they've even purchased a couple candles.

#i live in a city thats got farm stands or farmers markets or swap meets year round #and i was like “but what if gallavich”#domestic bitches #i can just picture these two tough guys getting excited when their favorite farmer comes back when his berries are in season again #or annoying the shit out of the person trying to asvertise their MLM scheme #ian makes friends with the woman who makes things out of the tackiest and loudest and most awful fabrics #and the only person who gets the chance to learn mickeys name is the man who runs the jerky stand #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #gallavich #shameless #gallavich meta

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orange-orchard-system · 1 year

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(Probably Bad) Ways to Respond to "You're Not Acting Like Yourself"

A list for systems who aren't out yet

"Yeah, my theatre teacher gave out a pretty weird improv assignment this week."

"Wow, you humans are more perceptive than I thought! I'll have to tell the mothership of this."

"The self is a social construct."

"I sold my soul and this is my way of coping with the emptiness I now feel."

"So you know those soulmate AUs where you swap bodies with your soulmate?"

"I got my brain software updated; it included some patches to my personality."

"It's my horoscope."

"It's practice for when I go undercover on my next spy mission."

"Haha, yeah." *leans into watch* "They're onto me."

"I'm actually (name)'s long lost twin."

"Thanks for noticing!"

"I'm under a curse. Can you help me break it?"

"It's my rebellious phase."

"Shakespeare said, 'All the world's a stage,' and I've decided to take that literally."

"Don't worry, I'll be done possessing (name) soon, I just have to try (food) first."

Feel free to add your own!

#funny #plurality #pluralgang #actuallyplural #actuallymultiple #plural system #systemsillies #I'll tag this as #unreality #just to be safe #blue.txt #shaun.txt #front soup.txt

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bomber-grl · 3 months

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Nico Di Angelo x Son of Hecate ☾

Pairing(s): Nico Di Angelo x M!Reader

Nico was certainly a new face in the crowd but you never really ever interacted with him.

That is, until you’re forced into a mini adventure with him on part of the seven

It’d be a lie to say that you didn’t even have an ounce of attraction to him but that stayed unsaid

Of course after that favor for your mutual friends your path just… faded i guess

You only ever saw him around camp and you’d often steal a glance

Which you weren’t aware of at the time, but he was too

It’d probably be weeks maybe months later that you ran into him again, this time he had only approached you to ask you something .

That something being your necromancy and umbrakinesis ability

It started off with him approaching you at the campfire, the pavilion, then just from then on

I mean because of how often he’d approach you, ever curious on your powers, the two of you got close

Sitting next to each other or just being seen together became common

Still didn’t stop other campers from talking 👀

If anything, you’d just discuss abilities and compare but eventually conversations got off topic-

More personal.

It wasn’t until a camp bonfire after a particular capture the flag that you had noticed Nico not there

It didn’t take you long to find him but once you did you sat next to him, oddly enough he was by the lake

The two of you sat there and to be completely honest, it felt like forever but with the loud silence you chose to speak

You confessed your feelings

You always knew you would eventually , might as well blurt them out now

You saw an expression never worn by Nico before, and that was one of shock

He was genuinely shocked and all he could do was nod his head in agreement

Thus, how you confessed your feelings to one another has ended now let’s speak on the actual relationship

You, a mysterious witchy silent person (atleast how others perceive you)

And Nico, again, mysterious silent and emo (?)

Well I’m trying to say it wasn’t much of a surprise that you two began dating

Once the news spread (which would’ve been later since you’re both very private) everyone was either, not surprised since you both acted like it

Or absolutely shocked because of how mysterious you two were

No in between

As your relationship progresses acts of physical affection become the norm and aren’t foreign anymore

So once you introduced Nico to your cabin (I hc the Hecate cabin as having few residents) it was a relief to have it to yourselves

Lou was not at camp this time around, and luckily, neither was any of your siblings

Many people were afraid to get close to the Hecate cabin if the outer was being disturbed, I mean no one wants to get Thalia’d but surprisingly Nico didn’t mind

Once you entered the entire theme of the Hecate cabin, if anything, encouraged Nico to ask questions

I mean, you two got along so well, probably because of how similar your powers were or

Yknow what? Who cares

All that was on your mind was the fact that Nico was icy cold (which was normal but still)

You caught Nico’s attention once more when you began speaking in Ancient Greek

Only did it dawn on him that you were muttering a heating spell

He always refused to use that spell (you always told yourself that it’s cuz he wanted to hold you and soak in your body heat, which was probably you just being delusional 🫠)

Regardless, the night goes without a hitch and you two get closer than ever

Now, Nico is aware of a lot of disturbing things beyond death

But for some reason, you asking if you can read his palm/ try and get his birth chart, disturbs him even more

Luckily if you’re not wildy crazy then he’ll go along without a bother

(If u beg then he’ll say no a few times just to let ask after a few more times as if his first “no” wasn’t his version of yes)

Anyway

If you find out your horoscopes or something match up (idk how these things work 😓) you decide to be a little prankster and say sum shit like “we were written in the stars”

Of course Nico thinks this is so horribly cringe but he smiles regardless

Plus he has to endlessly deal with your bs

Especially when he walks into your cabin and sees you making a concoction of sorts w ur cauldron

Yea sometimes he questions why he even dated you

He thinks this as if he wasn’t cuddled up to you like a kitten the night before 😿

I love this req because I, myself, am a Hecate kid 😼

#gn reader #male reader #fanfic #fluff #fanfic fluff #fluff headcanons #nico di angelo x reader #pjo nico #nico pjo #nico di angelo #pjo fandom #percy jackson fandom #pjo fanfic #pjo fanfiction #pjo series #pjo x reader #pjoverse

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sreehari28 · 9 months

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Ready to make this week great!!! Tune into This Week Astrology – your ultimate star-studded forecast – for the week of July 16–July 22, 2023!

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billa-billa007 · 8 months

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Leo: What Is Love Flows... Leo Horoscope For Pisces Full Moon | Aug. 30, 2023 | Joshua the Psychic

The Leo zodiac sign is associated with individuals born between July 23 and August 22. Leos are traditionally represented by the symbol of the lion, and they are ruled by the Sun according to astrology. People born under the Leo sign are often characterized as confident, enthusiastic, charismatic, and creative individuals. They tend to enjoy being in the spotlight and have a natural flair for leadership. Leos are known for their strong sense of self, ambition, and desire for recognition. They can also be quite generous and loyal to their friends and loved ones.

#joshua the psychic #pisces full moon #pisces tarotscopes #tarot pisces #horoscope for today #leo horoscope next week #leo weekly horoscope next week #what is love flows #leo horoscope for pisces full moon #leo and pisces #leo this week #leo and pisces friendship #astrolutely leo #pisces and leo compatibility 2023 #leo and pisces compatibility 2023 #leo weekly horoscope #Leo Horoscope For Pisces Full Moon

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sattlersquarry · 5 months

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superfreaky (steve harrington x fem!reader)

Summary: [AU inspired by Freaky (2020); modern body-swap-with-a-slasher AU] The Hawkins Hacker has been terrorizing your town for years now. What happens when he digs his hooks into you is surprising. It's shocking. It's downright superfreaky.

Word Count: ~7.3k

Warnings: 18+ PLEASE!!!! for language, violence, grief, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of death and serial killers/slashers. all the characters are at least 18 in this (and Steve is the same age as the others). There's no descriptors of the reader except when she and Henry Creel swap bodies (then, you're Jamie Campbell Bower). Also Officer Callahan is your stepbrother in this.

a/n: this is a halloween fic. I'm aware that it's mid-November and everyone on this website has moved onto winter/holiday fics. I'm late! I'm sorry! Blame depression/personal life weirdness/my horoscope.

