#doubt season 4 epilogue

[helen-with-an-a]

The object that stood in the way of a World Cup

Hi. So this is going to be a 2 part (maybe 3 part) story that I've had floating in my head for a while now.

It's angsty - I do want it to end with a fluffy end, but it's getting a little too long to be 1 thing ahahaha. Anyways.

Ona Batlle x Reader

TW: Angst, no direct mention of bad mental health, but it's clear R ain't ok.

Word count: 3.3k

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Epilogue

Flashbacks are written in Italics; for anyone not aware of the British school system GCSEs you take at 16 (you have 3 or 4 choice subjects and 5 or 6 compulsory subjects) and A-levels you take at 18 (you choose 3 or 4 subjects)

Description: R sees Ona again for the first time since their breakup

This is what you had been waiting for. All summer. All year. Hell, probably all your life. The World Cup Final. And the thought absolutely terrified you.

Your first thought after the final whistle wasn’t one of joy or happiness. You weren’t elated like Lessi or Tooney who barrelled into you and squeezed you so tight it hurt. You weren’t jumping for joy like Gee, Kiera and Lucy who manhandled you into the middle of their huddle. You weren’t screaming so loud your voice went hoarse like Hempo and Es. You weren’t standing in disbelief like Mearps and Millie.

Your first thought was of your ex- girlfriend, friend-with-benefits, situationship, Ona. Your first thought was of Ona. Spain had won against Sweden yesterday. And now you had won against Australia. The last time you had seen her was not a fun experience for you. Screaming. Tears. Spiteful words she didn’t mean. But that was the last time you spoke to her. It had been a long 8 months without her.

You weren’t quite sure what you were to each other when you were both at United. You had met on her first day. You were meant to be her buddy. The management had asked around during pre-season if anyone spoke any Spanish. You had done it at A-level, so you stuck your hand up. Barcelona was The Dream for you, so you had tailored your studies at school as much as you could to help you achieve it – taking Spanish at GCSE and A-level and continuing to watch Spanish shows and reading books to help you maintain it. You weren’t fluent but you knew enough that it would help Ona feel more comfortable. And you clearly had.

After winning the first derby of the season, the team had gone for drinks. Alcohol flowed, inhibitions were lost, and boundaries were blurred as Ona ended up in your bed. You had thought it would be a one-time thing. A drunken mistake that wasn’t much of a mistake to you. And it was … until it wasn’t. The next time it happened was at your birthday. And then her birthday. And then the end of the season. And then alcohol wasn’t a factor in taking you both to bed. She was suddenly all around you. Her jumpers were in your wardrobe. Her football boots were by the door. Her stuff was in the shower. Her snacks were in the cupboard. You had never spoken about what you were, but you drove her to training, she cooked you her mother's dishes, you snuggled into her side when watch your show, she slept in your bed every night.

And then it all came crashing down.

November 2022

You knew you needed to tell her as soon as possible. You wanted to tell her the news that had you pouncing on her the moment she stepped through the door. You were happy and giddy and so, so excited. You hadn’t thought that she wouldn’t be all of those things for you. You had made no secret that Barcelona was your dream. Everyone know that if Barcelona came knocking you would be gone without a doubt in your mind. You had received a phone call from your manager that afternoon.

“Hey, Y/N. Are you free to talk? There’s an offer for you.” Paul said down the phone. He sounded composed but happy, it intrigued you.

“Yeh, I’m free. What’s the offer? It’s mid-season though and I’m out of contract in the summer, why are they wanting to talk now?” You were questioning but not closed off. You knew joining a team mid-season would be hard but not impossible.

“Well… it’s Barca. They’ve but in an offer for you.” You were in complete shock. Barca wanted you. You were going to play for Barcelona. That’s all you’ve ever wanted. You screamed. It was the only thing you could think of. “I’ll take that as a yes, then?” Paul laughed. He knew Barca was the dream. He’d already written up the acceptance email.

“Oh my god! Of course it’s a bloody yes. I’m gonna play for Barcelona” You shouted.

“They want you to sign on the first day of the January signing window. It’ll be announced just after El Clásico. Is that ok with you? It gives you a couple of months to get everything sorted. And since United haven’t played in the Champions League, you aren’t cup tied or anything.”

You were floating on a cloud of happiness when the door clicked open. Ona was back from having a ‘Spanish Day’ with all the Spaniards living in Manchester. She had barely made it into the living room when you jumped her. Lips trailing everywhere you could reach. She laughed that gorgeous sound as you shoved her gently to the bedroom, her coat slipping off as you went.

You lay with your head against the pillows, hair fanned out to the side. You were sweaty and out of breath in the best way. Ona collapsed down next to you, her arms quickly wrapping around your waist.

“I had a phone call today.” You said nonchalantly. “From Paul,” you added as you tucked the duvet around the both of you. “There’s been an offer for me in the January window”. She looked at you expectantly. “Oni, Voy a jugar para el Barcelona” you breathed out. She stiffened in your arms.

“Qué quieres decir, amor?” She choked out after a few moments of silence, sitting up and moving away from you. You knew she wanted to go back to Spain, go back to Barca … but this was not the reaction you were expecting.

“Paul phoned. They’ve put in an offer for me for the January window. I’m signing on the 1st with it being announced after El Clásico.” You stated the facts. The simple outline of the facts that made you feel so, so happy.

“Are we not going to talk about this? You can’t leave in the middle of the season. United need you. We need you…. I need you, amor” She started off loud, angry, and upset, but by the end of the sentence it was barely a whisper. You had never seen Ona so… you could describe the look on her face. The way her body seemed slumped over in sadness.

“Hey… hey. No, don’t think like that. I’m here until the break. We’ve got a month or so. Everything will be fine, Oni. You are well aware that Barcelona is only a few hours on a plane. Everything will be fine!” She seemed to accept your comforting words.

But everything wasn’t fine.

There was a shift in the relationship arrangement whatever this was. Fewer jumpers were in your wardrobe. When she ran out of body wash, she didn’t replace it with a new bottle. Less of her snacks were added to your weekly shopping list. You still drove her to training but her music no longer blasted out of the speakers. She still cooked for you but there were never leftovers for the next day. She still slept in your bed, but she held onto your arm rather than curling up on top of you.

And then it was the Christmas break. Your last day at United. You weren’t sad to be leaving the club. But you were sad to be leaving the people. Of course, you knew you would see some of them during the international windows and whenever you came home but it wasn’t the same. Once again, the alcohol in your system led you to be on top of Ona. The first time you had done anything since you told her about your move. Something felt different this time. She was leaving to go back to Spain the following morning and you wouldn’t see her again before you left.

You woke up with a slight headache, but that wasn’t what pulled you from your sleep. Catalan came drifting across the flat. Ona was awake, and by the temperature of the bed, she had been for a while.

“Hey. Qué ocurre? Qué pasó?” She was pacing the living room, muttering away to herself. “Oni? Hey, estás bien?” She wasn’t paying any attention to you. “Ona”. Your hands rested on her shoulders, halting her scattered movements.

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped. You jumped at the harshness in her tone.

“What’s wrong, Oni?” You asked again.

“I can’t do this.” She answered back. Her tone just as sharp. You knew what she was implying but you hoped you were wrong.

“This being…?” You trailed off.

“Us.” She stated simply. You waited a heartbeat, hoping she would realise you would do anything for her.

“It’s not like there was really an ‘us’ to begin with!” She spat at you. You felt your heart begin to splitter into a thousand pieces. Ona was looking for an argument. She was terrified you’d leave her behind at Manchester without a second look. Ona was hopelessly in love with you. She had been for some time. It wasn’t fast or scary. It was subtle and peaceful. One day she had woken up next to you and she knew it was you. It would always be you. But she didn’t know if she was yours. You were never a tactile person but with Ona, you always had some form of body contact. She thought it little of it. She was Spanish after all, touching your friends was fairly normal – she didn’t realise that you didn’t hug Lessi or Tooney unless they forced themselves at you. She didn’t consider how you were quick to shake off Mary or Maya’s arms. To you, and to everyone else but Ona, it was really obvious that she was yours and you were hers. You just hadn’t had the ‘what are we’ conversation yet. She was also jealous. Barca wanted you. Her home wanted you. Not her. Never mind that her agents had mentioned that Barca wanted her in the summer when she was out of contract. Barca offered money for you. Barca wanted you so badly that they offered a record-breaking fee in the middle of a season. She was scared, angry and jealous. How was she to know that you rarely argued back with someone? How was she to know that your easy-going nature was a result of growing up in a household where shouting was the norm? How was she to know that your mild-mannered temperament was due to your habit of placating your family to stop the noise? You had never told her that particular part of your childhood.

So, she hit you where she knew it would hurt the most, hoping to get a reaction out of you. “Eres sólo un polvo rápido. Fácil. Nada mas para mi. Something to pass the time. I don’t even know why Barca want you, honestly. No eres lo suficientemente buena.” She waited for a reply, but none came. She waited for you to lash out at her. Snap. Do something to make this … breakup? … easier. She wanted to be able to hate you in the same way she was trying to make you hate her. She did the second most painful thing she could think of. She spun on her heels and marched out the door.

You knew she was lying… you think. You hoped she was lying. You knew Ona could get mean when she was upset or scared. You had witnessed it after a particularly bad game – her harshness, her biting words. But she had said those words with such conviction, and you couldn’t think of a reason as to why she would be scared or upset. It had been a wonderful night. Laughter, soft touches exactly where you needed them, and love. You could feel the love between the two of you. Every lingering touch, every passionate kiss, ever whispered word. Everything was done with love, for the pure enjoyment of the other. Everything was perfect.

You're just a quick fuck. Easy. Nothing more to me. Was that all you were to her? Did the late nights mean nothing to her? Did the secrets you whispered into her hair mean anything? Were all the promises she made you lies? Was everything she ever said to you just so she could get her regular fix? Did she really think you weren’t good enough for Barcelona? She knew her opinion of you and your football meant a lot to you. Was every reassurance that you were good enough for the starting XI mean nothing? Was every calming word when you were waiting for Sarina’s call false? Did she genuinely think that you weren’t good enough?

You were in a daze all throughout Christmas. Seeing you family was fun, but you couldn’t shake the clouds in your mind. When you met with the some of the Lionesses in Manchester in between Christmas and New Year, everyone could tell something was wrong. You were normally on the quieter side, preferring to listen rather than speak. But you didn’t really do either. You were just there; not contributing to conversations or laughing along like you usually would. Something was wrong but no one knew what. And then you were on a plane, staring out the window as you watched Spain get closer and closer. You had never been to Spain outside of camps and tournaments. Ona had promised to take you there, to show you Barcelona, to show you her home. But you had to make it your home without her by your side.

And now you were about to play Ona in a World Cup Final.

Lucy knew something was eating at you in the days leading up to the final. She had phoned Leah to come to the hotel to cheer the whole team up and boost morale. It had worked for the other girls but not you. Kiera phoned Alexia as well. But the comforting words had washed straight over you. Everyone thought that it was because you were facing the Barca girls. No one in Barcelona knew of your history with Ona beyond that of teammates at United. If she was ever in town for a quick break, you always, miraculously, had other plans you couldn’t get out of. They didn’t know you lied and hid yourself away in your flat – moving your car a few streets along and leaving your phone off so the location couldn’t be tracked. You’d even gone so far as to phone up Hayley Raso in Madrid to ask if you could come visit her when you found out Ona would be at a team bonding event due to her free schedule coinciding with game-less weekend for Barca. Hayley was a little confused, but you were close enough friends from your time at Manchester that she didn’t question it.

Ona’s words had stayed with you. Every time you failed gave the ball away, passed a too-wide cross, or missed a shot on goal, her words echoed in your mind. You’re not good enough. The venom lacing her tone permeated your brain. You pushed yourself hard then ever before. You went for runs before training to improve your stamina, stayed late to practice free kicks and penalties. You lifted heavier weights and broke your old PBs in the gym. You were eating correctly and always seemed cheery enough, so no one really questioned it. Slowly the muscles started to grow. You were always on the stockier side, the muscles you had slowly built up helping you with your defence. But now you were really built. Your muscles were obvious, even under looser fitting clothes. Not that you really wore loose clothes anymore. At first, it was because everyone on the team, everyone in Barcelona, looked good. Their styles were just rubbing off on you, you had justified to yourself. But eventually, the tops became tighter and shorter. The trousers became low rise, and the hemlines became higher. The Barca Glow Up (and Lotte had coined it) was definitely real. You told yourself it was for you. The clothes you were wearing, the muscles you liked to show off, was because you were proud of them. Which you were. But you couldn’t lie to yourself for long. The Barca media frequently posted game day fits. You knew Ona followed Barca. You knew you would appear on her timeline. Yes, you were a little more tired than you used to be. But that was fine. You didn’t tell anyone the words that rattled around in your head when you were alone. You were fine. Everything was fine. You were playing the best football of your life at Barca. You were a key part of their defence, making your way into the Starting XI quickly and constantly proving your worth in every game.

You were fine. Ok, you hadn’t had sex, or even looked at another girl, since Ona arriving in Spain. Ok, you had to have some form of noise constantly in the background because every time there was silence your thoughts drifted back to Manchester. Ok, you couldn’t be around Ingrid and Mapi or anyone else in a relationship for too long otherwise you might start crying. Ok, you were still very much broken hearted. But you were fine. You weren’t necessarily good, but you were fine

The morning of the final, you were quiet. But everyone was, even Tooney. The buzz of anticipation. The air of expectation. Everyone was doing their own pre-match routine. You had followed yours to the letter. A gentle walk alone this morning followed by breakfast. A full bottle of water on the coach to the stadium. Pitch inspection with Less and Tooney. Warm up with Lucy and Millie. Hair slicked into a bun. A spray of perfume and into the tunnel to walk out.

She was standing just a head of you. Perfect. Breath-taking. Even with her game face on and her concentration as Irene spoke to her, you could see the usual kindness in her features. Those soft warm eyes that you had been lost in far too often. The freckles that littered her skin that you had traced and played dot-to-dot with as you laughed sleepless nights away. The braid that you used to tug on to get her attention before a match that always made her smile and break her focus. You knew you were still desperately in love with her. You shook your head. You couldn’t let her get to you. Not now. Your walls went back up as you pushed all thoughts from her mind. She wasn’t your Oni – even though you knew in your heart she would always be that to you –, she was the object that stood in your way of a World Cup. As Jess and Alex pulled your attention away from the Spanish players, you missed her looking at you.

She knew you had more muscle than before but seeing you in the flesh was something else. Your eyes that have the ability to truly look at a person, looked a little more tired than she was used to. The genuine smiled that was a defining feature for you was replaced with a hard line and a smirk every now and again. She thinks you have had a haircut since being in Barca – your bun wasn’t as big as it used to be in Manchester. She wanted nothing more than to trace her fingers gently over the new scar just above your eyebrow. She knew exactly how you got it. She watched every game of yours, live if she could – on repeat if she couldn’t. You had collided with a player during Chelsea Champions League match. She had been so terrified she almost picked up the phone to call you several times. She did play a little more brutally the next time she faced Chelsea. She had been carded after she left a particularly nasty tackle on the girl that had hurt you. She didn’t know that you also watched all of her games. She didn’t know that you also wanted to phone her after that match but was so scared of her rejection. But right now, you weren’t her Amor – even though you would always be that to her –, you were the object that stood in her way of a World Cup.

Part 2 will probably be out fairly quickly as a lot of it is already written but yeh

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso soccer #barca femeni x reader #barca femeni #fc barcelona #manchester united #man utd #man utd women

[gingerlurk]

Lovers' Crest Masterlist | Complete

Din Djarin x f!Reader Rating: Explicit - 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), canon-typical violence, eventual smut/filth, angst & hurt/comfort, post season 3, Reader is a rich runaway, also a badass, has a back story, (hair type and length suitable for a braid mentioned twice), working on updating specifics for each chapter, smut: masturbation, fingering, hand jobs, unprotected piv (be safe), creampies, multiple orgasms, oral sex (m! receiving), oral sex (f!receiving), slow and sloppy, touch of edging, face-sitting.

Summary: The Mandalorian is off-kilter. This was an unusual job from the off, but it kept getting stranger.

He thought he would be picking up a spoiled little heiress. How she had ended up in the middle of an unsanctioned and bloody conflict, been taken prisoner, and held at an old empire sprawl, didn’t interest him enough to look into, frankly. But he was at least expecting a supplicant and willing thing that would fall to her knees and be grateful to be getting taken home.

Instead, it’s you.

Chapter 1: The Heiress Chapter 2: The Mechanic Chapter 3: The End Chapter 4: The Estate Chapter 5: The Family* Chapter 6: The Boy Chapter 7: The Doubt Chapter 8: The Heist Chapter 9: The Save Chapter 10: The Confessional Chapter 11: The Question* Chapter 12: The Visit Chapter 13: The Stranger* Chapter 14: The Sight* Chapter 15: Lovers Break Chapter 16: The Bounty Hunter Chapter 17: The Forged Chapter 18: The Assassin Chapter 19: The Bloodied Chapter 20: The Confessional II Chapter 21: The Answer* Epilogue

Bonus Honey*

*Smut

Completed on AO3.

Thanks hearts and kisses.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #mandalorian and grogu #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin fic #the mandalorian x f!reader #what else do you put here #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Epilogue

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Epilogue Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 3707 Warnings: major angst, major fluff, mentions of murder, graphic descriptions of dead bodies, crime scenes, near-death experiences, slow-burnish romance, death, canon violence, rape, swearing, guns, knives, prostitution, canon cuteness of the team. Spoilers: Maeve's death, mentions of previous cases or canon events from seasons 1-10.

Spencer and you have an unspoken connection with one another. Nothing has ever happened between you two, especially since everything went down with Maeve, but your love has grown and overcome and is now clear as day to everyone. However, just when Spencer builds up enough courage to ask you out officially, you're requested on an undercover mission that halts your budding relationship in its tracks.

