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𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)

next ┊ 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Summary: After a series of unfortunate events in your life, and lonelier than ever, you often turn to a dead guy and his tombstone for comfort. Never in your wildest, fucked up dreams did you imagine he’d turn to you for the same thing, but you find yourself hiding a living corpse, bringing him further to life, reaping some justice, and cutting off a lot of body parts all while trying to fit in and falling in love.

a/n: Part One is here! Just want to say thank you to my friends for hearing me rant and rave about Lisa Frankenstein for weeks now, though I’ve been unbearable with this concept in my head. This will be the longest chapter, just to establish some stuff, but we’ll get to the slaying! Hope you love Undead!Zombie!Eddie as much as I do. Happy reading! (p.s.,there will be some romantic smut in a later part)

Chapter warnings: a bit steve harrington x reader, some eddie munson x other female, death of a family member, brief description of SA (bordered with RED DIVIDERS if you’d like to skip), mistreatment of Reader, suicidal ideation (reader just has dark humor), implied murder, very campy, very cunty.

THEN, 1986.

“Where you head’n too so in a hurry, boy?” Wayne Munson asked, sat on the couch with a mug of steaming hot coffee in one hand and the television remote in the other as he watched his nephew bounce around the trailer, grabbing all of the the items he let haphazardly around.

Wayne always told him to pick up his things, but like the rambunctious boy he was, there was no breaking out of his messy habits.

“I got people to see, pops. Things to do. Trouble to ‘cause, cops to anger, you know the drill.” Eddie didn’t even need to turn around to know his uncle was scowling but he was proven correct when he turned to throw his father figure a shit eating grin over his shoulder, “Kidding, old man. Mom had me baptized when I was a baby, remember? I can do no wrong, like Achilles.”

“Wha’?”

“Ugh, dad. If I have to explain the joke, it ruins it. I’ll be back by dinner, alright?”

Wayne fixed him with a pointed look, “You best be on your best behavior, you hear me?”

“Always.” Eddie gave a mock salute before dipping out the front door, still grinning as he tossed the keys of the van and caught them midair.

While he wasn’t necessarily going to cause trouble, he certainly would be providing the fun grass, powder and pills that were often behind it. Eddie knew Wayne was aware of what he did, had implied so when talking about how he knew Eddie was a good kid, just living in the wrong circumstances sometimes. Always said he wanted nothing but the best for his boy and for Eddie to realize he was meant for more than what this particular town forced on him.

Made Eddie’s chest tight, but seeing things like the broken patio board—Eddie had accidentally stomped through it after seeing a spider—reinforced Eddie’s belief that he’d much rather help out any way he could than let his uncle bear the financial weight of providing for him.

The van roared to life, after sputtering for a good seven seconds, and Eddie revved the engine a little. As he let her warm up, something in the side mirror caught his attention.

Someone.

Sheila. His neighbor in the trailer across the street. She was hauling a box to a car, looked rather heavy and Eddie would have dropped everything to scramble over and help her, had it not been for Mr.Brawn at her side.

Eddie watched as the guy, who stole the girl he was in love with right out of his arms, grabbed the box. The two lovers exchanged words which ended with them laughing at something as she followed him to the car.

He slid the box into the packed car as she climbed into the passenger seat, and before Eddie knew it, he was watching her drive away, right out of his life forever.

Eddie hadn’t even realized he was clutching his steering wheel so tight, his knuckles were straining against the skin, hot tears pooling at his waterline but he refused to let them fall. He’d shed more than enough tears over her, over what could have been.

They started off so promising; throwing flirty waves from their bedroom windows, occasionally at school, before she approached him for weed. After that, came the whirlwind romance and Eddie hadn’t considered himself a romantic before—hadn’t had a whole lot of opportunities to make that discovery but he was so fucking romantic. A big sap. And he wasn’t ashamed of it.

Until she’d graduated, and he hadn’t. Again. Turns out, not trying at academics all year and then aiming to ace finals wasn’t enough.

Suddenly, all the bullshit naive plans they had to run away somewhere far from Hawkins weren’t possible. At least, Sheila couldn’t with Eddie.

He lost her to a guy in another band, had made the mistake of taking a piss after he and Corroded Coffin performed to their tiny ass crowd, and had come back to see her talking to the keyboardist of the band that had gone on before them. She looked entranced, leaning forward to hang on to whatever the fuck he was saying. When Eddie had gone over to ask her if she was ready to head out, fully prepared to tuck her under his arm and way from the keyboardist, she’d insisted and told him to his face, in front of his apparent competition, that she was gonna stick around a little longer and he should head out without her.

He’d spent the entire night pacing in front of his window, glancing out of it every five minutes and every time he heard a pair of wheels turn onto the dirt road. Eddie got his confirmation when his car happened to be one of them. He’d watched, heart splintering, as the keyboardist got out of the car and walked around to open her door for her before they disappeared into her trailer. Eddie knew her dad worked nights. Knew what she and that musician were doing and he’d thrown up the entire contents of his stomach at the imagery before passing out.

Eddie woke up to Sheila hovering above him and framed by the glow of the bathroom light like some angel. She’d dumped him right there and left the spare key he’d trusted her with on the table.

And now, she was living her dream with someone else while Eddie got to stick around this shitty town with these people who could barely stand him for no reason (and yeah, okay, maybe he’d poke their buttons). In truth, while he was a little heartbroken over her, it was the fact that she still got her happy ending that hurt the most.

The girls around Hawkins might have been interested in maybe hooking up with him, but they weren’t interested in being Eddie’s girl. Weren’t interested in falling stupid in love with him, making plans to start a life together. Didn’t want him in their plans.

Eddie Munson was lonely. And it sucked.

With a heavy sigh, he cranked on the radio, fingers twisting the volume dial up to the most obnoxious level before shifting the gear to drive.

“It’ll get better, Munson. Love ain’t no stranger.” He mumbled, sucking on his teeth and pulling out on the road.

If he had known then where it would lead him, where the night would take him, he would have at least hugged his uncle. It would be the last time he saw him, and it would be the last time Wayne Munson saw his nephew alive.

Three days later, he’d be identifying and weeping over his boy’s body in the morgue after reporting Eddie missing when he didn’t come home.

NOW, 1989

“Where are you going? It’s almost time for breakfast.” Chrissy called out, head poking out from her bedroom as she watched you race down the hall.

“Not hungry! I’ll be back soon!” You called over your shoulder, the large sheet of craft paper wrinkling in your hand as you took the stairs two at a time before bounding down the short entryway.

You’d almost crossed the foyer and then slammed yourself back against the wall as you saw Laura, Chrissy’s mom, fiddling with something at the table. She had the radio on, some garbage self help tape spewing nonsense to her, and that condescending smile on her face.

Yeah, you’d be avoiding her, lest you wish to be verbally and eloquently belittled. How Chrissy came out of her toxic womb to be such a good person, you’d never understand.

When Laura crossed into the kitchen, you sprinted for the door, fumbling a little with the knob in your urgency, but once you got it open, you were out, running across the walkway and the fencing around the house until you were in the woods behind it.

Only then did you feel safe, the trees a welcome reprieve from your living situation, the magnifying glass this new town had you under, and from the world in general.

You’d come from a small town before Hawkins, so you were used to small town living. But these people were so judgemental. You hadn’t even grabbed a box from the moving van before your neighbors were casting you snide looks, noses turning up and backs to you as they watered their yard and lounged about.

Four months later, nothing had changed. If anything, they were more open with their disdain for you, commenting on your demeanor (and you were a cool fucking person), outfits, hair, body. It was annoying. They were annoying. EVERYTHING was annoying.

You didn’t even want to be there but you had no real choice. You’d graduated high school a couple of years ago and despite the popular teenage notion that you’d simply pack up your things, go to college and be successful at whatever career you wanted, life did not happen like the movies. The freedom you’d been promised by your own delusions never came. That bitch came with a hefty price tag and you weren’t exactly jumping into a safe of gold coins like Scrooge McDuck with your minimum wage job.

You’d gotten into several schools of your choice, but scholarships wouldn’t be nearly enough to cover it, and you’d literally have to sell your entire body to science if you wanted to be able to afford the loans you were being offered, since their interest rates were higher than the standard human beings’ lifespan.

So, living with the ‘rents was checked off on your list of things you didn’t want to continue doing past your high school graduation. And hey—you were only 19 years-old! You were still young! Just save up a few years, and maybe one day you’d be able to think about taking a loan. You had time. What could possibly go wrong to throw your plans off?

Your mother was murdered.

Yeah, that was a bummer. Could’ve been worse, you supposed. You could have died with her, when your home had been broken into, and sometimes you wish you had. Alas, you were still breathing, albeit extremely traumatized. But only good ol’ mom was six feet in the ground, in an entirely different town, because your father had also moved on a mere few months after her death, with the worst woman to leave flaming footprints on the earth’s crust, and they’d eloped after like six dates before moving you to a town where you knew no one.

Thinking about it actually made you sick and feel a little delusional.

The only real good thing about your entire soap opera of a year was the community college you’d been able to enroll in. You had no real idea what you wanted to do in life, had no real drive for career paths, but you were doing something, and that something kept the she-devil that was your stepmother off your back. Most of the time. Some of the time. She couldn’t say you were a deadbeat yet.

Chrissy, your sweet to a definitive and insensitive fault step-sister had pushed you into going with her for registration. Convinced you it was the perfect way to make some friends. It was hard to say no to Chrissy, she had a way with people and could make the meekest soul feel like they were capable of anything and everything. She could always see the best in people, and she was outgoing. Your time in Hawkins had been brief, but you’d easily gathered Chrissy was popular, a former cheerleader (and she’d successfully tried out for the community college team) and beloved by all. While part of you felt a little jealous at her confidence, you admired her more. She was never intentionally mean to you, either. She made the occasional comment, but it seemed like Chrissy had more so a filter problem, rather than spitting anything out with sugar coated hostility like her mother. Chrissy was...nice. After everything you've been through, you could use a little nice in your life.

And sometimes nice was also the woods behind your house, as it led to the Hawkins’ Cemetery.

Morbid, sure, but you couldn’t help yourself. After a particularly nasty encounter with Laura the first week of your Hawkins sentence, and feeling lonelier than you’d ever felt before, you’d gone for a walk, tears decorating your face with wet trails as you tried to physically hold yourself together, arms wrapped around yourself.

You’d arrived at the cemetery, and because you couldn’t pay your mother a visit, you decided the only decent thing to do was visit other lonely souls.

You’d stopped to pay your respects to just about every tombstone and plaque, but one in particular caught your attention.

Tucked away in a corner and separate from the other graves, under a weeping willow, was the most damaged tombstone of them all. Parts of it were broken off, a lot of the information pertaining to the individual underneath it was seemingly grated off. You had no idea who it was, the only remaining legible letters were MUN and you figured it was he simply because you’d taken some paper to the tombstone for etching and ran a black crayon over it. You’d been able to make out the word ‘he’ on the paper and deduced it had once read may he rest in peace.

The state of his tombstone surprised you, given how recent the date of death was. While his birth date had also been worn away, the year of death—1986–had been left. It was 1989. No way his grave should’ve looked like that.

Apparently, even the groundskeeper avoided his part of the cemetery. The grass around his grave was overgrown, and pitiful. So, you’d gone home, grabbed the lawn mower, and pushed it all the way over. You’d ended up disgusting, covered in grass, dirt and sweating like a cheater on a Sunday morning, but his grave was looking better. You’d taken to caring for his grave after that. A bunch of your trinkets and things you'd seen that you immediately thought he’d like surrounded him now and you’d even planted some bluebells.

He also made surprisingly good conversation, even though he never talked to you. His presence, while mostly imaginary to you, was comforting.

So, during any free time you had, you were sat against his tombstone, chatting about your day, life, whatever you wanted. Felt like he was always listening, no matter the subject and it was really lovely to be heard.

When you arrived at the cemetery, it was practically vacant, with just the red headed girl you normally saw. You didn’t see her all the time, she was just one of the faces you saw the most, and that was only a handful of occasions. For the most part, Hawkins didn’t seem keen on remembering the dead.

“Hope you haven’t been lonely without me,” You greeted as you approached his tombstone, ducking under a few low hanging willow branches that still brushed over you anyways. You’d have to ‘borrow’ Laura’s shears soon, the willow tree was hauntingly beautiful around his grave, but you wanted its branches and leaves to frame his grave, not conceal it, “I missed you.”

It was a little odd, but you did.

When you weren’t at his grave, you were thinking about him, trying to put a face to MUN, wondering what his life had been like. Did he have any loved ones? What had his interests been? How had he died? Had he felt as lonely as you did?

“I know, I know.” You settled onto the grass in front of his tombstone, securing the craft paper to his tombstone with some masking tape, “I was just here last night.” You imagined he would say.

“I just can’t stay away from you. You have a very intriguing aura: I can’t see it because you’re dead, and that makes me want to know you more.” You pulled a black crayon from your pocket and went about scribbling on the paper, over where you knew MUN would be etched in stone, “I’ve said it a million times, and you’ve probably turned over in your coffin repeatedly because of it, but you’re the only one who understands me. And you’re the only one here that I care about—probably in the whole world actually, except maybe Chrissy but I know her friends think I’m weird, and I don’t want to drag her down with me.”

Once the letters appeared on the paper, you sprawled out STER and you dropped the crayon to produce a pretty hot pink marker from your pocket instead, signing your name with a little heart to go with it just above the last name you’d crafted for him.

The odds of this dude being a Munster were slim to none, but you thought it was fitting for someone who lived in a cemetery.

You sat back on your haunches to admire it, it was a cute piece. Would look nice on your wall and whenever you missed him and found yourself longing to be near his grave, all you’d have to do is turn on your side and you'd be able to see part of him.

You ripped the paper off his tombstone, and weighed it down on the grass with a rock. With that out of the way, you gave him your full attention, shuffling until your head and shoulder were leaning against the stone, “Would you wanna be dragged down with me? Be seen with me? I’m somewhat of a pariah around here. Did you have better luck when you were still kicking?”

You figured with how fucked up his tombstone had been, probably not. You imagined he’d confirm it, too. Just out right say, ‘Nah, these assholes hated me.’

“Yeah, looks like we’re two peas in a pod.” Then you glanced down, fingers, twirling the blades of grass over his grave, “Or, you know. Casket.”

You let silence fall over you, broken only by the chirping of birds in surrounding trees.

“Goddamit, why do you have to be dead?” Your eyelids fluttered close, and instead of the cold stone, you imagined your head pressed against a warm chest, rising and falling with breaths, and a heartbeat thumping strong below your ear, pushing blood throughout his body. Imagined he was alive, arms slipping around you, firm and strong to hold you together so you didn't have to anymore.

But he wasn’t, and you were reminded when the groundskeeper shouted, “HEY!”

You shot up, glancing around until you saw him by the entrance with a leaf blower, “YOU AWAKE?”

What kind of a dumbass question was that? Sure, it had looked like you were asleep but you were clearly alert now.

“YEAH!” You shrieked back to be heard, and he went back to not caring.

“He can see me leaning against your tombstone, but he can’t see overgrown grass, weeds, rocks, or your grave in general when I’m not here. Men, always so selective, amirite?”

You glanced at the stone, half expecting it to respond. “Eh, what do you know, you’re just a man, too.” You reached your arm back, knuckles trailing over MUN.

“Despite you mouthing off to me most of the time, I brought you something.” You reached into your other pocket and pulled out a necklace, lined with black pearls and a cross pendant. It had been your mother’s. While she had a pension for religion, it wasn’t something you thought about. Dying, sure, but whatever afterlife? Not so much. Felt wrong, sometimes, to carry it around with you—felt like you were disrespecting her a little bit to not believe what she did, even though she had no qualms with it when she was alive. So, you figured why not trust it with the other important person in your life?

“Pretty, huh? It was my mom’s. She’s dead, like you. You wouldn’t happen to have seen her around, would you?” You joked, fingers stroking over the pearls. There was no risk in leaving them with your dead friend, people avoided him and you had a feeling even grave robbers wouldn’t dare step near the willow, so they’d probably be with him for the rest of eternity, “I want you to have them, take care of them for me.”

You placed the necklace over the peak of his tombstone, smiling when they didn’t fall from their place, “Mm, you look good in them. Better than I do, I’m not big on pearls. More of a silver jewelry kind of girl. I could do gold and diamonds, though, only for a wedding ring.”

You held your arm out, admiring your ring hand void of any actual rings, “Nothing too gaudy, of course. That’s what my earrings are for.”

Your eyes trailed from your outstretched fingers, to your wrist, and the watch decorating it. The time made you heave a heavy sigh, “I gotta go. Chrissy’s dragging me to a party tonight, so I’ve got to mentally prepare for that. You’ll think of me while I’m away, won’t you?”

Trailing a finger down the stone, you leaned forward to press your lips to it in a sweet kiss.

“I’ll be back soon, and this time I won’t forget my book of sonnets. I know how much you love the cynical poems I force on you.”

And though you announced your departure, you found it hard to leave him, like you always did. It took all you had to gather your crayon, marker, and your new poster (and you kept dropping all three to have an excuse to linger) and leave the cemetery behind, glancing back impulsively every couple of steps until it was no longer in view, and the moment it wasn’t you wanted to drop everything and run back to him.

You had to remind yourself he was a stranger, who didn’t care for you, rotting in the ground. And it sucked.

“I don’t wanna go.” You announced, staring into the bathroom mirror you shared with Chrissy. You’d just finished your makeup, eyes heavily lined, and lashes coated an electric blue that made your eyes pop. You were always a little heavy handed with your makeup, you figured the whole point of it was to use it as you wanted. Your hair had been manipulated to hell and back, but regardless of what you did, you were unsatisfied with the girl staring back at you, “I’ll just stay home.”

“Not on my watch!” Chrissy declared, reaching in front of you for her pink lipstick. The bathroom counter was littered with your combined beauty products, “This is the first major rager of the year, the perfect social gathering. You need to meet people, sissy.”

You scowled at the idea, “I have met people.”

Chrissy tubed the lipstick bullet, rubbing her lips together as she gave you a concerned side-eye, “People who like you, sissy.”

Ouch, there’s that brutal honesty.

“It’s not good for you to be on your own all the time,” She set the lipstick down so she could place a dainty hand on your shoulder, big blue eyes focused on you, “I worry about you. Daddy and mom worry about you. Your doctor worries about you. You need to get out more.” Chrissy stressed, pink lips pulling into a reassuring smile before she went back to focusing on the mirror and her makeup.

You let out a heavy sigh, mulling her words over. Definitely could have been phrased better, but Chrissy was right. You were currently the town recluse, and occupying your room and the town cemetery wouldn’t change that.

“That blush isn’t the right shade for you, sissy.” Chrissy broke you from your thoughts and your eyes drifted back over to your reflection, the girl looking so unsure and right back at you, “You really have to accentuate your features, compliment them, because you’re already beautiful.”

Didn’t feel like it.

Your expression must have given your inner thoughts away because Chrissy turned to you again, practically bouncing, “Wait a minute, you could use my tanning bed!”

You deadpanned at the mention of the ridiculous full on salon tanning bed that Chrissy owned. There was a dedicated mini garage in the backyard for it, next to the pool, and complete with neon lights, her beauty pageant trophies and sashes as well as her cheer trophies. The PG&E bill was always through the roof for the Tan Shack alone, and you still had no idea how Laura could afford it.

“No, Chrissy I-I don’t think that would work on me. At all.”

Chrissy waved off your concerns, “It’s not about the tan, or even if you can tan. It’s the experience. When I lay in that tanning bed, with those little goggles on my eyes and I can hear the buzzing, I feel myself blooming. Regardless of whether or not my skin actually tans,” It didn’t. Chrissy burned but she somehow still looked good, “I feel amazing about myself.”

“Are you sure that’s not cancer?”

“You’re so funny!” Chrissy laughed even though you were being serious, “Sissy, every girl deserves to feel beautiful. If I can provide you with an experience that might raise those confidence levels that are dragging across a nail-covered floor right now, why wouldn’t I?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, trying to decipher if that was a compliment or not, but you didn’t have long to mull it over before Chrissy was framing your face with her hands.

“And I can. Please, let me do this.”

You groaned, long and drawn out and awkward, before squeezing your eyes shut and slowly nodding your head. She squealed, clapped her hands together and dragged you out of the bathroom.

After explaining how it all worked, Chrissy bid you a cheerful goodbye and left you to your own devices so she could finish getting ready for the night ahead of you both.

You’d selected your tan level, positive you wouldn’t see any real results but maybe the ‘experience’ would benefit you and shed your fuzzy slippers and robe, leaving you in some boy shorts and a tank top as you tried to settle yourself in the tanning bed. The dip was awkward, and you couldn’t get a good grasp on the top of the tanning bed since it was meant to only open and close rather than stay in position so grasping onto it for balance as you lowered yourself in led to you conking yourself on the head with a noticeable bonk.

You hissed in pain, rubbing the sore area as you clambered the rest to the way in. Once you’d stretched your legs out, lowered the top, maneuvered the goggles over your face and waited for the magic to happen as you were surrounded by neon blue lights.

You heard the buzzing as the tanning bed started up. The magic happened alright. The entire tanning bed shocked you, and you shrieked as you felt the intense electric current ripple throughout your body, sparking every single pore in the worst way possible.

“I’m so sorry you got electrocuted, sissy.”

Chrissy broke the silence as you sulked in the passenger seat, your hair a little bigger than normal and not a result of styling. After getting all five senses shocked out of you, you’d come out with a hairdo that would not usually be up to par with you, and some serious case of static electricity. You’d tried to gently press your hair down and when you saw a literal spark in it, you decided to just leave it alone.

Your step-sister had been apologizing since.

“It’s alright. I survived.” And you wanted to forget about it.

You could see Chrissy glancing nervously at you from the corner of your eye as she drove you to the party location.

“So…how are you liking Hawkins Community, so far?” She asked, thankfully changing the subject.

“It’s fine. The campus looks relatively the same as the community college I toured in my old town. Classes are decent.” Pitiful. The classes were so boring and straight out of the book, but it cost you a fraction of a fraction of what you’d have to pay to attend a university.