🔪🔪🔪

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 12th, 2023

Your life kind of sucks.

Just a little.

Currently, you’re dressed in a godawful tiger suit on a Thursday night, shaking your clip-on tiger tail like there’s no tomorrow. You don’t want to be here, but extracurriculars look great on college applications. If you want to get far, far away from Hawkins, Indiana after graduation, this is the kind of shit you have to do to be impressive on paper.

Plus, someone must be the brave soul that dons the Hawkins High school mascot costume on the sidelines of basketball games. The brave soul that gets soda cans chucked at your head by Billy Hargrove.

You turn and scowl when you feel the liquid splash across your back—not that Billy can see through your stitched-on tiger expression.

He and his buddies laugh and laugh, until team captain Steve Harrington chews them out for being assholes. You can’t help it—you inwardly swoon at the sight of him defending your honor. With that floppy hair and those gorgeous eyes and…

You snap yourself out of your wild, romantically charged fantasies about said basketball player when he jogs his way toward you.

“Hey, Y/N, you okay?” he asks quietly. You lift your mascot head and give him a small smile.

“I’m good,” you say. You shrug. “I’m used to it.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head.

“I’m really sorry. I told Hargrove to cut it out when you threw the nachos last week, but he just doesn’t know when to quit.”

The Tiger cheerleaders begin the school fight song.

“I’ve gotta get back into it,” you say. “But, um, thanks.”

“Anytime,” Steve says. He shoots you a smile before jogging back to his teammates. The timeout is over, and he steps back onto the court.

As you flail around next to the cheerleaders, the Tigers sink a three-pointer thanks to Steve and win the game.

Post-game, you shuffle into the parking lot with your best friends Robin Buckley and Jonathan Byers by your side. Jonathan works for the school paper and photographs the games while his girlfriend, Nancy Wheeler, interviews players and attendees on the sidelines. Robin is in band and plays the trumpet. (Sometimes, you wish you’d followed their extracurricular pathways instead of going the mascot route.)

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Robin points out, sensing your disdain as you glare at the tiger head in your hands and the oversize, fuzzy orange slippers adorning your feet.

“I do!” you say. “It’s senior year, fall semester. I can’t flake now. It’ll look bad on my applications.”

“You and those applications,” Jonathan says with a shake of his head. “You’ve been worrying about them since we were freshmen.”

“Obviously! They’re my ticket out of this town. It’s not safe here anymore.”

Robin and Jonathan share a look. They know what you’re referring to: the Hawkins Hacker.

The Hacker is the town's own slasher. He claimed victims every year around homecoming for years and years, until 2016, when he suddenly stopped. However, just last night he killed again. The whole town—including your stepbrother Phil, who’s a cop—are on edge.

“Do you need a ride home?” Jonathan asks, spinning his car keys in his hand.

“No, it’s okay,” you say. “My stepmom’s on her way. And there are plenty of people around. I’m totally safe!”

Famous last words.

Literally. (Almost.)

“You sure?” Robin questions. “Because he’s taking me and Nancy home too, but he’s got an extra seat!”

“I’m good,” you say. You hold up your cell phone. “She texted me an hour ago to say she’d get me on time. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay?”

Your friends look a little worried, but you wave them off. Game attendees meander out of the school and head to their cars. It’s a sea of people. You’re fine.

However, the minutes tick by, and the crowd thins out. You watch the away team hop a school bus and zip back to their hometown. You feel the temperature of your tiger suit inch up a few degrees when you see Steve wander to his BMW with a couple teammates in tow.

It’s considerably quieter than it was when you first left the game. You text your stepmom LeAnn once, twice. Then you call her once, twice, three times. A third text, a fourth call. Nothing. Radio silence.

By now, it’s dead quiet. Everyone is gone. You feel an icy chill zip down your spine, like you’re being watched…

You miss your father. He died about a year ago, and he was always on time.

You startle when the phone in your hand buzzes. It’s your stepbrother Phil.

“Hey!” you say. “Where’s LeAnn?”

“Passed out again,” Phil says with a beleaguered sigh. “Where are you? Did Jonathan give you a ride home?”

“No, I told him your mom was coming to get me,” you say. “Can you—”

Beep! Beep! Beep!

You pull the phone away from your ear and groan. It’s dead. Just great.

A streetlight across the parking lot flickers. When your eyes adjust, your heart drops through your stupid mascot feet and to the center of the earth: there’s a man watching you.

You can’t tell, but it looks like he’s wearing a mask. You gulp, panic stretching itself through every fiber of your being.

“Please don’t be the Hawkins Hacker,” you mumble to yourself. “Please don’t be the Hacker. Please don’t be the Hacker.”

The Man continues to stare. Something glints in his hand. It frightens you.

“My stepbrother is on his way!” you yell, hoping to scare him off. “He’s a cop. With a gun.”

That doesn’t seem to bother the man at all. In fact, you see him walk toward you—a slow, Michael-Meyers-esque stride that has you shrieking in fear and stumbling to the school doors.

You yank at them to no avail. You don’t bother looking back and instead run around the school building to the football field. Panting from exertion and sheer fear, you duck under the bleachers and hide behind a big banner.

You slap a hand over your mouth to quiet your panicked whimpers. Why oh why did you trust LeAnn to get you on time, when every night for the past month she’s drank a whole bottle of chardonnay at 6 p.m. and passed out? Why didn’t you go with Jonathan when he offered? Hell, why didn’t you ask Steve for a ride? He’s a nice guy! He would’ve done it!

Now, you’re hiding from a slasher in a stupid rubber gray mask. And if you die and come back as a ghost, you’ll be wearing the Hawkins High mascot suit for all eternity.

You watch the Hackers’ feet as he stands in front of the bleachers and listen as he steps on them. He seems to think you’ve left, and you hear him wander off.

Or, so you think. Actually, he sneaks up behind you and grabs your leg, yanking you out from your hiding place.

You scream and kick at him, hitting him right in the nose and giving you the chance to run.

You don’t get far, though. He tackles you somewhere around the fifty-yard line.

“No! No!” you scream as he raises the knife above you. The knife has a spider carved in the handle with red ruby eyes. “Please! No!”

You push at him, knocking his mask off. His face is gaunt: all sallow cheekbones and purple under-eye bags. His eyes are a dull, washed-out blue, and his blonde hair is scraggly and unwashed.

You hate that his face is the last face you’ll ever see.

He plunges the dagger into your shoulder just a few inches shy of your heart and you scream in pain, the bloodcurdling sound echoing across the football field. The Hacker hisses in pain and drops the knife. He touches his shoulder and looks angry at the sight of blood on his fingertips.

His blood. From the wound that appeared on his shoulder after he stabbed you in the same spot.

Bang! Bang!

“GET AWAY FROM HER!” Phil roars from across the football stadium, gun raised in the air.

The Hacker stumbles to his feet and ambles off. Still prone on the ground, you turn on your stomach and watch him go, shocked at what you witnessed. How did he get stabbed?

You’re in so much shock, you don’t even realize that Phil is by your side until he gently helps you sit up.

“You’re okay!” he says, voice tinged with an urgency you’ve never heard from him before. “I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you.”

“It hurt him too,” you mutter, a bit delirious. “It hurt him too!”

“Try to stay calm, okay?” Phil says. “You’re in shock. I got you, Y/N.”

You hear him bark into his radio: “This is Officer Callahan! Send an RA unit to the Hawkins High football field! My stepsisters’ been stabbed!”

The rest of your evening is a blur. You get patched up by paramedics and then taken to the police station to give a statement.