Months go by without a word from you until bodies of prostitutes start showing up in New York and the BAU is brought in to help. Spencer and you finally reunite as both your cases collide, but your lives and your love are both on the line now.

Will you and Spencer be able to find the way back home this time?

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Epilogue

~~~

The water ran hot against your skin as you lathered your body in soap. The bubbles formed quickly from how fast you scrubbed yourself. You didn't like taking showers. Actually, that wasn't entirely true. Showers were both simultaneously the best and worst part of your day since returning home from the hospital.

Your fingers barely brushed across your skin, swiping the soap over and back a few times before you washed it off. You didn't like the feel of fingers lingering too long on your skin. Objectively, you were much better than you were before. The first time the nurses tried showering you, you almost screamed the hospital down as flashbacks and phantom touches invaded your brain.

You turned the shower off and stepped out of it. You didn't look in your mirror, immediately reaching for a towel to cover yourself up with. The towel helped you feel less... vulnerable, even if you were all alone.

Only then did you look in the mirror. It had already been one month since you'd left the hospital after being cooped up in there for two weeks. Today actually marked the day you were told you had to leave for the mission - exactly one a year ago. You were now back in your old apartment in DC - Hotch had pulled in a favour from the FBI to keep paying your rent until you came back, and you had almost choked him to death with the strong hug you'd given him when the team had brought you home.

Home.

The word brought a smile to your face. Well, it wasn't so much the word as it was the images that came to mind with it. Your apartment, the BAU, the team, the Italian restaurant downstairs you always used to visit before you left. A certain genius with unruly hair and the brightest smile in the world...

After this weekend, I'll be seeing that smile everyday, you thought as you quickly dried off and rushed to pull some casual shorts and an over-sized gym t-shirt on. Just the thought of being exposed for too long freaked you out.

You walked out to your lounge room where you were greeted with the afternoon light that would no doubt be setting soon. For a moment, you just allowed yourself to take in your street, standing so close to your floor-to-ceiling window that if you leaned forward you would bump your nose against it. The golden light of the setting sun reflected in fragments off the windows of other apartments; people were already home from work and walking the streets with their loved ones or dogs. The hardware store across the road was closing up, but the lights for the Italian restaurant downstairs flickered on, telling the world they were ready for business.

It had been killing you to stay away from work - Hotch and Penelope had made it very clear they didn't want you anywhere near the office until you had taken your month off to recover and readjust back into life. But, in hindsight, you were glad they had. You'd found a new appreciation of where you lived, reacquainted yourself with what you liked to do and liked to eat and liked to go watch at the movies.

This past month had almost wiped Serena Vanderguff from existence... and you couldn't tell if you liked that yet or not.

A sudden knock at your door knitted confusion in your eyebrows as you looked curiously at the entrance to your home. You spared a glance at the clock hanging on the wall. What's someone doing here at quarter-to six on a Friday afternoon?

You softly padded over to the door and peeped through the spyglass that allowed you to see whoever it was that knocked at the door. You couldn't stop your wide smile of delight at who greeted you outside. Without wasting another second, you unlocked the multiple locks on your door and swung the blasted thing open to welcome the one and only Dr. Spencer Reid.

'Spence!' you exclaimed. 'What a lovely surprise!'

'Hey!' he replied just as enthusiastically. 'I was on my way home from the office and thought I'd stop by.'

It was only then you noticed he was holding a big and beautiful bouquet of your favourite flowers. 'Goodness, Spence, you didn't have to bring me flowers again.' He'd been bringing you flowers once a week every week since you'd been found. Even when you were still in the hospital, those two weeks he had brought you the same flowers, the ones you loved.

He just smiled that adorable smile of his before responding. 'I read somewhere that florals can produce a high level of endorphins and serotonin,' he explained as he offered them out to you, lips still upturned in a crooked, adorable smile. 'And ever since that sewerage pipe break in your building, there's always been a lingering smell that I thought you could use help covering up.'

'That was over a year ago, though!' you argued weakly, but took the flowers from his hands anyways. Your fingers briefly brushed, and it sent a jolt of electricity through you. It was gone as quickly as it came.

You gestured for him to come inside and he did. From your front door the kitchen was easily accessible, which is where he walked to and leant against the counter. You quickly closed the door and followed after him, heading straight for your flowers from last week sitting wilted in their vase.

'And in all that time, they still haven't managed to fix it,' Spencer added jokingly, but the upward pull of his lips wasn't as high now.

You heard what he really meant as you pulled out the dead flowers, filled the vase with fresh water, and placed the new flowers in. All that time...

A lot has happened in that time. Upon your release from the hospital, Khan had been put in jail alongside many of his goons. Madame Lacroix and the other New York club managers were found guilty of human trafficking and dealing in illicit drugs and contraband, and were all thrown in jail and their clubs were shut down. Turned out it was a national operation that Khan was running, and other units of the FBI in other states were currently hunting them all down.

What made you happy though was that the girls you saved were going home, and for those that didn't have homes, they were being found homes of their own. The older girls that worked at the clubs were a different story. Some packed up and left town, wanting to travel or find new work elsewhere. The rest bought up the clubs and were rebranding themselves, taking ownership of their lives. Now they were the ones in charge.

You looked at Spencer, leaning casually against your counter, the light of sunset haloing him as it reflected off the opposite building into your apartment.

And a lot still hasn't happened.

'So, what's the occasion?' you asked, turning to face Spencer, finally finished with the flowers. You crossed your arms and couldn't help the soft smile that pulled at you lips. 'To what do I owe the pleasure of the great Dr. Spencer Reid in my apartment this evening?'

He chuckled at my posh delivery, and the loose curls dangling across his forehead bounced with the sound. It had grown in the time since he'd found you, but he'd cut it once or twice since then to keep it at that perfect length of long-short - long enough to style gorgeously but short enough to be considered clean-cut and suitable for work.

The urge to rake your fingers through the curls itched at your fingertips, and you were so glad your hands were crossed under your armpits.

'I was meant to come in earlier this week like I usually do,' he started, pushing off the counter to wander past the kitchen and into the lounge, ultimately ending up looking out the window as you had been just before. 'But the amount of paperwork we've had piling up this month has been ridiculous, even I was starting to hate looking at endless towers of paper to read then sign.'

'Oh no,' I drawled out, following him to the window with a teasing smirk on my lips. 'Has the great Dr. Reid finally met his match?'

'Not quite,' he replied, still staring out the window.

It was hard not to look at him as the sunlight lit up his amber eyes,. He was simply... ethereal.

'I finished it all, finally,' he continued, 'and thought I'd pay you a visit. Seeing as it's Friday and there are no new cases, I'm not expected in the office tomorrow.'

I blew out a low whistle. 'Wow. A whole weekend to yourself? That's unheard of.'

'Yeah.' His voice was breathy, and you noticed the emotion in his gaze shift as he turned away from watching the world to look at you. A sad smile appeared on his lips, eyes glazing over with a mixture of relief and exhaustion. 'I've missed you.'

'You saw me last week,' you countered, like a mother placating a child. 'And we text and call like everyday.'

'I know. It's just like old times again, but...'

He paused, as if gathering his next words carefully. Spencer always thought about his words so that people understood him the best possible way. It was one of the things you positively adored about him.

'The office is, I don't know, empty somehow,' he said finally, slowly. 'I know that's a silly thing to say when Morgan and JJ and Penelope and everyone else is there, but... Your desk still sits there, waiting for you to come back. And I kept it clean for over a year, almost willing you to come back any of those days.'

You smiled softly at him. 'Well, you don't have to wait much longer. Monday morning, bright and early, I'll be at my desk ready to go.'

Your eyes met and you could tell he was holding back tears. Your words came out quiet but true. 'I've missed you too, Spence.'

You had always been attuned to each other, the team sometimes joking that you both shared the same brain cells (even though, as Spencer claimed continuously, that was not anatomically possible). The sentiment remained true as you and him reached out to one another and wrapped your arms tight around each other.

Reflexively, your breath caught in your throat, and you were thrown back to that night where Khan defiled you in the most brutal of ways.

Spencer noticed you tense, and he pulled back slightly. 'Is this okay?" he asked gently. He had been there when you had your meltdown at the nurses; he knew what Khan had done to you, and how you would never be same because of it.

His arms were warm and gentle around you, and that horrible memory disappeared. You were with Spencer. You were safe. You were home.

You took a moment to catch your breath, to stabilise yourself in the present once more, and pulled him in tighter. 'Yes. This is okay.'

After your permission, his arms tightened around you, and there you stayed for a while longer. Just hugging while the rest of the world passed you by. With your ear pressed to his chest, you knew both your hearts were beating in time with one another.

Synced. Linked. Two halves of a whole.

Your heart practically screamed for him when he and the team had found you, saved you. It had been screaming for over a month since that day, and you knew it would never stop screaming for him.

I would've said yes.

Neither of you had said anything about what you'd said, what you had confirmed. Everything had just happened so quickly, and then Spencer had been busy with work since the team was a man down until you returned.

You'd stolen what you could in your brief touches, the laughs you shared, the scent of the flowers that hung in your apartment for a week before he brought a new set. And despite all he had done to get you back, despite that night at the Chateau - What would you have said? - you'd just been too much of a coward to see if he still felt that way for you.

Because nothing had changed for you. It never would.

You had two days before your life would go back to semi-normal, and by then it would be too difficult, too complicated. Oh screw it, it's complicated already.

You pulled apart from Spencer, disentangling yourself from him completely. As much as you wished to hold him forever, you needed to have your space if you had any hope of finally getting the words out.

'Hey, you okay?' he asked, noticing your tensed form, your fidgety fingers.

'Yeah, I just...'

You took in a deep breath, closed your eyes, and let out that breath. Now or never, Y/N.

Opening your eyes, you spoke. 'I just don't think I've ever thanked you for checking in on me. I know how busy you can be.'

'There's no need,' he replied, a soft smile adorning his face. 'I'll always come to your aid. You're... so dear to me, Y/N.'

Hope sparked in your chest, the only driving force for you to keep speaking. 'I mean it. You literally saved my life in the Warehouse. I had resigned myself to my fate: that I would never see you or Pen or Derek or JJ or the rest of the team again. I knew you'd find me, but I had made peace with dying before that point.'

You sucked in a steadying breath as the dark memories started to claw their way back into your brain, into your heart. Phantom fingers ghosted over your skin, causing you cross your arms again in attempt to protect yourself from them.

'And then Khan... used me,' you managed to get out, words strained and voice croaky as tears formed at the rim of your eyelids.

Spencer's expression turned into one of concern. 'You don't have to talk about this if you don't want to, Y/N,' he offered, amber eyes scanning me all over for signs that I would breakdown.

I shook my head. 'No. I need to tell you this. I need you to understand.'

'Understand what?'

'That this past month I have had to learn to re-love myself again, to re-love my body and what it did for me that day.' I forced my arms down beside me, opening myself up completely to Spencer. 'It hasn't been easy, and sometimes... I've hated myself, instead. And the scars run deeper than my skin shows and may last for a long time - possibly for the rest of my life.'

You tell yourself to be brave for a moment, and you look directly into Spencer's eyes, which shine with unshed tears and something else you can't quite figure out.

'But you... Dr. Spencer Reid,' you started, tears finally falling from your eyes as the brightest smile spread across your face. 'You have made me believe in hope again. Hope, that I might one day be rid of this hatred for myself and my body. Hope, that I can carry this trauma and still live a full life. Hope, that I can be more than what Walter Khan made of me that night.'

A hysterical chuckle escapes you, and you wipe some of the tears away. There was a silent voice in the back of your head saying how ridiculous you are for crying over this. But that voice was all of hatred, of jealously. It has been the voice you've let dictate your feelings for over a month.

But, today, you were done listening to it.

'Hope, that... you love you me as much as I love you, Spencer.'

There, you said it. Relief bombarded the space where the weight of those words had held a huge place in your heart for the longest time. Since before the mission, before Maeve, before you even knew you were in love with him. It was out there, now. There was no going back.

Spencer remained silent, staring at you like you had three heads. Slight panic coursed coldly through you, and suddenly your mouth was motoring, words just flying out one after the other.

'That's not me asking you to say it back or anything. I just... oh my goodness, screw it. I have been in love with you forever, Spencer, and I just wanted to let you know because you have taken up such a huge part of my heart that will never belong to anyone else, and-'

'You love me?'

You paused at Spencer's question, locking eyes with the boy genius and seeing a mixture of disbelief and that same emotion again, the one you couldn't put a finger on. Perhaps it was terror, and that one thought had your heart sinking like the Titanic.

'Yeah,' you replied quietly.

'...How long?'

'Sorry?'

'How. Long.'

You rubbed at your eyes, suddenly avoiding his gaze by looking simply anywhere else. It was all going so horribly wrong. But he'd asked a question. And you would do anything, answer anything, if he asked.

'I think I've loved you since the day I met you,' you said, and it was only when you'd spoken the words did you realise how cliche you sounded. A humourless laugh escaped you at your misery.

'I didn't realise until a few years later, though,' you continued. 'But by the time I did, I found out you had a secret girlfriend in Maeve and you were just so happy I couldn't possibly ruin what we had because of that. And I never tried after because you were grieving and I didn't want you to think I was rushing you or pushing you too soon. But then you asked me, and I was so happy, but then it all just went downhill from there. Goodness, this is all coming out horribly wrong-'

'Stop talking.'

'Wha- Mph!'

Your question was swallowed by Spencer Reid's lips as he cradled your face in his hands and pulled you to him, pressing his lips passionately against yours. He tasted like Halloween sweets and fresh air, and that just made you close your eyes and melt into him more. The kiss wasn't frantic. Rather, it was sweet and loving and you couldn't get enough of him. Even as you weaved your fingers into his luscious hair and tugged on them gently, eliciting a deep growl of approval and want from deep within him.

As he kissed you, your doubts faded away, leaving only your love for another that could not be any clearer now. As he kissed you, another mental, emotional scare healed and vanished.

You both finally pulled apart, heaving for breath as your noses brushed one another's. When you looked up at his eyes, you finally recognised the mystery emotion that had been burning ever since he'd stepped into your apartment.

A relieved, genuinely happy smile split his lips wide as tears of joy ran down his cheeks. His thumb swept over your own tears, causing you both to chuckle at your silliness.

'If you hadn't guessed already,' he said, his words only for you, 'I love you, too. I know that's an odd thing to say before you even date someone, but I do, and I have for a while even if I didn't know it before. I'm just so so sorry for making you wait, for being an ignorant, stupid coward.'

You brought your hands up to wipe away his own tears, heart immensely full for the man in front of you. 'Dr. Spencer Reid stupid? Now you're just making stuff up. I thought you didn't do that.'

That pulled a laugh from him, and he pulled you into another hug, this time more bone-crushing. As if he couldn't express how much he loved you enough. You hugged him back just as desperately though. It seemed as though you shared the same sentiment.

In another moment of bravery, you spoke over his shoulder where your chin rested. 'You know... my answer still stands. That is, if your offer still stands.'

Dr. Spencer Reid. Are you asking me out on a date right now?

Spencer pulled away from the hug, with the biggest smile on his face. 'It will always stand for you, Y/N. Always.'

What do you say, SSA Y/N L/N? Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?

It was you this time that pressed a bruising kiss on Spencer's lips, the kiss being answer enough for what you had been holding onto for exactly a year.

Sweet, sweet music wafted up from downstairs, the faint sound of a beautiful violin sparking an idea in your head. You forced yourself to pull away from Spencer and said, 'I know a great Italian restaurant that is super close, by the way.'

'Sounds perfect,' Spencer replied, kissing you quickly again before crouch and picking you up by your underarms and twirling your around in the air. Laughter echoed through your apartment as you clung to him but also rejoiced at the feeling of flying. For the first time in over a year, you were finally feeling like yourself again.

Spencer eventually put you down, saying, 'As much as I find you the most beautiful girl in the world, I don't think t-shirt and shorts are going to cut it downstairs.'

'Oh. Right.' You quickly dashed into your room and put on something more suitable.

And finally, one year after being asked out, Spencer held your hand in his and took you downstairs to have your date, where you both had the best night you'd had in a long time. It might've taken a few twists and turns to get to where you both belonged: with each other. But as you ate your pasta, drank your wine, danced with and laughed with and kissed Spencer, you realised it had only made your bond stronger, that it had been worth it.

You'd finally found your way back home.

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #aaron hotch hotchner #spencer reid #slowburn #jennifer jareau #jason gideon #derek morgan #david rossi #angst #romance #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfic #criminals minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminalminds #criminal minds #alex blake #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #kate callahan #aaron hotchner #friends to lovers

[alovesreading]

Masterlist

last updated: 05/01/2024

Please do not repost any of my work anywhere. All of these are purely fictitious and for entertainment purposes.

You can also read on Wattpad: -alovesreading and AO3: alovesreading

If you want me to tag you on any future fics, send me a message :)

Happy reading! 

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Matty Healy

Chicken Shop Date 

Matty Healy x Reader (f) | You and your best friend Amelia came up with a very simple idea of taking celebrities on awkward chicken shop dates, and somehow, it’s managed to become both of your jobs. In the past, you’ve found sitting across from some of the biggest stars on the planet and eating chicken nuggets easy. But then Amelia manages to score you a date with the man who you’ve been obsessed with since you were nineteen; Matty Healy.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | 

Instagram AU |

Be My Mistake 

Matty Healy x Reader (f) | Under the influence, Matty makes one of his biggest mistakes which ends up with him losing you. And now there’s nothing more to do, other than deal with the heartache and pick up the pieces.

Read here

You Go To My Head

Matty Healy x Reader (f) | The plans that Matty has arranged for you to celebrate your first Valentine's Day together are out the window when he becomes ill, but staying in to take care of him doesn't mean the day is ruined. And you assure him of it by saying those words he hasn't heard you say before.

Read here

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Alex Turner

Constant Repeat 

Alex Turner x Original Character (f) | Having worked at Focus Creeps for a year, Ella knows that as a production assistant and part of the crew, there’s one important rule: don’t interact with the talent unless it’s needed. But once she meets Arctic Monkeys, and the recording of the music videos for their upcoming fourth studio album starts, the band seem to become her exception. Not only because they treat her more like a friend than just someone else they’re working with but when Alex continuously makes her blush with his flirting, so enthralled by her that he forgets he’s got a girlfriend, Ella finds herself growing closer to him. As videos are filmed, wrapped and edited, the friendship lines become blurry. Situations unfold, secrets are told and others are kept under lock and key, but how long can Alex and Ella endure being stuck in each other’s minds on constant repeat.

Teaser 1 - Teaser 2 | CR Playlist - Ella’s Playlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Epilogue

Extras (blurbs)

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George Daniel

Nice Kind Of Messy

George Daniel x Reader (f) | Your friends set you up on a blind date, one that you aren't really looking forward to at all but when you find George Daniel there waiting outside the restaurant, there is no doubt it'll be a date to remember.

Read here

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Ross MacDonald 

Quarter Past Midnight 

Ross MacDonald x Reader (f) |  Thanks to your best mate, you’ve found yourself welcoming the New Year at a party one of her bosses is throwing at her new house. Since you stepped foot in the place, your only plan has been to spend the night dancing and drinking with your friends. But it all changes when you find a certain bassist looking at you from across the room. And as the night progresses, and a few kisses are shared, you seem to agree on the fact that you’re leaving the party together.

Read here

‘tis the damn season

Ross MacDonald x Reader (f) | Christmas has been your favourite season since you met Ross MacDonald back in Year 9 when you had just moved to Wilmslow, coincidentally on the same road as him. He becomes your very best friend for the rest of high school, but when that ends, life happens and you just can't stop it. And life is certainly cruel to you and Ross. Every December is a reminder of it, somehow always bringing a chance to ruin things even more. After so many mistakes, how can you get back the times you've always cherished with the silly boy with the dimpled smile?

Part 1 | Part 2

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#masterlist #matty healy #the 1975 #Alex Turner #Arctic Monkeys #matty healy x reader #matty x reader #alex turner x reader #alex x reader #matty #healy #alex #turner #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #alex turner fanfiction #alex turner fanfic #george daniel #george daniel fanfiction #george daniel x reader #george daniel fanfic #ross macdonald #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald x reader

[wheretosearchforsnow]

Destiel in Season 4 and 5 of Supernatural and Death of God

German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche’s well-known phrase “God is dead,” introducing the idea of the missing God, laid the foundation for one of the most important topics in the 20th century Existentialist Movement. The possibility of God’s non-existence means that everything that is possible to happen can happen, and if everything is allowed, how can man choose? How can man know how to live? If everything is allowed, can there be we define right from wrong?

Such questions are asked on Supernatural, with the character Castiel first appearing at the end of the first episode in the fourth season, which marked the series’ introduction of Christian mythology as a central them ever since. Castiel, an Angel of the Lord, initially shows complete devotion to God and identifies as servant of heaven:

CASTIEL: We have no choice. DEAN: Of course you have a choice. I mean, come on, what? You’ve never questioned a crap order, huh? What are you both, just a couple of hammers? CASTIEL: Look, even if you can’t understand it, have faith. The plan is just. SAM: How can you even say that? CASTIEL: Because it comes from heaven, that makes it just. - 4.07 It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester

This argument on the morality behind the act of “purifying a city” or “taking one thousand two hundred fourteen lives” between Castiel and the Winchesters is not dissimilar with Danish theologian Søren Kierkegaard’s discussion on Abraham's sacrifice of Isaac. When Abraham was told that as a result of God's will that he must sacrifice his son Isaac, he was in a kind of either-or. If the message is genuinely from God, then he must sacrifice Isaac and it is the right thing to do; but if the message is not from God, then he would be committing what would be the very worst possible crime judged on the basis of Abraham's own view of human ethics.

The dichotomy here, between Castiel’s and Dean’s rationales, is that while the former believes there is a God and God and religion (in other words, heaven’s plan for earth) are the most important things, and man must do nothing but obey heaven’s command, the latter insists that there is no God and it is for man to take the total burden of responsibility for the world and for himself upon his own shoulders, with no one to give him any sign.

Though the former seems to suggest a lack of agency or necessity for decision making in moral judgement, as the plot unfolds, we see Castiel demonstrate a sense of uncertainty, the very secret he voices in the conversation with Dean in the episode’s epilogue.

CASTIEL: I’m not a… hammer as you say. I have questions, I have doubts. I don’t know what is right and what is wrong anymore, whether you passed or failed here. But in the coming months you will have more decisions to make. I don’t envy the weight that’s on your shoulders, Dean. I truly don’t. - 4.07 It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester

This mirrors Kierkegaard’s Abraham in his questions on God’s will. Indeed, how is one to know whether the command is from God or not? If an angel speaks to him, how does Abraham know it's not a hallucination? And if God himself speaks, how is Abraham, or Castiel, to know whether this is really God or whether the command is their own inward evil wishes? Nobody but Abraham, or Castiel, can decide and they cannot tell within his life whether he has done the right thing or not.

Perhaps it is this introspective nature in Castiel that draws him close to Dean, the human in his charge, and by implication humanity. Dean, a firm non-believer and what many, including himself, perceive to be as farthest from being servant of God as possible, detests the idea of God even in face of angels walking the earth.

DEAN: God? CASTIEL: Yes. DEAN: God. CASTIEL: Yes! He isn't in heaven. He has to be somewhere. DEAN: Try New Mexico. I hear he's on a tortilla. CASTIEL: No, he's not on any flatbread. DEAN: Listen, Chuckles, even if there is a God, he is either dead—and that's the generous theory— CASTIEL: He is out there, Dean. DEAN: —or he's up and kicking and doesn't give a rat's ass about any of us. CASTIEL glares. DEAN: I mean, look around you, man. The world is in the toilet. We are literally at the end of days here, and he's off somewhere drinking booze out of a coconut. All right? - 5.02 Good God, Y'all

Dean has no intention of trying to prove that God does not exist, as one cannot prove a negative, but the very specific objection to the traditional concept of God above parallels with the simple objection in many existentialists work that is based upon the injustice of the universe. Albert Camus has given this same type of criticism in his novel, "The Plague", in which the priest, Padalu, confesses that he is not able to understand how there can be any justification so that even eternal paradise could cancel out the sufferings here on earth of one innocent child. Why, Deans asks, if God is all powerful, does man have to suffer? If God is merciful, then how can he sentence man, any man at all to eternal damnation?

There is an optimistic side to this. As the repetitive occurrence of the term “free will” on this show suggests, if God exists, man is nothing; but if God does not exist, then man is free to choose what he wants to make himself. But for Castiel to arrive at this destination, it first takes him to undergo a two-season long crisis.