Chrissy lips turned up in a mischievous smile and you internally groaned, fully expecting her next question.

“See any cute boys?” And then, as an afterthought, “Or…girls?” Then she took her eyes off the road again, squinting at you as if she was trying to assess something, “Or…..anyone?”

You betrayed yourself, eyes darting to the window before they were back on her and she perked up in the driver’s seat.

“Okay, spill.”

Your heart started thumping wildly in your chest as one particular guy came to mind, but you hadn’t thought about him too much. Hadn’t allowed yourself to entertain the idea of a romance with him. That’s how people got their hopes up and letdown.

“Sissy! Sissy, come on. You have to tell me. I’m your only friend!”

This time, you could tell she was joking, even though she did have merit. You bit your lip as she ribbed you a bit more, the corners of your lips tugging up into a smile.

“Okay, okay!” Your hands flew to cover your face, embarrassed, shy and a little giddy all at once to actually be admitting you had a crush.

“Steve Harrington.”

“STEVE HARRINGTON?” She repeated, incredulous and you shushed her even though it was only you two in the car.

“Sissy, that’s so unexpected! I haven’t really seen him since high school but I didn’t think he’d be your type.” Chrissy admitted with a shrug of her shoulders.

“He works in the library.” You sighed out, recalling your brief interactions with him when checking out a couple of books. He’d been kind, made a couple of humorous comments about the titles, and always tried to meet your avoidant gaze, which meant he was being nice to you. Coaxing you out of your shell. You actually didn't have much trouble interacting with people, you were more abrasive than you ever were shy, Steve was just a little too easy on the eyes. Made you forget how to talk, and on occasion, walk. It was embarrassing, “Always makes those cute displays with recommendations.”

“Good for him,” She commented, sounding impressed. “I didn’t really know he was intellectual. Wasn’t, the last I heard. Had a big reputation in high school, seemed kind of mean and everyone called him King Steve.”

You frowned, feeling the need to protect him, “Didn’t they call you the Queen of Hawkins High?”

“Yeah, but only to make me seem pretentious.”

You raised your eyebrows, glancing away. Chrissy was kind, but sometimes, she could be pretentious.

“And anyways, I’m not a student at Hawkins High anymore, so they can’t call me that. Maybe Steve really did change. Come to think of it, I haven’t heard much about him since he struck out with a series of girls. Maybe he took a good look at himself and decided a change was needed.” You could feel her eyes on you again.

“Does he flirt with you?”

“No.”

“See him flirt with any girls?”

“Nope.”

“Does he still make his hair all big and poofy?”

“Looks more voluminous than poofy.”

Chrissy hummed, “An improvement. Is he all beret wearing and drinking coffee now?”

You tried to recall ever seeing him in a hat, let alone a beret, “No, I don’t think so. If anything, he’s introspective.”

“He’s on the spectrum?”

Your smile waned when you realized she was asking a legitimate question, “Oh. No. That’s—that’s not what that means. I just meant he’s thinking about what he does; how he acts, how he behaves.”

It got quiet for a few moments.

”Well,” Chrissy broke the silence once more, “He might be there tonight. I’m not sure if they’re still friends, but Tommy Hagan is hosting tonight, and once upon a time, they were inseparable.”

You made a sound of acknowledgment, upper lip twitching in disgust. You knew Tommy, saw him around campus. He was a big jerk, you’d witnessed him throw some guy’s backpack in the trash and pour his drink on it. You wish you’d known it was his party you were going to in advance. Tommy was a nasty piece of work, so his friend group was the same. Out of all of them, though, Carol got on your nerves the most.

She didn’t pay you a whole lot of attention, but when you were walking in with Chrissy—and this is Chrissy, so she acknowledged everyone—and she said hi, Carol would just look you up and down before pursing her big mouth like she’d sucked on something sour. One day, you’d like to give her your fist to suck on.

”Patrick McKinney is bringing three kegs and I heard Reefer Rick is bringing his whole inventory.”

“Reefer Rick?”

“Yeah, he’s the local drug dealer now. I mean, he’s always been but he used to have somebody sell for him while he supplied, but he died.”

Your eyes widened while your pupils dilated, mind conjuring up some image of a poor dude being murdered for drugs and then the supplier just taking over, not fearful at all of meeting the same fate, “He died?”

Chrissy nodded her head, looking thoughtful, “Yeah, Eddie Munson.”

Munson.

You sat up in your seat, fully alert and invested in the conversation now, “Eddie Munson? Is he buried under the willow tree in the cemetery?”

You stared at Chrissy, willing her to think faster as she squinted and pursed her lips, “I think Tina mentioned something about someone peeing on a tree over there, so I think so.”

Your mouth dropped open, expression utterly horrified that someone could do that, “That’s beastly, what the fuck?”

“I know,” Chrissy sighed with a shake of her head. “I didn't know him all that much, bought some weed off of him a couple of times and he seemed a little scary—appearance and mannerism wise—but he seemed nice when you had to interact with him. He didn’t deserve that.”

“How did he die?” You asked, voice small and heart shrinking. You didn’t like where this was going. Didn’t like it one bit.

“Well, the official determination, if I remember right, was like a drug deal gone bad or something, but no one really believes it. He was known to have weed on him, kept the harder stuff somewhere else. Everyone knows he was murdered. They did a number on him, it was all everyone could talk about because Sydney Porter couldn’t even get her dad—he worked at the station—to show her pictures. He told her they messed Eddie up bad. People here really didn’t like him. No one knows who did it though.”

You sunk back into your seat, mind troubled and stomach turning. This whole time, you'd been tending to and caring for the grave of a murdered guy, taken from this world simply because people didn’t like him. He must have been so lonely. So scared. And they killed him.

Chrissy was wrong. People in this town knew who killed him, because one of them, or some of them, had to have been his murderers.

Your fingers curled into tight fists, painted nails digging into the flesh of your palms. Chrissy noticed the change in your demeanor.

“Oh, sissy. You’re such an empath. Don’t be so sad, I know it’s a horrible story, but he’s resting now. In peace.”

“No, he’s not. They fucked up his tombstone. He can’t even be dead in peace.” You huffed, furious on his behalf.

“How do you know?” Chrissy asked, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“I go there a lot, it’s nice. Quiet. A little creepy, but that adds to its charm, makes it relatively peaceful. I’ve been visiting all the graves, but I was drawn to him the most. Etched his tombstone. He’s my favorite.”

Despite the horrors you’d learned, the thought of Mun—Eddie, still brought a wistful smile to your lips. Maybe your presence was enough to settle him, bring him a little bit of peace this town and the people in it refused to give him.

“H-He’s your favorite…?”

“Yeah. I feel this….connection with him. From the very first time I visited. Now, I leave him gifts, flowers, pretty stones, poems I wrote, a book of sonnets I stole from the library.”

“You….should talk to your doctor about this, Sissy. That’s really weird. That’s really weird, sissy.”

You fought to not roll your eyes. As much as you cared about Chrissy, and knew she cared about you, she didn’t understand you.

“Well, since people ruined his grave, I thought it might be nice to clean it up and make sure he’s not forgotten.” You snapped, “It’s not like I call him my boyfriend or anything.”

Chrissy eyed you skeptically, “Well, then that’s nice of you, I guess. Just don’t go around telling everybody about that, or you’ll be known as the Ghost Whisperer.”

“He hasn’t talked back to me yet.”

Chrissy laughed, and freed one hand off the wheel to lightly slap your arm, “See, now that’s funny. If you do tell anyone, end it with that joke. You’ll be a riot.”

You smirked, staring out the front windshield. You’d let her think it was a joke. For now.

You made a sound of displeasure as Chrissy pulled into a clear space on the grass and parked. She jumped out to dance over to her friends, some wine coolers cradled in a plastic bag she clutched.

You allowed yourself a full minute to stew in your misery before getting out of the car and following after her. As you neared her group, you quickly realized that was a bad idea.

“Oh my GOD! Vickie, you fixed your teeth! They look so good. I wasn’t gonna say anything because I thought you were happy with the overcrowding, but now that you fixed it, I can’t look away!”

Yeesh. You beelined away from them and wandered around the crowded front lawn, dodging rowdy friend groups and couples until you spotted a cooler.

Maybe a drink would calm you down.

You squatted down and popped the lid, digging around the ice but all you spotted were Pepsi and Squirt cans.

“The liquid fun is inside.” A guy’s voice came from behind you and you rolled your eyes. You were so not in the mood to be hit on right now.

“What?” You asked, tone bored, but you didn’t want to make him seem helpful so you grabbed a Squirt.

“Alcohol. He keeps it inside.”

You slammed the cooler shut and popped the tab of the can, rising to your feet, “Yeah, I figured that mu—shhhh.”

Oh, shit.

Steve Harrington was standing before you, eyes alight with mirth as he smirked down at you.

You swallowed hard, hoping to god your tongue hadn’t gone down with the movement. See? Here you went getting all stupid around him.

”Funny seeing you here.”

You laughed nervously, “Yeah. I—uh, mhm.” You forced yourself to take a drink of your soda to keep from making an even bigger fool of yourself.

“Sorry if it’s weird of me to just walk up to you. I was chilling on the side of the house and thought I saw you, but I’m a little nearsighted and I didn’t bring my glasses.”

You pulled the can away from your mouth as your brain registered the lack of metal frames on the bridge of his nose. He looked handsome with and without them, that wasn’t fair. It was still throwing you off.

“It’s—It’s okay. Uhm, no harm done.” You shrugged your shoulders, hoping it looked cool and not as stiff as you felt. You even added in a smile with some teeth for a little razzle dazzle.

“I actually came over here to tell you your books are significantly overdue.” Steve deadpanned, tongue playing with his canine tooth as he scrutinized you and you shrunk, smile falling from your face. You had got to get better at following up on your due dates.

“Oh.”

He scoffed, face breaking out into a grin as his shoulders shook with his chuckles “I’m kidding.”

OH, THANK FUCK.

“Oh,” And then, because every god probably hates you, you started snorting with laughter. You cut that shit quick, clearing your throat as you took another sip of your beverage.

“So,” Steve took a step closer to you, “Are you enjoying─”

“Hey!” Carol stepped right up to Steve, practically leaning all over him as her ruby red lips spread into a seductive smile, eyes lidded and no doubt a few drinks in with a drink for Steve in her hand. For the billionth time that night, you rolled your eyes, trying not to gag at how desperate she was. You knew Tommy had recently dumped her, the entire town knew and now she was clearly trying to get into Steve’s pants, “I found the keg.”

She could eat shit, his pants were yours.

“Oh, Thank you.” Came Steve’s bleak reply and part of you thought he might have actually wanted to talk to just you. Now, you were really annoyed she’d interrupted.

“Hey, Carol.”

Carol looked surprised that you’d even dare speak to her, raising her eyebrows, “Hey. Hi— sorry, how do we know each other?”

“You’re my lab partner.” You were unimpressed, you expected her to be a better mean girl.

“Yay me.” The smile she directed at you was anything but friendly, reminding you of the one Laura would make after you did something in public she didn’t like, but she couldn’t yell at you until you were home. Carol swirled the liquid in her cup around, head tilting as she offered it to you, “You wanna sip, partner?”

“Carol.” Steve warned and she tutted, flicking her wrist.

“You’re right, I don’t know why I assumed she partied.”

“I’ll take a beer,” You could handle alcohol, had cleared your mother’s wine cabinet after she was murdered, so this would be no big deal.

Carol looked annoyed but handed you the cup, and to make sure you wouldn’t gag and vomit, you threw it back, throat opening as you swallowed the liquid as fast as you could to refuse it as much time on your taste buds as possible.

When you lowered the cup, you realized you’d made a mistake and glanced into it at the small amount left behind, watching as the ground in your peripheral view began to shift.

Steve seemed to realize something was wrong, quickly taking your cup and ingesting what was left. His suspicions were confirmed and he spat it out on the grass before scowling at Carol, “PCP? Really, Carol? What the fuck is wrong with you? Why the hell would you give that to her!?”

“Oopsie.”

But it was too late for you. You dropped the soda can in your other hand and lifted your hands to your face, watching the lines around your palms and fingers begin to move, swirling around and you backed away from them, watching as everything around you began to come undone.

“Hey!” You heard a voice next to you and someone started rubbing your back, you hadn’t even realized you were crouching. You craned your head up to see Chrissy and you frowned. Her voice was so different, distorted. She sounded more like your dad than Chrissy.

Her face was both far away and right in front of you, you reached a hand out to test the theory, see if it really was close. Chrissy caught your wrist, frowning at the state you were falling into.

Chrissy started asking you questions, about what you’d taken, what you drank but her voice was too loud for you, and the purple behind her head was distracting. Still, you nodded your head.

At your confirmation, Chrissy’s frown intensified and she helped you to the ground before darting over to chew Steve and Carol out.

You couldn’t stay on the grass for long, the blades of it stabbing you and sending pain shooting up your palms and into your bones so you crawled some distance away before you managed to push yourself up and stumble towards the house. It was hard.

Everything was moving. You heard a loud sound and glanced around wildly until you were staring up at the sky, mouth dropping open to see green clouds and lightning.

You had to get away, the need to escape, be safe was urgent but it felt like the closer you got to the front door, the farther away it went. Your breathing was heavy and panicked as you kept stumbling forward, arm outstretched and finally you reached it.

You yanked it open and nearly fell inside, tripping over your feet until you hit the back of the couch and used it to sink to the floor.

You heard your name being called and lifted your head, eyes crazed as you tried to find the source. Fred Benson approached you, the skinny boy squatting to be eye level with you.

“You okay?” He asked and you reached forward, grasping his face in your hand and squeezing to make sure he was a real person.

“You.” Was all you said, booping his nose but still suspicious of him. Was he real?

“Uh, yeah. It’s me. It’s Fred, we sit next to each other in ASL class.”

He looked like Fred. You still didn’t believe he was human, squinting as your hands grasped at the back of the couch.

“You don’t look so good,” Fred pushed the frame of his glasses up his nose, brows furrowed in concern, “Let's find somewhere for you to sit down for a minute. Or maybe a while. Man, what did you drink?”

He stood up, offering you a hand and you took it but didn’t pull yourself up. Fred heaved with all his might and managed to get you on your feet but he realized just walking you wouldn’t be enough, and so did you because you draped yourself over him, one arm over his scrawny shoulders.

Fred cursed under his breath but held your weight, leading you out of the populated living room and you watched a couple furiously make out on the couch cushions as you passed.

“I hate parties. I don’t know why I came—well, actually I do. I never got invited to these in high school, so I guess I’m living out my fantasy now. In all honesty, I’d much rather be watching Weird Science. So far tonight, I’ve seen three cheerleaders throw up and a baby being conceived.”

“Uh huh,” Was all you could get out, watching people swirl past you like shooting stars.

“Would you count that as escaping the teen pregnancy statistic? I know they’re out of high school, but we’re all still pretty young.” He commented as he led you up the stairs. You tripped several times and almost sent him flying down them but the two of you managed to make it.

Fred was heaving by the time you'd shouldered him into the hallway wall, his face and hands clammy.

”Good god, how did I pass P.E.?” The two of you paused there until he regained his breath while you plastered yourself against the wall, cheek pressed to it and hands stroking over the wallpaper. Eventually, Fred peeled you off of it and kept moving until he could find a place to put you.

“You like movies right? Got any favorite directors? Or favorite films?”

“Wall.”

“Huh? Oh, you’re just admiring the wallpaper.”

“Great Wall of China.”

Fred positioned you against the wall, looking a little annoyed. You didn’t care, could only focus on the framed photo of the Great Wall of China directly across from you.

“Oh.” Was all he said when he spotted it. “Stay right here.”

Then he disappeared and you watched as the painting came to life, and the stones of the wall began moving, rippling. You didn’t even know stones could move like that but now it made so much more sense.

Fred appeared again, tugging you along into an empty room. You spotted a trash can and nearly threw Fred into the bedroom wall as you dove for it, retching everything out of your stomach. You could hear Fred gagging, but he was decent enough to make sure your hair stayed out of your way. When you were done, he helped sit you up on the bed, and nearly collapsed next to you.

”We did it,” he cheered with no real gusto. And you sat there, still feeling the earth orbiting. It was the most odd sensation, you could feel a spot on your brain pulsing, like a migraine but it felt so euphoric to close your eyes.

“Here,” They snapped right back open and you glanced to your side to see Fred offering you a handkerchief. Of course Fred Benson carried around a handkerchief. How amusing.

“Thank you,” You gave the three versions of him you could see right then a smile and used the handkerchief to wipe your mouth, eyelids fluttering close just as the sound of thunder filled the room, and a flashing of lightning accompanied it.

“Huh, a rainless thunderstorm, looks like the angels are bowling.” You heard him muse next to you.

And it brought another smile to your face, “My mom used to say that.”

At the mention of her, your brain conjured up all the happy feelings and memories of her, huddled on your couch, in your old home watching black and white horror films. They didn’t scare her, so she could tolerate them. You missed her. She made you feel so light, so seen, so—no.

Something was wrong. Something felt very, very wrong.

Your smile faded and you felt your belly sink as you opened your eyes.

“Does that feel good?”

You didn’t want to, but you looked down to see Fred’s hand on your breast. Your breathing picked up and Fred let go of you to grab your wrist and force you to touch his crotch, “Well don’t just sit there, help me out. Finish what you started.”

Anger filled you and you yanked your hand away, “No.”

Fred opened his mouth as you got up, rushing away from him and stumbling back out the way you remembered while he yelled at you.

You had to get out, had to get away. Had to be safe, feel safe. You banged against walls as you went, desperate to get out of the house, away from Fred, from everyone, and to safety. That was your only concern as the drug really hit you.

All you could remember was seeing colors, hearing and feeling the wind against your sweaty skin, leaves blowing with it and gusting around you.

You had no idea how you escaped the mad house, how long you’d even been walking or how you actually got there, but you found yourself in front of the cemetery, a flash of lightning illuminating the gate.

To anyone else, a cemetery would have been the worst place to find themselves on a night like this, but you’d already been to hell so you trudged forward, feet taking you to him. Even in your drugged state, you were able to find your way to Eddie. Always would be.

Your knees dug into the grass as you collapsed in front of his tombstone, fingers reaching forward to trace over MUN and 1986 before your body curled around the large stone, hugging yourself to it. Electric blue tears slipped down your cheeks, staining them with your mascara.

“I wish I was with you.” You whispered, hating everything, hating this town, hating the people, hating Fred Benson, hating Carol, hating Laura Cunningham, hating how your mom wasn’t alive, hating how the one person you’d unknowingly sought for comfort was someone you’d never met before who was six feet under the ground. And you hated how you weren’t down there.

You laid there, hugging his tombstone for hours under the thunder and lightning as the PCP slowly left your system.

When you were able to stand up on your own, you gave the tombstone another kiss, rested your forehead against it and quietly thanked him for helping you find your way home before you left, following the path you’d made during all of your visits.

The house was quiet when you got in, and Chrissy’s car hadn’t been parked in the driveway when you’d walked up so you figured she was still at the party. Sluggishly, you made your way up the stairs, falling into your shared bathroom. Your hand searched the wall, struggling to find the switch. Once your fingertips made contact with it, you flipped it and squinted as the room was flooded with the warm light. It was still too much for your eyes but you kept it on and walked towards the mirror

The girl looking back at you was not the same one you’d last seen in it. This girl had blue smudged all around her eyes, faint trails of it over her cheeks and a rats nest for hair. Her eyes burned, not from the light, but from a fury within.

She was stuck in a life she didn’t want to live and couldn’t do anything about. As a large strike of lightning flashed from the window positioned at the back of the bathroom, towards the back of the house, you decided to put her out of her misery, picking up a blow dryer and smashing it against your reflection with a yell.

You stood there, chest heaving as you stared at the broken reflection. Then you tossed the blow dryer onto the counter, and went to bed.

Your dreams were much more pleasant than your reality, eyelids fluttering open to the ceiling of your old bedroom. A glance to your side confirmed your mother’s photo was at your bedside, next to your alarm clock on your old bedside table.

“Well?” Her photo asked, shooting you that gorgeous smile of hers, “What are you waiting for? Go get him.”

Your confusion was momentary, your mother raised her chin in a direction and you knew what would happen, you were giddy for it as you looked down to see yourself wrapped in the most beautiful wedding gown you’d ever seen.

You rose from the bed into a sitting position, picking up the bouquet on the pillow next to you. Your dresser mirror was directly across from your bed and you took a moment to admire the beautiful girl staring back at you. Where you last remember seeing trails of tears were diamonds, glittering against your skin. Her eyes sparkled with a joy you’d never known. You bid her one last smile as you turned your head to the figure sitting on the edge of your bed, dark curls cascading down his neck, past broad shoulders with his back to you.

His right arm was out, palm up.

He was waiting for you.

You shifted until you were on the edge of your bed next to him, staring straight forward just as he was.

Without looking, you knew exactly where his hand was, and you placed your left one over it, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. Slowly, the two of you leaned towards each other, until your head was on his shoulder and his cheek was pressed against the top of your head, his fingers curling around your hand to ground you. You sighed, all the tension and weight of the world leaving you.

“Sissy. . .”

“Sissy…”

“SISSY!”

You groaned as Chrissy shook you awake, eyes prying through all the mascara that had crusted over your eyes. It took a couple of blinks until you regained your clear vision, gaze locking on Chrissy leaning over you. Her face was clean of any makeup, skin glowing and hair wrapped up in rollers.

She’d gotten home later than you and had still been able to look perfect.

What the hell?

“You better get up, sissy. My mom’s losing it over the bathroom mirror.”

You were confused for a second until you remembered smashing it with a blow dryer last night—or this morning. Well, it definitely would have broken at the sight of you now, anyways.

You frowned but made no move to get up so Chrissy tugged your blanket off of you, giggling when the both of you realized you had your hand in your underwear. Hastily, you yanked it out, and threw the blankets back over yourself.

“It’s okay, Sissy. Everyone does it. It’s natural.”