LeAnn arrives as you’re sitting with the sketch artist, crying and screaming and apologizing a million times. You forgive her (even though you aren’t sure you want to), and later that night, you hear Phil chewing her out for drinking and forgetting you again.

“She could’ve died, Mom!” you hear him yell as you lie in bed and try to sleep. “If I had been just a minute too late, we would’ve lost her and Allen in the span of 11 months!”

“I’m sorry!” LeAnn sobs. “I just had one glass—”

“One glass, Mom?! Try the whole bottle!”

Despite your anger at her, your heart breaks for LeAnn. You know your dad’s death has been hard on her. She hasn’t been doing too well since he passed, but sometimes you wish she’d realize you weren’t doing that great either. Phil tries to comfort you both, but he’s so busy with work, his pep talks are usually thirty seconds long between bites of a bagel before he’s rushing off to save Hawkins again.

Your phone blows up with texts and DMs. Somehow, the kids at school found out what happened and won’t stop messaging you for details on your encounter with the Hacker. You can’t deal with it. Except, there are some messages that you do respond to:

---

Text Thread with BOBBIN and JONNY B GOOD

BOBBIN: Oh my God!!! Y/N are you okay??? Please text back!!!

JONNY B GOOD: We saw what happened on the news. Please text us when you have a chance. We’re worried about you and thinking of you rn.

BOBBIN: WE’RE FREAKING OUT!!! ARE YOU OKAY???

JONNY B GOOD: Robin, just chill. She’s probably resting.

BOBBIN: Please don’t die and leave me alone to third wheel Nancy and Jonathan!!

JONNY B GOOD: Wooooow.

YOU: Wow is right. I got stabbed and those are your priorities?

BOBBIN: SHE LIVES!!!! YEAHHHHHHH!!!

YOU: Yep, I’m alive. I’m really sorry but I feel like shit. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?

JONNY B GOOD: Of course. We’re here when you need us.

BOBBIN: WE LOVE YOU <3

YOU: <3

---

DMs from steve.anthony.h83

STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): Hey Y/N I saw the news I rly hope ur OK

YOU (y/n.y/l/n86): Hi Steve, thank you for reaching out. It means a lot to me. I’m not feeling too good right now.

STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): Im sry to here that that sux 😞😢💔

---

God, even his text message typos and cheesy emoji usage are endearing. You’re in too deep with this crush.

---

YOU (y/n.y/l/n86): Yeah. But I think I’ll be okay.

STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): Anything I can do 2 help? Maybe I can get u smtg, wats ur fav candy?

YOU (y/n.y/l/n86): Oh, that’s sweet, but you don’t have to do that!

STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): I want too 😃 do u like nougat

YOU (y/n.y/l/n86): I love nougat!

STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): Perfect 😃 Ill bring u sum tmrw after school 🍫

YOU (y/n.y/l/n86): Thank you, Steve ❤️

STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): Feel better Y/N 😃😃

You go to sleep, shaken up but in slightly higher spirits thanks to your conversation with Steve.

🔪🔪🔪

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 13th, 2023

You blink awake hours later, startled at the sight around you.

You aren’t in your room. You’re lying on a mattress on a concrete floor. The room around you is full of weird stuff: grandfather clocks, paintings upon paintings of black widow spiders, and mannequins with nails in their faces like Pinhead.

“What the hell!” you say. You gasp and clutch your neck. “Why is my voice so deep?!”

You stagger to your feet and look around the creepy space. Why are you further from the floor than usual? In the corner, you see a mirror half-covered with a sheet. You yank it off and gasp.

“AHHHH! IT’S THE HAWKINS HACKER!” you scream.

The Hacker screams as well. You reach your hand toward the glass—and the Hacker reaches his hand toward it as well. You pull it away and so does he.

The you in the reflection is the Hacker. Holy shit.

You realize where you are: the old mill. Phil told you to stay away from this place because it’s where drug deals go down, and where Eleanor Gillespie got attacked by birds that one time.

You rush away before you can freak out too much. You head downtown, mind swirling.

This must just be a nightmare. Right? A really, really realistic, terrifying lucid dream.

But when you hit your head on a tree branch (because you’re way, way taller than you used to be) and it actually hurts, you realize it’s not a dream. You’re really the Hawkins Hacker. Somehow, you’ve swapped bodies with a homicidal maniac.

You need to find Phil. He’s been your stepbrother for a decade now and you trust him more than anyone else. He might be able to know what to do—or just be a shoulder to cry on.

You pass an electronics store, and your heart sinks when you see your face—the Hackers’ face—on TV.

“The Hawkins Hacker has been identified as Henry Creel,” the news anchor says, showing a photo of the face that you are unfortunately saddled with now. “He’s most known for killing his mother, father, and sister as a teenager—and also for driving a Jeep Wrangler through a Dairy Queen drive-through window without a license.”

“Hey!” someone shouts nearby, having connected the dots. “You’re the killer guy from TV!”

You don’t even stop to see who’s yelling at you before you run as fast as you can, ducking through alleyways to lose whoever’s chasing you.

You can’t go to the police station now that your face is plastered all over the news and social media. But you need an ally, or allies.

Besides Phil, the people you trust the most are Robin and Jonathan. You sneak into Hawkins High through the gymnasium doors, wishing you had your mascot head to hide under. Then, you take a quick shower in the locker rooms and hide until class change is done.

You slink through the empty hallways and make it to the school’s auditorium. That’s where you, Robin, and Jonathan spend study hall every day.

You open the door to the theater as quiet as a mouse, hiding in the wings for a moment when you overhear them talking about you.

“I hope Y/N’s doing okay,” Robin says with a sigh. She takes a bite of an apple and says through chews, “Why did she blow us off earlier?”

“Give her a break, Rob,” Jonathan says. “She’s probably really shaken up. But it is weird that she even came to school anyway. I wonder—”

“Guys!” you say, stepping onto the stage. “It’s me! Don’t freak out.”

They immediately freak out.

“AHHHHH!!! THE HACKER!!!” Robin screams. She chucks an apple core at your head and it bounces between your eyes. You stumble back and groan.

“COME ON!” Jonathan says, grabbing her hand and dragging her away from your, fear flashing in both of their eyes.

“Wait!” you shout. “Come back!”

You follow them as they run through the hallways and end up in the school cafeteria’s kitchen. A lunch lady shrieks and runs out when she sees you.

“Stop!” you call, following Robin and Jonathan to the back room. “Wait! Please just hear me out.”

Jonathan snatches up a soup ladle and hits you in the spine with it.

“ARGH! Dude, stop!”

Robin grabs a tray of mozzarella sticks and lifts it above her head. The sticks go flying when she whacks you in the head. Repeatedly.

Angry that they won’t stop hitting you, you yank the tray out of Robin’s hand and toss it away. Your newfound strength the body you’ve found yourself in possesses surprises you. The old you would’ve grappled with Robin a lot longer before getting the tray from her, if you even got it at all.

Robin tries to jump on your back piggyback-style to tackle you to the ground, and you elbow her in the stomach.

“Cut that out!” you bark as she wheezes.

Jonathan hits you again with the ladle and you shove his shoulder, a bit too hard. He falls on his butt and winces.

“Enough!” you say. “We’ve hit each other over and over. Can we agree we’re all tired and end this?!”

“No!” Jonathan says, pulling himself back to his feet by gripping a countertop. “You attacked our friend and now you’re attacking us!”

“I’m not attacking you!” you say. “I’m trying to get you to listen. I am not Henry Creel. I am not the Hawkins Hacker. I’M Y/N! YOUR FRIEND Y/N Y/L/N!”