ANNA: What do you want from me, Castiel? CASTIEL: I'm considering disobedience. ANNA nods. ANNA: Good. CASTIEL: No, it isn't. For the first time, I feel... ANNA: It gets worse. Choosing your own course of action is confusing, terrifying. ANNA puts her hand on CASTIEL's shoulder. He looks at it; she drops it. ANNA: That's right. You're too good for my help. I'm just trash. A walking blasphemy. ANNA turns to walk away. CASTIEL: Anna. ANNA stops. CASTIEL: I don't know what to do. Please tell me what to do. ANNA turns back. ANNA: Like the old days? No. I'm sorry. It's time to think for yourself. - 4.16 On the Head of a Pin

If God isn’t out there, then Castiel has nowhere to turn. This dreadful realization may best be articulated through Hazel Barnes’ analogy that as if one would try to judge a Ford car without any Mr. Ford. So long as there is a Mr. Ford or one of his agents, then one has a model, one has a blueprint and one can say that the car which is coming there off the assembly line is a perfect Ford or an imperfect Ford. But without a plan, one cannot judge a car, and without God, there is no plan for Castiel and there is no final point of reference by which he can judge his values, or right or wrong, or declare that he has lived up to his possibilities or not lived up to his possibilities.

Yet despite “choosing your own course of action” being “confusing, terrifying,” Castiel is not in total despair. Dean, the human equivalent of the burden of a self-creative life, provides reference for Castiel on how to live a life as if there were no God. I have concluded thus that in the context of existentialism Castiel seeks Dean and humanity for answers and view them as his destination.

Note: this article is MOSTLY arguments in Hazel Barnes’ Self Encounter 2: The Far Side of Despair.

#destiel #supernatural #spn #castiel #dean winchester #existentialism #cas meta #dean meta

[lillikoifish]

Could you imagine an atla season 4? A whole epilogue season just diving into everything that comes after the comet? Cuz there is no way power was transitioned peacefully to Zuko, and no doubt the power vacuums would cause some new sinister groups to begin to form. I could see some interesting spirit world things happening too! We were robbed.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #atla rewatch

[chirpsythismorning]

Today is Day 185: What This Line Means for El's Letter to Mike at the Start of Season 4

I know a lot of fans are convinced that the Duffers are careless since they 'forgot' Will's birthday. But I assure you… they’re not.

There's zero doubt in my mind that the writers have a calendar which they refer to religiously, especially when making decisions about the timeline for the story. 

Literally every season starts with a date to establish the setting. Do we think they just settle on a date, without referring to any sort of notes?

There’s a basic responsibility there, at the very least, to be aware of what the characters would be doing at that moment in time, based on what generally happens during that time of year. This would require research beyond just picking a date and slapping it on the first episode of the season. 

Is it Spring, Summer, Fall or Winter? What events are likely to take place during that time of year and how do they plan the expectations of the setting around the characters and the story itself? That's all intentional and well thought out. There’s a reason every season is surrounding some sort of holiday/event at some point, and it’s because time is very very important in the world of Stranger Things.

Think about the various times they’ve had characters literally countdown events?

Mike with El in s2? El with Mike in s4? Suzie when referring to Dustin’s birthday in s4? They wouldn’t throw out lines like that if they didn’t do the math at least once themselves.

The ‘353 days’ line is one perfect example of the Duffer’s proving to us that they have access to calendars, calculators or even simply, google.

Look at that! It appears when Mike used the walkie to call El on Halloween of 1984 (October 31st) in s2, it had indeed been 353 days!

What makes this detail so so so so so fucking important, is that this might hold the answer to the murkiness of the s3 ending going into s4.

Because as of now, we don't really know when s3 ended exactly.

But the similarities of s3's ending to previous seasons, might help us figure out that answer...

Every season ends with a vague timestamp for the literal ending; the epilogue. They only offer up the date at the start of the season, but when it comes to the ending, they never do. It's always months or days if we're lucky.

For s1-2 we got a vague 'one month later', for s3 we got an even more vague 'three months later' and for s4 we surprisingly got something more specific, with 'two days later'.

I think the reasoning for this seems complicated, but it's fairly simple.

While it is quite commonplace to give exact dates at the start of stories, to set the scene and everything, there's this agreed upon understanding in film and even books arguably, that also providing an exact date for the epilogue feels a little cheap? Or maybe a bit too 'handholdy' is a better word? I could see that being something an amateur would do without realizing it looks tacky.

I also think it allows the writers to be more vague in what exactly the date is for the end, according to the audience at least. Because they 100% know what the date is on their end, but that doesn't mean they have to reveal it to us.

We don't know when s3 ends exactly. We know that the battle at Starcourt ended on July 4th-5th (respectively). Though we also know that based on s1's timeline, Mike's countdown considered El's death to be the morning of November 13th, and so we can presume perhaps that s3 technically ended on July 5th.

And so the s3 epilogue being 'three months later' would bring us to October 5th, 1985 right?

Well, not exactly.

You see, when the Duffers give us their vague epilogue scenes, they're not saying that it's exactly one month or three months later, to the exact day. They're being intentionally vague.

Season 1 ending says one month later, but it's actually been 25 days.

Season 2 ending says one month later, but it's actually been 40 days.

Season 3 ending says three months later, but it's actually been... well we don't fucking know!!!

BUT I don't think it really matters, because if the Duffer's made an effort to do the math correctly for their 353 days line in s2, then it's probably safe to assume they'd do math for their 185 days line in s4 as well? And to also give us the answer to that question somewhere in the show already, as opposed to throwing out some random date seasons later?

Otherwise why have countdowns like that at all? It literally makes no sense for them to give us an exact number, like 353 or 185, without checking that the days match up with the exact countdown they're giving us.

I'm just one fan, and it only took me maybe 3 google searches to figure this out in a matter of seconds. They are however literal experts in their profession, and for that reason I do feel comfortable giving them some credit here.

So now, let's try to apply this logic then to s3.

Perhaps it's safe to assume that El's countdown didn't start when the Byers moved to Cali in the s3 epilogue, just like Mike's countdown didn't start at the end of the s1 epilogue either.

It's believed that the Byers, but El specifically, had to go into hiding after the battle at Starcourt. And so, could this mean that El's countdown started on July 5th?

The day that Hopper died? The day she lost her powers? The day she had to go into hiding and probably couldn't properly communicate with Mike for about three months?

Honestly, I think it would make a lot more sense to have their countdown's (Mike's 353 vs. El's 185) parallel in how they started.

And it would be weird to restart that countdown simply because they reunited for one afternoon to move, again because there was obviously so much significance to everything that happened on July 5th, that it does make sense to me that El's countdown would have started there.

Also, I want to be thorough by mentioning that, the main reason we can easily rule out the Byers move date being the start of El's countdown, is that it doesn't add up whatsoever.

El saying it has been 185 days since the Byers moved, would mean she was writing the letter on April 7th, 1986, which is impossible. (Also Mike's birthday, which is hilariously ironic).

Even if we spread out that three month window, we still have to take into account that if it was closer to two months or four months, they would've just said that instead. So either the Byers moved on October 4th, or sometime between September 5th at the earliest and November 5th at the latest.

And so where do we go from here? 

Basically, from what we understand in canon on the show, there isn’t much to go off of besides that. And I think that’s the intention.

Over the seasons, the obscurity of the time jump between the epilogues has allowed for them to say obscure comments between seasons, such as, Yeah for like a month (Jonathan in s2) and It’s been a year, Mike (Will in s4) and so they obviously like this appeal of the audience not knowing for certain. But that doesn’t mean they don’t know for certain.

I would argue they have to know for certain, and have very likely done the math at least once or twice or ten times, especially because as I mentioned, there would be no reason to have characters countdown to the exact day, on multiple occasions, if the creators/writers or literally anyone involved with the show wasn't checking to make sure those numbers added up correctly.

And so, based on all of that, I think that El started counting down from the day they separated, just like the previous season, which would’ve been July 4th-5th (respectfully).

And so 185 days after July 4th-5th, 1985, would be January 5th-6th, 1986. 

Just work with me here. Because while there are several things that could work against this theory, I think those things could have intentionally been there to trick the audience into thinking this letter was written very close to spring break, even though the math for that doesn't add up. And so lets look at some of the details that might be telling us this letter isn't as recent as we're being lead to believe.

The main detail I want to mention, is that major projects like the one El describes in her letter, requiring a visual aid, is more likely to be assigned at the start of the trimester.

If you don’t live in the United States, or are unfamiliar, basically how it tends to work for most high schools is the school year get’s split into 3 trimesters. The 1st trimester goes from September-December, the second goes from January-March, and the third goes from March-June. It varies depending on the city/county/state. Though it may not seem very equal, it goes like this to accommodate the major holidays with extensive breaks. The first trimester has Thanksgiving then a brief return to school, followed by Christmas/New years. The 2nd trimester starts right after New Years, and ends with Spring break. Then once you return afterward Spring break, that’s the start of the 3rd trimester. It evens out to each trimester being about 3 months.

I think El would've mentioned this assignment to Mike closer to when it was assigned and not right before she was turning it in. And the reasoning for this is kind of obvious but understandably overlooked.

While most kids would probably not think about working on a project like this until the last minute, because most of us are expert procrastinators after almost a decade in school, El however is completely new to this experience. And so I imagine the moment she heard about this assignment, she was just like 'best get to it!!'! We even see her still working on it after the project was already graded because the significance of it was clearly important to her. And so if her and Mike were writing somewhat consistently as it appears, then this would have been mentioned a lot sooner than her most recent letter to him.

And when it comes to the rest of the letter, there are several clues that could also support this theory that it wasn't written as close to spring break as we're being lead to assume.

Like the mention of Joyce's new telemarketer job. It wouldn't really make sense for her job to have been like super new, within the last week from March 22nd, especially if it's intended to be this sort of deterrent for Mike getting ahold of Will on the Byers phone presumably since the move.

Also Jonathan's car, is looked like it had been deserted there for a long time, not a matter of days or weeks, but possibly months (since early winter)... And so Argyle driving them to school wasn't something that happened within the last week worth mentioning to Mike right before their reunion in her most recent letter, but most likely another detail she mentioned as an update, since Jonathan's car is being referred to as still broken.

Even separate from the letter, I wondered if there was evidence somewhere else that they could sneakily be trying to hint to us that this is actually being written early in the Winter trimester and not the very end. Then it hit me.

The lyrics in the background...

Although, there are some things that contradict this theory, again I think those details were put there for the sake of tricking us.

Like just think about it, if this was El's most recent letter, wouldn't it make more sense for her to mention both the countdown for when they last saw each other, and how many days until they'd be seeing each other if it was really that close? Unless of course that number of days until their reunion was still too high at the time for her to hype it up, assuming she was writing this letter, perhaps 1-2 months out?...

I also do think that it's likely Mike and El are quite active in their writing back and forth. After all, Will said El had like a book of letters from Mike, so they want us to think that they wrote a decent amount.

I'm guessing the conversation was casual and broad for this letter specifically, because El is still new at writing/reading obviously and because this letter was also being used to update the audience about the characters whereabouts since we last saw them.

This might not seem that groundbreaking, but what this theory boils down to, is that s4 opened with an old letter, not a recent one. It means Mike was reading a letter, possibly from as early as January, 2 months previous to present. This would mean Mike presumably had other, more recent letters available to him to look at, with countdowns like 20 days and 10 days or 5 days, with El gushing even more intensely over the fact that they're closer and closer to finally reuniting.

And yet Mike was fixating on this letter specifically the morning before their reunion, AN OLD LETTER!!

But why?

Let's again look at the vibe of El's letter. If you look really close, it comes off like a response to a questionnaire.

I've always said that although El's lied a lot in her entire letter to Mike, there's a reason they never let us see a letter from Mike to El, and it's because he probably wouldn't have faired much better.

I don't even think it's actually that Mike would've lied necessarily, as much as I think it was mostly a lie of omission situation.

He showed up in Cali as his inauthentic self, and so it wouldn't make sense for him to have given El updates on Hellfire in his letters, which was pretty much all he focused on back in Hawkins from what it looked like.

And so I think the letter he wrote, which El was responding to in that specific letter, was Mike focusing on asking her questions about how she was doing and how the Byers were doing. It's also probably the last time he asked about the others because of one specific detail he got that time, which he's been fixating on ever since... (you know the one...)

Regardless, Mike was reading an old letter, which makes the implications of this (and this)... astounding.

#stranger things #stranger things theory #stranger things meta #byler #timeline shenanigans #there's specific details that contradict this theory #i don't want to list them out because then i feel like ppl wont open their minds to this theory at all #but if you do want to discuss them in reblogs i would be happy to because i do think there are contradictions there #but i also think that all it would take is some context to explain it #or again the reasoning that they wanted to confuse us in the first place which is why certain spring elements are there to trick us #but all in all yes i think mike is rereading an old letter #bc like why couldn't he instead read a letter that says see you in 2 weeks or 1 week or 4-5 days? #but instead we get #it's been 185 days! #and that's it... #and so mike's probably choosing this letter specifically because of the will mention i'm guessing... #it's likely after getting a revelation like this mike refrained from mentioning will ever again in a letter to el #we know that he didn't even ask will about the girl when they reunited ever at any point #which means he probably fears knowing anything more because it will make it all more real #there's basically a shit ton of implications that come with mike reading an old letter and us not being clued in on that until later #what makes this theory even more funny is finn choosing #This Is The Day #for the song he would add to his 80s mixtape #the cast was asked this question during the puppy interview segment during s4 press #and that song.... is so early s4 mike wheeler coded #like finn is known for his knack for music and it's widely speculated he takes hinting at his character with music seriously... #and so yes i hate finn for that because he is a fucking icon #still just a theory! don't come at me!

[isitisitearlymichael]

Probs an unpopular opinion here but let’s go…

I look at Stranger Things seasons 1-4 as a tale of two halves.

For me, season 1 and 2 are undeniably about Mike and El. Even during season 2, when Mike is there supporting Will through everything, I don’t view his actions as him having romantic feelings for Will at all. He cares deeply for him, but I don’t think he considers Will in that way.

That’s not to say I don’t think the Byler storyline was planned, but I don’t think we were supposed to doubt anything.

But season 3 changed everything, and the narrative flipped. We saw that all the characters had grown up a little bit, and the dynamics between them were changing.

And for Mike, I don’t think he realised that the way he felt about Will was special until their fight.

I think a lot has been said about the it’s not my fault you don’t like girls line, which could easily have been Mike projecting, but little is said about Will’s I really did.

I don’t think Mike understood what Will was saying there, or at least allowed himself to understand the weight of the words they shared. However, I think it was enough to scare Mike. Because that shit both hurt and healed him. It hurt him that he almost lost Will again, but Will’s reaction also really showed how much he cared about Mike, and how much Mike’s actions were hurting him. And Mike couldn’t cope with that feeling at all.

So even though season 3 starts the whole I love you arc between El and Mike, the season also plants those seeds of doubt - not just for the audience, but for Mike.

Then season 4 seeks to repeat the dynamics of season 2 - Will and Mike are paired up while El and Mike go through the whole separated-and-reunited arc again. But this time it feels so different. They’re now even more grown up, and there’s a clear tension between the boys. But it’s not just this whole misunderstanding between them, it’s the romantic tension. The whole of volume 1 is like a will-they-won’t-they, even if volume 2 throws a complicated spanner in the works.

Season 4 also refers back to season 3’s fight, with Mike unable to control his emotions and then quickly running back to Will in forgiveness again. The apology scene is so intimate, but it’s the way he fluffs his words- gets nervous over them even - which tells us even more. I don’t know, maybe I feel like I lost you or something.

Or something.

What gives this line even more weight is how the words lost and lose are used throughout the show. When Mike tells El that he can’t lose her, we’re supposed to take that as a love confession. His fear of losing her has always been associated with his love for her. We also hear similar lines between Joyce & Hopper, and Lucas & Max.

But when the Duffers and Finn tell us that Mike is oblivious, I agree with them. I don’t think Mike knows that Will loves him at all. Not in that way.

He spends the whole season failing to understand how El could possibly like him in that way - his actual girlfriend - so why would he even consider that his best friend would love him?

But I also believe that there’s much more going on in Mike’s mind than we’re being let in to see. And I don’t think they’d plant so many seeds and focus on Byler in the epilogue so much if it wasn’t going anywhere in season 5.

#byler #sorry just some random thoughts #I could write whole essays about these characters if I had the time

[babeyvenus]

My Future Masterlist

Samantha, Stiles and Scott are always joking about the impossible. Who wouldn't when your best friend's dad is the sheriff of Beacon Hills? All jokes stop when they realize the impossible is indeed possible.

Contains: Lots of language, Violence, Fantasy, sensitive topics, mentions of suicide, abuse and self harm, nonconsensual touching, fluff, and hurt/comfort.

A/N: I have a reference for Sam but her face claim is def Raven Goodwin. I love her sm

Sam's Profile

Get Earlier Updates!

Anyways here are the chapters

Season 1-2

1: Wolf?

2: The Bite

3: Falsification

4: Challenge

5: Shot?

6: Comfort and Confrontations

7: Risks

8: Trapped

9: Tests

10: Situations and Conflict

11: Caught

12: Escape

13: Alpha

14: New Bite and Nosebleeds

15: Frustrations and Paralyzations

16: Possessions

17: Wrong Parties

18: Shot Again

19: Forgiveness

Season 3a-3b

20: Tattoo

21: Traps and Reunions

22: Guilt

23: Blame

24: Taken

25: Liar, Liar

26: Awakenings

27: Weird Things

28: Judgements and Murderers

29: Party Crashing

30: Riddles and Possessions

31: You Weren't Supposed To Be Here

32: Death of a Trickster

Season 4

33: Regression

34: Envy

35: Death of a Tomahawk

36: Poison

37: Helplessness

38: Evolution

Season 5

39: New Faces and Kanimas

40: Important Reading

41: Discussions

42: Disagreements Among Friends

43: Emptiness?

44: Hellhound

45: Break In to Break Out

46: Beasts

47: The Beast of Gevaudan

48: Family and Hell

Arc before Season 6

49: Who Are You?

50: Crappy Reunions

51: Shadow Woman?

52: New Enemies

53: Confessions and Doubts

54: Familial Familiars

55: New Beasts

56: Returns

Epilogue

Season 6a

57: Alex?

58: Remember Me

59: Bits and Pieces

60: Repetitions and Sundowns

61: Are We Friends, Or Not?

62: Desperation

63: We Hear You

64: Mommy

65: I remember

66: The Storm is Over

Season 6b

67: Reunions, Goodbyes and Hellhounds

68: Bleeding Brother

69: Negotiations and Blame

70: Forced to Leave

71: Stolen Breaths

#my future #teen wolf derek hale #derek hale x oc #derek hale x reader #derek hale #derek hale imagine #derek hale masterlist #x black reader #black reader #black girl #black girls #black tumblr #teen wolf #teen wolf stiles #derek hale x plus size reader #teen wolf fanfiction #derek teen wolf #teen wolf fic #teen wolf movie #teen wolf masterlist #black readers #poc oc #poc readers #chubby black reader #black representation #x black readers #derek hale teen wolf #derek hale fanfiction #derek hale headcanon #derek hale x black reader

[suzyq31]

20 Questions Game

Thanks for the tag @nodirectionhome-ao3 and @practicecourts

How many works do you have on AO3? Currently at 17

2. What's your total A03 words count? 696,804

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now just Harry Potter

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Maybe Tomorrow: Post War. Harry and Hermione are renovating Potter Manor over Christmas then wake up into a different life. (almost finished!)

Iris: My first story, and the bane of my existence. Hermione flees after the war, five years later she's dragged back in by a dangerous situations. Follows my series Seasons. Hidden child trope, angst fest, long as hell and on hiatus. H/Hr

It Had To Be You: Post war, completed, steamy romcom with some loose inspiration from the film When Harry Met Sally. Co-written with @bettertoflee

Found: A spin off of Iris, and another alternate ending to Seasons. Never thought I would write an OC protagonist, but here we are!

My next highest kudos is another Harmony, but that's boring so going with my highest rated Jily fic which is Plans. It's also more Sirius & Lily focused, takes place right after Harry's born.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try my best! Sometimes I can forget if I'm distracted/dealing with real life stuff. But I am SO grateful for people who take the time to let me know they've read my work.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angtiest ending?

For now probably Spring or Winter in my Seasons Series.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Well seeing as how I struggle to finish anything...I guess the ones that are complete which is It Had To Be You and Home.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Yes, so far only in Harmony. It's a huge reason I don't participate in the fandom much and why I moderate comments. Most of it has been concentrated on my stories Iris and Found, but I've also received rude comments on other works including It Had To Be You (which got some very incel type comments, and is the main reason I only allow registered users and block instantly).

9. Do you write smut. If so what kind?

Yes, mostly reluctantly as I still get uncomfortable writing it, but some stories feel incomplete without some. Love reading it though! Not sure what kind means? Like M or E? I would say my smut is relatively tame. I've only written one E rated fic, which was co-written haha.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? Nope, can't imagine I ever would.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? No idea! People have asked me, but haven't seen them.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before? Yes! Working on my second collaboration with @bettertoflee. And my story Iris gets so much support from my beta Green_Eyes that it feels like she may as well be a co-writer!

14. What's your all-time favourite ship? I've shipped both my fave HP ships since around 2001 when I was a child and they haven't changed even with the dreaded epilogue for Harry and Hermione (I take Unlike a Sister as canon and breathe easier for it), or you know canon for James and Lily (which is why AU is so fun!)

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Ideally I'd like to finish all of them. If I didn't have such a strong editor/beta reader for Iris it would likely stay unfinished. I REALLY struggle with endings at the best of times and that story has a variety of factors that make it difficult for me.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm very hard on myself, so its hard to think of positives. I do think I'm creative, and as someone with ADHD I often think outside the box. I think I have a good ear for dialogue. I've also received compliments on my descriptions/scene writing, as well as for conveying emotions. The thing I do love best about writing is seeing the growth year by year, story by story.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Plotting, getting stuck after the midway point. ADHD brain always wanting to jump to something new. Spelling/Grammar from years of French Immersion. Wordy, though REALLY have worked on this and I do so much slashing and cutting in my editing.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

No strong opinion unless it's constant.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Probably Harry Potter as a child. Although me and a friend wrote a That 70s Show script and posted it on fanfic.net back in middle school haha.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

This is a hard one. I am really proud of Maybe Tomorrow, I put a lot of my heart into it and it's actually complete except for some edits and additional scenes I'm contemplating.

I also really enjoyed writing Plans. And I'm proud of this short micro where I managed to stay under 1000 words!

I think this has made the rounds already! At least for Jily. But will tag;

@bettertoflee @myst867 @glitterwitch1 @riverwriter @runawayminds @annonymouslyblonde

#fanfic writing

[dragonfly0808]

Are you able to give slight spoilers on the characters key storylines in s4

Mmm…

I’ll give a few hints

Bloom: imposter syndrome

Stella: queen shit

Flora: new powers/internship/being a protector

Musa: therapy and figuring out what she’ll do in the future

Tecna: questioning what she wants out of life. That 1 scene from Into the Spiderverse ‘I’m so proud of you! …do I want kids?’

Aisha: coming into her own and truly falling in love with her duties as future queen

Sky: *struggle*

Brandon: support, physical recovery and the only one who truly has his shit together

Helia: mostly has his shit together, doubting some stuff

Riven: Do I just want a soft loving epilogue? What is this?

Timmy: I fucking got this (he mostly does but when he doesn’t, he really does not)

Nabu: Do I want to be a teacher? Wait- what?

A lot of it will be figuring out what they’ll want since they’ll be in year 4 of 5 in Alfea but also just having to take on a mentorship role with Roxy and just, ‘I’ve only had Roxy for a day but if anything happened to her I would kill everyone in this room and then myself’

Also just, processing and getting to heal from season 3

That’s the idea at the moment but I’m just starting to work on the plot grid so yeah

#winx club #winx rewrite #winx #winx headcannon #winx season 4 #winx headcanons #winx q&a

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Six

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Six Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 6407 Warnings: major angst, major fluff, mentions of murder, graphic descriptions of dead bodies, crime scenes, near-death experiences, slow-burnish romance, death, canon violence, rape, swearing, guns, knives, prostitution, canon cuteness of the team. Spoilers: Maeve's death, mentions of previous cases or canon events from seasons 1-10.

Spencer and you have an unspoken connection with one another. Nothing has ever happened between you two, especially since everything went down with Maeve, but your love has grown and overcome and is now clear as day to everyone. However, just when Spencer builds up enough courage to ask you out officially, you're requested on an undercover mission that halts your budding relationship in its tracks.

Months go by without a word from you until bodies of prostitutes start showing up in New York and the BAU is brought in to help. Spencer and you finally reunite as both your cases collide, but your lives and your love are both on the line now.

Will you and Spencer be able to find the way back home this time?

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Epilogue