“Oh my god…”

“So, what happened last night to bring this on?” She wiggled her eyebrows and you stared at her for a second. Part of you wanted to yell at her, berate her for letting you stumble around while high on a drug you’d never taken before, the other half knew in Chrissy’s World, it was all rainbows and sunshine—at least, it had been since she’d forced her mother to respect her boundaries. Chrissy didn’t expect the worst in anyone, didn't expect anyone to take advantage of you and certainly didn't expect you to wind up walking to the cemetery and then home on a bad trip. No, in Chrissy’s World, you’d probably spent the night flirting with someone, probably Steve, maybe fooled around in his car before he drove you home.

You didn’t see it necessary to shatter her world so you groaned instead, the full force of your migraine hitting you now that you were out of sleep’s clutches, and covered your hands with your face.

“Ooh, your knees…”

You glanced down to see what she was staring at and sure enough, your knees were scratched up from kneeling at Eddie’s grave, but in Chrissy’s World…

“I fell.” Was the only excuse you could come up with and Chrissy smirked.

“Me, too.” Her eyelid dropped in a wink just as Laura yelled upstairs for you, so, begrudgingly, you wrapped yourself in your robe and headed downstairs to receive your punishment.

Just as you suspected, Laura had attacked you with allegations—that were true for once, you had smashed the bathroom mirror—and your dad looked like he could care less.

“You know,” She stated, fixing you with those unnaturally blue eyes of hers, “Your dad wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. See the good in you, but I knew. I’m an Intuitive Person, you know. An IP. They’ve got seminars for people like me.”

Your mind flashed to How to Handle a Narcissist.

“Laura…” Your dad warned and Laura inhaled sharply, displeased that your dad was sticking up for you. For once.

“Did you know there was a tornado last night? It hailed. Wind blew the fence over. The yard is covered in debris, and now I have to focus on repairing the bathroom, too. I don’t think that’s fair.” She huffed and Chrissy spoke up from her place on the couch.

“It was a tornado watch, mom. Not a real tornado.”

“Actually, Chris, the weather was downright crazy last night. I mean, it was really something, I saw green lightning. Big balls of it in the sky.”

You and Chrissy shared secret smiles at hearing your dad talk about big balls.

“Love muffin, could you swap out being a weatherman for being a father, right now?” Laura gritted out through her chemically whitened teeth.

“It’s a Meteorologist,” You mumbled and her head snapped over to glare at you before she was speaking to your father again.

“Honey, your daughter is a vandal. She’s got a taste for vandalism, and she is deliberately vandalizing and destroying property. First, it was my collection of Precious Moments figurines─”

“That was an accident, you didn’t wrap them in bubble wrap and I dropped the box when I tripped over the front steps.”

“Mother,” Chrissy chided, hands crossing over her robe. “Be. Nice.”

“I am being nice,” Laura hissed, glare never leaving you, “But I refuse to coddle her. She’s headed straight to the nut house with this behavior.”

You frowned, wiping away some of the dried mascara under your eye, “Can you say that if you’re a Psych Nurse?”

Laura had the decency to look embarrassed before whacking your father’s arm. He sighed, putting his newspaper down, “Sweetheart─”

You clocked the twitch in Laura’s eyelid at the affectionate name your father used to refer to you.

“─You’re gonna clean your bathroom, alright? Sweep up all that glass.”

”And?” Laura pushed, still staring at you.

“And…..um. Pay for the mirror, I guess.” Laura turned her nose up, hurmphing.

“That’s fine, can I get ready for work now?”

Your dad nodded and Laura looked like she wanted to protest but you turned your back to her and made your way upstairs, hesitating at the top when your fathered turned the volume of the TV back on and you heard the news reporter reporting from the cemetery, talking about a grave, under a tree, that had been struck by lightning.

You wondered if it had been Eddie’s. There’s no way you’d be able to check today, you’d get home from work too late, so you’d have to check tomorrow.

You tried to stay busy during your shift at the local tailor’s. You didn’t really have a passion for it, but you were relatively good with a needle and thread. With the magnifier headlamp, you were practically unstoppable, altering coats, dresses, blouses, shirts, all with minimal finger injuries—though luminol on some of these clothing items would no doubt reveal traces of your blood.

But hey—you now knew what it meant to work so hard you put your blood into something and you always had band-aids on you, in case anyone needed one.

You were so invested in your work, you hadn’t heard the bell above the door chime when it was pushed open, and didn’t notice Steve leaning against the counter, watching you work until he cleared his throat.

You jumped, head swinging around to see your crush smiling at you and you raised the magnifying glass portion of the head lamp off your face, feeling embarrassed that he’d seen you with the headgear on in the first place.

“Hey! I didn’t know you worked here.”

You let out some nervous laughter, mind racing for ways to make this seem cool but you came up short. “Yeah, I—employed.”

“I can see that,” He chuckled, amused by your lack of verbal sparring.

You didn’t know what to say after that so you stared, fingers twisting and pulling the thread you’d been working with, desperate for him to say something or get out.

“Oh! Uh, I heard you guys also get rid of stains? I’ve got this one on my pan─”

“THAT WE DO!”

You sighed, eyes slipping shut as your moron of a boss came bursting out of the office.

“What can we do for you, Harrington?” Murray asked, leaning against the counter, causing Steve to lean back, smile now less than thrilled.

“Murray…I forgot you worked here.” Steve said it in a voice that made you think he would have avoided the shop had he known who it was that was currently in charge of running it.

“Yup, got me this sweet little gig. And no radios.” He gestured around to the shop, void of any technology save for the cash register—and he made sure it was never him operating it, “Would like to see the government try to control me now.”

“Right, I just came here to drop off my pants, spilled something on—well, it doesn’t really matter, I just spilled something on them.” Steve placed the folded pair of pants on the counter and Murray immediately unfolded them, searching through the fabric until he found the stain by his crotch. To both your horror and Steve’s, he lifted the strained fabric to his nose, sniffing deep.

“Mm. White wine?”

It took Steve a moment to find his voice and close his jaw, “Crush. The soda.”

“Same thing. We’ll get this right out, my man.”

You and Steve shared one more look of disbelief before he slowly backed away, the bell above the door sounding as he left.

“He’s a nice guy,” Murray commented and you shrugged your shoulders, wanting this conversation to be over, “I’m surprised you know him, little loser.”

You shot him a glare.

“Oh, c’mon, lets not pretend you’ve got an active social life—if I call you in for a shift, you’re available. Nothing wrong with being a loser. I was one throughout high school and look at me now. Who got the last laugh?”

You were positive the look of pain on your face should have told Murray that anyone other than him got the last laugh. He was a forty something year old, afraid of technology, convinced the government was watching him, who tried to befriend teenagers.

You’d have to kill yourself if you were anything like him.

When he disappeared back into the office, because of course you’d have to get rid of that stain for Steve, you snatched the pair of pants off the counter. Glancing around to make sure there weren’t any eyes on you, you pressed them to the side of your face, imagining yourself hugging Steve instead of the pants. They smelled like him. It was bliss.

Then your eyes snapped open.

Oh, god. You were a loser.

After your shift, you’d gone straight home. Normally, you’d stop to grab a bite or something, you still had to pay for the mirror you broke so fast food was off the table for a couple of weeks, but on your dining room table when you walked into the house.

A pizza box. Your stomach growled as you imagined the slice of cheese waiting for you.

“Is there any left?” You asked, already making a beeline for it.

“Should be a slice left,” Your dad mused and as you tossed the top of it open, all you wanted to do was maybe beat him with it.

There, on the parchment liner of the pizza box, was the skinniest and tiniest slice of pizza to ever be cut. Not even the width of two of your fingers.

“Want me to order another one, sweetheart?” Your dad asked and Laura immediately inserted herself into the conversation.

“She can eat it, love muffin. Besides, we’ve got vegetables in the fridge if she’s still not full.”

“I said we should have ordered two, but my mom had a coupon she wanted to use.” Chrissy didn’t sound impressed.

“Yes, we got a free soda!”

Chrissy ignored her mom, “Sissy, we’re going to the movies! You could get something there, they sell pizza and nachos, right?”

You knew she was trying to find a solution for you, but your bullshit meter for the day had already been capped. You didn’t want movie theater pizza or concessions, you wanted a reasonable slice of this pizza, not some scrap your step-mother had saved you. It was obvious she was implying that she, your dad and Chrissy were the perfect sized family and you were simply an afterthought. Unwelcome.

“Yeah, I’m passing on the movie.”

Before you could stomp upstairs, Chrissy caught your hand.

“Sissy, please? We’ve got to bond as a family, it’s crucial. If it takes two, how can I do it as one?” She pulled you into her side.

“Really, Chrissy, I’m super tired.”

“You’re tired?” Laura asked, incredulous. Here we go again.

“All you do is work with a sewing machine for hours like some old spinster, I can hardly imagine that being tiring, but my Chrissy just got back from a five hour long cheer practice. They were throwing her around like raggedy ann and she stuck every landing.”

“Mom, stop.” Chrissy blushed, but you could see how proud she was of herself, “I’m sure Sissy pokes herself with those needles all the time, and it hurts, I’ve been prodded myself during all of my custom fittings.”

“I have finger calluses so I don’t even bleed anymore,” You begrudgingly admitted, “I can take it.”

“I bet you can.”

After they’d left for the movies, you’d gone upstairs, showered, put on your comfiest pajamas and fuzziest slippers, you grabbed a bowl of chips and set yourself up in front of the TV to watch Dawn of the Dead. You had to give props to all these zombie actors, you couldn’t imagine having to act out being one of the walking undead, imagined it felt pretty stupid but the paycheck and experience must have been cool.

You popped another chip into your mouth just as someone knocked on the front door. As you placed the bowl of chips on the table to get up, the knocking got louder, more aggressive and you hesitated, fear beginning to swell up inside of you.

Maybe if you ignored it, they’d go away.

You turned your attention back to the tv, picking up the remote to lower the volume and hopefully hide your presence in the house.

Then, much to your horror, you heard the distinct sound of a pained, gurgling groan. It sounded very similar to the ones you’d heard the zombies making on your tv, but this one was louder.

And it was coming from outside your front door.

You crouched, duckwalking to the foyer where one of the house phones was placed. You’d just picked it up from the receiver when a shadow from the living room window caught your eye. You barely had time to turn your head when something came crashing through it, breaking the glass and yanking the curtains from the rod.

Shocked, the phone slipped from your hands, banging against the hardwood floor of the foyer and you let out a scream at the same time as the person on your TV, running away from the figure invading your home.

You made it to the dinning room. Literally scrambling across the table to put an obstacle between you and the stranger—no, creature. Tall, caked in mud, leaves and stems, it resembled the Swamp Thing. It grunted, groans low and reverberating off the walls.

“Uuuhhhnng…”

This couldn’t be happening to you, you couldn’t die like this!!!! It was supposed to be by your hand or nothing!

”STAY AWAY FROM ME!” You shrieked, picking up the decorative plates from the table to throw at the creature. You nailed it a couple of times, watching it stumble as the fine china shattered against it. When you ran out of plates, you bolted from the dinning room, screaming as you scrambled up the stairs, and lost one of your slippers in the process but to hell with it! You had to get out of there. Hopefully, one of your neighbors heard your shrieks of terror and called the police.

You peaked over the railing at the top of the stairs, to see the creature analyzing your slipper. While it was distracted, you locked yourself in your room and made your way to your bedroom window, pulling it open.

“Okay, okay. I can do this, no big deal. Stunt actors do it all the time.” You climbed outside of your window, body nearly convulsing as you almost slipped down the roof, “Nonononono.”

You tried to grip onto a couple of shingles but they gave away, slipping right off the house to shatter against the concrete walkway and you realized Laura had no fucking idea what she was doing when it came to house repairs, the dumb bitch had just laid the shingles out without securing them.

“OH MY GOD-I’M GONNA DIE! HELP!”

Your body slipped further down the roofing, until you were forced to grab the gutter, gagging when your fingers squelched against whatever was in it. You dangled a good six feet off the ground, and while it wasn’t exactly a ten story fall, with your luck, you’d land on your head and break your neck.

Whimpering, you tried to pull yourself back up the roof, but it was no use. You had nothing stable to grab onto as you yanked yet another shingle clean off. You glared at it and muttered a goddammit before tossing it somewhere behind you as you went back to hanging on for dear life.

“Oh, no.” You mumbled, terrified as your fingertips began to lose their grip, wet with the mystery sludge from the gutter. “No, NO!”

You lost your grip, plummeting down but you didn’t meet the concrete. No, the Creature broke your fall and you were now face to face with it. The pressure of you landing on it, made it spit up into your face, green sludge, and you gasped before breaking out into screams again.

Pushing yourself up and off of it as you ran around your front yard, nearly blind. You were not opening your eyes to let that bacteria infested swamp slime, water, whatever the hell it was, into your eyeballs.

You could hear the Creature stomping around behind you as you bobbed and weaved, could feel his presence and you could not believe you were actually gonna die fighting off a swamp monster in your front yard while blinded—in clear and plain view for your neighbors to see, by the way, and unbeknownst to you, an elderly couple was watching you, not even a little concerned about your well being or the creature chasing you around.

“Stop it!”

“Leave me alone!”

“Go away, I’m just a girl!”

The timed sprinklers went off and you were soon assaulted with them as well. With just about all your senses done for, and the sprinklers washing the guck away from your face, you made a run for the house, slamming your back against the door and locking it behind you.

Your chest was heaving, wet body pumping with adrenaline as the back of your head thumped against the door. You weren’t done yet. That creature was still out there!!!

You dove for the phone on the ground, hanging by its springy cord and shouted out hopefully loud enough for it to hear, “I’m calling the police, so if you don’t want your ass riddled with bullets, I’d suggest you leave! They shoot before asking questions!”

You frantically dialed 911 but there was no ringing, instead, you could still hear buttons being pressed on the other line.

Bleak, and accepting your fate, you put the phone back on the receiver, and turned towards the living room, where the other phone was located.

On the chair, next to where the table the phone normaly rested on, was The Creature.

You grabbed one of the lamps, ready to use it as a weapon but it didn’t attack you, just turned the phone receiver this way and that, as if admiring it.

Despite your fear, you took a reluctant step forward, casting the creature in the glow of the lamp you clutched and for like the billionth time that night, you gasped.

The sprinklers had washed some of the filth off of it, too. Before, its head had been caked in a mud helmet, but now, you could actually see it’s head. It had long, disgustingly dirty curls, and wore a leather jacket, jeans and tennis shoes, all covered in grime.

When it craned its head up to look at you, you readied the lamp, poised to throw it at it—him. It was a guy. Big brown eyes, stared up at you and he made no move to attack.

Slowly, you lowered the lamp, and crouched down a few feet away.

His attention returned to the phone—shoe shaped—in his hands and shakily, with stiff limbs, he put it back on the receiver.

“It’s…It’s cool looking, right? The-The shoe phone.”

He glanced over at you and then the phone again as you mumbled out an explanation,

“Our neighbor in our old town cheated on his wife and she threw all his stuff out the window at him and my dad snatched the phone.”

“Merrrruhhhhh.” He moaned out, picking up your slipper and offering it to you. When you just stared, he dropped it and you moved the lamp to the side, crossing your legs.

“I’ve never seen a zombie before.” You marveled, then squinted, “You are a zombie, right? An undead?”

It took him an entire minute to choppily raise his shoulders, you realized he was shrugging. Or trying to. Every movement he made was choppy. Reminded you of how stop motion was made, except his scenes weren’t being played fast enough to have fluid movements.

He tried to get up and promptly slipped, accidentally elbowing the mini sound system at his side. It turned on, Sinead O’Connor’s Drink Before the War playing. You’d been the last to use it.

You watched as his head tilted in interest as Sinead began to croon out lyrics.

“Do you like music? This is Sinead O’Connor. She makes music that heals souls.”

He raised his wrist to his chest and you inhaled sharply as you realized he was missing the hand on it.

“Uhm, no—I don’t think she healed your soul. I meant like, figuratively. Her music makes people feel.” You placed your hands on your own chest, trying to convey your meaning, “She’s one of my favorites.”

A surprisingly comforting silence fell over the two of you—though he sometimes made his quiet dead guy gross sounds—as you stared at him, taking in the green-gray tint of his skin beneath the dirt all over him, cheeks sunken in. You had a feeling if you touched his skin, it’d be hard, maybe waxy and it was a bit unnerving how human his eyes were, but duh! Of course they were, he was a human. Just. A dead one. At least he wasn’t a skeleton.

Man, Hollywood wasn’t too far off with their interpretation.

“C’mon,” You stood up, eyes taking in the state of your home and all the dirt the two of you had dragged in, “I gotta hide you, new dead friend.”

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relatable-trxsh · 2 months

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i am so dead serious when i say lisa frankenstein is my barbie movie

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relatable-trxsh · 2 months

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The Creature — Lisa Frankenstein (2024)

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relatable-trxsh · 2 months

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The more you ignore the more we are going to keep pushing.

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relatable-trxsh · 3 months

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Figure It Out

A Criminal Minds Casefic

“All things are subject to interpretation. Whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a function of power and not truth.” -Friedrich Nietzsche

Summary:

Since you joined the BAU, you have been keeping a terrible secret from the team.

When the team takes a case in your hometown - your festering secret comes to be known with a vengeance.

Fem!Reader x Gen!BAU Team (Platonic). General Casefic, modelled after a Criminal Minds episode. Angst, Mystery, Hurt and Comfort. Set during Criminal Minds Season 3.

Word Count: 18,000

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed Warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is a general casefic - there is no romantic pairings in this fic, it is more about the mystery of the case and how the reader character fits into it (if this were a real Criminal Minds episode, this would be the episode named after the reader) - with that being said, the main relationship focuses are between Emily and the reader and Spencer and the reader (because I am biased and I love them) but there isn’t any romantic threads or romantic tones, it is all platonic; the reader character uses she/her pronouns and is described as a woman, but I went out of my way to make sure that there is no descriptions of the readers looks or body type; there is use of Y/N and L/N (as in Last Name); mentions of the reader being from Georgia (because the case takes place in her hometown); smoking/cigarettes - mentions of the reader character smoking tobacco; mentions of the reader character being injured (severely in a past incident, and minor injuries during the course of the fic); mentions of vomit/mentions of the reader character throwing up; lots of warnings for general Criminal Minds topics; murder, killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of dead bodies, violence, guns/gun violence, mentions of rape and sexual violence, mentions of systematic violence towards women; there is no graphic depictions of rape/no rape scenes in the fic, but there is mentions of the event of rape happening to certain characters, references to rape culture, and the shame/guilt/self blame a rape victim feels; mentions of stalking/stalking behaviors - including the delusion mindset of a stalker, obsessiveness, sending someone unwanted letters, mentions of a ‘one sided’ relationship; mentions of trauma/PTSD; descriptions of symptoms of PTSD; themes surrounding the cycle of violence; I did kind of purposefully make the warnings a bit more vague than I usually do, because I really don’t want to spoil the plot of this fic. But as lot as you are okay with the maturity of all these themes, you should be okay with this fic!!

A/N: This is pretty much 100% inspired by the music video for Figure It Out by Royal Blood - which the fic is named after. I highly recommend watching the music video, because it is fucking art in my opinion, but I have taken such heavy inspiration from it in terms of the style, tone, and even storyline - so the music video kind of spoils this fic. So probably watch it after you read the fic lmao. I also feel like the instrumental version of the song goes very well with this fic. This fic is not at all typical and I am terrified that people won't like it, or that they won't 'get it'. But I am very proud of it, so I am going to put it out there and hope that people enjoy it. So - please enjoy!! I really love writing Criminal Minds casefics and coming up with the details of a case, and writing it in this style was so, so exciting and interesting for me, and I really do hope that you can enjoy reading it.

...

“All things are subject to interpretation. Whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a function of power and not truth.”

-Friedrich Nietzsche

...

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department, Interrogation Room #1 - Madison, GA. 3:39AM.

The chilled air of the interrogation room only made the regret more palpable in your lungs.

The hum of the fluorescents overhead made you feel like a bug about to be zapped - like your entire life was over and you would soon be resigned to a cage.

You hated it, but you had to wonder what you would have done if you had ten more minutes. Ten more minutes before they had arrived, sirens screeching, lights flashing. Your mind kept replaying the moments over and over again. The knife had felt so perfect in your hand.

Ten more minutes.

“I just want to talk.”

So caught up in your thoughts, your mind so foggy from the hectic night - you had almost forgotten that there was someone sitting in front of you.

He looked so entirely stiff - wearing his cookie cutter suit and his carved-in scowl. He did nothing to shift your mood.

“This is just a conversation. Nothing more.”

He continued on, using a monotone, would-be soothing voice when you didn’t say anything.

The metal chair felt stiffer underneath you, and you felt further suffocated within that small, concrete box.

You felt inclined to call it an interrogation, but you wouldn’t be so quick to tell him that. It’s not like you were going to tell him what he wanted to hear.

“You can smoke in here if that makes you feel more comfortable.” He added on, pushing something from the middle of the table toward you.

A pack of cigarettes and a lighter. There was also an ashtray. A collection of things that someone had put there, knowing that you would be resigned to this tiny, tiny room.

“You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves, Hotch.” You huffed, saying his name, using the same technique that he would likely be using on you. You could mirror him, get ahead on the mind games. “I’m not as crazy and detached from reality as you think I am.”

Perhaps that was a false statement. You weren’t even sure how crazy he thought you were. Perhaps, that in itself made you detached from reality. You couldn’t be sure.

Nonetheless, you took him up on the offer. You reached out and eagerly picked up the pack of smokes, ripping off the outer plastic before you took one out, shoving the tip between your lips and lighting it up.

You took a heavy draw, and the nicotine throbbed through you. Seemingly adding to the headache you already had from the large gash on your forehead that they had hastily bandaged before bringing you in here, rather than relieving it. Still, you sucked on the cigarette like it was your only lifeline - taking a moment to tap some of the ash into the small ashtray while you stared at Hotch carefully.

You wondered if you should really tell him all the gory details.