“As if!” Robin scoffs. “I’m calling 911.”

You snatch the phone from her hands and hold it high above your head. She’s tall, but not tall enough to reach it thanks to your longer arms.

“I promise!” you beg, holding your other arm up in surrender. “It’s me. It’s Y/N!”

“Yeah, right!” Jonathan says darkly. He picks up the ladle again, wielding it like a lethal weapon. “Tell us something only Y/N would know or we’re going to the cops.”

“What’s Y/N’s favorite movie?” Robin asks, eyes narrowed.

“I tell everyone it’s Casablanca but it’s The Muppets Take Manhattan!”

“Favorite candy?” Jonathan demands.

“Three Musketeers because I feel guilty that everyone shits on nougat when it’s really not that bad!”

“Who’s Y/N’s biggest crush?” Robin asks.

The face that’s not yours blushes deeply.

“Duh,” you say. “It’s Steve the Hair Harrington.”

Jonathan and Robin share a look. A sense of realization flashes on their faces.

“Handshake?” you offer. You hand Robin her phone back and hold out your hands—or, Henry Creel’s hands—and wait.

Robin and Jonathan slap you five, before the three of you complete the intricate handshake you made up in seventh grade.

“Holy shit!” Robin shrieks, eyes shining. “You’re really Y/N!”

She pulls you and Jonathan in for a group hug and you laugh.

“Oh, thank god,” you say. “If you didn’t believe me, I don’t know what I’d—"

“Hold on,” Jonathan says, pulling out of the hug. “If you’re actually Y/N, that means the Hawkins Hacker is going around school wearing your face!”

“Oh damn,” Robin says. “Is that why you look hot today?”

“What do you mean I look hot?” you say, trying not to take offense to the implication that you don’t look hot every day.

Robin opens Instagram and shows you a photo posted to the student-run Hawkins High Gossip Instagram page. It’s a blurry photo of you (or Henry Creel in your body) walking in the hall past Billy and his asshole friends, who are checking you out. Instead of your usual mousy wardrobe of flowy skirts and cardigans, you’re wearing a tight black tank top, a red leather jacket, and bright red lipstick.

“Hot damn!” you blurt out. “I do look hot! Shit, have I hurt anyone? Or, has he hurt anyone?”

Jonathan grimaces.

“Tommy H. was found unconscious in the chem lab,” he says. “He was mostly fine, except his eyebrows were burned clean off…”

“But if fake-you did that,” Robin says quickly, “you aren’t liable because you weren’t in control of your body!”

“I don’t even know how we body-swapped in the first place!” you lament. “How do I get control of my body back?!”

“Let’s think about this,” Jonathan says. “Maybe it was some kind…spell? Or enchantment?”

“Enchantment?!” you snap. “Dude, be for real!”

“Wait,” Robin says, eyes shining. “I heard about this!”

She opened the internet app on her phone and went to www,theweeklywatcher,com/body-swap.

“No fucking way,” you say. “The Weekly Watcher is not a refutable source!”

“Why not?!” she says, scrolling ferociously until— “Ah! Found it.”

She shows you an article about the mythology of body swapping. At first, you roll your eyes, but then—

“That knife!” you gasp. “That’s the knife he had!”

You point to the photo, featuring the ruby-eyed spider in the knife handle.

“According to this,” Jonathan says, “that knife is an artifact that was used in ancient rituals."

“If you’re struck with the blade when the clock strikes midnight,” Robin reads, “you and your attacker switch places. And you have 24 hours to stab him and switch back.”

“No, no, no!” you groan. “That means we only have 12 hours left!”

“That’s plenty of time,” Jonathan says. “Where’s the knife? You have it, right?”

“No!” you say. “Phil took it as evidence.”

“So we’ll just steal it from the police station,” Robin says, as if it’s easy and obvious.

“Oh, sure,” you lament. “We’ll just waltz into the police station while I have the face and body of a mass murderer and steal evidence. Easy-peasy!”

“We’ll figure something out,” Jonathan says. “Come on.”

The three of you head toward the exit and end up walking past the woodshop classroom. You do a double-take and watch yourself enter the hallway. Or, you watch the Hawkins Hacker parade around as you.

“Hey, stop!” you shout at Henry Creel. He pauses and turns. A shiver runs down your spine at the dark, evil look gracing your features. Features you’ve seen your whole life, features you’ve struggled to like after years of taunting and bullying. Now, they’re marred with the evil spirit of the Hawkins Hacker.

Yet, goddamn. You look hot with red lipstick. Who knew slashers had good fashion sense?

“Don’t try to run,” Jonathan says, the waver in his voice indicating that his bravery is false. “We’ve got you cornered.”

The Hacker suddenly changes expressions. Instead of a nasty glare, he opens his eyes wide, covers his cheeks with his hands, and shrieks: “AHHHH! IT’S THE HAWKINS HACKER! GET HIM!”

A couple cops run around the corner of the hall and you curse, rushing toward a side door with Robin and Jonathan in tow.

“GET YOUR KEYS!” you yell. “We have to get out of here or I’m headed to jail forever!”

Jonathan struggles to start his car, but he peels away just before the cops can stop you all. After your first-ever police chase, you three lose your tail in the parking lot of the big-box store LeAnn works at.

You hide out in a changing room while Jonathan and Robin find you a disguise—a plastic Halloween mask of Bill Clinton’s face.

“I can’t see or breathe in this thing,” you grumble as your friends lead you back to the car.

“If you get arrested,” Robin points out, “you won’t be able to switch back.”

You bite your tongue from any further complaints, too worried about just that.

“So, what’s the plan?” Jonathan asks, once you all are back in his car. “How can we get the knife?”

“About that,” Robin says. “I think we need to bring in your stepbrother.”

“If Phil doesn't believe us, we're in big trouble!” you protest.

“He’s an ally!” Robin shoots back. “And we need one if we’re going to…oh shit.”

She holds up her phone screen for you and Jonathan to see. You squint through the eye holes of your uncomfortable mask and gasp when you realize what’s going on.

“Fuck!” you groan. “What the hell is he doing?!”

It’s another post from the school gossip Insta. The Hawkins Hacker is schmoozing with Billy and his clique of jerks at the local indoor mini-golf place. You watch in the video as he leans into Billy’s ear and whispers something before sauntering off.

The caption of the post says, “OMG is Y/N Y/L/N like, hot now?!”

“I resent this!” you snap. “Why is everyone under the impression that I’m not hot all the time?!”

“No, no, no!” Jonathan gasps. “Look!”

At the tail end of the video, you see Nancy and Steve follow Henry Creel into the glow-in-the-dark golf course.

“They’re going to get killed!” he says, turning the ignition in his car with shaking hands and reversing haphazardly, almost taking out a mulberry bush as he speeds toward the golf place. “Robin, call Nancy now.”

“She’s not picking up!” Robin says, phone to her ear. “I’ll text!”

Your stomach churns with anxiety. If the Hacker kills Nancy and Steve while he’s in your body and you switch back, you’ll feel guilty forever. You’ll also go to jail. But if you don’t switch back, you’ll go to jail as Henry! This is all too much.

You’re certain the pale face that doesn’t belong to you is green right now as Jonathan drives like a racecar driver to save his girlfriend and your crush from “your” wrath.

🔪🔪🔪

Steve’s not sure what’s gotten into you today.

First, you showed up to school. That was surprising after your attack.

“Hey!” he had said when you walked into woodshop class. “How you feeling?”

You hadn’t responded, but you had looked quite intrigued when he accidentally cut his finger working on his birdhouse.