~~~

Spencer stared at the blank screen, mortification petrifying him in place. He was unable to tear his eyes away from where'd he'd last seen your face just before Walter Khan's boot crushed their feed.

Him, Hotch and Kate had arrived back at the station by the time you'd been placed in the car. The further you were driven, the more glitchy the feed became. Some words didn't come through, images flickered every now and again. The camera wasn't able to catch all of what went down during the meeting, but you'd made sure to get a good look at the big seller, knowing your team would use his image to find out who he was and find out where he would be hiding out.

Spencer had to hold back vomit whenever Khan went close to you, no doubt putting his disgusting, murderous hands all over you. Even more so when you'd been taken to the Warehouse and saw the girls, saw the torture display in the middle of the room. How many girls had dangled in the middle of that room and suffered his torture? How young had they been?

When you began walking to the meeting room, Spencer had thought you'd made it out of there. That you were finally coming home.

But you had turned around, ran back for those innocent girls. You had been caught, your pained cries whenever Walter punched you still ringing in Spencer's ears.

The worst part, though, was Khan had known the whole time.

'Did you guys hear that? You think you outsmarted me? Think again.'

That's when the line went dead, squashed under Khan's boot. But not before he caught a glimpse of your face. Blood gushing from your nose down your chin, hand clutching at your ribs where you'd been punched. However, a fire of defiance burned bright in your E/C eyes, visible even from the low angle.

But that did nothing to quell the rising wave of anger and fear in Spencer, raging like a tsunami higher and higher with each passing second the screen remained dead.

Where you had disappeared from in the blink of an eye; and there was nothing Spencer could do about it.

'Get it back up,' Spencer found himself demanding. To who, he really didn't know. When no one answered, the wave rose higher. 'Get it back up!'

'I-I'm trying!" Penelope cried over the speaker phone. 'Wherever they took her, they did well to make sure no cell towers were near it. Or they have really good cell blocks that pretty much render them invisible. That's what made the feed so glitchy, they're like in the middle of nowhere.'

'What about the camera? Can you track it?'

'Yes, but again, the cell blocks blocked that signal too. I can't tell you where they went outside of lower Manhattan.'

The urge to scream was almost unbearable. Instead, Spencer drove his fingers through his unruly hair, pulling at longer strands harshly to get his mind to focus on something else momentarily. This couldn't be happening. You were safe, you were home free. Damnit, why did you have to go back?

'Alert train stations south bound that drivers and passengers should keep their eyes out for those girls along any tracks,' Hotch commanded to Holt. 'Send as many officers out along those tracks from the nearest stations. Those girls are the key to finding L/N, but they're being hunted so we need to find them first.'

'Of course,' Holt managed to get out, his face pale with terror. Good, Spencer thought. Holt at least had half a mind to look guilty, considering he was the one that put you there.

'I'll go with you, we'll need as many people on the ground as we can,' Derek offered, to which Hotch nodded his approval and Derek jogged after Holt as he ran back into the office.

Spencer's feet moved before his mouth did, halfway to the door before he said, 'I'm going, too.'

'No,' Hotch said. 'I need you to stay here and work with Garcia on a geographical profile on Walter Khan. Find out everything about him, more importantly whether he has any major properties south of Manhattan he could be operating out of.'

Spencer opened his mouth to argue. How could Hotch expect him to sit idly by a map while you were with the unsub being beaten or worse...

A gentle hand gripped his shoulder, forcing him to look down at a concerned-looking JJ. 'Don't worry, Spence,' she said softly. 'Kate and I will go help as well. You and Pen are the only ones who can figure this out, so the sooner you do that, the quicker we can bring Y/N home, okay?'

Usually, the logical answer presented itself in Spencer's mind first. What JJ said was the most logical explanation, he knew. Even so, his heart yearned to find Walter Khan and wring his neck for all he was worth. It was an overwhelming urge, similar to the one he had when on his dilaudid addiction many years ago.

The memories of what that addiction did to him - how it almost destroyed his life - was what brought him back to his logical conclusion.

He nodded at JJ and stepped aside so her and Kate could follow Derek. Kate gave him a sympathetic smile and a gentle squeeze of his upper arm, then her and JJ were gone. That left himself, Rossi, Penelope on the phone, and Hotch.

'Dave,' Hotch said, 'You and I are going down to the Chateau and questioning Madame Lacroix. She's got to be back there by now. And she's going to tell us everything she knows about the operation this time.'

'Whether she likes it or not,' Rossi added, nodding at Hotch in agreement as he made to pick up his coat from the chair he'd previously been sitting on.