“Just tell me what happened. Tell me your side of the story.” Hotch said, trying his best to sound warm and convincing. It didn’t work. “I’m just trying to figure it out. Just like you are.”

Perhaps your biggest regret was that you were here, cooped up in this hole - and he was in the hospital somewhere, laying in a soft bed, being attended to by nurses, being comforted. The fact that he was still breathing - even with the assistance of a tube down his throat, and not in a body bag.

“You’ll never look at me the same if I do tell you.” You managed to find these words, and these words only. Ominous, almost threatening - more so than you intended.

“I won’t.” He returned. Shallow, fallible.

Suddenly, a crash from the hallway broke the tense silence that was brewing between the two of you. The door was thick, but it wasn’t enough to disguise the ruckus coming from outside.

“No! No! You have to let me through! I have to be in there!”

The voice was familiar, but that tone of desperation certainly was not.

“Reid, he specifically told us to sit this one out-”

“Sit this one out?!” Reid repeated the words back, his voice warping with pure shock, the inability to conceptualize such a thing. “You expect me to just sit out?” He scoffed. “If it wasn’t for me, two more people would be dead, and there wouldn’t even be a ‘this one’! Now let. Me. Through.”

“Reid-”

With all his bolstering stubbornness, he shoved past whoever had been trying to stop him, and as you took another heavy puff off your cigarette, the interrogation room door came flying open.

Hotch stood up, rushing to block the door, but you smiled. Though you were numb from the day’s events - it was your natural instinct upon seeing him.

“Reid-” Hotch choked out, trying to block the gangly man from even entering the room.

“Good evening, Doctor Reid.” You greeted him gently.

Upon seeing your reaction - so much more open and warm - Hotch allowed him in. This was the wedge that he needed to pry you open. Reid closed the door behind himself with an indigent huff and a glare toward his superior.

Reid crossed his arms, hovering near the door as he turned his stiff-jawed glare toward you now. Your cigarette turned to a hot cherry in your hands - sucked to death already, and you stubbed it out in the tray before starting a new one. You knew chain-smoking was an even filthier habit than the occasional ciggy, but you had one hell of a day under your belt. If there was ever a time, it was now.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Reid asked, his voice stiff and oppositional.

“Oh, so many things.” You said, your tone clever and unphased. Hotch let out a sigh as he sat back down in his chair. He was glad that you were talking openly now, at least. “Shall we go in alphabetical order, or start at my birth and work or way back from there?”

Reid let out another nasal thick sound. Apparently, he wasn’t in the mood for banter.

You were met with nothing but a stony wall of silence, and cold glares of disapproval. It almost made you feel guilty. Almost.

“Let’s start with this,” Reid corrected you. “Why?”

Truthfully, you couldn’t give him that answer. You didn’t think you would ever have enough time to conjure it up within yourself.

“You’re the genius profiler, Doctor Reid.” You fired back coldly. “You tell me.”

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 2:20AM.

Prentiss led the team as they searched through the house. It was the only solid lead they had as to where you might be. It was a house that your parents used to own - a place of significance because you had lived there the summer when it first happened.

“Clear!”

She went through the living room, the kitchen, the entire first floor, leading the team with Reid at her side, guns drawn.

“Clear!”

As she crested the top of the stairs, she heard sobbing.

It was distinct - something that tugged harshly on her heartstrings.

Even though it was against protocol not to clear the rooms in order, she rushed toward it. Reid continued to flank her - obviously he had heard the noise too.

Prentiss landed a sharp kick on the door’s handle, causing it to fling open.

The picture on display in front of her almost caused her to drop her gun.

Hotch had been right.

You were on top of the man, straddling him. Both you and the man were badly beaten - but right off the bat, Prentiss could tell that he was far worse off. Clearly, you had bested him in the fight this time.

The contents of the room strewn about; broken glass, busted furniture, the curtain rod torn down. It looked like the remnants of a bad WWE brawl. You were the picture of desperation - heavy, hot tears coming from your eyes, blood smearing down your face from a gash on your forehead as you stared down the man beneath you with fiery madness in your eyes.

You had a knife to his throat. A large hunting knife - the same kind that all the other victims had been stabbed with.

You had the tip of it poised to his throat, just barely touching his skin. If you put any amount of pressure on the blade - if you bared down, then you would slice right through his esophagus. It would take almost no effort from you at all to end his life.

From what Prentiss could see, the man was unconscious. He was completely slack, his body still on the ground. He was bleeding from a small head wound. His life was entirely in your hands. He couldn’t fight back.

Both your hands shook vigorously as you struggled with the warring inside of you, as you struggled with the weight of the confrontation with your life’s biggest monster.

Though it went against everything inside of her, Emily kept her gun raised. She kept her arms stiff, keeping her gun pointed at you. As much as she detested that man, knowing what he had done - it was her job to shoot you if you tried to kill him. Right now, she hated that job.

“Put the knife down!” Prentiss ordered sharply.

You didn’t move.

Naturally, Reid, in all of his softness and empathy, slackened his arms and holstered his gun before anyone could blink.

“Come on, put it down.” She tried again.

You ignored Prentiss entirely, your hands still shaking, making no moves to lift the knife away from the man’s throat.

Reid moved to step into the room, and from his view at the top of the stairs, arms stiff and gun pointed in your general direction - Hotch called out to him.

“Reid-!” He tried to warn Reid against doing this. Of course, he didn’t listen.

Reid knelt down beside you, posturing in surrender with his arms. Of course, he wasn’t even on your radar at the moment. Your entire gaze, your entire focus was on the unconscious man underneath you - the true target of your agony.

“Y/N,” Reid said your name calmly, trying to capture your attention. “You don’t have to do this.”

You hesitated for a moment, and Prentiss worried that even his gentle voice wouldn’t be able to get through to you.

“I have to.” You sobbed out. More heavy tears slid down your face, and you began to shake more visibly, shockwaves moving throughout your entire body.

“You don’t have to.” Reid told you, his voice calming, gentle. “You - you can give me the knife, and then we can just… walk away. And then it all ends.”

“It won’t just end!” You screamed out, your voice a curtling weep that bounced off the walls.

It made Prentiss’ heart jump inside of her chest. If it wasn’t protocol, she would have dropped her gun and run over to comfort you with a hug. But she knew that you weren’t in the most stable place. You might have tried to stab her with the knife.

“It can end.” Reid assured you calmly. “You just have to come with me. You just have to put the knife down and-”

“I have to make it stop!” You screamed, trampling over his quiet voice. “I killed those women. I killed them!”

“Prentiss!” Hotch edged in, warning her.

If you didn’t move off of the unconscious man soon, then she would have to take you down.

“Just give him a minute!” Prentiss fired back. She had faith in Reid.

“We both know that’s not true.” Reid told you. “You didn’t kill them. You didn’t mean for this to happen-”

“He killed them because of me!” You shouted, cutting him off. “We both know it’s my fault.”

“It’s not.” Reid choked out. “Please don’t say that.”

There was a gutting silence.

“Please, just give me the knife.”

At this point he was doing some pleading of his own - but your hands were unsteady and you still refused to look at him.

You weren’t going to give up the fight that easily.

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Somewhere On The Country Backroads - Madison, GA. 2:11AM.

“I want two squad cars down the road, I want state police cutting off all the possible exits to the major highways.” Agent Hotchner was on the scene, doing what he did best - giving orders. “I want to cut off any chance of possible escape incase the suspect tries to flee-”

“Hotch, do you really think that’s necessary?” Morgan asked. “We’ve got the house. Thermal cam’s got two bodies on the second floor. There’s nowhere to run from here. We’ve got spike strips on all the dirt roads. No car is getting past any of that. It should function as a hard extraction from here.”

Hotch glared at Morgan as he fastened the straps on his bulletproof vest. The glare of the red and blue lights from the squad cars only made the deep frown lines on his face look firmer.

“I am not taking any chances.” Hotch said. “We both know this is an incredibly delicate matter. We found one of the victims across state lines. We know this suspect has mobility. I’m not risking finding another body.”

The air became tense as everyone realized what he meant by ‘another body’.

“I want tactical swat to go in first-” Hotch began, and was quickly cut off by Morgan.

“You’re sending in swat when there’s a hostage in there?” Morgan questioned harshly.

“Even if we go in there blazing, showing force, she might not come in quietly.” Hotch explained.

“You’re serious?” Prentiss replied, hooking the wire of her earpiece around her ear in order to tuck the mic in. “She’s the one you’re worried about? She’s a victim in all this.”

“You saw the incident report.” Hotch reminded her. “The amount of defensive wounds she had… the first time he attacked her, she fought back hard. She’s desperate, she’s feeling cornered, she-”

“She’s terrified right now.” Prentiss pressed harshly. “She doesn’t need a bunch of men going in there waving guns in her face.”

“She could sacrifice him.” Hotch theorized, further trying to prove his point. “This could be her chance to finally get justice. Finally getting rid of the man who’s tormented her for all these years.”

“So we have to bring them both in. Quietly.” Morgan said. “We can’t just go in there shooting. If your theory is correct, then she could use him as a human shield.”

Hotch nodded. “Fine. No tactical swat. Prentiss, you take the lead.”

“Yeah, and I’m taking Reid with me.” Prentiss told him sharply. “Somebody with a little compassion around here.”

Prentiss nodded and scoffed, walking past Hotch, gently whispering ‘what the hell is wrong with you’ on her way to get in the car with Reid.

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 1:45AM.

When JJ let out a harsh sigh, Emily turned to her, swiveling in the borrowed office chair with a creak.

“What is it?” Emily asked.

“Don’t you feel that?” JJ replied. Emily shrugged, waiting a moment for her to finish the thought. “That… overwhelming feeling of dread?”

Of course, it was obvious. No leads. No breaks in the case.

It was hopeless.

“Come on, I thought you were the hopeful one.” Rossi pointed out, tossing his empty paper coffee cup into a nearby trash can.

“How can I be hopeful when one of my best friends is caught up in all this?” JJ fired back. “If she-”

Before she could finish that thought, Reid stormed in, capturing everyone’s attention.

“Guys, I think we got the profile all wrong.” He announced, a look of worry knit into his features. “And - if I’m right, then I think I know where she is.”

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 1:45AM.

You knew that it was cruel, but you couldn’t help but to enjoy his groans of pain.

There had been so many others - so many monsters to take down. So many men that you had gotten rid of without a second thought. Men you had put bullets in that didn’t mean as much to you as this. So many others you had easily forgotten about. But he had taunted your soul in a special way. And you knew that you were enjoying this too much.

“Tell me you like it!”

You screamed, taking another downward swing with the piece of wood - a leg broken off from the chair he had bound you to. He had been convinced that you wouldn’t break free. Laughable. He should have known better.

When he didn’t respond, you took another swing.

You could have stopped. You could have ended it. But you didn’t.

“Come on, tell me you like it!”

You screamed in his face, sputtering blood across him. At one point, he had punched you in the mouth. You weren’t exactly sure where the blood was coming from. You didn’t exactly care.

That would be your excuse.

He had hit you too. You were battered. You were just a fragile woman, after all.

“You’re a fuckin’ crazy bitch.” He coughed, sputtering out some blood himself. “I… I always liked that about you. It was one of the reasons I fell in love.”

He grinned - bright red spread out across his teeth, and it gave you the intense desire to see those teeth missing. To make him swallow them.

“You don’t love me.” You told him firmly. “You just get an adrenaline rush from being around me because I’m not afraid of you.” You explained. “Unlike the other whores, I fight.”

While you were preoccupied with the words, he flipped onto his stomach and began crawling across the floor.

He thought you were too stupid to notice, but he was inching his way toward the hunting knife that had been thrown out of his hand during the scuffle. It was a slow, sluggish crawl. You had broken a few of his ribs, his kneecap. It was nice to see him so slow. You had probably severely damaged his internal organs with how hard you had been beating him with the makeshift baton.

It was worse than last time. You stood above him like a menace - watching and waiting. You hated that you knew you would take an odd kind of joy in removing his hope when you stole the knife from his grip.

Just as he grazed his fingers across it, you brought another harsh swing down across his achilles tendon, causing him to scream out in pain.

You still had a lot of strength left in you. He was tiring out.

He was losing the game.

“Come on baby, tell me how you like it.” You continued to mock him. “Tell me how good I am.”

“Fuck you.” He moaned out.

You felt satisfaction bloom inside of you - those were the words.

He had finally given up hope. He had finally realized that maybe: he wasn’t going to beat you. Maybe he wasn’t above you on the playing field anymore. He was fucking around with a fellow predator, not toying with his prey.

“Oh baby. You know I’m only doing this because I love you.” You said, repeating his own words back to him in a cruel mockery.

That was when he realized: this wasn’t just a lover’s spat. This was a culling.

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Just Outside of Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 1:04AM.

Reid needed some air.

Working on the case so diligently, not coming up with any leads. It was intensely difficult. Letting the balmy summer Southern air flow over him, getting a good gulp of the fresh air into his lungs - it was a bit more awakening than drinking his sixth cup of coffee for that day.

He was surprised when he rounded a corner, trying to go for a short walk to stretch his legs, and he saw a very recognizable face hovering near a gray Honda.

“Mrs. L/N?” He posed, approaching her gently. “It’s late. What are you doing here?”

JJ had promised to call her if there were any updates. Reid didn’t want to disappoint her by telling her that there were none.

“It’s Miss L/N.” She said quietly. “I never married.”

Reid nodded at this. “My apologies.”

She looked deeply troubled.

Reid waited patiently for her to reply to his initial question - for her to tell him whatever was burdening her. If he was lucky, it could help with the case. It was always the families who could help put those final puzzle pieces into place. That was something Gideon taught him, so he took it as sacred advice.

“You’re Doctor Reid, aren’t you?” She posed, stepping forward to approach him slightly - still stiff, still stand-off-ish. He easily understood why. He nodded in response. “My daughter speaks very fondly of you.”

Reid cracked a small smile at this.

His attention was then brought to a small box - a shoe box as she held it out to him.

“I don’t mean to bother you at this late hour, but… you said to let you know if I thought of anything that might help you.” She reminded him. He nodded again. “And I - well, the reason I didn’t bring these up the first time… you can understand that I have a need to protect my daughter?”

“Of course.” He affirmed. “It’s every parent’s natural instinct to protect their child.”

She looked solemn at his words.

“I had no idea that… that what happened to her could potentially be connected to these… these murders in any possible way.” She told him, shuddering as the word passed through her lips. “I was just trying to shield her, you have to understand.”

She handed him the shoebox, and when he took it and lifted off the lid, it took him only a moment to understand. He would need to find a quiet place to fully inspect the contents, but it was all being pieced together in his mind now.

“Thank you for bringing me this.” He told her quietly.

“Doctor Reid, you have to promise me that you’ll bring my daughter home unharmed.” She said, tears coming to her eyes. “She’s a good girl. Please, just bring her home.”

Unfortunately, he couldn’t promise her that. Not under the circumstances.

“Ma’am… I will try my best. That is all I can promise you.” He told her.

She nodded in quiet understanding before Reid turned and marched back inside.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 11:03PM.

The flint of the lighter flicking seemed to be the loudest thing in the room in that moment - even with the low hum of the eleven o’clock news playing in the background.

It was so odd. Everything was exactly like you remembered it. Withered - but the same.

Even the chair you were sitting in. The old wooden chair that had been lugged up from the kitchen, one that you used to sit in for hours and do homework - it was rickety, but somehow the same.

You took a sharp drag off the cigarette after it was lit for you, continuing to listen to the feminine voice on the radio as the news played.

“I’m Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, and I’m speaking on behalf of the Madison Police Department. Tonight, we are making an urgent appeal to the public for information. Earlier this evening, a woman went missing in the area of-”

“I never took you for a smoker.” He said, his voice sharp and confident in the words.

You tapped your cigarette into the ashtray with your free hand before raising it up to your lips to take another drag. Right now, the smoke heavy in your lungs was the only thing keeping you sane.

“I never smelled it on you back then.” He added on when you didn’t respond to him. “Bitches who smoke always smell like dirtbags. You just… smelled nice.”

“I didn’t smoke back then.” You quietly replied.

He had driven you to take up the habit.

You took another drag of your cigarette - you wanted to enjoy it. The longer you could drag it out, literally, the longer you could delay the inevitable.

“-The suspect was last seen driving a blue and white, 1970s Ford truck. If you see the vehicle, please-”

“They’re lookin’ for ya.” He said casually, nodding toward the radio.

You wished they weren’t.

You directed the conversation elsewhere.

“Tell me how this is gonna end.” You urged him quietly, ashing your cigarette again.

“You and I both know… this was only ever gonna end one way.” He told you, his voice irritably cocky.

He had you now. He had won.

“-We believe that this abduction is connected to a string of recent murders in the area. It is critical that if you have any information, you call our tip line at-”

He rose from his spot then, and turned off the radio.

The silence was gutting.

He moved toward the door, but you abruptly caught his attention.

“Remember,” You told him. “You made me a promise.” You said quietly. “No more. No more girls.”

He chuckled at this. “Of course, darlin’. No more.”

It felt like a lie.

“But only because I love you.” He gave a filthy grin along with these words, and your insides shuddered.

You knew that he wasn’t actually capable of love. You had known that from the moment you first laid eyes on him.

You didn’t bother to muster any words in return.

He crossed the room back toward you and leaned down, planting a kiss on your forehead. Your body stiffened, entirely stony toward it. It was selfish on his part - loving on you like a doll, rather than trying to bring you any comfort.

He moved back to the door silently.

You worried about what would happen the moment he went out the door. He turned to you just before he left.

“Don’t run off now.” He said with a wink. Ego. Sarcasm.

“Where am I gonna go, Dan?” You sighed.

You lifted your tethered hand up to drive the point home, and the clink of handcuffs was now apparent in the otherwise silent room.

He shut the door with a chuckle. You put out your cigarette in the ashtray, reaching for the loose spoke in the back of the chair. This was a chair that you used to sit in for hours while studying. That loose spoke used to bug you all the time.

It came free after only a few tugs.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. QuitTrip (Corner Store) - Madison, GA. 10:24PM.

The previously dark parking lot of the secluded, back country convenience store was now entirely lit up with red and blue. Four police cars had crowded into the area, surrounding the place where you had last been seen.

Inside, under the harsh white fluorescent lights of the store, Hotchner and Prentiss were interviewing the store clerk - a young man who had supposedly been the last person to speak to you before the abduction.

“So, you’re sure that you didn’t see anything?” Hotch pressed the young man - someone who seemed so entirely nervous under his harsh, unmoving gaze.

“I swear, man, I didn’t see anything.” He said, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke. “She was parked in the back of the parking lot, and once you walk around the corner, there’s no way to see someone through the doors. It’s like - like a total blind spot, man.”

“The UnSub had to have known that.” Hotch noted quietly, turning to Prentiss. “He approached her knowing that he wouldn’t be seen.”

“Do you think he was waiting out there?” Prentiss wondered aloud.

Then she turned back to the clerk.

“Was there a man in here before she came in? He would have been in his 30s. Very cold, he wouldn’t have said anything. Just paid quietly and left. He might not have even bought anything - he might have just walked around, checking the blind spots. And if you asked him what he was looking for, he would have given you a glare rather than speaking. This man is not sociable. He’s very distant. He likely wouldn’t have looked you in the eye.”

The clerk shook his head.

“No, nobody like that.” He explained. “That lady - she was my first customer in, like, hours. She just bought her ciggies and left. And I thought it was weird cause she bought a lighter too. Most smokers already have a lighter on them.”

“I didn’t know Y/N smoked.” Prentiss said quietly.

“Me either.” Hotch confirmed.

Hotch’s attention was captured by a screen behind the counter - surveillance feed, showing several different places inside the store. There was one camera just outside the door. If he wasn’t mistaken, that camera was pointed at that ‘blind spot’ in the parking lot.

Without asking permission, he raised the partition and walked around the counter, his eyes hyper-focused on the screen.

“Can you get me this footage from a few hours ago?” He prompted toward the clerk. “The view of the parking lot. We need to see what L/N did after she left the store.”

The clerk nodded and began typing things onto the keyboard, and Hotch prompted him to stop when he saw you appear on the footage. Prentiss came around the counter as well, leaving the three of them crowded in close to the small screen as they watched the past version of you.

You walked across the parking lot - toward your car, a cigarette hanging out of your mouth. You were making determined steps - until something stopped you.

“The UnSub caught her attention.” Prentiss noted.

Then - something entirely strange happened. While staring at the man off screen, you leaned against your car, and began ashing your cigarette, as if chatting idly with him.

“He’s not using force.” Hotch thought aloud. “Do you think he’s got a gun trained on her?”

“Maybe.” Prentiss hummed quietly.

He was out of the frame, so it was only a guess.

Then, after a few moments of this - you simply walked off. You walked in the direction he had been standing.

“Did - did she just go with him willingly?” Prentiss gaped, entirely in shock.

When she glanced over her shoulder, Hotch was gone.

He stormed out into the parking lot, frantically gazing around. Prentiss followed him, chasing his chaotic energy.

“Hotch!” She called out. “Hotch-!”

“We need more camera angles! We need-”

“Calm down.” She urged, grabbing him by the shoulders.

“It just doesn’t make any sense.” He rasped. “Why would she go with him willingly? Why - why? Why would she?” He was frantic. “He must have threatened her. He must have-”

They both didn’t want to think of the obvious.

That you didn’t fear him. That - it hadn’t even been an abduction.

“He must have threatened her.” Prentiss easily agreed. “She wouldn’t have gone with him otherwise.”

They didn’t bring up the fact that you had a gun and plenty of training on how to use it. They didn’t bring up the fact that the profile said the UnSub couldn’t easily charm - he would have kidnapped you by force.

Unless you were special. Unless he thought he could talk to you specifically for some reason.

“Guys, what’s the news?” JJ asked, finally walking onto the scene.

She hated the grave looks on Prentiss and Hotch’s faces.