“Ah, shit,” he’d grumbled. “Do you have a—”

You leaned over and licked the blood clean off his finger. It startled him—and annoyed him when that freak Eddie Munson mumbled, “Whoa, that’s hot,” from across the worktable.

Steve’s cheeks glowed rosy red, flustered at your boldness. But you’d left class before he could do or say anything about it (or give you the candy he brought for you).

And now, after school, you’re standing with Billy and whispering salacious things into his ear. Since when do you like Billy? Billy, the guy that throws things at you? Billy, the guy that wrote “Y/N Y/L/N is an ugly stupid bitch” on the bathroom stalls? Billy, the guy that didn’t give you the time of day until you dressed differently?!

Why doesn’t she like me?! Steve thought, trying to look unaffected as you continued flirting with Billy. He fails, the wrinkle between his brows getting deeper as you continue talking to Billy in a low voice.

“Steve,” Nancy says urgently, rushing up to him. “We need to talk.”

“Can it wait?” Steve says. He crosses his arms. “I don’t want to do anything right now except sulk.”

“Something’s really, really wrong,” Nancy continues, ignoring Steve’s pity party. “Jonathan’s MIA and isn’t messaging me back. And neither is Robin. And Carol claims she saw them earlier get in Jonathan’s car with a tall, blond weirdo.”

“So, maybe they have a new friend,” Steve says. He squeezes the handle of his mini-golf putter and watches you walk toward the glow-in-the-dark course. “I need to go talk to Y/N.”

“No!” Nancy hisses, following him as they cut through the crowds. She tucks her phone deep in her purse. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. The Hawkins Hacker is a tall, blond weirdo. Carol didn’t get a good look, but—”

“But you think your boyfriend and Robin are rubbing elbows with a killer? Nance, that’s bullshit.”

“It’s not!” she snaps. “I think that, somehow, that tall blond weirdo is actually Y/N and that girl that you’re going to go talk to is the Hacker.”

“That makes no goddamn sense,” Steve says. “Body-swapping isn’t possible.”

“Just listen to me! I was reading an article in The Weekly Watcher…”

Nancy follows Steve into the course, whispering her findings and bringing up Y/N’s odd behavior as they navigate the dark room lit up with black lights.

The more he listens, the more it makes sense. You’re not acting like yourself. But it still seems too far-fetched.

“I don’t know, Nance,” Steve says, scanning the room for you. “I think you need to stop listening to Robin so much.”

Swish! The beaded curtain leading into the next section of the course rattles as Henry Creel barrels through.

“Nancy! Steve!” he yells. “Watch out!”

Henry pushes them to the side and grabs Y/N’s hand—huh, when did you sneak up behind Steve and Nancy? The Hacker twists your wrist and you cry out.

“Y/N!” Steve shouts, rushing forward to protect you. Before he can, Jonathan and Robin grab his arms.

“No, no, let them fight!” Robin says.

“Let go of me!” Steve snaps.

He watches, helpless, as the Hawkins Hacker punches you between the eyes and you crumple like sand.

“Whoa, cool!” Henry Creel says, turning around and facing the four teens with an excited glimmer in his eye. “I’ve never knocked someone out with one punch before.”

“Wait!” Nancy says. “Am I right?”

“Right about what?” Jonathan asks.

“Did Henry and Y/N…switch bodies?”

Henry (or, Y/N?) puts his hands on his hips.

“Girl, how did you know?”

It all becomes too much for Steve. He blacks out.

🔪🔪🔪

When Steve wakes, he’s lying on the Byers’ couch. Henry Creel sits on a kitchen chair next to him.

Steve opens his mouth to scream.

“Wait!” Henry says. “Steve, don’t freak out. It’s me! I know I look like the Hacker, but it’s Y/N!”

Across the room, the person that looks like you is tied to another kitchen chair.

“Steve, don’t listen to him!” Y/N laments. “He’s crazy! He brainwashed these three idiots into working for him!”

“Who are you calling idiot, idiot?” Robin snaps.

“Steve, I was right,” Nancy explains patiently, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Y/N and Henry Creel have switched places.”

“No!” the tied-up Y/N shrieks. “Please! Steve, look at me.”

Steve turns his head toward her.

“No!” Henry says. “Look at me, Steve.”

Steve turns back toward the Hacker/potential real you.

“Steve!” the tied-up Y/N groans, trying to sound in distress but actually moaning like a Bridgerton reject. “Steve! Steeeeeeeve!”

“Oh, dry up, bitch!” Robin snaps.

“Jesus Christ, Robin!” Henry says. “Don’t talk to him like that when he’s got my face. That’s rude.”

“This is all too much,” Steve says, jumping to his feet. “I—I can’t be here.”

He darts toward the door, but before he can exit the Byers house, Henry stands and says, “We danced together at our freshman year Snow Ball!”

Steve pauses with his hand on the door handle.

“It was in the parking lot,” Henry continues. “You were vaping and I was leaving early, because truthfully, I was having a terrible time. But I saw you, and you saw me, and we split a snowflake-shaped sugar cookie and talked for, like, half an hour. And then someone propped the doors open and we could hear the DJ, and he was playing that creepy ’80s song about always watching someone, and we ragged on the lyrics for being weird and stalker-y. But you asked me if I wanted to dance, and we did for half a minute, and then my dad came to pick me up and I left. But that was the most fun I had had all semester and it gave me a fat, embarrassing crush on you. And I really, really wish I wasn’t a total coward, or I would’ve told you way sooner than our senior year—and when I wasn’t in the body of a serial killer.”

Steve watches the way Henry nervously wrings his hands—he recognizes it as a habit of yours. For a long minute, he’s not sure what to think.

🔪🔪🔪

For a long minute, you’re not sure what to think.

You just blurted out your secret crush on Steve Harrington to Steve Harrington, and he’s staring at you like he doesn’t understand you.

But then, he gives you a small smile.

“Maybe this is weird to say while you’re in the body of a serial killer,” Steve says, “but I have a fat, embarrassing crush on you, too.”

Your heart soars.

“Pathetic,” the fake-you/the Hacker grumbles. “You’re both cowards. I can’t wait to gut you like a fish.”

“That’s enough!” Nancy says sharply, shoving a sock into the Hacker’s mouth. He glares up at her with your face, but Nancy doesn’t even flinch.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Jonathan says, “let’s divide and conquer. I’ll stay here to keep an eye on murder Barbie.”

He nods in the direction of the scowling, incapacitated Hacker.

“And I’ll drive the rest of us to the police station,” Nancy says. “Y/N, you’ll stay in the car while we distract your stepbrother and steal that knife back. He should be the only one working, because everyone else is hunting you. Er, Henry.”

“Knife?” Steve asks. “What knife?”

“It’s a spooky, magic dagger and it’s the reason Y/N and Henry Creel are swapped!” Robin says.

Steve blinks once, twice.

“Right. Totally. That makes sense.”

“Let’s go!” you say. “We have four more hours to do this!”

🔪🔪🔪

While Nancy and Robin go to get the knife, you and Steve wait in the car.

It’s a little awkward, due to the circumstances. When you imagined sitting in the backseat of a car with Steve Harrington, you hoped for something a little more amorous. Not you in the body of the Hawkins Hacker.

You start to feel a little brave and even consider reaching for his hand to hold—when you see the fake you running down the sidewalk and into the station.

“What?!” you say. “How’d he get out?!”

“Shit,” Steve says. “You stay out of sight, I’ll try and stop him.”

“No!” you say. “My stepbrother’s in there! I have to go help. You stay here and call Jonathan! Make sure he’s okay.”

Steve frowns but nods, agreeing to stay behind.