'Waitwaitwaitwait!' The high pitch urgency of Penelope's voice halted Hotch and Rossi's movements as her face appeared on the huge screen, scrunched with worry.

'What is it, Garcia?' Hotch asked.

'I've been trying to track Y/N's camera location since she got to wherever they're holding her,' she explained, her voice a little high-pitched in desperation. She continued typing furiously on her keyboard as she did.

'You found her?' Spencer asked, his voice desperate, hopeful.

'I wish I could say yes, boy wonder,' she apologised. 'However, while tracking, an unknown window popped up. Check this out...'

Another few clicks on her end and a window - the one she found - popped up beside Penelope's face. The image in that window, however, had Spencer's stomach plummeting through the ground.

You hung with your hands above your head by a chain in the middle of a room, your now bare feet just scraping along the hay that lay all around the floor. You were back in the Warehouse, in the place where you'd shown Spencer and the team where the girls were held and-

'Oh my God,' Penelope breathed out, voice trembling with horror at your beaten state. The camera appeared to be setup on a tripod, keeping your entire body in frame. They'd all seen you fight, but only now could they see the damage you'd taken.

Blood dripped from your nose, down your chin and had already stained the front of your dress a deeper scarlet. Your breaths were laboured, as if you were concentrating on keeping yourself from passing out. You were too far away to make out any other injuries, but Spencer had no doubt the bruises hadn't come out just yet.

'Garcia,' Hotch began, but even in her shocked state, Penelope answered.

'Already on it, sir,' she said, ignoring the tears running down her cheeks to type into her keyboard. 'Triangulating where the feed is coming from.'

It was like the world was slowing down for Spencer the longer he looked at you hanging there. The team had always joked that his IQ always slashed in half whenever he was around you. But that was usually because he couldn't find the words to talk to you properly, how to articulate in the right words just exactly how you made him feel.

In a way, the same thing was happening to him right now, but he couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't think because of terror. Because of Walter Khan, who finally strolled into frame, suit jacket discarded and the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up. His rings glinted under the fluorescent lights as he waved at the camera, a smug grin on his face.

'Hi there, FBI,' he said in a sing-song voice. He looked over his shoulder, shuffled so the camera could see you again. 'Say hi to your friends, Y/N. I'm sure they're just... so happy to see you.'

You didn't respond, keeping your gaze just south of the camera, barely blinking. 'She's disassociating,' Rossi stated, recognising like Spencer, that far away look in your eyes. 'She's preparing for torture.'

Spencer gulped as Khan walked over to you slowly, prowling around you like a predator admiring his catch for the night. He remained silent as he did, and Spencer wondered for a moment if that was all he was going to do.

With the speed of a striking snake, however, he gripped your chin with one hand, the chain holding you rattling as you tried and failed to pull away. Grunts of effort escaped you as he forced you to look at the camera.

'Now, now, Y/N,' he cooed, brushing your loose hair away from your face with his free hand. 'There's no need to be shy. Say something.'

Before you could even react, he slammed his fist into your stomach, ripping a pained groan from you. But not a scream. You bit your lip hard. You probably didn't want to give Khan the satisfaction of hearing your pain. A small, hopeful part inside Spencer warmed with pride at your resilience.

Khan let go of your face and took a step back, eyes raking you up and down with a sick, sadistic admiration. 'So you think you're tough, huh?' he challenged, walking to stand behind you and place both hands on your right shoulder. 'Come on, don't hold back those beautiful sounds, baby.'

In one sharp motion, he pressed either side of your shoulder in opposite directions, causing a loud pop to echo through the room. A sharp squeak escaped your lips, but you bit down on your lip again, allowing nothing else out. The light glinted off the tears that brimmed your E/C eyes, but they did not fall. You would not let them, Spencer realised.

Khan's lips split into a sadistic grin, one that clearly revelled in the pain he brought to you. Fire stirred in the pit of Spencer's stomach, which then spread through his limbs, to the tips of his fingers, toes and head.

Never in his life had he had the greater urge to physically harm someone than Walter Khan in that moment.

'So beautiful,' Khan continued, his gentle strokes across your bloodied chin a stark contrast to his previous harsh movement. 'I knew you'd be my favourite the moment you walked through the door. You're not like other girls...'

Bile rose in Spencer's throat when Khan leaned in close to you and tried to kiss you on the lips. You still had enough strength in you to turn away so he brushed your cheek instead. When Khan tried to tilt your head to kiss you properly, you lashed out with your teeth, catching his upper lip and yanking on it. Hard.

Khan pulled back at the sudden attack with an agonised cry, clasping both hands on his lip. Blood seeped through his hands, and when he pulled away, Spencer saw that Khan's teeth and chin were covered in blood.

'Bitch,' he swore, slamming a fist a little higher than your stomach this time, no doubt breaking some ribs. You sucked in air loudly, your gasp masking the cry that Spencer could tell wanted to come out. God, she must be in so much pain. It sickened Spencer knowing what was happening to you and not being able to do anything about it.

'Garcia, anything?' Hotch asked, his usually steady voice cracking with worry as he continued to look at the screen.

'I'm trying, sir. I'm trying!' she cried.

As if sensing their urgency, Khan looked back to the camera and walked back over until only he was in the frame. Drops of blood stained his white shirt, but he didn't seem to notice as he grinned maniacally into the camera. Although Spencer knew he couldn't see them, he felt like Khan was looking directly at him, taunting him, challenging him.

'By the time you find her,' he began, 'she'll be dead. And I'll be long gone. Until next time, FBI.'

Walter Khan's smile was the last thing Spencer saw before the screen went black and the window closed and now it was only him, Penelope, Hotch and Rossi again.

'I-I'm sorry, sir,' Penelope managed out, her voice barely higher than a whisper. 'I-I-I couldn't f-find her. The signal was being rerouted all across the world.'

'We've got to move fast,' Hotch said, and him and Rossi were gone.

Spencer didn't say a word to begin with, unable to get the image of you hanging in that torture chamber out of his head.

By the time you find her, she'll be dead.

He never thought anyone of his team mates would go out being killed in action. Plenty have come and gone from the team, but not been killed. In some naive way, he figured you all were invincible - that nothing would tear you apart.

But after discovering Gideon dead only a few weeks ago, that fantasy of the team staying together forever was cracked. With your life now on the line, too, the cracks were starting to get bigger, with some pieces falling away entirely.

'Spencer,' Penelope's gentle voice brought him out of his own bubble of despair. 'I'm so sorry.'

The overwhelming urge to scream welled up in him - he didn't quite know for who or for what he wanted to scream at, just that it sounded like a better action to take than punching someone. But he didn't scream.

Instead, he gathered himself and turned to look at Penelope, face steeled by sheer will because he had to keep it together if he wanted to bring you home. 'It's Khan who should be sorry,' he replied, voice steady with threat. 'Let's get to work.'

~~~

Pain. It's all you felt. Even three hours later after Khan's beating, you still felt the ghost of his fist pounding into your stomach, into your ribcage. A sharp, piercing pain ricocheted through them whenever you inhaled too quickly. Definitely two or three broken, you concluded.

You laid on the hay on the floor. Khan had lowered your chain which alleviated some pain and pressure from your dislocated shoulder and bruising wrists. But he hadn't done it to help you. 'Don't want you breaking too soon, Y/N,' he had whispered to you when he'd laid you gently to rest. And from his accompanying smile, you knew it was just all a game to him.

He'd been gone for three hours - counting the time helped you forget the pain and terror wracking your body. Despite that, you hadn't allowed yourself to sleep. Daylight seeped through the top windows, bathing you in a warm glow that made you shiver with momentary bliss. You didn't realise how cold you were until the rays hit you.

The metallic taste of blood still haunted your lips even now that your nose had stopped running with it. It still throbbed though, but it was a dull ache in comparison to your shoulder. You could only imagine how rough you looked, and not in a good way.

The thought made you smile, if only for a moment.

The soft patter of footsteps made you sit upright despite your pain, made you pull your hands close to your chest and look at the door as it opened. You kept your face neutral as you watched Walter Khan walk in alone. He wore a new suit today: navy blue with a lilac undershirt and a navy tie with lighter blue and purple flowers embroidered onto it randomly. God, he was pretentious in every manner of the word.

He didn't walk to you straight away as you expected. Instead, he walked over to the table of torture devices to a remote hanging from the ceiling just above it. He pressed the upper button and suddenly you were jerked upwards as the chain retracted higher. You couldn't contain the yelp of pain that escaped you as your arms were pulled harshly over your head once more, placing intense pressure on your throbbing shoulder once more. He let go of the button just before your feet left the ground entirely.

Satisfied, he grabbed a clean towel and a bucket that sat underneath the table. He picked them both up and walked over to you, placed them both on the ground as he continued to look you over. He did that for a minute in silence before you couldn't take it anymore.

'What?' you asked in mock confusion. 'Have I got something on my face?'

You hated how that brought a smile to his ugly face. 'You really should lay off on the moxie, sweetheart,' he said, crouching to wet the towel in the bucket before standing back up to continue talking. 'I really do like that in a girl.'

'Girl, huh? That your preferred age?'

He shrugged, bringing the towel up to your face. Before you could lean away, he used his free hand to grip your chin, keeping you with a firm hold in place as he dabbed the wet towel across your chin, around your nose, and across your lips.

He was cleaning you up.

You were more confused than disgusted. Perhaps a little relieved to be rid of the taste of blood finally, but you would never admit that. If his goal was to kill you, why bother cleaning you up?

His dabs at your face were uncharacteristically soft. 'You've done this before,' you said, only now realising how hoarse your throat was from dehydration and the cold air.

He nodded, his eyes never straying from his task. 'I prefer my girls to be... cleaner than other ones.' He meant other prostitutes, other establishments, you realised. It was a compulsion, even knowing you weren't one of his "girls".

'Would you have to clean Roxy and the others up, too?' you asked despite knowing the answer. 'You get off on seeing others bleed, don't you Khan. It wasn't enough that you would use them, strip them of their dignity, as if they were just toys.'

One second you were breathing air, the next you were choking underneath the crushing pressure that was Khan's grip. His hold was so strong it had you seeing stars in seconds.

'I would stop talking if I were you, bitch,' he hissed, venom dripping from every word. His calm demeanour remained intact, but even with your blurred vision you saw an animalistic rage burning in his eyes.

A caged animal just waiting to be unleashed.

'You don't know anything about me,' he continued. 'And you don't know the half of what I am capable of.'

His grip on you eased a little but not completely. However, it was enough for you to find your voice again. 'I know,' you started, voice slightly wheezy from the lack of air, 'you must have suffered under the hands of someone, probably a woman in the prostitution business, when you were younger. Otherwise... why would you hate women so much?'

He gave you a strange look, one that was sceptical, angry, and intrigued at the same time. Good, if he was off guard, he might slip up and give you something of value.

'Was it your mother?' you asked. 'A sister, aunt?' When he didn't answer you continued. 'Whoever it was must be the reason why you feel as if you've been let down your entire life. That's why you built this empire, isn't it? But even now, successful and thriving off others' pain... that person made you feel you are not enough, and so nothing ever will be. But that person is gone, and you can't show them how successful you've been. That's why you hurt others, right? Because, not only can't you hurt her, you refuse to hurt the one person you hate the most... yourself.'

He stepped back from you completely, and, for the first time, his calm facade breaks to show slivers of horror and shock at your observation. Looks like I hit the nail on the head.

He looked at you for a moment longer, that haunted expression on his face making him look more sick as he shadows of birds flew over his face. You became concerned when he suddenly ran out of the room, leaving you hanging with a clean face and more questions than answers.

You had gotten under his skin; he'd shown you a weak point in his life that you could use against him. He'd looked rattled, which made you more scared than when he was calm. Walter Khan didn't strike you as the kind of man that didn't always make sure he had the upper hand in every situation he walked into. But when he didn't, when he was backed into a corner...

Caged animal waiting to be unleashed.

'What have I done?' you asked into the empty room, but you were still surprised when no one answered back.

~~~

When his vision began splitting in two, Spencer rubbed at his tired eyes. He'd been staring at the map the police station had provided for over five hours now. Him and Penelope had found nothing - no properties in his name, no previous history in the areas, nothing.

But Spencer had kept looking though, refusing to believe that Walter Khan's trail went cold here. Not when he was doing who knew what to you. It was the only thought that kept him motivated, kept his tired eyes from closing entirely on him despite their great protest.

The rising sun wasn't helping with his vision either. After being awake all night, the introduction to natural light and blue skies was a shock to the system he was still adjusting to.

'Any updates from Morgan, JJ or Kate?' he asked, his voice rumbling with exhaustion.

Penelope had remained on the video feed since the others had left, refusing to leave Spencer alone. Maybe she thought he would do something reckless without supervision. If he was being honest, he couldn't blame her for thinking that, not when the murderous urge to strangle Khan with all Spencer's might tingled the tips of his fingers.

Or maybe that was the twelve cups of coffee he'd had in the past five hours finally kicking in.

'Not yet, sorry.' Penelope said wistfully, blinking several times as she continued looking at a screen off to the side of the camera. Even in her tired state, she refused to rub at her face like Spencer in order to preserve her glorious makeup. Spencer had to admit it was impressive. She had a lot more self control than she gave herself credit for.

Just the thought alone had him rubbing his eyes again. 'Are you sure there isn't anything we've missed? What about Q25, Garcia? What's there?'

'Nothing but trees once more, boy wonder.' She heaved a sad, frustrated sigh. 'We've been looking at the same area for hours now and still nothing! What am I doing wrong?'

'It's not you, Garcia,' Spencer offered politely. Truthfully, he simultaneously felt no one was doing enough to find you, and yet they were exhausting everything they could to do so. But he was the one who promised to bring you home, who said it would all be over soon.

It was his fault you were still not found. There was something he wasn't seeing, and every second his supposedly big brain spent trying to figure it out was another second you could be being tortured.

He didn't let the thought that maybe you were already dead linger too long. Not when Hotch and Rossi stormed into the room, exhaustion and anger lining their weary faces. Spencer glanced behind them to see Madame Lacroix and two other men - one older with grey hair, the other much younger - being escorted into holding cells down the corridor.

'Madame Lacroix was a dead end,' Hotch explained before anyone could ask. 'But we managed to expose them for their involvement in Khan's business, and also the other illegal trades they've all been dealing with on the side. L/N's reports and photographs should be enough evidence to charge them on at least that.'

'But we can't bust them just yet on Khan,' Rossi added, his tone defeated. 'Any luck on the geo-profile?'

Spencer shook his head regrettably. 'There are no properties or anything that may indicate he has ties in the direction we think he's operating out of.'

'It's either just woodland or innocent estate living,' Penelope added. 'All names check out, they're not aliases.'

'Morgan, JJ, and Kate better find those girls soon then,' Rossi said. 'They seem to be our only guide to where Khan is hiding out.'

'The thing that is odd to me though,' Hotch started, 'is why he is hanging around. Why not kill L/N knowing she's an agent? Why not skip town or relocate as soon as possible?'

'Because it's a compulsion now,' Spencer found himself saying. He wasn't sure if it was from lack of sleep that he sounded delusional, but he kept talking. He needed to talk, anything to keep his mind off the alternatives. 'Y/N engrained herself so much into his operation that he may have deluded himself into thinking he can make her one of his girls for real.'

'So he'll keep her and use her just like the others,' Rossi said grimly. 'And when she eventually lets him down - as they all have - he'll kill her.'

'We'll find her before it gets to that point,' Hotch said so assuredly that Spencer almost believed it. But the odds were against them, and time was running out.

As if the universe was listening in, Penelope's gasp sent tremors of terror through Spencer as they all turned to her on the screen. 'Guys! The feed is back online!'

'Pull it up and start tracking it,' Hotch ordered, and Penelope didn't need telling twice as she did just that.

You were hanging again, but the blood that covered the lower half of your face was now gone. Your dress was ruffled and dirty in some places, and straws of hay were tangled in your messy hair. He must've lowered you for the remainder of the night, but from the dark circles under your weary eyes, Spencer guessed you hadn't slept.

'He cleaned her up,' Rossi noticed too.

'That's a good thing right?' Penelope said, pausing her tracking for a second.

'No,' Spencer replied. 'It means he's got more in store for her.'

'You were right, Reid. It's a compulsion,' Rossi added.

'Keep tracking, Garcia,' Hotch said.

And there he was.

Walter Khan entered the frame, but instead of taunting them through the camera like last time, he walked straight over to you as if the camera wasn't even on. He grasped your chin, causing you to jerk backwards with a gasp.

'How did you know that?' he asked, voice tight and restrained. When you didn't answer, he pulled you closer with a harsh tug that caused the chains to rattle. 'How did you know?!'

'Lucky... Lucky guess, I suppose,' you replied, eyes flicking from Khan to the camera and back. Something had happened between the last feed and now, Spencer concluded. Some interaction that has brought out the frantic Khan.

'No!' He slapped you, sending you spinning around on the chain. When you swung back towards the camera, the sun highlighted the blood on your lip, how it trembled as you did. 'You knew about my life! No one does! So how would an undercover agent of all people know?'

'Maybe you're just... not as slick as you think you are,' you said in between haggard breaths. Spencer could only imagine how much pain you were in. He was both extremely proud of and extremely terrified for you.

Khan let out a growl that rattled the conference room it was that loud. He lashed out with a hard punch to your gut, then a slanted punch on your knee, receiving a loud crunch and crack in return.

For the first time since being caught, you screamed. It was the most horrible sound Spencer had ever heard in his life - even worse than the gunshot that killed Maeve. It echoed through the Warehouse, a guttural, pained sound that would haunt not only Spencer's dreams but Hotch, Rossi, and Penelope's too.

You gathered yourself quickly and bit down on your lip, silencing your cries. Sunlight showed the tears that gathered at your eyes, still refusing to fall. But Spencer could tell it was taking all you had to keep it together. You knew they were watching. You probably were holding it together for them.

The pride and terror he felt for you was overwhelming to a point his knees almost buckled. But if you could keep it together while being tortured, he could do it too.