“I want you to put a press conference together.” Hotch said, straightening himself out and turning to her. “Make an appeal for witnesses. Tell them that there’s been a woman abducted in the area, but don’t tell them that L/N a Federal Agent. It could set the UnSub off if he believes that this abduction is being treated with a higher priority. If he feels a higher pressure from law enforcement, he might-”

“Right.” JJ nodded. Hotch didn’t need to say the words in order for her to understand. “So: release her name and her photo, but act like she’s just a regular civilian?”

Hotch nodded. “Exactly.”

“If I get going now, I think I could still make the eleven o’clock news.” JJ said, rushing off with her cell pressed to her ear.

“Let’s just hope that it brings Y/N home safely.”

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. QuitTrip (Corner Store) - Madison, GA. 8:03PM.

You felt an odd amount of relief having nicotine in your system again.

This was the first time you had smoked a cigarette in years. You had quit the habit shortly after you joined the FBI Academy when one of your advisers warned you that it might cause you to fail the fitness test. And you felt like you should just knock the habit, seeing as the only reason you had taken it up was because of… him.

But - all of this was so triggering. Being back in your same small shitty town. Feeling it suffocating you like a plastic bag.

The murders.

You sucked on the cigarette for dear life as you walked back to your car, and just as you were about to get in - the windows of the car open, inviting in the sweet summer air, the keys still inside because you did feel an odd amount of trust in your hometown - something captured your attention.

“Y/N.”

Hearing your name in that voice made you freeze on the spot. The warm breeze felt like ice against your skin as you took your hand off the door handle, turning toward him.

“You’re lookin’ gorgeous as ever, darlin’.”

“You.” You ground out the word with as much disdain as possible, hot rage boiling in your blood as you looked at him. “I should have known it was you.”

He let out a sharp chuckle - a sound that made your throat tighten up. He flicked his tongue out across his teeth, grinning his terrible Cheshire grin at you.

A hand instinctively went for your gun, and your palm hit an empty section of your belt. He let out another sharp chuckle when his eyes followed yours, making the same realization that you did.

You had left it sitting on the passenger’s seat of the car. Right beside your phone.

You wondered if you could dive through the open window before he could get to you. When he made a posturing move, brushing his unbuttoned plaid shirt away and revealing the gun he had strapped to his belt underneath - you realized he would shoot you if you moved too quickly.

You were stuck.

“Of course it’s me, baby.” He said, casually replying to your earlier words. “You had to know that I did all this for you. For us.”

Giving into your fate, you propped yourself against the side of the car - trying desperately to steady your wobbling legs without making it look like you were doing so. You tapped your cigarette, spilling some of the ash before you brought it to your lips once again.

“I missed you like hell.” He told you with a snakeskin grin.

“I didn’t miss you.” You bitterly fired back. “Not for a fucking second.”

“Guess I made it difficult to miss me, huh?” He said, cocky as ever. “With my frequent correspondence and all?”

“You know what I meant.” You fired back.

You glared at him sharply but didn’t say anything more, afraid that he would whip the gun out and shoot you.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, something that sounded utterly sarcastic.

“Ooh, darlin’ that’s harsh.” He said. “That would almost hurt. If I didn’t know the truth.”

You wanted to argue. You took in another large drag to help hold your tongue. You knew the results of arguing with him - it wasn’t worth it.

“So… I think you know how this goes.” He announced. “You can come with me now. Or… I can go get another girl.”

“No more girls.” You told him. “I’m here now. You won. Whatever business you have - it’s with me.”

You stamped out your cigarette as you walked toward him, and your phone began to ring on the front seat as his truck rumbled to life and pulled out of the parking lot.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 7:26PM.

“Hello! Everyone, listen up.” Hotch called everyone to attention as the local police continued to filter in, most of them standing around with cups of coffee in hand or notebooks out, ready to take notes. “We’re ready to give the profile.”

“Yes, and please keep in mind that this is just a general set of guidelines describing the suspect.” Rossi said. “This is not a concrete list of things you should be looking for. A profile is more useful in the elimination of suspects, rather than the inclusion of them.”

He then turned to Derek, who began reciting the profile that the team had put together so far.

“This UnSub, or Unknown Subject, is most likely a white male in his thirties to forties.” Morgan explained. “He drives an American made vehicle, something large enough to conceal and transport victims, and something that has off-road capability in order to get to the more secluded areas where some of the bodies were found. So think trucks, heavy duty vans, anything with thick treads on the tires and a large payload. And his vehicle will most likely be in a more discreet color. This guy won’t be driving around in something flashy. He’ll be in something that blends into the background, like a beige or black truck.”

“So what?” One of the local cops piped up. “We put out an APB for every single heavy duty black truck in the area? This is the south, do you have any idea how many people around here drive a truck? Especially ones driven by men in their forties.”

“There’s more.” Hotch noted, looking toward you.

“This UnSub likely believes that he is dating these women in some capacity before he kills them.” You explained. “He has left scraps of poetry at the scenes, pages of romance novels - several of the victims had wine in their stomachs or burns from candle wax on their skin. And it’s highly likely that he turns violent when the women reject his advances, or don’t live up to the fictionalized relationship he has made up about them in his mind.”

“How does that help us?” Someone asked.

“Well, it’s very likely that he frequents the same hunting grounds.” Rossi explained. “We encourage you to go to local bars, and nightclubs, even gyms or cafes and pass out the profile to women who fit this type.” He said, motioning toward the pictures of the other victims. “He will be on the hunt again soon, and he has a very narrow hunting ground, living in such a lowly populated area. So we might be able to catch him off guard if his potential victims have the profile as well.”

“This man is romantic, but he’s not charming.” You added on. “He isn’t sociable. He’s very cocky, very self-centered. He believes that he is God’s gift to women, and he has a very fractured sense of reality in general. If women reject him in everyday interactions, he will get noticeably irritated, and even violent. So he will be remembered as an unpleasant person in most women’s stories.”

“This UnSub most likely has an inside knowledge of law enforcement.” Reid stated. “But, because he has a very antisocial personality, he wouldn’t do well working with the public. We currently have our analyst combing through files of those who flunked out of the police academy or live in the area and are retired from the military in some capacity. We believe that he might have even been in prison for an unrelated crime or institutionalized at some point, giving him a close look at the inner workings of law enforcement, and also attributing to the large break between the first two crimes.”

Reid took a breath, and then continued on.

“He was knowledgeable enough to purposefully dump one of the bodies across state lines in order to get the FBI involved in this case, but it was just one of the bodies, and it was dumped in a very well trackied area where it would be found. So that leaves a heavy insistence that he was fed-up with the local police not giving his case enough attention or - simply not being smart enough to keep up with him.” He explained.

“He is very cocky.” Prentiss added on. “Incredibly over-confident. He is a narcissist to his core, and he believes that he will never be caught unless he wants to be. He thinks that he has an intricate cat-and-mouse game with law enforcement, and he can go off the grid and disappear at any time that he wants.”

“Well… isn’t that true?” One of the cops asked. “I mean, the guy’s been at it for years and we still haven’t caught him. There’s no DNA, no real leads.”

Hotch hummed, nodding. And then he walked over to the evidence board and motioned to the pictures of the two most recent victims - barely recognizable compared to the shining, smiling photos their families had provided.

“We believe that he’s decompensating.” Hotch explained. “He is growing more violent toward each victim, which means that he is getting more sloppy - eventually, he will go off-book. He will break his routine in some way, and that will be the moment he’ll give us something to catch him with.”

“So… you’re just waiting for him to kill again so you can actually catch the guy?” Someone asked sharply.

“No.” You easily replied. “We’re praying it doesn’t come to that.”

“Thank you everyone.” Hotch said, clearing his throat, giving an unconscious signal for everyone to disperse. “That’ll be all for now.”

Everyone easily fell under his authority, and meandered back to what they had been doing before, now armed with the profile and ready to distribute it to members of the public, to the potential victims.

You had a harshly, sickly feeling in your stomach as you gathered some of your files. It was the same feeling that had been turning your guts into knots since you had arrived back in Madison for the first time in years. Your eye accidentally caught the evidence board - the tall, intimidating wall lined with the gruesome photos of all the women.

Women who looked strangely like you. Same hair color, same skin tone, same body type. All of them horribly brutalized and left for dead. All of them terrorized, tortured right up until their last moments.

“Hey.”

JJ’s voice snapped you out of your swirling dark cloud of thoughts, drawing your eyes away from the evidence board with a gentle hand on your upper arm. You huffed out a harsh breath as you let her guide you, turning around to face the blonde woman as she stared you down with a distinct look of concern knit across her features.

“Are you okay?” She asked. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

She had a point. You had been doing this job for some time. You had gone to the FBI Academy straight out of college, after getting a degree in criminal forensics. And none of it ever bothered you. You had learned about the study of blood spatter and the decomposition of bodies on live body farms, and you never flinched.

But this case - it was getting to you.

It was likely the first time anybody on the team had ever seen you so disturbed.

“I’m fine.” You lied, trying to shrug off her touch.

“Come on.” JJ sighed in return. “I don’t need to be a profiler to figure out that was a big fat lie.”

You rolled your eyes at this.

“You’re so brilliant.” You let out a sigh of your own, and put down your files on the nearby conference room table. You stretched out your back, deciding that you would give her an inch, hoping that she wouldn’t take a mile. “I’m freaked out. So what? Doesn’t everybody have room for a bad day?”

“Of course.” She nodded. “Of course, you can have a bad day.” Her lips pursed, and you knew there was more coming. “Is - is it anything more than that?”

“I’m tired.” You lied again, hoping she wouldn’t call you out on it this time. “It’s been - what? More than twenty hours since we landed. For these guys it’s been years, searching for this bastard. I wanna catch him.”

“We will.” JJ assured you, sounding rather dull in her declaration.

“I’m gonna drive down the street and grab an energy drink or something.” You announced, grabbing your blazer off a nearby chair and putting it on. Not that you would need a jacket with the southern weather - but your cash and your keys were in the pockets.

“I thought you quit Redbull.” She chuckled.

“It’s been one of those days.” You replied, shaking your head as you walked out of the room.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 5:13PM.

“There’s still one thing that’s buggin’ the hell out of me.” Morgan announced as he walked back into the room with a fresh cup of coffee in hand.

“That is?” You posed, looking up from the stack of personal files - potential suspects - that you were reading in order to engage him in the conversation.

“What is with the two year hiatus from this guy?” He said, motioning to the board.

The first victim had been abducted and killed all the way back in the summer of ‘99, but none of the other victims matched up until a missing person from September of 2001. And from there, the killings picked up in frequency - and the killer had taken over twenty six victims in and around Madison up until now.

“It is weird.” You commented. “Usually after the first kill is when an UnSub is the most hungry for more. After that first taste for violence.”

Morgan raised a brow at your strange choice of words and you shrugged it off.

“Maybe he was hospitalized.” Reid said, appearing seemingly out of nowhere to make this comment, studying the board with his own intense expression. “Institutionalized? Maybe he was arrested for something completely unrelated, like - drugs, outstanding traffic violations?”

“That’s helpful.” You sighed.

“It could be.” Reid replied, sipping his own coffee. “I mean, we theorized that this UnSub has pre-existing knowledge of law enforcement - if he was in prison, maybe he was reading up on the law while he was in there? Who has closer knowledge of the law than ex-cons?”

“Good point.” Morgan nodded. “I’ll call Garcia and have her widen the search.”

“She is gonna love that.” You mumbled under your breath, already frustrated with the large pile of potential suspects you had to go through.

Morgan took out his cell and walked into the other room, and you heard a distant ‘hey mama!’ as he chirped to Garcia on the other end.

Then, you heard another voice that was all too familiar to you.

“See, you’ve all just been working so hard, I thought you could use some sustenance!”

It was your mother.

You rushed out of your seat to find her in the middle of the bullpen, handing out muffins from a large basket that she had in her hand.

It wasn’t entirely surprising to you, but it made your stomach sink. She was too much of a social butterfly for your liking. She knew about the last time you had been in this police station, she talked too much. No. You couldn’t risk her telling anyone.

“See, that one’s blueberry, you like blueberry?” She was chatting idly, being her usual overly social self.

“Yes, thank you so much Ms. L/N,” Prentiss smiled as your mother pushed more food into her hands.

“Oh please, call me-”

You knew that you must have looked like a storm, walking toward her with a scowl on your face.

“Ma!” You barked, much harsher than you meant to, causing her to look up at you abruptly. “Ma? What are you doing here?”

“Well see, you’ve been here all day, and you’ve been working so hard, so I made dinner for you and your friends,” She grinned, motioning toward a large tinfoil tray filled with mac and cheese that she had placed onto one of the desks next to a stack of paper plates and plastic forks. Naturally, a chunk of it was already missing.

You wanted to scream when Reid walked over and began scooping out a portion for himself.

“Ma, they’re not my friends, they’re my co-workers.” You said, exasperation ripe in your voice.

You knew that this, too, ended up sounding much harsher than you had intended. As if you didn’t think of these people as friends. But you couldn’t stand the woman babying you. It’s not like she did much of that when you were an actual baby.

“I’m an adult now, and-” You continued on, and she cut you off.

“Oh yes, yes.” She nodded, reaching out to pinch your cheek in an utterly frustrating way. “Your co-workers.”

“Please, Ma.” You sighed. “You can’t be here right now. This is a police station, not a bake sale.”

“She can stay for a few minutes, can’t she?” Prentiss grinned, peeling the wrapper off her muffin. “We can take a break for dinner. I wanna hear some childhood stories about you.”

Reid looked up eagerly at this, and you glared at both of them.

“Oh, you should hear about the time she painted her face blue with the paint from-” Your mother began to tell a delightful embarrassing story, but you cut her off.

“No.” You said sharply. “I’m sorry, but we have work to do. Important work. Once we actually catch the guy, I’ll bring everyone by the house for tea and cookies and you can show everyone my naked baby pictures, the whole nine yards. Just - not now.”

You unceremoniously ripped the basket of muffins out of her hands and placed them on the desk beside the tray of mac and cheese, and she began to argue with you, calling you rude, telling you that she had raised you with better manners while you ushered her out the door.

Prentiss and Reid exchanged a particular, concerned look as they watched you and your mother argue through the glass doors of the precinct.

“Now what do you think that was all about?” Emily asked quietly.

“For once, I have no idea.” Spencer mumbled in return.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Georgia Highway 72 - Madison, GA. 1:32PM.

“This is new.” Morgan noted as the two of you walked away from the SVU, approaching the dumpsite where the latest victim’s body had been found. “This guy doesn’t usually dump bodies out in the open. You think he was in a rush?”

The two of you had been sent to check it out while Hotch and Prentiss spoke to the family, and the others went over evidence from the many pre-existing cases at the station.

“Not likely.” You replied. “Preliminary report says there’s still no DNA, no skid marks from his tires, no shoe prints. He’s not getting sloppy.” You felt a sickly wave of vomit splash up as you looked at the woman - her ankles sticking out of the tall grass just off the edge of the highway, where she had been left, entirely visible for anybody passing by to see. “This was a present. Like a fuckin’ cat leaving a dead mouse on the porch. He wanted us to find her. And he wanted us to find her quickly.”

“I’ll tell you one thing,” Morgan noted, tentatively stepping into the grass and gently moving the long spokes of greenery back to get a better look at the victim. “He’s definitely escalating.”

You crouched down to get a better look yourself, and you had to agree.

Her face was almost entirely caved in, but it appeared to be from a series of blunt hits, and not from a singular swing with a heavy object. Between the pre-mortem swelling and the post-mortem rage, where he had continued to mutilate her even after her death, she was practically unrecognizable from the photo that her family had provided you with. The only reason the team had been able to confirm her identity for sure was that she had been reported missing, and she had been found wearing a unique custom charm bracelet that her parents could confirm belonged to her.

You wished that you could guarantee they would never see her body in this state.

“What’s that?” Morgan wondered aloud.

You hummed back in confusion.

Before you could wonder any further about what he meant, he reached out and gently pried open the victim’s mouth, fishing out a small piece of plastic that he had seen sticking out from the corner of her swollen, bruised lips. He had to fight to get it out of her stiff, death rigored body, but when he was able to - a small plastic bag came out of her mouth.

A small plastic bag containing a piece of white paper.

“What the hell?” Morgan mumbled quietly.

Naturally, he opened the bag and took out the paper, and you looked on with nervous curiosity as he read what was on the note.

“You are the stars hidden by clouds.” He read aloud. “I know you’re there even when I can’t see you. Your shine peeks out and reaches me in the depths of my soul. Tell me your arms are long enough to reach me across oceans. Tell me someday we will be together, somehow, some way. Tell me that this love we have can survive being together as well as we’ve survived being apart. Tell me we are more than the chasm of our divide.”

Bile splashed up in your throat.

You hated that the quote was distinctly familiar to you. You hated how you knew it.

You could still hear his voice in your head, and it made your bones quake.

“Hmm.” Morgan looked over the paper thoughtfully. “It’s another page ripped out of a book. Just like the other one. I’ll call Garcia and have her look it up, maybe-”

“You don’t have to.” You said, hoping that your throat wasn’t too painfully constricted around your words. “It’s Jacqueline Simon Gunn.”

Morgan easily saw the haunted look behind your eyes - the years old terror that you were having a much harder time suppressing now.

Oddly enough, it was a feeling that he knew well. Perhaps that’s why he saw it in you so easily.

“You alright?” He bothered to ask, even though he knew the answer was ‘no’.

“I’m fine.” You lied. “We should bring this back to everyone else.”

You rushed away from the crime scene like a bat out of hell, and even though he knew he should have pressed further - he let you.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 10:08AM.

“Good morning, y’all.”

The BAU was greeted by Chief Dalton, the Madison County Chief of Police, as you all filed into the small police department.

“You can set up in the conference room over there, I hope we got y’all everything you need.” He said, flashing a warm, welcoming smile.

“This looks fine, thank you.” JJ said, reaching out to shake his hand. “I’m Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, this is Doctor Spencer Reid,” She pointed to him, and he nodded in return - of course, rather than shaking hands. “This is Special Agent Emily Prentiss, Agent Rossi, and Agent L/N. Our Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner and Special Agent Morgan will be here later - they wanted to go and interview some of the families of the victims, get some more background information.”

“L/N?” He motioned toward you, his eyes becoming fixated on you as you set down your bag and lifted one of the lids off the boxes to get a glance at some of the files. “That name sounds awful familiar to me - are you from Madison?”

“Oh yes, I am,” You grinned at him, stepping forward and giving him a handshake, to which he grinned back widely. “I grew up here. This is actually my first time back in years.”

“Well, welcome home.” He said. “I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Me too.” You easily agreed.

You thought that would be the end of it, until:

“You know I hardly recognized you. Such a pretty face, but the last time I saw you, you was beat to a darn pulp.” He remarked, giving a pained chuckle.

Your stomach swelled with anxiety, and it felt like a pure balloon of concrete sitting inside of you. You felt all the eyes in the room on you - Rossi, JJ, Emily, Spencer - all of them staring you down as this man aired your dirty laundry like it was as casual as the weather report.

“You came through here - what was it, the summer of ‘99? I’ll never forget that assault report. I’m surprised you can still see out of that right eye of yours, with the way-”

“Coffee?” You cut him off when you managed to find your voice, rushing to change the subject and praying he would get the hint. “Where can I get a coffee around here? Long flight. And we’ve had an early morning. Long flight, going over the case.”

You didn’t even realize you were tripping over your own words, repeating yourself in a rush to fill the air so he wouldn’t speak about the past anymore.

“Oh, it’s right through there. In the break room.” He said, motioning vaguely behind him.

“Would you mind showing me, please?”

You knew it was cowardly, but you were now desperate to escape your colleagues, and wanted to drag the Chief away before he spilled anything else from his loose lips.

He escorted you out of the room and it was only a mere moment before conversation ensued about the strange thing that had just happened.

“Am I gonna be the first person to say ‘what the hell’?” Rossi asked, looking around to his teammates, who all had equally shocked and confused expressions.

“It’s a small town. These people don’t exactly understand secrecy. Or tact.” JJ sighed.

“Yeah, but why would Y/N keep that a secret from us?” Spencer asked, frowning. “If she was assaulted-”

“Yeah, in the summer of ‘99.” Emily pressed. “That was a long time ago. Have you told everyone on the team every little detail about your life from ten years ago?”

“Eight years.” Spencer easily corrected her.

“Whatever.” Emily rolled her eyes. “We’re not here to profile her. We’re here to catch another scumbag and leave.”

There seemed to be a resounding nod at this.

“If she wants to tell us about what happened, she will.” Rossi added on.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Outskirts of Madison - Madison, GA. 9:52AM.

“There’s my beautiful girl.”

He had a perfect view of you through the scope of his gun.

Of course, he would never hurt you. There was no bullet in that gun that was intended for you. This was just the perfect way to see you. Up close and personal. Just the way he liked it.

This was the first time he had seen you in so long. You wore your makeup differently now - your hair was a bit different. But you were still his girl.

“You’re gonna love the present I left for ya.”

You spoke his language - violence.

You wrote your life in blood, just like he did.

You were perfect. His perfect girl.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Inside the BAU Jet - Somewhere Above America. 7:12AM.

“So, the ME dates eight of these victims from within the last year alone?” Prentiss questioned, looking over some of the files on the table in front of her.

“Well, it’s difficult to tell with the soil erosion and the heavy rain that the area had recently, but they are significantly less decomposed than the others.” JJ explained.

“What I don’t understand,” Morgan noted. “Why would he give up his gig now? I mean, twenty four victims in a mass grave in the middle of the woods, and he leaves a twenty-fifth victim in the middle of the road, clearly intending for police to find it. With a damn note attached, giving up the exact coordinates of his mass dumpsite. Why?”

“It is strange.” Reid agreed. “Typically, whenever killers have contact with the police, it is to taunt them for their inability to get caught, believing that the police are stupid and they as killers are invincible.” He said. Naturally, this rolled into a rant as more facts came to mind about the subject.

“Serial killer Dennis Rader, also known as the BTK killer, standing for Blind, Torture, Kill - he taunted police with letters over a period of three decades, between 1974 and 1991, each one that he sent to the local police simply saying ‘good luck hunting’.” Reid explained. “Occasionally, he would send them graphic descriptions of how he had posed the bodies at each crime scene. And he was only caught when a floppy disc he sent to a local television station was traced back to a computer that he had used at his church.”