When you bolt into the police station, you see Phil with his hand on his holster, glaring at Robin and Nancy. Fake you feigns a frightened gasp and runs behind him when you enter, and Phil pulls his gun and points it at you. You throw your hands up.

“Don’t shoot!” you squeak.

“Kill him!” Henry says from his hiding spot.

“Don’t! Stop!” Robin and Nancy shout.

You see the spider dagger on the ground by your friends’ feet. Before you can try and grab it, Henry does and runs out of the station.

Phil doesn’t even give him a second look.

“Put your hands behind your head,” he says to you, “and walk slowly into the cell.”

“This is a mistake!” you protest, but following his instructions so you don’t get pumped with lead.

“Please, Officer Callahan,” Robin begs.

“We’re telling the truth,” Nancy says, “just—”

“Quiet, you two!” he barks. “You! Keep walking.”

You gulp and step into the cell.

“Do you remember what I got you for Christmas in 2017?” you ask.

“Shut up,” Phil says. You glance behind. He still has the gun pointed at your back, but you see his hands shaking. And his finger’s not on the trigger.

“It was a pack of limited-edition Pokémon cards,” you continue. “Mint condition. With a holographic Charizard. But I didn’t realize I ordered a rip-off pack called Pokeymans, so it was actually a Chumpizard card.”

“How the fuck do you know that?!” Phil demands, voice shaking in tandem with his hands.

“Because I’m not the Hawkins Hacker!” you say. “I’m really Y/N. And…I’m sorry about this.”

With Henry Creel’s strength, you knock the gun out of Phil’s hands. It skitters across the floor, and you yank him by the arm into the cell.

He stumbles against the back wall and you step out, closing the door and locking him inside.

“HEY!” Phil screams, yanking at the bars. “LET ME OUT!”

“I’m so sorry!” you say. “But it’s really me. I have to hunt that bitch down and stab him with the stolen dagger and then our bodies will switch back and things will be normal again!”

“STAY AWAY FROM MY SISTER!” Phil roars, evidently not buying into the body-swap story.

Touched, you clasp your hands to your chest.

“Wait, you called me your sister!” you say. “Not stepsister! That’s so sweet. You’re my brother, Phil. And I’m going to make things right.”

Phil furrows his brow, confused, as you run out with Nancy and Robin in tow.

Jonathan and Steve meet you three out front.

“Your brother can’t drive for shit!” Steve says. “He just almost ran us over with his squad car.” “That wasn’t Phil!” you say. “It was Henry! He stole his cop car. But why? Where the fuck is he going?”

“Earlier this evening,” Nancy says urgently, “I heard you—uh, him—tell Billy that they should throw a homecoming party at the old mill, since they canceled the real dance.”

“That’s where he lives!" you say. "His homebase. It’s where I woke up this morning.”

“It’s his hunting ground,” Robin says darkly. “No doubt he’ll be killing teens left and right.”

“We have to stop him,” Jonathan says.

“No shit, Byers!” Steve says. “Let’s go!”

🔪🔪🔪

When you arrive at the mill, your group agrees to split up.

“Wait!” Steve says, before you dart off. “Hold out your arm.”

You hesitate and do as he says. He attaches his watch to your wrist.

“I always have it set for five minutes ahead,” Steve explains. “So I’m not late to stuff. So we have 30 minutes to find the Hacker, get the knife, and do the switch.”

“Everyone keep your phones close,” Jonathan says. “Move out!”

You divide and conquer, searching the party of wild, drunk teenagers for the evil man wearing your face. Eventually, you find him in an empty back room — towering over an unconscious Billy with an axe in hand, ready to whack the bully in the skull.

“WAIT!” you yell. “STOP!”

The Hacker freezes and turns, giving you an evil smile. You see the hilt of the magical dagger shining in a sheath attached to his belt.

“It’s you again,” he spits.

“Yes, hi,” you say. “It’s me. And I’m going to ask you to put the axe down before I make you.”

The Hacker cackles.

“Really?” he says. “Even in your pathetic, puny body, I could overpower you in half a second. Plus, this jerk makes your life hell. Don’t you want me to finish him off?”

“No!” you snap. “Because I’m not a monster like you!”

You notice Jonathan in a doorframe behind the Hacker, staying out of his eyeline.

“What’s your problem, man?” you ask, hoping to distract him so Jonathan can take him by surprise. “Why do you kill people?”

“Do you really want to know why?” Henry asks. You nod.

“Well, guess what: there’s no reason. None at all. I kill people because I think it’s fun!”

“You’re sick,” you mutter.

He grins evilly.

“And you’re my next vict—Argh!”

Jonathan interrupts the Hacker’s evil spiel by hitting him in the back of the skull with a fire extinguisher. The murderer crumples to the ground, the axe flying out of his reach.

He doesn’t stay down for long. Thankfully, you’re able to tackle him and snatch the magical knife into your hand.

You raise it above your head, and—

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You gasp and look at Steve’s watch. The timer is done. You’re out of time.

The Hacker laughs and laughs and laughs.

“Shit,” you say, tears of anger and despair welling up in your eyes. “Shit! I’m stuck like this!”

“I win!” the Hacker cackles. “You’ll be tossed in jail, and I’ll be free to keep killing. I think I'll stab your little boyfriend Steve next.”

You’re about to drop the dagger and run, unsure of where to go or what to do, when Jonathan says: “Wait, the clock tower!”

You whip your head over to look at him, brow furrowed.

“The clock tower in the library!” Jonathan continues. “It’s not going off! You still have time!”

Puzzle pieces fall into place.

“Steve sets his watch five minutes ahead,” you say, glancing at your wrist.

Henry Creel’s eyes widen, and then you plunge the dagger into his shoulder.

You feel strange, like you’re floating in the air. Then, suddenly, both you and the Hacker are thrown backward.

When you hazily blink and sit up, you see the Hacker doing the same.

“It worked!” you say, face splitting into a grin.

The Hacker glares at you. You feel a chill down your spine. But before he can do or say anything, your brother swoops in with his gun raised.

“Hands where I can see them!” Phil yells. The Hacker grumbles but obeys. You and Jonathan skirt away from him as Phil slaps handcuffs on the killer and drags him into a squad car.

“Y/N!” Robin shouts, running over with Nancy and Steve in tow. “Are you okay?!”

“I’m okay,” you say. You wince and grip your shoulder. “Except I reopened my shoulder wound, and I think I’m going to have really, really freaky dreams every night for the rest of my life.”

Phil races back over once his colleagues have Henry Creel in custody, fussing over you like a mother (brother) hen. You find yourself seated in the back of an ambulance with a freshly bandaged shoulder.

After Phil steps away to debrief Chief Hopper on the arrest (and to lock the magical dagger away once and for all), Steve wanders over.

“Can I sit here?” he asks, gesturing vaguely next to you on the back bumper of the ambulance. You nod and scoot over.

“How’s your arm?” Steve asks.

“It’s mine again,” you say, “so it feels amazing, despite the stab wound.”

“I’m definitely glad to see you as yourself again,” Steve says, cheeks flushing pink. He looks down at his fidgeting hands, the epitome of bashful, when he adds, “Actually, now that you’re yourself again, I was going to ask if you wanted to go on a date with me sometime.”

Your insides melt.

“Really?” you practically squeal, trying not to sound too eager. “Ah, I mean. That would be cool, or whatever.”

Before you can convince yourself not to, you give Steve a quick kiss on the cheek. He beams at you, but you both roll your eyes when you hear Robin, Jonathan, and Nancy hoot and holler from a few yards away.