Once you'd calmed your breathing, you looked back at Khan, hate in your beautiful E/C eyes. 'Beating me... will get you nowhere... I refuse... to break to you.'

Everyone held their breaths as you held your stare with Khan, and Spencer realised it then.

It hit him in consistent waves that made it hard to catch his breath or even fully realise what was happening. It was how you stared down the crook man, unrelenting, unwavering, unbreakable. It was how, even at you most vulnerable, you made sure to put on a brave face for the team, for him. He hadn't dared think it before - not after Maeve. But the heavy thuds of his heart couldn't be mistaken.

Khan contemplated you for a moment, and then pulled out a pocket knife from his pants. He was calm again which Spencer didn't like one bit. 'Very well, then. You want to act tough?' He didn't wait for a reply as he sliced the top button of your dress off expertly. Then another and another, until almost the entirety of your bra showed. 'Let's see how tough you really are.'

Your eyes blew wide in terror finally realising what his intentions were. Spencer realised a second after, and his blood boiled painfully.

'Garcia,' Spencer managed out, unable to take his eyes off you as Khan sliced off another button and another. By the time he got to the last one, exposing your underwear too, Spencer was on the verge of a panic attack. 'Garcia!'

'I'm honing in on it now!' she called back, but it wasn't enough to quell his fear.

Khan slipped off the dress with a few more slices of the knife, then proceeded to pocket it and press himself against your back. You tried pulling away, but Khan's arms were around you already, feeling you everywhere, violating you.

That's when the tears finally fell. A broken sob escaped your bloodied, trembling lips as Khan's hands dragged all over you, brushing away the hair on your neck to press a sickeningly gentle kiss there.

But instead of completely crumbling, you looked directly into the camera and said, 'I would've said yes.'

For a moment it was just him and you. You words were so soft he almost didn't believe you said them. Spencer saw out of the corner of his eyes Hotch and Rossi didn't understand, but this wasn't about them. You were speaking directly to Spencer, probably with full faith that he was watching and that he was on his way to save you already.

Khan paused his ministrations at the odd statement, giving you a confused look. 'What?'

'I would've said yes,' you repeated, but this time there was a resignation to your words. As if you accepted that those would be the last words anyone would hear you speak. Spencer quickly realised that, as much as you believed he was coming, you didn't believe you would be alive when he finally did.

Khan followed your gaze to the camera, his expression changing as he realised you weren't talking to him.

'I would've said yes,' you said again, not once looking away from the camera.

Khan's hands retracted from you.

'I would've said yes.'

He walked over to the camera.

'I would've said yes.'

'You disappeared behind his huge frame.

'I would've said yes.'

He reached out to switch it off.

'I would've said-'

The feed went dark. The room fell silent, but only for a second. As Spencer stormed out of the room, slamming the door open as he did. He didn't know where he was going, just that he had to get out of that room.

I would've said yes.

The way you'd said it was like you were trying to make sure he heard you - that, as your last words to him, you wanted to let him know of what could've been.

He stormed into the break room where thankfully nobody resided in. He slammed his fist on one of the tables, and kicked at the chair residing at it. Anger coursed through every fibre in him, at Khan, at Holt, at himself.

I would've said yes.

'Reid.'

Spencer turned to find Rossi standing in the doorway, concern wrinkling his weathered features more. 'You okay?' he asked, slowly walking into the room fully then closing the door behind him. 'What was that about?'

'She would've said yes,' was all Spencer could manage out in his wild state of mind, finding it hard to breathe he was so wound up. 'She would've...'

'I heard that,' Rossi said gently. 'I don't know what that means. But you clearly do. So spill, boy genius. What did she mean by that?'

Spencer tugged at his hair in frustration. 'Before she left I asked her out,' he explained, voice rising as his worry did. 'She was never able to give me an answer because she was sworn to secrecy, and I thought that all this time she never liked me liked that because we've been friends for so long, but she would've said yes. You heard her! She would've said yes! And now she-'

'Okay, okay, okay,' Rossi interrupted, gently grabbing Spencer by his arms and guiding him to the chair he'd kicked just before. Spencer didn't have the strength to fight the older man, allowing himself to be guided into a seat.

Rossi crouched in front of Spencer, holding Spencer's shaking hands in his steady ones. 'Just breathe, Reid. Just breathe.'

Spencer followed Rossi' instructions as best as he could, but panic and despair had already crept in. 'Do you know,' he started, lips trembling, voice quaking with emotions he couldn't quite understand, 'that friendships that last longer than seven years... that they are meant to last for life? Y/N and I... we've been friends for a decade.'

'I know,' Rossi answered gently. 'You, JJ, Penelope and Y/N are quite close.'

'Yes, but,' Spencer continued through the sniffles, 'Y/N's always been there. Not just for me, but with me. I never realised how integral to my life she was until she left. I never realised that my love for her was something more until it was too late.'

'You love her?'

Only when Rossi pointed it out did Spencer realise what he'd admitted. But it wasn't a casual slip of the tongue - it was intentional, it was true, it was the only thing he wanted to say because he hated how long it took him to realise it for himself.

He nodded slowly, tears running down his cheeks. 'I didn't know it at first, but it didn't just happen overnight. Truth is... I think I've loved her from the day I met her. Platonically at first, but it's grown as we have, and she is so precious to me Rossi. I can't lose her. I can't.'

Sobs wracked his boney body as he broke down. Rossi pulled him into an awkward but comforting hug, and Spencer couldn't express how grateful he was for such comfort. Rossi had grown into the father figure he'd made Gideon out to be; and while Spencer had learnt to stand on his own two feet, it was reassuring knowing he had someone older and wiser to rely upon.

'It's like Maeve all over again,' Spencer found himself saying, still clinging onto Rossi like his life depended on it. 'Just when I glimpse happiness, it's snatched away. And there is nothing I can do about it.'

'No, no,' Rossi said, pulling back to look Spencer directly in his amber eyes. 'You listen to me, boy wonder. We are going to find her, and we're going to bring her home. And you are going to tell her how you feel and finally take her on a date. Is that understood?' When Spencer didn't answer, Rossi continued.

'Remember how when Maeve died, you holed yourself up in your apartment for weeks, and didn't talk to anyone?' Spencer nodded, but only because he didn't quite understand why Rossi was bringing it up. 'And remember how we all came by to visit, but mostly Y/N? That was because she believed you were strong enough to get through it. She never doubted you, never gave up on you, Spence. Are you really going to return the favour by giving up on her?'

Spencer stared at Rossi for a moment, perplexed that he even would suggest such a thing. He quickly wiped his tears away, though. 'No,' he answered, voice stern and hopeful.

'Good,' Rossi replied, standing back up. 'Now use that big brain of yours. There's got to be something that we missed.'

Before Spencer could answer, the door to the break room swung open to reveal a flustered Derek Morgan. 'We found them,' he said between heavy breaths. 'We found the girls.'

#spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #romance #angst #david rossi #derek morgan #jason gideon #jennifer jareau #slowburn #aaron hotch hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #emily prentiss #kate callahan #penelope garcia #alex blake #friends to lovers #captivity #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #fbi

[themagenamedsage]

Nothing Else Matters (Part 2/2)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Witch!Reader

Warnings: Season 4 Spoilers, Heavy Angsty, Explicit Language, References to Major Character Death, Reader’s Morals are Gray at Best. Reader uses she/her/hers pronouns. Few uses of Y/N, though reader is primarily referred to through the use of a nickname.

Summary: Dabbling in this type of magic would no doubt create an imbalance, messing with the natural order of things. But then again, there was nothing natural about the way he died.

Word Count: 8,262

A/N: At long last, Part 2 is finally here! We apologize for the wait but we thank you for your patience and for all of the support on the previous part. Before we move forward, we want to update you all on a couple of things.

First- As we’ve previously stated, we are working on continuing this story as a full fic. But based on the story we want to tell and the angle we’re going for, the fic will most likely go back in time and start at the beginning of ST4. This two part one shot can be considered a prologue and an epilogue of sorts, since we most likely will not be taking the story any further than the final scene of ST4, at least for the time being. 

Second- In terms of how frequently we will be able to release chapters, that is unfortunately TBD for the time being as well. With both of our schedules and separate projects that are still in progress, it’s definitely going to be a challenge to get them out as frequently as we’d like. But we’re still going to try our best and promise to not leave you hanging! 

With all of that said, we’re very much looking forward to continuing this story that has grown so near and dear to both of our hearts over the past couple of months and we hope you all continue to follow along!

If you’d like to be added to the taglist, please feel free to let us know! 🖤

Listen to the playlist here. 🎶

PART 1 can be found here!

There were a few good things about the fact that Hawkins was in a mild state of chaos.

Compared to everything else going on in town, a girl walking along the side of the road was the least of many people’s worries and hadn’t garnered much attention. 

It also helped that she had literally chosen the road less traveled. Hardly anyone used the roads located on the outskirts of town. The main highway - although almost always jammed - pointed right in the direction of the city, which made it far more appealing to those coming to and going from Hawkins. The surrounding back roads were a far safer bet. 

At first, there had been one car that passed her as she walked along the nearly abandoned roads, and it had slowed down as they passed by. The older woman in the driver’s seat had been traveling alone. Fortunately, due to the array of borrowed clothing she had chosen to disguise herself with, the woman hadn’t recognized her from the local news.

The woman smiled warmly at her whilst offering her a ride. She turned it down quickly, forcing herself to act as natural as she could muster so as not to raise suspicion. Thankfully, her polite refusal hadn’t been given a second thought and she had been left alone.

Since her encounter with that first car, she made it a point to dash into the woods alongside the road whenever the grumbling of a car was heard coming towards or up behind her. 

Unfortunately, though the roads initially seemed nearly empty, the longer she walked, the more cars she encountered. And before long, she took many, many quick side steps into the brush to take cover. And what had been more unfortunate, was that what would have been a near hour walk already quickly turned into a multi-hour affair. 

Other than that, the journey had been surprisingly easy. 

Almost too easy.

It was ridiculous, to say the least. Why would you risk being spotted loitering around the scene of the crime you allegedly helped commit? But after much consideration and deliberation, she concluded that it might not be as risky as previously thought. If she was correct - which, knowing her parents and the people who were now in charge of Hawkins law enforcement, she most likely was - where she was headed was the absolute last place anyone would imagine her turning up. 

When her destination finally came into view, she almost cried. For more reasons than one.

The trailer park was an eerie sight.

There was not a soul to be seen. The nosy neighbors who had once spent most of their free time outside just in an effort to watch everyone else come and go had long since abandoned their humble abodes in favor of the safety some motel rooms a few towns over could provide. 

Even the stray cats that seemed to occupy the gravel roads like citizens in their own right were nowhere to be seen. She spared a brief passing thought for them, hoping that, like their human counterparts, they had been able to find shelter elsewhere.

It was quiet, too. 

Music, the sound of barking dogs, and the sizzling of fires had not been uncommon pieces of the trailer park’s usual ambience. But none of those noises filled the air that night.

It had been completely deserted.

When the trailer - their trailer - came into view, she froze.

It looked like a shell of its former self. The gate's opening had caused it to split right down the middle, a grotesque scene of the place she had once dwelled in.

But it was home.

It was the only place she’d ever been able to call home, really. She lived with her parents, in the family house. But living with the Munsons, in their trailer, had been home.

The heavy metal and old country music battling for audibility whenever Wayne was around. The clutter that prevented the trailer from ever being clean, but always indicated that it was a space well-lived in.

All of it was gone.

There was no door, not anymore. The only way in was to climb up and over the opposite side of the trailer, which had folded over upon themselves.

The task was a bit of a struggle, but not any more than the countless other challenges she’d faced over the past two days.

Once she was inside the remains of the trailer, she stopped for a moment to observe her surroundings. It had been the first time she’d stepped foot in their bedroom since… 

Her breath hitched in her throat.

The bedroom that she had shared with her other half for over a year. The mattress stained with a plethora of things - some of which neither of them would ever specifically divulge - had most likely disintegrated. And though it made no sense, his most prized possession was long gone- the place where he had so lovingly hung it upon the bedroom wall was bare. However, some version of it had to still be out there, she reckoned.

… Better that way. At least it was with its owner.

For now.

Once she’d gotten her bearings, she slowly started down what used to be the hallway. She allowed her memory to guide her more than anything else, considering the visible remnants of it were almost completely unrecognizable.

She rummaged around in her bag briefly before finding the emergency candles Dustin had given to her the first night she’d spent in her aunt’s house, when he’d also dropped off the food.

Oh, sweet Dustin.

She smirked to herself bitterly. What would the boy have thought about her chosen use of the candles now?

As she stood there, they felt heavy in her hand. But the forbidden journal she’d found, which was still in the bag slung off her shoulder, felt even heavier. 

She lit one with the lighter - Eddie’s lighter - she had also managed to grab before she left. Watching the flame for just a second, she blew it out. As the smoke slowly disintegrated into the surrounding airspace, a moment of doubt snuck upon her, and for the first time in several hours, she questioned what she had set out to do. 

What would Steve think?

What she was thinking of doing was wrong, terribly wrong. 

Not only would each of her new friends completely detest and possibly fear her actions, it was also considered taboo among most other practitioners. Death was a natural occurrence of life, and matters related to it were highly advised not to be messed with. Dabbling in this type of magic would no doubt create an imbalance, messing with the natural order of things.

But then again, there was nothing natural about the way he died.

That realization quickly prevented her from feeling too guilty, taking a moment to replay the day’s previous events in her mind. She used the rapidly increasing fury for motivation and pushed all other thoughts to the side, before looking up at the open space above the trailer wistfully. 

The gate, still glowing ever so slightly, was directly in front of her. Unlike before, she didn’t have to climb any ropes or go through any more obstacles.

All she had to do this time was just walk straight in. 

She placed the candle on the ground, and pulled out one final item.

Her walkman and headphones. 

Putting them on, she took a deep breath. As she began to brace herself for what was to come, she exhaled before pressing play.

All Dustin could think about was her.

Steve hadn’t been lying when he’d said he didn’t take the news of their decision well. 

He was furious. And extremely concerned.

Dustin considered her a friend now. A valuable member of their party. And now he was just supposed to stay away from her. After she had lost everything?! 

The others had assured him that she would be okay, that they were still looking after her, and that she wouldn’t be alone. Steve swore up and down that she had understood the situation and didn’t misinterpret it as an act of abandonment on his part. Deep down, Dustin questioned his friend’s honesty at that moment, but he ultimately chose to trust him. The truth was, there had been some validity in Steve’s argument behind the decision.

And Dustin couldn’t contain his excitement upon seeing his beloved friends return from months of living halfway across the country. He’d limped as fast as he could just to greet them. 

Once the salutations had been exchanged, he filled them in briefly before they went their separate ways yet again. The others were eager to visit Max after hearing of her condition. So, while they headed on over to the hospital, Dustin had decided to stick with Steve and Robin, accompanying them to the school instead. 

He sat in the backseat of Steve’s car, listening to him drone on after witnessing Jonathan and Nancy’s reunion. 

“I know they never broke up or anything, but you saw how Nancy was whenever any of us brought him up. She seemed conflicted!”

“They’ve been going long distance for almost a year now. It can be really hard on any relationship- make you question your feelings,” Robin retorted.

“Yeah, but this is Nancy we’re talking about. She knows exactly who she is and what she feels.”

Robin rolled her eyes at her best friend’s ridiculous argument. “But at the end of the day, he’s still her boyfriend.”

Steve stammered, trying - and failing - to find any evidence to the contrary. He sighed, admitting defeat. “I know…”

“I don’t know what you expected, Steve.” She shook her head, trying to hold back a laugh, knowing that it wasn’t his fault that he was still head over heels in love with his high school sweetheart.

“I just thought that we had connected. After everything that we’d experienced together down there, you know?”

Dustin would have been lying if he said he’d been paying much attention to any of what his two older friends had been saying. But Steve’s last statement got his full attention immediately. 

Steve was one to talk, he thought. 

They continued their banter while Dustin’s mind wandered back to his new friend, the one that had endured the same tragic loss he had just two days prior. The same one that was now sitting alone in her aunt’s old house, most likely replaying what had happened over and over again in her mind. Except now, she didn’t have him to lean on. 

Dustin then opted to focus on the music that was playing in the background. The low hum of Bring On the Dancing Horses echoed through the small speakers in Steve’s beloved BMW.

“Sage loves this song.”

The sound of Dustin’s voice quickly silenced the two sitting in the front seat. Steve looked back at him through the rearview mirror, a flash of concern on his face at the mention of his estranged friend.

“It’s by one of her favorite bands. It was on the tape Eddie told me to play, in case Vecna got her.” 

Robin looked at Steve sympathetically, knowing exactly what was going through his mind upon hearing Dustin’s words. 

Steve tried his best to keep his eyes on the road, but also watched Dustin intently as he continued to talk.

“She really loved listening to music. Eddie said it always made her feel better. Does she have all her tapes with her? Maybe we should call and check-”

Steve merely shook his head. “She’s got ‘em all.” 

Dustin opened his mouth to continue, but Steve quickly cut him off. “And she’s got plenty of food and water and everything else she needs. She’s okay, Buddy. I promise.” 

He nodded, knowing that Steve had gotten wise to his motives and most likely wouldn’t allow him to pry any further. 

Steve pulled into the parking lot. Though school was not in session, the amount of cars already parked outside of the building and the people who could already be seen coming and going from the gym’s entrance would have suggested otherwise.

“You just gotta leave her be for now.”

The music blared through her headphones. It was a very welcome distraction from the various noises she knew would be waiting for her on the other side. 

But she had failed to remember one small detail before venturing into Mordor once again.

The gate was slimy. And it was fucking gross. 

Upon entrance, she was covered head to toe in what looked like it had come from straight out of some supernatural horror movie. One which she was now living in, apparently.

She wiped her face off with the inside of her jacket sleeve, not even taking the time to be gentle around her eyes, and spit out into the open. 