Reid laughed at this revelation, finding it amusing. With all eyes staring at him, he reached the realization that this wasn’t helpful to the case at hand - and then he easily clammed up.

“So, this UnSub gives up the dumpsite because… he’s feeling remorseful? He wants to get caught?” Rossi theorized.

“The level of violence across these recent victims has no indication of remorse.” You replied. “One of the bodies found at the dumpsite was missing over half her teeth, and had all ten of her fingers broken in multiple places. Seemingly pre-mortem.”

There was a heavy silence at this.

“Perhaps he’s feeling ignored,” Hotch posed. “He feels like his crimes aren’t being well covered by the media and he wants glory. He finally wants recognition for what he’s done.”

“Well, wouldn’t he have sent some kind of manifesto or another letter to the police?” Morgan posed. “And it seems like the guy went through a whole lot of trouble for a long time, trying not to get caught. He buried them out in the woods, secluded. Wrapped them in plastic, scrubbed the bodies clean so there’s absolutely no DNA. Doesn’t seem like someone looking for glory to me.”

“Not to mention that he wrote the coordinates for the dumpsite on the back of a page ripped out of a novel.” Rossi said, squinting down at one of the files - a close up forensic photo that had been sent over by the local police department.

Prentiss held out her hand, and Rossi handed over the photo, and then she began reading the words off the page aloud.

“-I wish, as well as everybody else, to be perfectly happy, but-”

“-but, like everybody else, it must be in my own way.” You finished the quote before she could, the words flashing through your mind with a sickly twist in your gut. It was all too familiar to you, in the worst way. “It’s Sense and Sensibility. Jane Austin.”

Everyone fixated on you with a strange gaze, wondering how you knew this off the top of your head. Especially when usually this would only be something that Reid would be able to recite so perfectly by heart.

“Maybe he thinks that he’s romancing these women?” Prentiss theorized, trying to move on from the strange moment.

“That’s plausible.” Hotch agreed. “When we land, Morgan and I will go interview some of the families. JJ, get us their contacts. I want to know if any of these women had problems with an ex boyfriend or even a bad date whom they rejected. It could be someone they once viewed as a potential romantic partner that went horribly wrong.”

JJ nodded at this, going to look through her files for the information.

“This level of torture - it’s likely a substitute for sexual gratification.” Morgan theorized, looking at the crime scene photos one again. “Maybe he is romancing these women, but in his mind, this is the ultimate form of romance? Having all of his conquests together in death - it’s a declaration of what a casanova he is. In his fractured world.”

“It still doesn’t explain why he gave up the dumpsite to the police.” Prentiss argued.

“Men like to brag about their sexual exploits.” Rossi said, nodding toward Morgan. “If these women are his conquests, in his mind, then he wants his manliness, his accomplishments, to be appreciated by other men.”

Prentiss sharply rolled her eyes at this.

“Well, at least we know our UnSub’s not a woman.” She remarked sharply.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. BAU Offices (FBI Headquarters) - Quantico, Virginia. 6:15AM.

JJ stood at the front of the room, ready to present the newest case to everyone.

“Last night, a body was discovered on the backroads of South Carolina, about five miles outside of the town of Delph. She was found naked, mutilated. Heavy bruising all over her body that insinuates the killer kept her and tortured her for days. Final cause of death appears to be blunt force trauma from multiple hits to the head, but she also had several shallow stab wounds across her body, seemingly from some kind of hunting knife with a rough blade.”

JJ explained, beginning to present the case as she clicked the small remote, causing images of the crime scene to pop up on the large screen in the room.

“The victim - now identified as Ashley Prembrooke, hadn’t even been reported missing. She left her parents house in Madison, Georgia, about three days ago to drive back to her dorm at the University of South Carolina. When she didn’t show up on time, her roommate assumed that she was staying at home for a few extra days. Her father has cancer, so she wanted to be there for him.”

There seemed to be a particularly dark aura in the room at this news.

“Did the killer know that she wouldn’t be reported missing, or did he just snatch her up by chance?” Morgan asked.

“Her car was found abandoned at a rest stop a few miles from the border of Georgia.” JJ explained. “So… it seems to be random.”

“Well, I hate to ask this,” Rossi said. “But why are we being called out for just one body?”

“That’s the thing.” JJ sighed.

She clicked the clicker again, and several close-up photos appeared. Photos of the victim’s mutilated body - among the harsh bruising on her torso, there was a piece of white paper, partially stained with blood. It had been folded and stapled into her flesh.

“The victim was found with this page… stapled into her skin.” JJ said, clearly finding the words disturbing to speak aloud. “Written on the back, was a set of coordinates. Local police discovered that these coordinates lead to a random patch of woods, about ten miles outside of Madison, Georgia.”

JJ queued more pictures onto the screen. It was those very woods - overturned dirt. And more than a dozen bodies, wrapped in plastic among the soil.

“It was the site of a mass grave with twenty-four other victims - all women around the same age, with the most recent ones all having the same body type, the same hair color, same general makeup as Ashley Prembrooke.”

“He has a type.” Hotch stated the obvious.

“And for some reason, he tipped the police off to his hiding place.” JJ reminded them all.

“Twenty four victims?” Prentiss questioned, clearly shocked by this number.

“That’s what they’ve found so far. The decomposition on some of the bodies seems to go back as far as a decade, but it’s difficult to date them exactly.” JJ replied.

“So… the guy is experienced, hasn’t been caught in years, and he hands over his honey pot to the cops? Is he trying to get caught? Is he feeling guilty?” Rossi posed.

“No, not with that level of violence. There’s no remorse there.” Morgan replied.

“He dumped Ashley Prembrooke over state lines. We could be looking at somebody with an incredibly wide hunting ground who gave up one of many dumpsites as a way to taunt police.” Hotch theorized.

“That doesn’t seem to be the case.” JJ explained. “So far, eight of the most recent victims have been matched up with missing persons reports, all of them women from Madison. All within the last year alone. It seems like he targeted Ashley because she was from Madison - that’s his comfort zone.”

When the pictures of the missing women - now confirmed dead, murdered violently, popped up on screen, your throat tightened.

You had known at least two of them. You had gone to school with them. You had seen them cheer proudly at high school pep rallies - you had known them lively and bright. And now they were bones rotting in the soil, taken by some monster.

Beyond that, there was an alarming trend.

They looked like you. You couldn’t deny that. Same hair color, same body type, same skin tone.

And they were from your hometown.

Between this, and the letter, the morning was getting to be too much for you. You wanted to believe it was all a series of terrible coincidences, but…

Looking across the roundtable at you, Reid was the only one who saw that sickly look come over your face. He was desperate to know what was troubling you.

“Reid?” Hotch got his attention, finding it strange that the overly talkative man was quiet this morning. “You’ll work the geographical profile?”

“Yes.” Reid nodded, finally taking his eyes off you. “It’s unusual for the killer to hunt wider than a five hundred mile radius from home. So it’s likely that he lives, works, and operates all within Madison.”

“Good. We could be looking at a copy-cat who knew about the previous killer’s dumpsite, or… something else entirely. But we need to get on the ground there and find out.” Hotch said. “Wheels up in thirty.”

Everyone dispersed from the table when Hotch finalized with this, and you found yourself much dizzier than you realized as you tried to stand. As everyone moved to their desks to gather their things, you moved to the counter to get a coffee - hoping to calm your nerves.

“Y/N.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Reid’s voice came from behind you - your own blood was pumping in your ears, and seemingly, he had snuck up behind you. But his usually quiet footsteps simply couldn’t be heard beyond the nagging thump of your own anxiety.

“What?” You barked back, knowing it was far too harsh.

“Are - are you alright?” He asked, hesitant to bother you with the question.

“I’m fine.” You lied as you dumped the sugar packets into your cup, your shaking hands accidentally spilling some across the counter top.

“Are you sure?” Reid pressed.

You let out a heavy sigh and turned to face him, crossing your arms heavily over your chest.

“What?” You said the word again, sternly, glaring at him.

All he did was give you a soft, understanding expression in return.

You hated it.

You hated how he was so open - it was almost horrifying, how you could have easily told him what was bothering you.

Sweet, accepting, understanding Reid.

If you told him the truth, he probably would have told you some statistic that he found comforting. It would have been sweet, coming from him. But then, he would have been looking at you with those eyes all damn day, holding pity in his heart and not truly focusing on the work that needed to get done.

“Can you look at the shit we see every single day and always be okay with it?”

You easily made up an excuse, pretending you were rattled by the crime scene photos, even though this murder was no more graphic in nature than any other you had been subjected to seeing recently.

“I’m human. So what?”

Reid studied your face carefully. He saw guilt dancing in your eyes - the way you gently bit your lip was your tell for lying, that much he knew from playing many rounds of poker with you on the plane rides home.

But he felt that simply nagging you more wouldn’t get the truth out of you. Not right now.

“Okay.” He acquiesced. “I know it’s hard. If you ever need someone to talk to-”

You stormed off, accidentally slamming into his shoulder on the way along in your haste to escape the conversion. Reid heavily eyed the cup of coffee that you had left cooling on the counter before he turned and left himself.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. BAU Offices (FBI Headquarters) - Quantico, Virginia. 6:04AM.

You walked into the bullpen with your bag on your arm, sipping a strong coffee in a travel mug you had brought from home.

“You look tired.” Emily commented as you walked over to your desk. “Late night?”

You moaned in reply, not yet ready to let go of nursing your coffee mug, taking a few more long gulps as you took the strap of your bag off your shoulder and slung it into your chair.

“Last night, the fire alarm in my building went off at 3am.” You told her, finally surrendering the mug and putting it down on your desk. “I was out of bed in a panic, barely awake, went into the hallway to evacuate - and the sprinklers had gone off. So I ended up standing outside for more than an hour in my little jammies, soaking wet, and it turns out - some teenager from the third floor pulled the alarm because he was having an argument with his mom. He didn’t want to go to summer school.”

“Yikes.” Derek commented. “Well, you know, if you ever need a calm, cozy place to sleep, you can always give me a call. And you can bring your little jammies.” He told you with a wink. You rolled your eyes, knowing that flirting was his default. “As long as you don’t mind Clooney licking at your toes in the mornin’.”

That almost made it sound more appealing. You did love that dog.

“You know, a study was done at the University of New Hampshire that concluded that twenty to thirty minute windows of sleep actually optimize the human brain for functionality the most.” Spencer added on, leaning back in his chair at his desk as he explained this.

“The schedule of a ten to twelve hour work day, followed by an eight hour sleep period has only been instituted in society as a commonality since the industrial revolution. And it doesn’t actually flow with how the human brain has been optimized by evolution. Before that, most people optimized their lives around a wake-sleep period of three to four hours, taking care of chores in the morning, participating in a midday nap, and then socializing in the evening and partaking in community events before sleeping again in the evening. And most communities functioned around people sleeping and waking at vastly different times rather than everyone having one collective morning routine.” He concluded, giving you a smile.

You found his rambling fascinating, but you found it ironic that you could barely process half of what he had said - because you were too tired.

“Well, unfortunately we can’t all live in villages and pick berries for a living.” Emily remarked with a yawn.

The conversation shifted when Penelope walked in, and gave you a bright smile.

“Good morning, pretty girl.” She greeted you.

“Mornin’, Penny G.” You replied.

“This arrived on the mailcart for you, postmarked from a few days ago, stamped express. I figured you’d want to have eyes on it as soon as possible.” She told you, handing you a very average looking white envelope.

You weren’t sure why, but it invoked a strange feeling in your gut.

The moment that you saw the handwriting on your front - the script that made up your name.

The way he had written it.

Bile rose up in your throat, and you forced yourself to swallow it back down. All eyes in the room immediately knew that something was wrong.

“What is it?” Emily asked.

“Nothing.” You quickly replied.

You didn’t even want to open it, but bitter curiosity was eating at you.

How the hell had he found your work address? He knew where you worked now?

“I’m gonna - bathroom.” You mumbled an excuse as you rushed back out of the room again, practically fleeing toward the bathroom, leaving all eyes on your shadow.

In particular, Spencer’s eyes followed you hard as you retreated. He wondered how a simple letter could upset you so much.

You secluded yourself safely in a locked stall, your heart thumping in your chest as you began to tear into the letter. The envelope turned to sinew in your hands with your anxious inability to open it properly. In a few moments, you pulled out the piece of paper with a shaking hand, and dropped the shredded envelope onto the floor.

You barely managed to read its contents through tearful eyes.

Lover,

Fate has sent us on such different paths, but I will be with you again soon.

I still miss you every single day. I remember your smell.

I know none of the men you have spent your recent years with can measure up to me, which is why I have set you on the path back to me.

“I wish, as well as everybody else, to be perfectly happy; but like everybody else, it must be in my own way.”

-Daniel

Your chest caved in when you realized that there was something taped to the corner of the page.

You recognized the piece of dark cloth in an instant.

It was from that night. He had kept it.

You couldn’t keep the bile down that time. You turned to the toilet and puked up a horrible swirl of black coffee and half a toaster waffle that you had scarfed down while getting dressed for work.

When you had just barely caught your breath, you heard the door to the bathroom creak open.

“Y/N?” Emily called out your name. “Are you in here?”

You didn’t answer.

Instead, you heaved a large glob of putrid spit into the toilet and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Are you okay?” She asked, her voice now coming from right outside the stall you were in.

“I’m fine.” You handed out that lie, not knowing how many times in the next day you were going to be saying it.

“You don’t sound fine.” Emily told you. “I thought I heard you throwing up.”

“Bad sushi.” You lied. “Stopped by the corner store on my way home. You know I never cook. Food poisoning is usually 50/50 with that kind of shit. Just another thing to add to my great night, right?”

You let out a sour, sarcastic chuckle, but Emily didn’t follow suit.

You knew that you would have to face her sooner or later, so you wiped your mouth again and then turned and unlocked the stall door.

“I’ll be fine.” You told her, throwing her a very fake smile.

“Yeah.” She said, tone flat, entirely disbelieving. “Would it have anything to do with that?”

She motioned to the letter, which you had almost forgotten was crumbled up in your fist.

“Can I see?”

You didn’t even consider how suspicious it would be, but as her hand moved toward the paper, you ripped it up and tossed it into the toilet, grabbing the envelope up off the floor and tossing it into the mess of paper and vomit as well before you flushed it all down.

“It’s nothing.” You grunted out, another very poor lie coming from your lips as you exited the stall and moved toward the sinks. “It’s garbage.”

You turned on the tap and leaned down, taking in a mouthful of water to rinse out your mouth while she watched you with careful, piercing eyes.

“It’s kind of pathetic that you’re trying so hard to bullshit me.” Emily remarked. “Not just because we’re both profilers, but because it’s so painfully obvious that something is wrong.”

You swirled the water around your mouth, rinsing it out, and then spit into the sink before you turned the tap off. When you rose up to your full height, you caught Emily’s eye in the mirror - pitying. You hated it.

It was that kind of pity that held you back from telling her the truth.

She reached over to the dispenser and got you some of the paper towel, handing it to you as she spoke again.

“You know you can tell me what’s bothering you, right?” She said, reaching up to put a gentle hand on your shoulder.

There was a small, quiet moment - the words edged on your tongue.

You truly considered just coming out with it.

But then-

A harsh knock on the door cut through the silence.

“Y/N? Em?” JJ poked her head in through the door, clearly looking for the two of you. When she spotted you, she continued on. “I need everybody at the roundtable in five.”

“Let’s get going.” You said, wiping your mouth and then crumpling the paper towel to toss it into the garbage can.

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 1:45AM.

Reid stormed in, capturing everyone’s attention.

After being given a shoebox full of strange letters by your mother, he had finally pieced it together. He finally realized the secret you had been hiding - the thing that put you right in this killer’s crosshairs.

“Guys, I think we got the profile all wrong.” He announced, a look of worry knit into his features. “And - if I’m right, then I think I know where she is.”

He motioned to something in his hands - it was a worn-out old shoebox, something that made everyone curious and confused.

“What the hell is that?” Prentiss asked.

“Come on.” Reid ushered everyone into the conference room, and once the whole team was gathered, he shut the door.

He opened the box and spilled it into the middle of the table, revealing a flood of hand-written letters. JJ stood back in shock, Hotch observed carefully and silently as usual, and Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss began to pick through them while Reid explained his revelation.

“Y/N’s mother gave me these.” He explained. “All of them are addressed to Y/N, and from what I can see, they’re pretty much weekly, and they go back as far as 1999.”

“When the first murder occurred.” Morgan easily pieced the two things together.

“Not only that,” Reid added on. “The first murder took place in August of ‘99.” He said, pointing to the picture of the first known victim on the evidence board. “And I think the first letter, or one of the earliest, is from July of ‘99. At least.”

“So - so she was having correspondence with the killer?” JJ questioned. “What? Was he in prison? Are you saying that Y/N is involved with this in some way?”

“No-” Reid rushed to correct this assumption, and Morgan cut him off.

“She was at Quantico when the latest victims were killed. Even if the guy has a partner, I really don’t take her as bein’ responsible for this.” He said.

“Plus, these don’t exactly read as love letters.” Pretniss pointed out, her expression growing disturbed as she read what the killer had written from the letter in her hands.

“-every day I dream of you, my love. I remember the way you felt underneath me - clawing for your life, desperate. I remember the way you screamed. Tasting your blood for the first time made me feel alive again. I hope the bruises meant as much to you as they did to me.”

“The use of ‘I’ language denotes self importance - the author has a natural narcissistic personality disorder, but he pretends that it’s a fulfilling two-way relationship, when naturally it’s a fixation on someone who could never truly live up to his fantasies.” Reid explained.

The room fell silent as the reality of it hit everyone. You were the target of someone truly dangerous. Someone who was going to kill you when you didn’t perform the fantasy that he had in mind for you.

“She was being stalked.” Reid declared quietly, sounding defeated. “She still is.”

“These killings aren’t someone having separate, individual fantasized relationships with each victim; this is about the killer repeating the same relationship over and over again, performing the same ritual killing in order to relive the same fantasy over again, projecting it onto different women of the same type.” Hotch said, coming to the realization as he stared at the different victims photos on the evidence board with a firm look on his face. “He’s been in love with the same woman in his mind for years, but nobody can live up to the real thing. That’s why he gave up the dump site. Because he wanted to lure her here. He wanted the FBI here, because he wanted to get L/N here.”

“Okay, but the bigger question is: why L/N? What was the incident that got him fixated on her in the first place?” Rossi questioned, asking what was on everyone’s mind.

JJ’s face was struck with horrible realization, and she ran to the door, ripping it open. She screamed the Chief’s name at the top of her lungs until she got the man’s attention, looking entirely crazed to everyone else in the station. Naturally, she didn’t care. He bustled over, scurrying toward her urgent voice, spilling coffee on himself in the process.

“Chief.” JJ breathed out. “You said that Y/N came through the station, and she was beaten up the last time you saw her - when was that?”

“Oh, I dunno?” He creased his brows with concentration, trying to remember. “About ‘98? ‘99?”

“Did she file a report about the incident?” JJ asked.

“Yeah.” The Chief replied. “It was a break-in. Poor thing. Summer vacation, her mother wasn’t home, off with the church on a retreat hittin’ the bingo halls up in Texas. She said that she never saw the attacker, though. He was wearin’ a ski-mask.”

There was a silent exchange among the group that said they knew the truth - you had seen the attacker, you knew him. It’s why you had gone with him willingly this time. But you hadn’t told the police the truth back then because you had been too scared.

“Can you get me that report?” JJ asked.

After too many anxious minutes, the Chief came back with an old file in hand, and JJ snatched it out of his hands with a mumbled thank you before she shut the door in his face once again. She placed it down on the table among the mess of letters, and flipped it open.

“Oh my god.” Emily gasped when she saw the photos inside.

There was a spread of old polaroid photos, pinned to the sides of the file. They were almost too graphic for the team to look at - one showing the damage to your face; both of your eyes bruised, one of them entirely swollen shut. Scratches, deep gashes, harsh bruising all over your body. You were wearing a dark cotton tee shirt with patches ripped out of it - as if someone had been clawing at you and nearly ripped the clothing off your body to keep you from getting away.

“This wasn’t a burglary.” Derek mumbled, frowning as he picked up one of the photos and inspected it closer.

“Get Garcia on the line,” Hotch told JJ.

She dialed the tech’s number on the conference hub, having to unbury the small bit of technology from some papers before she did it. It rang for a few moments before the woman on the other end picked up.

“Where’s our girl?” Garcia asked anxiously, talking about you. “Is there any news? You’re calling because there’s good news, right?”

“Babygirl,” Derek called out, trying to get her to focus, but she trampled right past this and continued to ramble on.

“Please don’t tell me she’s dead!” Garcia shrieked on the other end. “Cause I can’t keep losing people! And I know it’s selfish to say that I can’t lose her, but she’s one of my best friends, and I’m gonna be a mess! And she promised to be the maid of honor and my wedding, and I know I’m not even engaged, and I don’t even have a boyfriend, but I need to have her around for big milestones in my life like that, she’s like the best person I know, and-”

“Garcia, we need you.” Hotch told her firmly, cutting off her emotional ranting.

“Right.” The tech replied, sucking in sharply, trying to catch her breath. There was some scraping in the background - the wheels of her chair on the floor as she scooted her chair into her desk. “What do you need? I’m here.”

“I need you to look up reports of rape in and around Madison County between 1991 and 1999.” Hotch told her.

“Rape?” Garcia replied, seemingly shocked by the topic and how it might relate to the case at hand - how it might relate to you.

“Come on, babygirl.” Derek encouraged her. “Work your magic.”

“Yeah. I got it.” She said hesitantly, and then there was the clacking of her keyboard as she worked.

“Oh. Ugh.”

“What is it?” Rossi was the first to ask.

“There’s over five hundred cases.” Penelope told them, clearly disgusted by this number.

“Can you narrow it down to women in their twenties? With similarities to the victims who have been targeted by the killer. Same hair type, same race, same body type.” Hotch told her.