Everything will be fine, now. You’ll be fine. That’s what you tell yourself when Phil drives you home and LeAnn gives you a million hugs and says how happy she is that you’re okay. That’s what you tell yourself when you fall asleep after having a lovely text conversation with Steve. That’s what you tell yourself when you have nightmares about being stuck as the Hacker forever, nightmares where he escapes jail and kills you (and everyone you love) once and for all.

But you tell yourself it’s fine, that you’re fine. That nothing is wrong, despite the chill down your spine that can’t quite go away.

🔪🔪🔪

a/n a happy yet spooky ending. is everything really fine? is the hacker really gone for good? maybe I'll write a sequel one day. or maybe I won't, as to not torture y/n any more.

tag list: @hollandweather @starry-eyed-steve @aloneinthehellfire @a-dealwith-god

if any of my mutuals (or anyone else) would like to be tagged in any of my future steve fics, lmk!

#st fic: superfreaky #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n

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magewritesstories · 1 year

Text

Miguel Diaz // Post Break-Up Kisses

I just had an idea and ran with it lol. I got kinda carried away but oh well, Miguel deserves all the love haha. It’s mostly angst but it has a happy ending. I hope y’all like it ‘cause I had a lot of fun writing it

Miguel didn't like it. He didn't like the way Robby's arm seemed to fit around your shoulders perfectly. He didn't like the way Tory laughed and buried her head in your shoulder every time Robby told the two of you a joke. He didn't like the fact that you were sitting there, on a table with them instead of him. No, Miguel didn't like this at all.

He watched as you spun an empty bottle of diet coke, grinning at Robby, who was still recovering from shoving three chilli peppers into his mouth. The bottle seemed to take its time, it kept spinning for a few seconds before finally landing on you.

"Truth or Dare?"

"Well, dare, obviously,"

Tory looked around the room, trying to find a suitable dare after you'd told her to do three cartwheels in the middle of the lounge. Finally, her eyes locked with Sam's. The sinister grin that found its way onto Tory's face made his stomach drop. Something was about to go horribly wrong...

Tory smirked; "I have the perfect dare," You gave her a confused look, something about her tone was off. "I dare you to sing a song of my choosing." Miguel looked at the small karaoke stand next to their table, what was she planning?

"what, no— I... that's embarrassing," you protested, “that’s embarrassing!” Tory just shrugged, “I’ll do it with you.” Miguel watched you give Tory a look before sighing and agreeing in defeat; “I guess a dare’s a dare…” Tory quickly whispered something in Robby’s ear, something that made him grin like a maniac.

The three of you stood up, and while you and Tory walked towards the karaoke stand, Robby made his way to the bartender. Soon enough the mics were connected and music started playing. Miguel saw you say something to Tory and her agreeing.

“Now go stand in the corner and think about what you did” “Ha, time for a little revenge”

“The story starts when it was hot and it was summer And, I had it all I had him right there where I wanted him She came along, got him alone, and let's hear the applause She took him faster than you could say sabotage”

“I never saw it coming, wouldn't have suspected it I underestimated just who I was dealing with She had to know the pain was beating on me like a drum She underestimated just who she was stealing from”

Miguel watched in fascination as you and Tory stood on the small foundation that could barely be called a stage. You were rolling your eyes at Tory’s song choice, the blonde just laughed as she sang along to the song. Miguel listened to the lyrics, thinking back to the evening of Moon’s summer party. The evening he lost you.

“Miguel, look!” You said as the two of you walked down the street towards Moon’s house. It was warm outside for 8 pm, the stars were starting to show and there was a light cold breeze.

Miguel watched you as you walked in front of him, pulling him along with your hands, you pointed to the bright constellation of stars. “That’s Taurus,” You said happily pointing to a cluster of stars, “That’s your zodiac.” Miguel laughed at you, “You don’t actually believe in that, right?”

You stopped in your tracks, crossing your arms with a huff, “Rude,” you said, staring at your boyfriend, “I happen to check my horoscope every week.” Miguel rolled his eyes, “Oh, and what’s so believable about a bunch of stars telling you your personality?” Truth be told; Miguel didn’t care if you believed in it all, but seeing you get so worked up about it made him laugh.

“Well, how about…” You put your hand under your chin, to show you were thinking about it, “Oh, I know, according to our zodiac’s we’re extremely compatible!” Miguel grinned and pulled you closer by your belt loops, putting a hand under your chin, “I don’t need the stars to tell me that,” He leaned in and kissed you, you quickly kissed him back resting your arms on his shoulders. The two of you pulled away, but he kept you in place, moving his hands to your waist he put his forehead against yours.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Hawk shouted from the entrance, “Are you gonna come in or should I send your drinks outside?!”

The two of you pulled away, rolling your eyes at him. “We’re coming, we’re coming,” Miguel replied, lacing his fingers in yours and pulling you along with him to the door. “Finally, took you long enough,” Hawk says moving away front the door, “The party started an hour ago.” You grinned at him, “The party doesn’t start until I arrive,” You said smugly, “Tell that to Larusso and Nichols who are holding a drinking battle outside,” Hawk replied laughing.

You moved away from Miguel to greet Moon and her girlfriend while he went to get the two of you some drinks. You walked around the party, your eyes falling onto Demetri and Hawk, shyly discussing Doctor Who, you smiled– maybe there was hope for those two– The peaceful moment was quickly interrupted by loud cheers. Your eyes moved towards the pool where Tory and Sam were in fact having a drinking battle.

“Tory!” You shouted, waving to your friend as you made your way through the crowd. She just grinned back at you, “Hey, [Y/N/N] you’re just in time to watch me destroy this loser!” Sam scoffed, gulping down her drink, “You wish, Nichols!” Tory smiled, “Sorry, Princess, you can’t win this by demanding it from Mommy and Daddy.”

You rolled your eyes, of course you knew about what had happened at the beach house and why Tory disliked Sam, but you didn’t want your friend hurting herself, “Tory, how many drinks have you had?” you asked looking at her, the blonde shrugged; “I dunno like four… maybe six?”

“She’s had nine,” Robby said from next to you, “Sam’s had eight.” You went to pull Tory down, but Miguel– who’d appeared next to you– stopped you, shaking his head, “Let them do it, it’ll get them over the dumb feud,” You wanted to protest but before you could say anything both girl fell from the chairs.

Robby quickly rushed over to catch Sam, and Miguel caught Tory, “Bath–...Bathroom,” Tory managed to get out, before covering her mouth with her hand. You understood and grabbed her hands, signalling to Miguel that you would meet him later.

You pulled your friend to Moon’s nearest bathroom, leaving your boyfriend and his ex alone by the pool.

Miguel watched you walk away, and looked down at the two cups beside him, I guess those have to wait… He decided to sit down next to Aisha and make some small talk while he waited for you. After a while, when you still hadn’t shown up, he stood up, said goodbye to Aisha and went inside to look for you.

He walked around the main hall, and then went outside to the nearly empty pool area. The party had started to die down, or everybody had made their way to the front lawn. HE sighed, the two of you had decided to skip on date night for this, and now the entire night had gone by and you two hadn’t talked since Hawk interrupted you little moment on the front porch.

“Hey…”

Miguel turned around at the all too familiar voice, “Hey, Sam?” “Miguel, I wanted to talk…” Sam said softly. Miguel thought about it, he couldn’t find you and he didn’t feel like going back inside. “Sure, what about?” She took a step closer to him, fiddling with the ends of her sweater. “About the break-up,” she took another step, they were now standing toe-to-toe. Miguel knew he should take a step back– No, he needed to walk away as soon as she said that sentence– but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“We shouldn't have done it,” Sam said, looking up at him with big brown doe-eyes. Miguel's breath hitched, for a second it felt like his heart had stopped. “We could’ve worked through it, it was a misunderstanding,” Sam said, Miguel stayed silent. “We can still work through it…?” Miguel felt like there was a question mark at the end of that sentence. And really he didn’t know the answer.