Once she’d gotten as clean as she imagined she was going to get, she headed to the upside down version of the bedroom, and somewhat carelessly dumped her belongings in the bag out onto the floor. She spotted the remaining safety candle, and grabbed it as gently as possible, before blowing on the unlit wick. 

It was one of the most exciting things she could have possibly seen in her current situation. The candle caught aflame right in front of her eyes, without her even having to light it. 

“Ha!” she laughed triumphantly before setting the candle down, just for a minute, as she gathered her things. 

As soon as she was set, the mood quickly shifted once more as the implications of what she had to do came over her, much like a sudden storm.

The candle in her hand did little to provide any actual light as she made her way out of the remnants of the trailer and into the Upside Down. But, like the music that continued to blare through the headphones situated over her ears, it grounded her, giving her something else to focus on then the dark setting surrounding her. Not to mention the fact that the creatures that were potentially still roaming around were averse to fire.

She wandered for a few minutes. The memories of that night - with a few notable exceptions - were hazy at best, causing the exact location she sought to be unknown. All she knew for sure was that everything had gone down in the general vicinity of the trailer.

Sure enough, after a few minutes of searching, her eyes landed on the bottoms of the white sneakers she knew so well that she swore she’d have been able to pick them out of a line up. She froze, her eyes forcing themselves shut before they dared to venture further up than that of the shoes.

Her eyes had only been on him for a mere second before she turned on her heels, rushing to the closest form of shrubbery in sight. Her body convulsed as she emptied the contents of her stomach, bile coating the dried up flowers littered about the neighboring trailer’s front lawn area.

She’d been so focused on the task at hand, she hadn’t given much consideration to how she’d react upon seeing him again. 

Once it seemed as though there was nothing left to throw up, she quickly wiped her mouth and tried to focus on her breathing, and the lyrics of the song playing. 

“Under blue moon I saw you. So soon you’ll take me.”

It was one of their songs. The memories tied to it were ones of happiness and safety. She turned back around and this time, forced her eyes open, trudging her feet forward. Her heart shattered more than she thought was still possible with each heavy step she took.

“Up in your arms too late to beg you. Or cancel it, though I know it must be the killing time.”

There he was. Still laying there in the dirt, unceremoniously splayed out upon the ground. It was a gruesome scene to leave him in. And yet, she’d been given no choice in the matter.

“Unwillingly mine.”

Her knees gave out beneath her as she fell to the ground beside him, not at all unlike she had 48 hours ago.

Tears clouded her vision as her eyes traveled upwards, starting with the white sneakers he made no serious effort to keep clean, all the way up towards his face.

… Fuck.

His soft brown eyes, once so full of life, were now clouded and focused somewhere beyond. She felt herself let out a sob.

“‘And the ship went out into the High Sea and passed on into the West, until at last on a night of rain Frodo smelled a sweet fragrance on the air and heard the sound of singing that came over the water.’”

The gentleness of Eddie’s voice as he read Return of the King always did wonders to lull her to sleep. He knew it too. The light hand that ran idle fingers through her hair was further evidence of his harmless intentions. 

The two of them were laying on his bed, limbs intertwined this way and that. The rainy Sunday afternoon was the perfect excuse for a midday nap.

“‘And then it seemed to him that as in his dream in the house of Bombadil, the gray rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back, and he beheld white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise,’” Eddie finished.

A few moments of silence passed.

“You paused,” she said, her voice muffled as her face was pressed to the front of his shirt.

“... Do you think that’s really what it’s like?” he wondered, his voice even quieter. “You know… after?’

She hummed, the clutches of sleep rendering her almost devoid of clear thoughts. Still, the sudden shift in his tone urged her to reply softly, “I’d like to think so.”

Eddie’s hand came to a stop on the back of her head. “Yeah… I think so too.” Then, he cleared his throat. “Right… Where were we? -”

She hoped to whatever higher powers that be, that his sweet soul had managed to wind up there.

White shores. A far green country. A swift sunrise.

After everything he’d done, it was the least he deserved.

“Fate. Up against your will. Through the thick and thin. He will wait until you give yourself to him.”

And if there was any chance, any chance at all, that what he was experiencing was anything less than that, didn’t she owe it to him to move forward with her plan?

She cleared her throat, eyes flashing down to him once more. 

What she needed to do would require focus, and she also knew that would be extremely difficult if she proceeded like this.

After placing the candle down carefully, she dug into her bag, quickly finding the blanket she’d thrown in earlier before leaving. She whispered indescribable apologies as she flourished the blanket quickly, before letting it fall to the ground, peacefully draping over him. She was incredibly grateful that the ritual involved a “veil” of some sort, because she wasn’t sure how much longer she could look at him in that state.

She rose and took a few steps back, taking the candle with her. A little bit of distance would be safer. When she was comfortable with the amount of space between them, she lowered herself back to the ground. She set down the candle once more, and withdrew the vest and the journal from her bag.

With the vest serving as the grounding object in one hand, and the journal, opened to the exact page she’d discovered earlier in the day, serving as the tool with which she meant to accomplish her means in the other, she willed herself to calmness. Once she was a bit more relaxed, she lowered the headphones off her ears, letting them dangle freely around her neck.

The quietness of the Upside Down was eerie, but it did wonders to focus her attention even more to the task at hand.

When she was ready, she began reading the words on the page. Mental images of the one she longed to see once more filled her mind as she did so, hopefully giving the spell all the intentions it would need.

Once she had read through it once, her eyes lifted off the page, and darted over towards the blanketed figure a few yards away.

It remained still.

She tried again. Perhaps it was meant to be a mantra.

And again, nothing.

A third time.

Nothing.

The all too familiar feeling of anger flooded her once more. She rose from the ground, letting the journal and vest fall as she did so.

She rushed over to the blanketed figure, before grabbing a fistful of fabric and yanking it up unceremoniously.

He was gone.

Her face contorted in the perfect storm of confusion and fear.

“Sage?”

It was so soft, she’d barely heard it.

“Sweetheart, is that you?”

Chills crawled up her spine upon hearing that voice.

The voice that she never thought she’d get to hear again. 

She braced herself yet again, as she slowly turned around.

Upon their arrival, Steve, Robin and Dustin headed into the packed gymnasium. Each of them winced as they walked by the hundreds of people who were receiving much needed medical attention, and the rest of them, who were very obviously in distress after the alleged “earthquake”.

Maybe it was guilt, or just straight up compassion. But Robin had volunteered the three of them to help attend to the stations and patrons… Or were they inhabitants? Dustin wasn’t sure what to call them, but he wasn’t even sure he cared enough to figure it out.

He limped around, passing out cups of water to anyone who needed one. He looked at each person with a small smile, and even cracked a few jokes to the more approachable-looking ones. But his mind was still elsewhere.

He was struggling. The conversation in the car had only caused him to miss his new friend even more than he already had been. Everyone had said they were there for him, and that they were more than willing to lend an ear if he needed or wanted to talk about everything that had happened. But when it came down to it, when Dustin was actually looking to discuss it all, he was very quickly brushed off. 

Oh, how he wished he could talk to her. They could talk about Eddie - the real Eddie. Even if it was just to acknowledge his former existence. After all, they were probably the two people in the world who loved him the most.

Just as that thought crossed Dustin’s mind, he spotted the forgotten third person who never once left Eddie’s corner, and who never failed to take up his defense throughout everything.

Wayne Munson stood by the bulletin board, replacing defaced missing posters for both his nephew and his nephew’s girlfriend. Dustin could tell that this wasn’t a new experience for him. The way he quickly tore down the posters - each covered in cruel remarks and doodles - was an action marked by clear exhaustion and defeat.

“Mr. Munson?” Dustin didn’t hesitate to call out to him, even though he didn’t seem to want anything to do with him. “I’m Dustin Henderson. Can we talk?” 

He looked at the older man with hopeful eyes, but was immediately shot down.

“I can’t imagine we’ve got anything to talk about.”

He must not have recognized him. Although they’d never officially met before, Dustin had heard plenty about Mr. Munson. Especially over the past week. 

“My nephew is innocent. And so is the girl.” His loyalty was ever present in his tone and demeanor. Dustin merely nodded in response as the older man continued. “They’re still missing. I’ll put up as many posters as I need until they’re found. So, unless you’ve got anything to say that can help me with that, good day to you.” He quickly grabbed his things and began to walk away, but Dustin’s words stopped him dead in his tracks.

“I was with him,” he blurted out, voice already shaking. “I was with him when the earthquake hit.”

Wayne nodded gently, fearing the answer to the question he was about to ask. 

“And… where is Eddie now?”

Dustin shook slightly in place, and it was not due to his injured ankle. His lips started to quiver as he silently reached into his back pocket to reveal the guitar pick necklace that had always adorned his older friend’s neck. 

The look on Wayne’s face upon seeing it was one of immediate recognition.  

“I’m so sorry.” Dustin hobbled over to him, hand extended outward. 

Wayne took the pick into his own hand immediately. A devastated smile spread across his face as he ran his fingers over the smooth plastic, before going over to sit on a nearby cot. Dustin quickly joined him. 

“… And the girl?” Wayne’s voice perked up ever so slightly, and the smallest bit of hope was still audible in his words.

Dustin merely shook his head.

He didn’t know what was worse, the fact that he was informing the man beside him that he had lost everything, or that to some degree, he was lying. 

Steve and the others had come to yet another mutual agreement without Dustin’s input, that if anyone had asked, they were all to say that she had died alongside Eddie that night.

“This way, the heat will die down and we’ll be able to get her out of town without anyone looking for her. It’s the best thing for everyone.”

“I wish everyone had gotten to know him. Really know him. Because they would’ve loved him, Mr. Munson. Just like you, me, and Sage did.”

Wayne cried, silent tears running slowly down his tired face. The tears fell for both his honorary son and the girl who had come to be his honorary daughter. 

“They would’ve loved him. Even in the end… he never stopped being Eddie. Despite everything, I never even saw him get mad. That was always more her thing, though…” 

That caused Wayne to laugh, and Dustin laughed with him as he recalled all of the times she’d gotten so upset with Eddie for being his ridiculous, unserious, and wonderful self when they desperately needed to focus. 

“He could’ve run. He could’ve saved himself. But he fought. He fought and died to protect this town. This town that… hated them.”

Wayne sobbed, clutching the necklace tight. 

“He isn’t just innocent. Mr. Munson, he’s… he’s a hero. He was her hero.” 

After that, the two sat in silence for a while, remembering the person that they loved and cared so deeply for.

As he sat there with the last remaining Munson, Dustin was hit with an epiphany. He knew then that no matter what Steve, Robin, and Nancy said, he needed to be there for his friend. And as soon as he got a chance, he would contact her. 

She whimpered upon meeting his gaze. 

He stood there, covered in his own blood, eyes still clouded. 

But he was alive.

Without any hesitation, she rushed over and threw her arms around him. In that moment, she swore she’d never let him go again. 

He held her as she sobbed. “Baby, what’s going on?”

Her voice shook immensely as she attempted to speak. “You… you were… gone.” She gasped for air but ultimately just kept crying out. 

He shushed her, rubbing her back gently as he always did when she was upset. “I’m still here,” he whispered. He cupped her face in his hands and began to wipe her tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “But I shouldn’t be.”

She looked at him, eyes once again full of confusion. 

“I was dead, Sage. And somehow, you brought me back. How did you do it? What did you do?”

His eyes glanced over to the journal on the ground next to them. He put the pieces together in his head. 

“You used dark magic, didn’t you?” 

His hold on her tightened, causing the flesh of her cheeks to sting even worse than they already had. 

“Eddie… you’re hurting me…”

In the five years they’d been romantically involved, he’d never been rough with her. But she’d never seen him like this before. He wasn’t even angry. He was scared.

“You swore to me that you’d never get into this kind of shit. Why would you do this?!”

He began to shake her on each word, seemingly in some kind of effort further emphasizing his point. She just let out a string of broken cries. “I couldn’t live without you.”

He scoffed slightly, narrowing his eyes at her. “Couldn’t? Or didn’t want to?”

She looked at him with pleading eyes, but he refused to meet her gaze. Despite his blunt disapproval of her actions, she just couldn’t understand why he was behaving this way. “Of course I don’t want to live without you. You’re everything to me, Eddie.” 

“Then why would you bring me back into a world that doesn’t want me?! I’m just gonna end up dead one way or another. Why couldn’t you just let me be at peace? Why did you have to be so selfish?!” 

His eyes snapped back up to meet hers, the look of disgust plastered upon his face. “It’s because you needed someone to take the blame for your crimes.”

“What-”

“You killed Chrissy, didn’t you?” 

His accusation stunned her to silence.

His once clouded irises were now completely white, while the rest of his eyes were bloodshot.

“It wasn’t Vecna. It was you. You were jealous of her. You thought I’d leave you, so you killed her. Just like you killed Fred for telling Nancy about your past, and Patrick for calling you a witch.”

His accusations shot out, one right after the other. Each of them stung as they pierced into her like bullets. 

He took the final shot, straight for the heart.

“You killed them all- just like you killed your brother.”

She stood there, paralyzed. Mouth hung open, she wracked her brain for any response that might get through to him. To prove him wrong. But she couldn’t find her voice. 

“They all said you were just as crazy as your aunt… Maybe I should’ve believed them.” 

Tears were streaming down her face as she shook violently, backing away from him as he got closer.

“You’re a monster, just like they said.”

His voice began to fade out, a much deeper and darker one taking its place.

“It should’ve been you that died!”

She stumbled back, losing her footing after backing into something that had been on the ground behind her. She yelped, looking down at the cushion-like item that had caused her fall.

It was Eddie’s corpse. 

It was still there, lying lifeless under the blanket. Her fall caused his left arm to peak out, showing off his pale hand adorned with all of his rings. She continued sobbing upon the sight.

None of it is real.

“Y/n…”

At first she had thought it was part of the hallucination, or maybe just the miscellaneous noises blurring together to create something that faintly resembled it. After all, she’d barely been called that name anymore. 

But then she heard it again, this time slightly louder than before. It continued to increase in volume as the source of the call approached her.

She shivered upon hearing her given name called out to her by the same evil voice that had mere moments before used Eddie -  her Eddie - as vessel to break her. 

“Y/n… It’s about time we’ve met…”

A dark, lanky, and disfigured creature could be spotted about a yard away from where she’d sat, curled into a fetal position in anguish, and now terror. 

“I’ve been looking forward to this moment for a very long time.”

She could only assume that the figure was Vecna himself. Even though she had no prior knowledge of his appearance, whatever was standing before her was more terrifying than anything she could’ve ever imagined. It had to be him.

“You’ve made it extremely difficult for us to communicate- always shutting me out the second I manage to get in. How is your mind so strong for someone so weak?” 

“Fuck you.”

Her words surprised her more than they did him. She was shocked that, given the current situation, she was able to talk back to someone who was easily considered the most dangerous monster of them all.

Damn it, Eddie. She’d spent so much time discussing everything with him in D&D terms, that she still found herself looking at everything through the lens of the game. 

But this wasn’t a game. And the odds of her making it out of this encounter alive - especially with her smart mouth - were slim to none. 

Since when do you care about the odds?

“What do you even want with me?! If I’m so weak, what use could I possibly be to you? You’ve already taken everything. Why don’t you just cut the shit and finish me off.” 

He narrowed his ice cold, animalistic eyes at her more out of intrigue than anger. 

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” He spoke as he slowly closed in on her. “You want your suffering to finally end.” 

She wanted so badly to look away from him, to deny his accusation. But she couldn’t. Everything he was saying was completely true. 

“You want to take the coward's way out, to join your little boyfriend in the afterlife. What makes you think you deserve to be at peace after everything you’ve done?”

You demented fuck.

He chuckled. 

… Did he hear that?

Shit.

“I’m not letting you go that easily. You’re different from the others. I have bigger plans for you.”

As confused as she was, she had a feeling he wouldn’t leave her in the lurch for long. Max and Nancy had both mentioned his tendency to throw himself into an evil monologue. And she couldn’t deny that she had been at least a bit curious.

“You are my perfect vessel. Your guilt is stronger than all of them combined. If I had been able to kill you before, I probably wouldn’t have needed the others. But you just wouldn’t let me in.” 

Suddenly, everything all made sense.

It all came back to her past. Everything always did. It was always her fault. There was always something she could’ve done. To save Eddie. To save her brother. But she’d always been the selfish one. The one who made it out alive while countless others didn’t. And she’d always been living with the constant reminders of those failures. 

The months since the previous summer had been different though. She had always assumed it was something to do with witchcraft, possibly something new blowing through. At one point, she simply brushed it off due to the fact that she had started using new birth control. But those theories seemed downright laughable now. How could she have been so blind? When Max and Nancy were recounting their experiences of being in Vecna’s trance, she never made the connection between what they’d felt and seen to what she had experienced herself.

The days spent reliving slightly distorted versions of each of her memories as if they were happening all over again. The nights waking in a cold sweat from the horrific nightmares she had endured on the regular. The nosebleeds and piercing headaches that she would get following each of them. 

It was him the entire time. 

It had always been him.

“You wouldn’t let me in… until now.”

It had to have been the spell. It was the only logical explanation she could think of. I always knew it was too dangerous. I should’ve fucking listened. 

“Your plan may not have succeeded in the way you had hoped, but I’m so glad you were naive enough to try.”

Her eyes clenched shut tightly, and her body seized up as an overwhelming sense of pain washed over her. It was suffocating. It was impossible to tell if it was mental, emotional, or physical- it was all just pain. And nothing but pain. It flooded her senses, rendering her unable to make sense of or focus on anything but his voice.

“So ashamed. You hide from everyone, but you can’t hide from me. I see you for everything you are.”

The wind was abruptly knocked out of her as she fell into the deep, dark oblivion of her mind. She reached, grasping at anything. But there was nothing. Nothing but cold, empty darkness. She kept falling, until suddenly everything stopped, and her body was completely still.

“Usually, I like to take my time. But we don’t have that. So, I’ll make an exception, just this once.”

His voice echoed throughout the deepest depths of her mind. 