“Turning on the creep filter.” Garcia said, using her usual sense of humor that she turned on to shield herself. “That leaves us with… about twenty cases.”

“Were any of them prosecuted?” Hotch asked.

“Two of them.” Penelope replied. “A couple of sorority sisters from the University of Georgia were held at gunpoint and raped by a pizzaman in ‘95. He went to trial, got ten years. And he was paroled for good behavior in 2003. Yikes.” Emily rolled her eyes in agreement with his comment. “And shortly after his parole, he crashed his car into a tree in a drunk driving incident. Looks like he’s probably not your guy.”

“What about the other eighteen cases?” Reid asked.

“Um… no.” Garcia replied. “None of them went to court. A lot of these say that the victims were attacked by a stranger… that he broke in through the back door. Hold on.”

“What?” Derek prompted her.

“There is one here. Terry Driver. She said that she was raped, and she identified her rapist as someone she knew - Daniel Matthews. But he was never arrested because his brother gave him an ability for the night of the incident.” Garcia explained.

“I bet that one was air-tight.” Rossi scoffed.

“What type of injuries did the victims have?” Hotch asked.

“Um… nothing major.” Penelope replied. Hotch frowned. “A black eye… a few scratches.” She hesitated. “Ligature marks… from being tied to their beds. God. That sounds like the most horrible night of your life, doesn’t it?”

Hotch shook his head, sweeping a tense hand over his face. “He doesn’t fit the profile.”

“Wait.” Reid swallowed thickly, staring at the photos of you that were sitting in the middle of the table.

Battered. Bruised. Broken.

“Some of the letters refer to him having an awakening. ‘An awakening in my soul. A bond through blood.’” He explained, naturally reciting the words from memory after having only read them once.

“She fought back hard.” He held up one of the photos - one of your arm, showing deep, bloody scratches. Defensive wounds. “She found back so hard - he must have liked it. It-”

“It gave him a taste for violence.” Prentiss finished off the thought, fear written all over her face. “She - she was the one who made him realize that he could use violence to replace sex completely. So he switched from rape to murder.” She came to the shocking realization aloud, her eyes flickering from the photo of you to all the photos scattered across the evidence board - all the victims he had practiced on in the wake of you.

“Oh - oh my god.” Penelope gasped, having heard all of this over the intercom. “He’s gonna kill her? He’s gonna kill Y/N?”

“Garcia, What can you get me on Matthews?” Hotch asked.

“Um, right - Daniel Matthews…” There was more clacking of keys, and then Penelope replied. “He grew up in Madison. Looks like he went to the same high school as Y/N. He used to play football. He has a juvenile record for… vandalism, underage drinking. The usual. Oh…”

“Oh?” JJ wondered aloud.

“He had a very brief stint in the FBI Academy. He was kicked out 2001 when he was accused of sexually harassing fellow female applicants, and he was flagged on the psych eval as having a possible narcissistic personality disorder.” Garcia explained.

“Bingo.” Rossi sighed. “That’s our UnSub.”

“Oh my god. The hiatus.” Morgan said, his eyes fixated on the evidence board now. “‘99 was the year he attacked Y/N, when he first got a taste for it… and then… he followed her to the Academy?”

“And he resumed the killings when he got kicked out.” Rossi picked up on the thought. “When he couldn’t be in close contact with her anymore… he couldn’t get a high off of retraumatizing her, reliving that night in his mind, he needed to relive it through the other victims.”

It all fit together now.

It was a horrible puzzle, but it all fit together around you.

“Reid, you said you might know where he took her?” Pretniss said, turning back to the very tired looking genius.

“Yes,” Reid shoved aside the file with the graphic photos of you, and went shuffling through the letters for something. When he found it, he handed it over to Prentiss. “A lot of the earliest dated letters make reference to ‘our special place’. Or-”

“-the bed I first made love to you in.” Prentiss read it off the page, clearly holding back vomit.

JJ grabbed up the file with the report about the break-in, shoving aside the photos, looking for an address. “It’s here. I’ve got it.”

“Okay, I want squad cars, tactical swat, I want spike strips on every road in or out of that place. I need everyone mobile in ten minutes.” Hotch ordered sharply, causing everyone to jump into action.

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 2:20AM.

It should have felt like a victory to hold a knife to the throat of your rapist - someone who had been taunting you for years after the incident.

But somehow, you still felt small. You still felt so chaotic and out of control.

Both your hands shook vigorously as you struggled with the warring inside of you, as you struggled with the weight of confronting your life’s biggest monster.

In the back of your mind, you were aware of the guns pointed at you. You would have liked to believe that because Emily was your friend - she wouldn’t shoot you.

Part of you thought it would be worth it. To kill this man and take a bullet in the process.

You just hoped that she would aim to wound and not to kill.

“Put the knife down!” Emily ordered, her voice sounding muffled in your ears as blood thumped hard through you. “Come on, put it down.”

“Reid-!”

You heard his name being called out, and you saw a figure moving from the corner of your eye, but all you could focus on was the blade in your hand. The sight of a thick, unmarked neck, ripe for the taking in front of you. The idea that all you had to do was press down and slice through flesh - and then, this would all be over.

No more torment. No more letters. No more taunting.

“Y/N,”

His soothing voice spoke your name, and you held a sob inside of your chest.

You had grown so much of a life beyond this. Beyond him. He had tried to ruin you, he had tried to keep you in some little cage in some shitty town, and you had outgrown him. You had friends. You had people who loved you.

But you still couldn’t escape him.

“You don’t have to do this.”

Your hand shook as you held the knife.

“I have to.” You replied, unable to hold back your sobs. You barely noticed the tears coming out of your eyes - barely able to identify why your vision was blurring, why your face was suddenly wet.

“You don’t have to.” Reid told you, his voice calming, gentle. “You - you can give me the knife, and then we can just… walk away. And then it all ends.”

“It won’t just end!” You screamed out, your voice a curtling weep that bounced off the walls.

If you let Daniel walk away from this, he would come for you again. He would.

Or he would keep killing other women in your place. And you couldn’t let that happen.

You couldn’t let your cowardice be the reason that so many women had died. You should have killed him the first time he had ever touched you. You should have been brave enough then.

“It can end.” Reid assured you calmly. “You just have to come with me. You just have to put the knife down and-”

It just sounded like noises in your ears at that point.

Spencer just didn’t understand.

“I have to make it stop!” You screamed, urgent to make him truly hear you. “I killed those women. I killed them!”

“Prentiss!” A voice called her name, but it was so distant in your ears.

“Just give him a minute!” Prentiss fired back.

“He killed them because of me!” You shouted, cutting him off. “We both know it’s my fault.”

“It’s not.” Reid choked out. “Please don’t say that.”

There was a gutting silence.

“Please, just give me the knife.”

You couldn’t give up.

You had come too far to let Daniel win now.

“It was my fault. I know what happened. If I had just been a good little girl… if I had just laid there and taken it… it’s all my fault.” You quietly wept, your arms still shaking - muscles ripe with hesitation as you struggled with your grip on the knife. “I have to be the one to make it stop.”

By violence it was done, and by violence it would be undone.

You could be brave enough this time. You could be the one to end it.

“No, no you don’t.” Reid told you. “You don’t have to do it alone. We can make it stop together. Just give me the knife. Please.”

You had been alone your whole life. What was one more thing?

Just press down. Something in your mind screamed. Slice his throat. End it.

“Please, just look at me.” Spencer begged, his voice growing more desperate. “Please.”

You didn’t look up at him.

You knew that you couldn’t.

If you took one look at those soft, pitying eyes, then the tiny bit of bravery you had gathered up would crack away.

“Y/N, please.” Spencer continued. “I know why you think you have to do this. I know that his face is the one that’s been in all your nightmares since that night. I - I know you were all alone then, on the night that happened. You must have felt so alone.”

You let out another sob at this.

You had been so alone.

“But you’re not alone now. You’re not alone now, okay?”

Spencer’s gentle voice delivering the words made them feel so true.

“We’re here with you now. I’m here with you. You don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to fight by yourself anymore. You don’t have to be strong.”

You heard a crack in his voice for the first time - his own tears.

It wasn’t pity.

It was genuine sadness for you, as he thought about what had happened to you. What had happened in this very bedroom all those years ago.

“Spencer-” You choked out his name, and your body betrayed you.

You finally collapsed, your hand dropping the knife, and Spencer reached out and grabbed you as you fell, helping to move your shuddering form away from the unconscious, horrible man as the others finally moved in.

You heard more voices, more shouting - maybe Hotch giving orders.

But all you felt was Spencer’s arms around you, creating a shield as he rubbed your back and gently hushed you, letting you sob as loudly as you needed to, giving you a kind of comfort that you had never felt on that horrible night.

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department, Interrogation Room #1 - Madison, GA. 3:39AM.

The chilled air of the interrogation room only made the regret of it all more palpable in your lungs.

Maybe Reid had saved you from yourself, or maybe he had caused you to make the biggest mistake of your life.

You should have killed Daniel.

Ten more minutes.

The hum of the fluorescents overhead made you feel like a bug about to be zapped - like your entire life was over and you would be resigned to a cage.

Daniel had been hauled away in an ambulance. He had been entirely unmoving. In ‘critical condition’. They would likely charge you with manslaughter if he didn’t recover - it wasn’t likely that he would. You had overheard Prentiss remark on the irony that he was an organ donor. Because you had beaten him so badly, but not killed him, it was likely that his comatose state would lead to his organs being donated, and saving more lives.

It could be viewed as a beautiful thing.

But you had to wonder if the poison he had in his veins was contagious. Should the heart of a killer really live on inside someone else’s body?

“Let’s start with this,” Reid asked you sharply. “Why?”

Truthfully, you couldn’t give him that answer. You didn’t think you would ever have enough time to conjure it up within yourself.

“You’re the genius profiler, Doctor Reid.” You fired back coldly. “You tell me.”

You let out another puff of your cigarette, and he frowned at you.

“No.” He said. “No more bullshit. No more games.”

You definitely were not used to this version of Reid.

You were surprised that it had taken you almost killing someone to bring out his cold side. But you supposed that everyone had a line. And you had crossed his.

“Why didn’t you tell us you had been raped?” He asked. “Why didn’t you tell us that the rapist lived in your hometown and was a viable suspect in all of this? Why didn’t you tell us that the letter you received the other morning was just one of many your rapist sent you over the years, stalking you, obsessing over you after-?”

“Why?” You said, your voice scraping against the word harshly as you tossed it back at him, cutting off his ranting.

He gave you an impatient expression as it hung in the air - eyes wide, pursing his lips.

It caused you to flare with anger.

You let the cigarette burn down to a hot cherry between your fingers, the harsh sting against your skin being the only thing keeping you from lunging across the table and strangling him.

You stubbed it out in the ashtray before you answered him.

“Why didn’t I want to suddenly announce to a group of my intellectual peers that I was raped?” You echoed back, more tears gathering in the corners of your eyes - you knew that you must have looked quite crazed, especially when Hotch stiffened, and Reid’s expression dropped. “You know, when I first came to the BAU, it was the only time in my life that I wasn’t viewed as a victim.”

“Y/N-” Spencer said your name in that gentle tone again, but you weren’t having it this time.

“My dad left us when I was only a year old. And everybody viewed my Mama as this fucking martyr because she raised me by herself. ‘Oh poor girl. She doesn’t have a daddy. Poor little girl, all alone. Her mama does such a good job.’” You said, ranting in a crazed tone. But the floodgates had opened, and you couldn’t stop it. “Nobody wanted to talk about how my Mama was off half the time, drinking at bars, out partying with friends. She got pregnant at sixteen and she didn't want to stop having a life. God forbid I get in the way of that. I took care of my damn self! I raised myself!”

You knew you were screaming, but you couldn’t stop it.

“L/N-” Hotch tried speaking to you in a firmer voice.

But you couldn’t stop.

“Daniel only broke into the house that night because he knew I would be alone.” Your voice warbled harshly on the word, and you hated it.

You hated the look that Reid and Hotch were giving you.

Pity.

That look you had been trying to avoid for so long.

“When I came here that night and made the police report, they all knew I was bullshiting. They knew that it wasn’t a fucking burglary.” You pressed on. “But none of them said anything! They didn’t care.”

There was a tense moment. You swallowed thickly around your own tears, holding back sobs once again.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Spencer tried again, seeming to be personally stuck on this point. “I asked you if something was wrong. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“That look in your eye.” You told him, entirely honest. “That look you have right now. I - I couldn’t stand the idea of you looking at me like that forever.”

“Daniel approached you in the parking lot of the corner store.” Hotch stated calmly. “Why did you go with him willingly? Did he have a gun on you?”

“He had a gun.” You told him. “He did have it pointed at me. But - I didn’t have mine. I didn’t like the odds.”

Hotch nodded at this.

“I didn’t want him to take another girl.” You added on. “I knew they were replacements. At that point, I realized what it was. I figured nobody else should have to die because of my mistake.”

“Mistake?” Spencer echoed back quietly.

“Not killing him the first time.” You said, knowing this was likely a bit too honest. “I should have killed him the first time he ever put his hands on me. I should have. I wanted him dead.”

Tears leaked hot from your eyes at this, and Spencer’s eyes grew glassy - he blinked back his own.

“You wanted him dead, but… did you want to kill him?” Hotch posed.

“I don’t know.”

...

“That is how heavy a secret can become. It can make blood flow easier than ink.”

-Patrick Rothfuss

...

A/N: This is a oneshot, meant to function as an episode of Criminal Minds, so please respect it as such. Please do not ask for a sequel or a continuation, because there will not be one. If you are going to comment about the work, please comment about the body of what has been written. I highly appreciate reblogs and comments if you enjoyed it, and if you want to see more of what I have written for Criminal Minds, definitely check out my Criminal Minds masterlist.

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relatable-trxsh · 4 months

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❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞

ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ꜱɴᴏᴡ

series by etfrin | not to be post anywhere without permission!

coriolanus snow x fem! reader

snow lands on top

series taglist | series playlist | navigation

about: coriolanus snow refuses to have a district girl (albeit grown up in the capitol) as his soulmate. it's humiliating and below his status. and so with the 10th annual Hunger Games begins creating the utter most chaos in his life and makes him face everything he had ignored! (movie compliant)

note: some dialogue and paragraphs are taken from the book [the hunger games: the ballad of songbirds and snakes]

prologue !

chapter one !

chapter two !

chapter three !

chapter four !

chapter five ! part one | chapter five ! part two

chapter six !

chapter seven !

chapter eight !

chapter nine !

chapter ten !

and upcoming chapters . . .

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relatable-trxsh · 4 months

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celebrities supporting "Israel" + celebrities supporting Palestine

I found an absolutely massive 70-page list of all the people in Hollywood who've supported "Israel" (they signed the “Israel Must Defend Itself” pro-genocide IOF letter, showed support only for Israel, spread IOF propaganda, used “Palestinians are terrorists” language, etc) — but it included tons of people I've never heard of and, like, talent agents and lawyers and non-celebrities... so I went through it and got all the recognizable names + made them into a list (below the cut), because it's important to name exactly who's supporting Israel's genocide of Palestinians.

[EDIT: the doc got taken down, so I removed the link. I included every name I recognized on there in this post. Also, if you're on your dashboard, click on the timestamp below my username to view the most recent version of the post.]

Additionally, I searched for all the celebrities who've supported Palestine (not liking one post while sharing nothing, not saying something vague about both sides, but actually using language like "genocide" and "apartheid" while talking about what "Israel" is doing to Palestine), and that's below the cut too.

I compiled this not to ~cancel~ anyone (cancel culture does not exist for celebrities) or put anyone on a pedestal, but to document who with power and influence gleefully cheered on genocide, and who decided to speak out against it despite the heavily rumored gag order in the entertainment industry. You shouldn't look to celebrities for morals or politics, but whether we like it or not, these people have millions of followers — the pro-"Israel" list has more than two billion combined followers. What they say and do matters because of that scope. For better or (usually) for worse, celebrities influence public opinion.

If someone praises "Israel's" "right to defend itself" (by committing genocide against Palestinians), and they do so in front of 300 million people: that goes far beyond just being complicit.

note: I was going to also make a Google doc, for easier reading, but I've heard rumors about Google docs being hacked by Zionists, so I'm gonna stick with just here.

PRO-"ISRAEL":

(I tried to include big names + people I know are popular on Tumblr)

IOF Letter = they signed the letter in support of “Israel” and their military, saying “Israel” must defend itself by any means necessary against this “unprovoked” attack, and using language that suggests all Palestinians are Hamas/“terrorists,” and that all civilian casualties are worth it. SOURCE FOR WHO SIGNED IT. Link includes more names; I only included the ones I recognized as someone terminally online.

NOTE: “Israel’s” military calls itself the IDF — the “Israeli” Defense Forces. However, Palestinians and human rights activists call it the IOF, the “Israeli” Occupation Forces, because they are attacking civilians, occupying a land that's not theirs, and committing genocide, not defending anything (besides imperialism and white supremacy). Additionally, many choose to put “Israel” in quotes when referring to the settler colony, because “Israel” is not a real country, unless you support and believe in settler colonialism.

Biden letter = they signed the letter addressed to Biden, saying they are AGAINST a ceasefire, telling Biden that he’s doing a great job helping “Israel” with this whole situation, and asking for Biden to make sure there are “no hostages left behind” in Gaza (something he would have no control over, especially if “Israel” continues bombing Gaza, which this letter says they want). SOURCE FOR WHO SIGNED IT, and here’s why this letter is so bad (in the thread) — links have more names; I only included the ones I recognized.

(alphabetical by surname)

Paula Abdul — Zionist who promotes “Israeli” tourism in Occupied Palestine

Jaimie Alexander (Thor movies) — sharing pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine, raised money for Birthright Israel Foundation

Gillian Anderson (X Files) — said she pulled out of an event specifically because the person running it said “Israel” is committing war crimes

Pamela Anderson — did "Israeli" propaganda and promoted "birthright" trips

Eric Andre — Biden letter

Judd Apatow — Biden letter

Skylar Astin (Pitch Perfect) — Biden letter

Ben Barnes — liked pro-genocide and pro-“Israel” posts

Lance Bass — IOF letter

Vanessa Bayer — Biden letter

Jessica Beil — Biden letter

Ashley Benson (Pretty Little Liars) — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Bobby Berk (Queer Eye) — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Jon Bernthal (Punisher, The Bear) — IOF letter, Biden letter, made very aggressively pro-“Israel” posts spreading propaganda, also he’s friends with Joe Rogan and Marilyn Manson

Mayim Bialik (Big Bang Theory, Jeopardy) — IOF letter, Biden letter, proud self-described Zionist

Justin Bieber — shared a picture of Gaza in ruins with “Pray for Israel” and deleted it without a word when people pointed out it was Palestine, pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Jack Black — Biden letter, also supports Autism Speaks and has raised millions for them

Selma Blair — made IG posts spreading Zionist propaganda including saying that Hamas beheaded babies (sharing this AFTER Western news debunked it and “Israel” said they couldn’t prove it, and then nothing about it being redacted [her post is still up as of 11/16] and of course nothing about Palestine)

Orlando Bloom — Biden letter, commented "❤️❤️❤️" on one of Amy Schumer's unhinged posts

Rachel Bloom (Crazy Ex-Girlfriend) — IOF letter

Scooter Braun — Biden letter

Alison Brie (Community) — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Josh Brolin — Biden letter

Pierce Brown (author of Red Rising) — openly pro-"Israel" and pro-IOF

Gerard Butler — "Israel" propaganda, including saying he wants to "break the record for most visits to Israel"

Nathaniel Buzolic (The Vampire Diaries) — many pro-“Israel” and pro-IOF posts, including saying: “Those who support Palestinains are the devil”

Charisma Carpenter — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Jimmy Carr — Biden letter

Timothée Chalamet — starred in the SNL skit that made jokes about Palestine

Gemma Chan — shared “both sides are bad!!” posts

Jessica Chastain — bragged in interviews about how her friend in the IOF taught her "effective ways to kill" when she was training for a movie, and when people asked her about that in October 2023, she refused to apologize or acknowledge it as bad

Kristen Chenowith — Biden letter

Choi Siwon (Super Junior) — did work promoting “Israeli” tourism with the “Israeli” government, liked pro-IOF posts, promoting Starbucks in Dec 2023

Ciara — made posts saying “Israel” has the right to do whatever to defend themselves against “terrorists”

Andy Cohen — Biden letter

Sacha Baron Cohen — Biden letter

Lily Collins — liked Gal Gadot’s pro-“Israel” posts

Misha Collins — posted some "both sides" shit, and said that calling what's happening to Palestinians a genocide is "triggering" to Jewish people

Sean "Diddy" Combs — Biden letter

Lana Condor — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

James Corden — Biden letter

Courteney Cox — Biden letter

Billy Crystal — Biden letter

Jamie Lee Curtis — IOF letter, many pro-“Israel” posts including posting a picture of distressed and injured Palestinian children with “PRAY FOR ISRAEL” but then deleted it without a word when people pointed out they are actually Palestinian children

Viola Davis — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Ariana DeBose (West Side Story) — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Dane Dehaan — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Laura Dern — Biden letter

Zooey Deschanel — liked pro-“Israel” posts

Zoey Deutch — openly denying the Nakba, genocide denial, saying “Israel” can do anything they want to “terrorists,” etc

Brett Dier (Jane the Virgin) — liked pro-"Israel" posts that say "from the river to the sea" is calling for "Israeli" genocide

Nina Dobrev (The Vampire Diaries) — Biden letter

Michael Douglas — IOF letter

Fran Drescher — proud Zionist, raised money for the IOF

Adam Driver — he hasn't said anything about Palestine, but I'm including him as an honorary piece of shit, because he said he joined the US military after 9/11 to "get revenge," and he starred in an SNL skit that made fun of the US military dropping bombs on Syria

Neil Druckmann (co-creator of The Last of Us, Uncharted) — Biden letter, shared a lot of aggressively pro-genocide posts; also: read about how The Last of Us Part II video game is pro-“Israel” Zionist propaganda

Chris Evans — starred in an Israeli propaganda film, went on a press tour around IOF military bases where he autographed missiles

Dakota Fanning — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Oded Fehr (Ardeth Bay in The Mummy movies) — IOF letter, proud Zionist, he's an Israeli whose parents are from Germany and Spain and yet he's played multiple Muslim terrorists and taken many Middle Eastern roles

Will Ferrell — Biden letter

Stephen Fry — IOF letter, Biden letter

Isla Fisher — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Karol G — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Josh Gad — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine + said he feels “alienated from fellow progressives” because of leftists all supporting Palestine + called Palestine supporters anti-Semetic

Gal Gadot — IOF letter, Biden letter, served in the IOF, non-stop posting pro-“Israel” content, saying “Israel” can do whatever they want to “terrorists,” and much more

Neil Gaiman — when fans specifically asked him to speak on “Israel”-Palestine, he just responded by saying that “Israel” has the right to exist, and then nothing else about Palestine or the current situation

Danielle Galligan (Shadow and Bone) — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

(Tumblr wouldn't let me have a list this big, so I had to break it up several times)

Aiden R Gallagher (Umbrella Academy) — IOF letter

Andy Garcia (Ocean’s Eleven) — IOF letter

Sarah Michelle Gellar — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Jeff Goldblum — Biden letter

Selena Gomez — liked Amy Schumer’s pro-genocide IG posts, threw a big temper tantrum when people asked her to support Palestine in any way and literally left social media after her temper tantrum, then said her beauty company Rare Beauty (whose CEO is a Zionist) would donate to "humanitarian aid in Gaza," but then instead donated it all to Magen David Adom, a Zionist organization in "Israel"

Joseph Gordon-Levitt — quit an event because the person running it said “Israel” is committing war crimes

Jack Dylan Grazer — IOF letter

Max Greenfield (New Girl) — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Kathy Griffin — commented "I love you now and forever" on Amy Schumer's unhinged posts

Josh Groban — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Yael Grobglas (Jane the Virgin) — aggressively pro-"Israel" and Zionist posts including calling Palestinians "terrorists" and saying that anyone who says "from the river to the sea" is calling for an "ethnic cleansing of Israeli Jews"

Jonathan Groff — Biden letter

Harvey Guillén (What We Do in the Shadows the show) — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Grant Gustin — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine + spreading IOF propaganda

Tiffany Hadish — Biden letter

Jon Hamm — Biden letter

Mariska Hargitay — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine + spreading IOF propaganda

Mark Hamill — IOF letter, Biden letter, made many pro-“Israel” posts, said “Israel” is like the rebels in Star Wars while Palestine is like the Empire (??????)