“Sam…” Miguel said he didn’t know how to finish that sentence, “I don’t… I don’t know…” Sam seemed to take this as a sign that there was still a part of him that wanted her back. And she took a leap of faith and kissed him. Miguel froze. He knew he should push her away, but again he couldn’t. The memory of their first date, of Senõr Octopus, flashed in his head, and he did the unthinkable. He kissed her back.

It was a brief moment, one that was soon interrupted by the sound of police sirens. The two pulled away quickly, looking at each other for a second, before Miguel took a step back, then two, and the three. He turned on his heels and ran without another word. He doesn’t quite remember what happened after that, except for the sound of police sirens; the look on your face from behind the window, a clear sign you’d seen everything; and him running down three streets chasing after you.

“Miguel!”

The brunette looked away from you still standing on the stage, although it seemed like the song was about to end. “Where did you go, man?” Hawk asks, laughing at his best friend. Demetri was gone, probably getting drinks for them. And Sam was having a one-sided staring contest with the two girls now walking off of the stage.

Tory high-fived Robby, as you laughed, giving her a light shove. The three of you returned to your table, the one that was only two tables away from theirs. Hawk followed his gaze, “Oh,” he said in realisation, “That’s where you went…” Same seemed to snap out of her daze, giving him a look. “I’ll be back,” Miguel said, standing up, “Miguel?” Sam said, hoping he would stay at the table, but no, the brunet was determined to set things straight.

He made his way over to your table, where you’d made yourself comfortable in the booth with a virgin mojito in hand and Tory’s head placed on your shoulder.

“Can we talk?”

“Hello to you too, Miguel.”

You looked up at him, and took a sip of your drink. “Hey,” he replied impatiently, “Can we talk?” You shrugged, “Sure, what do you wanna talk about?” Miguel’s eyes went from Tory to Robby and then back to you, “Alone.” Before you could reply Robby interrupted, “Anything you wanna say in private you can say in front of us,” Robby said, placing a protective arm over your shoulder.

But Miguel didn’t care about what he said, he continued to look at you, waiting for your answer. You looked at your friend and then at the mojito in your hand. “Fine, you have five minutes,” You gave in, standing up.

Miguel grinned, “Don’t make that face,” you said, walking with him, “It’s just five minutes.”

The two of you made your way out of the lounge, away from the people and stench of alcohol. You crossed your arms, trying to warm yourself with friction. You rubbed your hands on your arms. Miguel smiled, you were wearing a knee length red sundress. He remembered it well, you’d gotten it as a christmas present from your grandparents and you’d said you couldn’t wait until it was summer to wear it.

“Well, are you going to say anything?” You said, “Or are you planning to stare at me for five minutes?” Miguel nodded, “I just wanted to talk about what happened at the party,” You rolled your eyes, “You mean the party where you decided to kiss your ex that you convinced me you were completely, 100 percent over?” Miguel winced at your tone, but he knew he deserved it.

“I– I don’t have an excuse for what happened–”

“Good, I wasn’t planning on accepting one.”

“I just wanted to apologise–”

“I think I got that after you sent me 50 messages and 20 missed calls.”

You were clearly still mad about it, understandably. You continued rubbing your arms and tapped your foot as a sign of impatience. Miguel took off his jacket and held it out to you. You eyed it before taking it from him, “I’m only taking it because it goes with the outfit,” You said, putting on the black denim jacket. Miguel laughed, “Of course,” he said nodding gravely, with a grin placed on his face.

“Is that all you wanted to say?” You asked, pulling the jacket over your body like an English teacher. Miguel’s face went back to serious, “I miss you.” You seemed taken aback by the comment. You’d expected a lot of things when you walked out the lounge; apologies, excuses, maybe even some tears, but you hadn’t expected him to say those words outright.

“I miss you, and I was stupid, and I made a horrible mistake, and I shouldn't have kissed Sam, and I’m sorry and I want you back and… and…” He stopped not really knowing how to continue.

You looked at him scanning his face, taking a step closer to him, you sighed, you would be lying if you said you hadn’t missed him as well. “I missed you too,” You said, and a happy expression crossed his face but you were quick to shut it down, “But you were wrong and I don’t forgive you.”

“What can I do to make you forgive me?” He asked, pleading eyes, he would’ve done anything in that moment anything you’d asked of him. “I don’t know Miguel,” You said shaking your head, “You hurt me and I– I don’t know if I can forgive you yet…” “Please I’ll do anything, I want you to forgive me,” He took a step closer to you, but you turned your head away from him. Hoping the action would somehow stop the tear welling up in your eyes from falling.

“I don’t know okay, I just– I just don’t trust you anymore,” You said wiping away the tears that had started to fall, “I don’t know if any of it was real, I–” “Of course it was real,” Miguel said, holding onto you, his hand placed on your arms, “All of it was real,” he said leaning down looking at you, “Kissing Sam was a mistake, I realised that as soon as it happened.” You shook your head, “No– No,” you said, “You shouldn't need to kiss her to realise you like me,” you looked into his eyes, big brown beautiful eyes, “You– You should’ve known it before, if… if it takes you kissing another girl to realise you like me, I’d rather you not like me at all.”

Miguel shook his head, "No, don't say that," He said grabbing your arms softly. He leaned down, trying to make eye contact, “Please... Don’t say that.”

The two of you stood there for a second, both of you unsure of what to do next. Miguel let his hands fall into your and leaned down. You two stood there for a few seconds, taking in each other.

“I’m sorry... for everything.”

“I know.”

You were the one to pull away first. The two of you stared into each others eyes. Oh they were so comforting... Taken in by the moment Miguel leaned in and so did you.

You stood there, standing on you tip-toes hands in his hair, his arms wrapped around your waist, lips colliding feverishly. And for the first time in months, everything felt right.

Miguel was the one who pulled away first; eyes wide, cheshire cat grin on his face, hair even more messed up than it already was. You stared at him, lips a little open from shock, lipstick a little smudged and a few forgotten tears still falling down your face.

He placed his hands on your face, wiping away the tears that were still falling and you mirrored actions, a small giggle escaped your lips as the two of you stood there hands on each other’s faces both looking like messes.

At first Miguel gave you a weird look before he started laughing as well. And just like that the two of you were laughing in each others arms, and all the tension that had built up in the last two months was gone.

“I missed you, so much,” Miguel repeated, this time thourgh laughs instead of tears. And all of a sudded you remembered why you loved being with him so much, why you loved him so much. Being with him was simple, easy, it felt right.

You laughed into his chest, as a grin split onto your face. When was the last time you’d laughed like this? Miguel pulled away, grabbing your face again and placing a kiss on your lips.

You gave him a smile, a genuine one, and took a step back. “We should probably go back inside,” You say turning around, trying– and failing– to compose yourself.

Miguel grabbed your hand from behind and twirled you around, “Wait!” he said, “Let’s do this properly.” You tilt your head slightly to the right, and scrunch your eyebrows together in confusion.

“Let’s go on a date,” He suggests, “You, me, milkshakes at Denny this Saturday,” took a step towards her, “Like we used to do.”

You think about it for a second, were you ready to forgive him? One look at unsure smile on his face and you know the answer.

“Okay,” You say, smiling widely at him, and without another word you turn back around pushing the doors to the lounge open, Miguel following closely behind you.

word count: 2989 (yeah, I got carried away lol)

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