… Is that where I am?

“I’m going to show you everything now. You’ll know more than anyone ever has. You’ll finally be able to see what we’ve been working towards.”

Before she had a chance to process what was being said to her, she was jolted awake. Every single memory of her past, mixed with memories that weren’t even her own, flashed before her eyes. She had no idea how she was able to see each and every one of them - to feel them. It was almost as if she was actually living them, right in the present. 

All she could feel was pain. The pain of losing her brother, her aunt. Her family turning against her. Steve turning against her. The blood, the screaming. Eddie’s screams. Electric shocks? The all consuming, paralyzing fear of his victims. Max’s fear and the feeling of the life leaving her body. The exhilarating power and satisfaction he’d felt after slaughtering each and every one of them. The taste of flesh and blood filling her mouth. Eddie’s blood. 

She couldn’t help it- a last-ditch desperate idea of getting help crossed her mind. If she’d been able to find her voice, she may have actually called out the words, though she knew her efforts would have been entirely futile.

Help. 

Anyone? 

Please.

“Your friends are not able to help you now,” Vecna said. It was more of a fact, a cold, hard-truth of a statement than any kind of argument .”Though, why you even refer to them as such is rather interesting.”

Her eyes were still shut tightly. She was unsure of whether she was even still standing. There was nothing indicative of her surroundings, except for his voice, which only grew louder with each passing second.

“What kind of friends could be so ignorant, so callous about the devastating loss you’ve experienced?”

In a cruel sense of irony, at the tiniest mention of the person in question, she could’ve sworn her mind cleared enough for the faintest trace of his smiling face to flash across it. The vision was fleeting though, and just as quickly as it had dissipated, the pain returned, and with a vengeance.

“What kind of friends won’t let you properly say goodbye to your dead?” he questioned. In a softer tone, he added, “They’ve claimed to have tucked you away under the guise of your safety. But you should ask yourself- was that the real purpose? … After all, if you’re out of sight, you’re out of mind.”

Pain. Nothing but awful, unbearable pain.

“Your friends don’t want you to grieve, and yet they don’t want to console you, either. They would have you live out the rest of your days on the run… Is that really the kind of life you want? To waste away in constant regret in shame, to live in the shadows of a world that considers you to be a monster? They’re scared of you, Y/N. You’ve always been too powerful for them. They tried to suppress your abilities, to guilt you into submission. And you’ve always let them. That’s why you’re the way you are now- that is what makes you weak.”

With every sentence, his voice grew louder. Each statement was punctuated with a sense of resolve, and a sense of righteousness.

“You are weak.”

She was physically unable to respond to his declaration. But even if she had been able to do so, she wasn’t sure she would have.

“But it doesn’t have to be that way anymore… What you’ve done has bound us. I could force you to bend to my will. You’d crumble so very easily... But, aside from the weakness, I sense something else in you… you’re tired. Stop fighting. Choose to no longer be weak. Stop fighting, Y/N. Join me.”

At once, her eyes shot open. She physically felt as though she’d finally awoken from the nightmare that was his trance, like Max had. But when she looked around, she noticed that she was no longer in the trailer park. 

Everything was red and covered in what she could only assume was blood. Each of her surroundings had looked like they had been chewed up and spit out. Destroyed remnants of what appeared as the Creel house were directly in front of her. Her legs began moving, as if she were a puppet on a string. She turned the handle of the door and entered, paying no mind to the corpses of his victims that lined the walls. 

There he stood, in the center of the house. In front of him was a closed casket. It looked like it was made of some of the rubble, with vines wrapped around it, keeping it in place. But her focus was deterred upon the sight of the bat wings that adorned the top.

“I’ve always had plans for you… For both of you. Now, all you need to do is choose.”

Dustin slipped out of the cafeteria easily.

He made his way down the various hallways with just as much ease, despite his ankle protesting with every single step. Thankfully, there was enough activity going on throughout Hawkins’ High that those who pass him in the bright-white lit hallways barely spare him a second glance.

He reached his destination sooner than he expected, and when he tried the handle, he was overcome with a sense of relief that it had been unlocked. Dustin slipped inside the room quickly, and closed the door behind him.

His eyes scanned the room, assessing the damage.

It was more of a closet, really. The Hawkins’ High School AV Club was given just about as much respect as the middle school’s club.

The room looked like it had been ransacked; apparently, someone had thought to secure all potential modes of communication in advance, should something more traumatic happen to Hawkins in the meantime and render phone lines useless.

The Heathkit Ham Shack radio, which was identical to the one Mr. Clarke had dedicatedly worked to obtain for Hawkins’ Middle School AV Club just a few years prior, was nowhere to be found. Other miscellaneous devices were missing as well - the tall shelves bordering the walls of the small room looked particularly empty.

Dustin could only hope no one had thought to snag the particular device he was searching for.

He hobbled over to the shelf along the back wall, searching his mind for reference on where he had last seen the devices in question. There were only a few boxes to search.

On the final box he opened, a victorious smile broke out across his face.

He lifted up the device, and inspected it briefly before switching it on. The static that resounded was music to his ears. He quickly changed the frequency to the number he knew by heart.

“Sage, this is Dustin. Do you copy? Over.”

The seconds felt like minutes as they ticked away. Maybe she hadn’t heard?

“Sage, I repeat, this is Dustin. Do you copy? Over.”

Dustin waited for a response with bated breath, but was given no reprieve.

“Y/N?” he tried then, the name sounding a bit foreign on his tongue, due to his preference of using the girl’s nickname. “Do you copy?”

All Dustin was met with was more silence.

If she had been anywhere near the walkie talkie, which he had instructed her very specifically to keep by her side at all times, for safety of course, she should have heard him by then. Which made him wonder- where was she?

If she wasn’t in her great aunt’s house anymore, what happened? Had she’d been discovered?

Had she left voluntarily?

She wouldn’t… would she?

Regardless of what the answer was, something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

Steve watched Robin and Vicki with a smile as he continued to fold and sort the ever-growing piles of donated clothes.

He continued to glance over at them curiously until Dustin emerged in his line of sight, taking him aback. “Oh, hey.” Upon seeing his young friend’s stressed out look all over his face, Steve felt his smile fall. “What’s going on?”

“I think something’s wrong with Sage,” Dustin answered urgently.

Steve sighed tiredly. “Listen, Dustin, we’ve already been over this. She’s fine-”

“No,” Dustin interrupted, with a bit more force than Steve was used to seeing from him. “You don’t understand-”

“Hey, something’s going on outside!”

A loud shout ringing throughout the gymnasium broke through theirs and countless other ongoing conversations. Steve and Dustin turned their head towards the source of the sound, but by that point, a decent number of people had already made their way over towards the exit, evidently wanting to see whatever was going on for themselves.

Dustin didn’t spare him another glance as he moved to follow them.

“Dustin, wait!” Steve called, reaching towards him, but he was immediately cut off from further pursuing him by the long table he was standing behind. By the time he made his way around said table, Dustin was gone, lost in the growing crowd of people corralling themselves out of the building.

Steve was about to abandon his volunteer post to follow the crowd anyways, knowing Dustin couldn’t have been too hard to catch up with, given the rate of speed he was limited to at the moment. But something outside the window caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. With a sense of shock and dread, he approached the large panes of glass slowly.

Dustin stopped just outside of the gymnasium doors. Like the others surrounding him, his attention was immediately pulled upwards.

Snow-like particles fell from above, coating everything below in a light layer. However, once a few of the particles landed softly upon Dustin’s face, he realized with slight disdain that the small specs were not cold to the touch.

It wasn’t snow, he realized with horror. It was ash.

Worried chatter of those around him filled his ears, though their words were undetectable to him.

His head swiveled around, taking in the entire periphery of the visible skyline.

5, 6, 7- perhaps more- large black plumes of smoke billowed from the ground up to the sky. There wasn’t a direction around them that was clear. It was as though the entire town was surrounded- or rather, right in the thick of it.

Flashes of red flickered across the sky in the form of lightning. The lightning looked eerily similar, but it couldn’t be.

Could it?

Thunder never came. Instead, what followed the red streaks of harsh light was a low, rumbling sound.

It was the soundtrack of something ominous. And it wasn’t something coming. Whatever it was, it was already here.

Will hissed as a sharp pain pricked at the back of his neck.

Look up.

Much to his dismay, he did as he was compelled to, turning around and tilting his chin upwards. It looked like a storm rolling in. The happy chatter behind him ceased as the others evidently noticed the sudden weather change as well.

But the clouds were moving quickly, and after what felt like a mere minute, the sky had gone dark. And what fell from the clouds was not rain- but ash.

Hopper and El led the trek through the woods to the clearing that overlooked Hawkins. What was already a short walk felt even shorter with each step. But the closer they got, the heavier, more suffocated Will began to feel.

When the trees gave way to the open skies, and wildflowers and weeds replaced the dead leaves that littered the ground beneath their feet, an awful sight was revealed to them.

Before Will could even begin to process the terrible sight before him, the sharp pain at the back of his neck returned, as did a dull ringing throughout his ears.

We’ve only just begun.

He swallowed hard due to the paralyzing feeling of dread overcoming his senses. 

“No... No!” He whispered to himself more than anyone else. 

Mike, observant as ever, seemed to hear him though. “What’s happening? Is he talking to you?”

Will shook his head gently. “No, not to me. To someone else.”

Mike looked at him with more concern than he had in the entire week they’d just spent together. “What did he say?” 

After checking to make sure the others weren’t paying any attention to them, he met his gaze. Eyes wide and tears beginning to flow, he worked up the courage to speak.

“You’ve chosen wisely.” 

The other boy stared at him in confusion.

“Mike… He’s not alone anymore.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading!🖤

TAGLIST: @insertsupercoolusernamehere​

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x witch reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #angst #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #joseph quinn

[xthecaptainssaviorx]

House of the Dragon - future seasons possible timeline

Since they're apparently preparing or planning for the Battle of the Gullet (x), here's my prediction and the possibilities for the coming seasons, based on the timeline of the dance.

This will be a long post because there are multiple ways this could go, depending on how many seasons they will actually go for. I think they said that 3 is certain but if they have 8 episodes per season, I think 4 seasons is more likely for the dance itself.

Obviously, this is just me theorizing and wondering and most certainly not actually what will happen. Beware of spoilers below!!

In season 1 we saw the prelude to the dance, the green council, Aegon's coronation, the black council, Rhaenyra's coronation, the assault on Harrenhal and the Dance over Shipbreaker Bay.

Now obviously we can only speculate how far they'll take season 2 but this version seems like a possibility to me:

I have to admit, before the filming news and all that, I was sure season 2 would end with Rook's Rest but obviously, that won't be the case since the spoilers confirmed that the aftermath of the battle will be shown. Timeline wise, that would make the Battle of the Gullet the next likely possibility. However, I've also seen people talk about the chance of the second season ending with the Fall of King's Landing. I've got my opinion on that and the plot would be way too rushed but unfortunately, it's not impossible that they'll go with it.

Despite that, I don't see the Fall of King's Landing happening in the second season, especially if we only have 8 episodes. My guess is that the Battle of the Gullet will be alluded to in the final episode of season 2 and will end on a cliffhanger with it opening the 3rd season.

Maybe they'll switch some battles around because Daeron's involvement in the war only truly begins with the Battle of the Honeywine, which takes place after the Battle of the Gullet. Or it could mean we won't see Daeron in action until season 3.

Now we get to the part I'm uncertain about. Let's assume, all of this is somewhat accurate and we're in the third season now, and let's also assume they make 4 seasons of House of the Dragon or rather the Dance of the Dragons because who knows, where they'll end the show, where do they end the 3rd season? I have two options for that one:

The Fall of Dragonstone seems like a plausible choice because, while the Battle above the Gods Eye, as well as the Storming of the Dragonpit, would make a more epic finale, I highly doubt they'd go into the fourth and possibly final season without two fan favourites, Aemond and Daemon.

But maybe I'm wrong about that and they will. Maybe it will end with the Battle above the Gods Eye. With the Storming of the Dragonpit in the fourth season.

Despite all of my uncertainty regarding this one, I'm pretty sure they will push Rhaenyra's death back as far as possible. Definitely in the fourth season.

I'm unsure where exactly they'll end it but personally, the wedding of Aegon iii and Jaehaera seems like a good option for me. Obviously, it wouldn't be a happy end kind of story but that's not what it's supposed to be in the first place. And it would also leave the option for more.

Maybe the death of Aegon ii is the actual ending and everything that comes after is more of an epilogue kind of thing, although I assume they wouldn't leave the mystery around his death unsettled either so maybe not. What do you think?

#hotd meta #hotd theories #house of the dragon #hotd s2 #hotd season 2 spoilers #hotd spoilers #hotd rambling #watch me coming back to this post when the show is over just to see how wrong I was

[pholiabanna]

Why do you think so? It is kibda expected that Will is going to go to the Upside Dowm alone at some point and will face Vecna alone, whether or not Mike comes with him later on. You cannot have Will really face his issues and Vecna while Mike just there listening their convorstaion. And ofc Mike also would be worried for El, the leaks say he feels responsible for El and that is really a thing we saw all seasons straight. S4 was literally Mike talking about his worries about El and he now feels responsible for her further because he thinks he is not enough for her and couldnt help to save Max. I dont doubt that Mike and Will will teamup but Will also has to have his own arc for a certain time and Mike worrying for El is completely in character for him.

Mention of season 5 leaks under the cut. This is mainly an answer for the anon

Yeah, I definitely agree with what you said. Season 5 was described as Will's coming of age and he'll definitely have to spend some time alone facing Vecna and his own struggles, as every coming of age story. And also yes, Mike will worry about El because it's not like he doesn't give a fuck about her even if he doesn't love her, he's worried about her since s1.

However, what I meant is that some of these leaks (that again, could be written by anyone really) paint it as Mike being beside El for the whole season and having a completely separate arc to Will, which, as I said in the previous post, doesn't match up at all with what the ending sequence showed us. Remmeber that the epilogue of every season so far has set what would be the main focus in the following season, and in season 4 they didn't include a Mike and El duo in that sequence, maybe because even though he will worry about her, she won't be his main focus above everything, and they won't be the most significant pairing. El herself seemed more focused on Max and I think she'll spend most of season 5 with Lucas.

That of course, doesn't mean that Mike and El don't care about each other, but if we are looking back to what the last scene in season 4 was setting, and to season 2 and how Mike behaved with Will, I just think it's sus that none of the "leaks" mentioned anything about their storyline together, since knowing Mike, he will be very worried about Will the moment he sees he's in danger.

If I remember correctly, season 4 leaks (most of them fake too) also included many romantic melvin scenes (that were so out of context and not so melvin positive in the show itself, like the airport flowers) and there was never any mention of byler moments, even though Mike ended up having more scenes with Will than with El.

#byler #byler tumblr #stranger things

[kristmkris]

and one more

Title: "The Upside of Sacrifice"

Chapter 1: A Twist of Fate

After a grueling battle with Vecna, the gang finds themselves trapped in the Upside Down. Fear and desperation fill the air as they struggle to find a way back home. Just when all hope seems lost, a familiar face emerges from the shadows - it's Billy. He had somehow survived the events of season 3 and found himself in this eerie dimension.

Chapter 2: A Desperate Escape

With Billy's unexpected arrival, the group's spirits are lifted. Together, they manage to navigate through the Upside Down, evading dangerous creatures and eerie landscapes. Eventually, they stumble upon a trailer, which houses the gate back to the real world. As they make their way up the rope, Steve notices the relentless pursuit of Vecna.

Chapter 3: A Hero's Sacrifice

Steve, ever the self-sacrificing babysitter, realizes that the group won't make it to safety with Vecna hot on their heels. In a moment of bravery, he decides to cut the rope, severing their connection to the Upside Down. Steve valiantly fights Henry, trying to stop him from following the others, but ultimately finds himself overwhelmed. He is left behind, trapped in the otherworldly dimension.

Chapter 4: Emotional Aftermath

The children, deeply affected by Steve's sacrifice, find solace in each other's support. They lean on one another, grieving the loss of their friend and hero. Eleven, utilizing her powers, manages to close the gate, sealing it shut and trapping Steve in the Upside Down. The group hopes that Steve will find peace, perhaps even reuniting with Chrissy or Bob, if they are also trapped in this dimension.

Chapter 5: The Return

Months pass, and the group has settled into a peaceful life. However, Steve, through his unwavering determination, discovers a way to return, possibly through a lake or another means, even the pool in his own house. As he quietly observes their content lives from afar, he realizes that they have moved on.

Chapter 6: A Ray of Hope

Just as Steve is about to disappear once again, he catches the attention of someone in the group. They recognize him, and the realization dawns upon them that they need to bring Steve back. Despite his doubts and feelings of unworthiness, Eddie and Billy, who have formed a bond over their shared love for Big Boy, believe that Steve deserves to be reunited with them.

Chapter 7: A Reunion of Heroes

The group sets out on a mission to bring Steve back from the Upside Down. With Eleven leading the way, they embark on a dangerous journey to rescue their friend. Along the way, they face new challenges, encounter strange creatures, and confront their own fears. Through it all, they remain determined to save Steve and bring him back to the peaceful life they now lead.

Chapter 8: The Power of Friendship

As the group finally reaches the Upside Down, they find Steve, weakened but still fighting to survive. Together, they face one final battle against the forces that seek to keep them apart. With their combined strength and unwavering friendship, they manage to triumph over the darkness, closing the gate once and for all.

Epilogue: A New Beginning

Having successfully rescued Steve, the group returns to their peaceful lives, forever changed by their experiences. Steve, Eddie, and Billy, now bonded by their shared journey, find comfort and love in each other's arms. With the Upside Down behind them, they embrace their newfound happiness, knowing that their friendship and love will endure any challenges that come their way.

And so, the story of "The Upside of Sacrifice" ends, but the adventures of these extraordinary friends continue, bound together by the strength of their bonds and the power of love.

#fanfiction #harringroveson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #billy hargrove #metalsandwich #fic ideas #steddie #mungrove