Chelsea Handler — Biden letter

Jennifer Love Hewitt — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Hong Jisoo (Joshua of Kpop group Seventeen) — suddenly doing a brand deal with Starbucks in Dec 2023

Hozier — said something pro-Palestine a few years ago, but is now all "well both sides are bad!!!!!!"/middle ground bullshit (and now the entire band that travels with him on tour are all posting stuff about “being neutral only benefits the oppressor”), still refuses to say "Palestine" at his concerts when speaking very vaguely at his concerts

Vanessa Hudgins — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Kate Hudson — commented "Love you Amy ❤️" on Amy Schumer's most recent IG post about how she (Amy Schumer) is the real victim in all this

(Tumblr wouldn't let me have a list this big, so I had to break it up several times)

Sarah Hyland — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Hyolyn (Sistar) — liked pro-“Israel” and pro-IOF posts

Lebron James — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Lily James — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Kendall Jenner — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Kris Jenner — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Kylie Jenner — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Jeon Somi (Kpop soloist) — doing a brand deal with Starbucks in Dec 2023 (despite the fact she's known for being terminally online)

Jeon Wonwoo (Wonwoo of Kpop group Seventeen) — suddenly doing a brand deal with Starbucks in Dec 2023

Scarlett Johansson — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine, worked with many “Israeli” companies over the years including for SodaStream, which operates illegally in the Palestinian West Bank (and she specifically said she has no regrets about working with them)

Ashley Johnson (The Last of Us, Critical Role) — liked Neill Druckmann’s very pro-“Israel” post in support of ethnic cleansing of Palestinians

Dwayne Johnson — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Mindy Kaling — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Kim Kardashian — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine, suddenly doing a brand deal with Starbucks in 2023

Harvey Keitel — Biden letter

Kim Dongyoung (Doyoung of Kpop group NCT) — now doing ads for McDonalds in Korea as of Dec 2023. He's lost over 800,000 followers on IG since this partnership was announced, but some fans have tried to lie and say that he "donated to Palestine" so that makes this fine and okay; in reality, he made a donation on World Food Day (October 16) to World Food Program Korea, which provides food aid to many places, and started donating food to Gaza in December, more than six weeks after Doyoung's donation. And as many Palestinians and activists have said: even if he did "donate to Palestine," which he did NOT do, that would make him doing ads for McDonalds significantly worse, since that would suggest he knows better but chose to do ads for McDonalds anyway.

Kim Gaeul (Gaeul of Kpop group IVE) — suddenly doing a brand deal with Starbucks in Dec 2023

Kim Hongjoong (Hongjoong from Kpop group Ateez) — suddenly doing a brand deal with Starbucks in Dec 2023

Kim Jennie (Jennie of Kpop group BlackPink) — suddenly doing a brand deal with Starbucks in Dec 2023

Kim Jisoo (Jisoo of Kpop group BlackPink) — suddenly doing a brand deal with Starbucks in Dec 2023

Kim Mingyu (Mingyu of Kpop group Seventeen) — suddenly doing a brand deal with Starbucks in Dec 2023

Kim Minjeong (Winter of Kpop group aespa) — suddenly doing brand deals with both McDonalds and Starbucks in Dec 2023

Kim Seongmin (Seungmin of Kpop group Stray Kids) — suddenly doing a brand deal with McDonalds in Dec 2023

Candace King (The Vampire Diaries) — made a big post in support of “Israel” that included calling all Palestinians “terrorists”

Joey King — Biden letter

Hayley Kiyoko — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Karlie Kloss — Biden letter, pro-“Israel” posts

Ashton Kutcher — raised millions of dollars for the IOF

Mila Kunis — raised millions of dollars for the IOF

Jo Kwon (2AM) — liked pro-IOF posts

Kwon Soonyoung (Hoshi of Kpop group Seventeen) — suddenly doing a brand deal with Starbucks in Dec 2023

Taylor Lautner — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Inbar Lavi (Imposters, Lucifer) — aggressively pro-"Israel"/Zionist/pro-IOF posts

Felix Yongbok Lee (Felix of Kpop group Stray Kids) — suddenly doing a brand deal with McDonalds in Dec 2023

Lee Jaehyun (Hyunjae of Kpop group The Boyz) — suddenly doing a brand deal with Starbucks in Dec 2023

Zachary Levi — IOF letter

Adam Levine (Maroon 5) — Biden letter

Eugene Levy (Schitt’s Creek) — Biden letter

Sam Levinson (creator of Euphoria and The Idol) — IOF letter, Biden letter

Emily Alyn Lind (Gossip Girl) — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Simu Liu (Marvel) — IOF letter

Lindsay Lohan — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Eva Longoria — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

George Lopez — IOF letter

Demi Lovato — self-described Zionist, accepted $150,000 to go on a trip to “Israel” and promote “Israeli” tourism

Patti LuPone — Biden letter

Melanie Lynskey — liked pro-"Israel" posts, including a post about how Jews in America feel so :( scared :( that also mentioned "Israel" has the right to exist

Sarah J Maas (racist booktok author with all those books titled like A Throne of Pissies and Shitties and half of them have a rapist as a good guy main character) — Zionist who’s spoken about loving “Israel,” going on a “birthright trip” to “Israel,” and saying she’s “proud” of her family members who volunteered at IOF military bases and/or were in the IOF

Madonna — IOF letter, Biden letter, many pro-“Israel” and pro-IOF posts

Howie Mandel — IOF letter

Katie Marovitch (Dropout) — liked pro-“Israel” posts, follows multiple "Birthright Israel" accounts

James Maslow (Big Time Rush) — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Ewan McGregor — Biden letter

Debra Messing — IOF letter, Biden letter

Seth Meyers — Biden letter

(Tumblr wouldn't let me have a list this big, so I had to break it up several times)

Lea Michelle — Biden letter

Helen Mirren — IOF letter, Biden letter

Alfred Molina — IOF letter

Mandy Moore — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Olivia Munn — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Ryan Murphy (creator of Glee, American Horror Story, etc) — IOF letter

Eric Nam (American K-pop soloist) — liked pro-“Israel” posts, then when fans noticed and called him out, he canceled his upcoming tour dates in Muslim-majority countries instead of responding

Ning Yizhuo (Ningning of Kpop group aespa) — suddenly doing brand deals with both McDonalds and Starbucks in Dec 2023

BJ Novak (The Office, Inglourious Basterds) — IOF letter

Con O'Neil (Our Flag Means Death) — liked and complemented an article where a Zionist wrote that “coming out as a Zionist” is harder than coming out as gay (it’s not something said in passing — that’s what the whole article is about)

Bob Odenkirk (Better Call Saul)— Biden letter

Rita Ora — Biden letter

Sharon Osbourne — IOF letter

Chord Overstreet (Glee) — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Gwyneth Paltrow — Biden letter

Danielle Panabaker — IOF letter

Sarah Paulson — Biden letter

Liam Payne — liked pro-IOF posts

Josh Peck — IOF letter

Katy Perry — Biden letter

Chris Pine — IOF letter, Biden letter

Aubrey Plaza — Biden letter

Jonah Platt (Broadway) — IOF letter

Jesse Plemons — Biden letter

Ellen Pompeo — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Billy Porter — IOF letter

Natalie Portman — has a long history of supporting “Israel” and calls herself a “liberal Zionist”

Will Poulter — used to be pro-Palestine but is now all “well both sides are equally bad!!! I don’t understand anything about this very complex situation!!!!!” now that Palestinians have dared to fight back

Lily Rabe — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Josh Radnor (How I Met Your Mother) — IOF letter

Addison Rae — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Bella Ramsey (The Last of Us) — liked pro-“Israel” posts

Andrew Rannells (Broadway) — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Michael Rapoport — a Zionist and an Islamophobic racist, attempted to set a bounty on Muslim Americans for being pro-Palestine (offered $1k for info on them, with the intention of doxxing them, but shared his email and got flooded with nonsense instead)

Taylor Jenkins Reid (author of The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, Daisy Jones and the Six) — self-described Zionist

Lana Del Rey — Biden letter

Christina Ricci — shared pro-"Israel" posts, including a post about how Jews in America feel so :( scared :( that also mentioned "Israel" has the right to exist

Rick Riordan (author; Percy Jackson) — made a big blog post about how both sides are so bad in this very complicated “conflict”

Joan Rivers — openly pro-“Israel” and Zionist, once went on a huge pro-“Israel” rant that included: ”Palestinians deserve to be dead”

Chris Rock — Biden letter

Ruby Rose — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Jonathan Ross — Biden letter

Eli Roth — IOF letter, Biden letter, proud self-described Zionist, currently doxxing Palestinians and activists on his IG

JK Rowling — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Ronen Rubenstein — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine, said “Israel” = Ukraine and Russia = Hamas

Paul Rudd — Biden letter

Joe Russo (Marvel director) — Biden letter

Zoe Saldaña — Biden letter

Adam Sandler — Biden letter

Ben Savage (Boy Meets World) — IOF letter

Fred Savage (Princess Bride) — IOF letter

Kristen Schall — Biden letter

(Tumblr wouldn't let me have a list this big, so I had to break it up several times)

Noah Schnapp — Mr. "You either stand with Israel or you stand with terrorism" himself

Liev Schreiber — IOF letter, Biden letter

Amy Schumer — IOF letter, Biden letter, many pro-IOF and pro-“Israel” posts, “Israel has the right to do anything they want to terrorists” shit, made her big “I’ve done so much for Black and gay people and now you people won’t even support me because I’m a Jew” post, made a post that said "Gazans are rapists" (not even Hamas, but all Gazans), Islamophoic and racist posts against all Arabs, and much much more

Arnold Schwarzenegger — fundraised for the IOF, did IOF propaganda work

David Schwimmer — Biden letter

Jerry Seinfield — IOF letter, Biden letter, a Zionist, once went to the IOF military base nicknamed “Camp Shoot-a-Palestinian,” where he played target practice with the soldiers where the targets are pictures of Palestinian people, and much more

Brooke Shields — Biden letter

Martin Short — Biden letter

Sarah Silverman — openly pro-genocide, said “Israel” has no reason to allow food and water into Gaza and that Palestinians should be grateful they were ever “given” water from “Israel” in the past, and much more

Gary Sinise — IOF letter

Nicholas Sparks (author) — IOF letter

Octavia Spencer — Biden letter

Steven Spielberg — pro-"Israel" and nothing about Palestine

Zack Snyder — Biden letter

Ian Somerhalder (The Vampire Diaries) — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Song Seung-hyun (actor, former member of FT Island, which currently has another member in prison for rape) — liked pro-“Israel” posts

Aaron Sorkin — Biden letter

Jamie Lynn Spears — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Regina Spektor — Biden letter, Zionist

Sylvester Stallone — fundraised for the IOF, supported the IOF and "Israel" during the bombing of Gaza in 2014 and now

Ben Stiller — Biden letter

Sting — Biden letter

Tara Strong (voice actress for many roles, including Timmy Turner in Fairly Odd Parents) — openly spreading pro-genocide rhetoric and “Israeli” propaganda

Harry Styles — retweeted a pro-“Israel” pro-ethnic cleansing article and then followed the journalist who wrote it

Jason Sudeikis — Biden letter

Quentin Tarantino — went on a tour around IOF military bases last week (mid-Oct 2023) to “boost morale” with “Israeli” soldiers

Ryan Tedder (lead singer of One Republic) — pro-"Israel" Zionist

Bella Thorne — IOF letter, Biden letter

Justin Timberlake — Biden letter

Ashley Tisdale — pro-"Israel" posts and nothing about Palestine

Anneliese van der Pol (the white girl on That’s So Raven) — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine

Taika Waititi — Biden letter, proud Zionist, strongly rumored to have fired someone from Our Flag Means Death (Guz Khan) for being pro-Palestine

Kerry Washington — pro-“Israel” posts (including IOF fundraisers) and nothing about Palestine

Paul Wesley (The Vampire Diaries) — pro-“Israel” posts and nothing about Palestine + is currently in his 40s dating a 22 year old who’s currently producing a pro-Zionism film

Laura Whitmore — commented "Love this and you" on Amy Schumer's unhinged posts

Olivia Wilde — Biden letter

Pharrell Williams — fundraised for the IOF

Tyler James Williams (Abbott Elementary, Everybody Hates Chris) — Biden letter

Ben Winston (director/producer who worked on most 1D content, James Corden’s show, etc) — IOF letter, Biden letter

Elijah Wood — shared a big post about how scared Jewish people are right now and nothing about Palestine + spread “Israeli” propaganda

James Woods (voice actor of Hades in Disney's Hercules, also the executive producer of Oppenheimer) — "Bomb the savages who did this back to the Stone Age. There are no grey areas. Kill them all. Every Hamas savage and every Hamas supporter on earth. Bury them with the entrails of pigs."

Constance Wu — Biden letter

Xu Minghao (The8 of Kpop group Seventeen) — suddenly doing a brand deal with Starbucks in Dec 2023

Yang Jeongin (i.n of Kpop group Stray Kids) — suddenly doing a brand deal with McDonalds in Dec 2023

Rebecca Yarros (author of The Fourth Wing) — Zionist who says "Israel" has the right to exist

Yu Jimin (Karina of Kpop group aespa) — suddenly doing brand deals with both McDonalds and Starbucks in Dec 2023

Gabrielle Zevin (author of Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow) — self-described Zionist whose book is about "the founding of Israel" being a good thing

Kpop groups being boycotted for currently having one or more members with Starbucks or McDonalds brand deals: aespa*, Ateez, BlackPink, The Boyz*, IVE, NCT, Seventeen, Stray Kids

(* All members of aespa are now openly doing promo for both Starbucks and McDonalds, except Giselle, who deleted all promotional posts from her IG when fans tagged her in info about the boycott and Gaza. The other aespa members still have all posts up, despite also being tagged. // The Boyz has one member promoting Starbucks, but a different member (Kevin, mentioned below) has spoken out as pro-Palestine.)

NOTE: South Korea has been very pro-Palestine these past few months, with large protests every week at the "Israeli" embassy, and many Koreans empathizing as a formerly colonized people. South Korea has voted with humanity on every UN vote, unlike the US. Several idols mentioned above speak English as their first language, and a few are known for being very online.

These idols aren't ignorant; they just don't care. They're all adults in their 20s (or older) and they have no excuse, and they will be held accountable, just like everyone else mentioned above. Despite Kpop stans believing and insisting that Koreans are all idiots who know nothing about the world, South Korea is pro-Palestine. A handful of capitalist Kpop idols are pro-genocide and pro-money. Getting some extra cash is more important than Palestinian lives to them.

Brands like McDonalds and Starbucks know exactly what they're doing, suddenly hiring Kpop idols during the boycott, given how Kpop stans are known for being idiots who defend their faves no matter what and buy anything their faves promote. Clearly it's working, because the replies to NCT's Doyoung's McDonalds sponsorship announcement is full of people posting pictures of themselves getting McDonalds ~for him~, and "Seventeen best boys" is currently trending as I type this, with fans trying to hide the fact "Seventeen Israel" was trending previously.

People who signed BOTH letters to Biden (the letter condemning "Israel's" war crimes and saying they want a ceasefire, and the letter praising Biden and saying they don't want a ceasefire and the US should continue helping "Israel"):

I've heard of a few cases where celebrities' agents signed the pro-"Israel" letter on their behalf without telling them, or what was in the letter(s) was very misrepresented to them, so idk what's going on with these people:

Bradley Cooper (currently dating one of the Hadid sisters, but has also starred in US military propaganda films)

Kirsten Dunst

David Oyewolo

Jordan Peele

Mary Elizabeth Winstead

PRO-PALESTINE:

Palestinians first, then alphabetical by surname + if they have their pronouns listed on social media, or they've mentioned their pronouns in an interview, I will include them here

Bella Hadid — "This is not about spewing hate on one or the other. This is about Israeli colonization, ethnic cleansing, military occupation, and apartheid over the Palestinian people that has been going on for YEARS!" + she got blacklisted and lost brand deals for saying this and much more

Gigi Hadid — currently being targeted by "Israel's" official state social media pages for her support of Palestinian civilians

Nemahsis — Palestinian Canadian singer who was dropped by her label for supporting Palestine and speaking out against "Israel's" genocide of Palestinians + said "it takes 40 years to grow an olive from a seed. if israel were who they claim to be, they wouldn’t be destroying all that their “ancestors” built. it’s always easier to blow money you didn’t earn." and much more

Simi, Haze, and Fai Khadra— on their shared account, they said: "You are watching genocide. 2 million innocent Palestinians in Gaza and 1 million of those are children under the age of 15, all for your "vengeance"…where's your humanity now? Gaza is being bombed to rubble as we post…" + much more about "Israel's" genocide of Palestinians and current attacks on Gaza

Freya Allan (The Witcher) — shared many pro-Palestine and anti-Zionism posts and resources for helping Palestine

Riz Ahmed — said "If we are on the side of humanity we must urgently speak up to try and avert the loss of innocent life. This means calling for an end to the indiscriminate bombing of Gaza's civilians and vital infrastructure, the denial of food, water, and electricity, and the forced displacement of people from their homes. These are morally indefensible war crimes."

Leigh Bardugo (author of Six of Crows and Shadow and Bone)(she/her) — shared many reports about IOF soldiers attacking civilians in Palestine, including during the Sheikh Jarrah evictions and attacks

Ally Beardsley (Dropout)(they/them) — shared info about "Israel's" attacks on Gaza, posted pictures of themself attending pro-Palestine protests, got arrested at the pro-Palestine protest that blocked the freeway in Los Angeles, and much more

Melissa Barrera (Scream)(she/her) — said "It is so fucking sad and frustrating to see so many people and most western media trying SO HARD to equate Palestinian Liberation with supporting Hamas. When they are NOT the same thing. They want us to believe this so they can continue brutally killing innocent Palestinians, mothers and children, under the pretense of destroying Hamas." + much more about "Israel's" attacks on Gaza + she got fired from the Scream franchise for her support of Palestine

Björk — pro-Palestine including posting "is this what you call sharing ?" with a picture of "Israel's" land theft of Palestine over the years since 1946

Anthony Bourdain — dedicated an episode of Parts Unknown to "Israel"-Palestine, which included scenes of Palestinians talking about the occupation, discussing "Israelis" forcibly displacing Palestinians from their homes, and more.

Shirine Boutella (Lupin) — sharing info debunking "Israel's" lies about Islamic Jihad accidentally bombing the hospital + more about "Israel's" attack on Gaza

Alessia Cara — shared pro-Palestine resources and info on IG

Freddy Carter (Shadow and Bone) — shared pro-Palestine information and donation links

Chance the Rapper — said "Fucking disgusting. This is an American funded genocide. #gazaunderattack #palestinianlivesmatter"

Kristin Chirico (Ladylike)(she/they) — sharing info about "Israel’s" attacks on Gaza + info about how "Israel’s" crimes are funded by the US

Nicola Coughlan (Derry Girls, Bridgerton)(she/her) — posted pictures attending pro-Palestine protests, and shared the quote: "We may be witnessing the total obliteration of Gaza. Political leaders refusing to speak out should feel eternal shame over the horror they are allowing to unfold. Those of us who believe in peace cannot stay silent. We must say to the Palestinian people: you are not alone."

Liam Cunningham — shared videos of himself at the protest in support of Palestine in Dublin + more about "Israel's" attack on Gaza

John Cusack — attended a pro-Palestine protest + said "We must free Palestine from a brutal occupation - people concerned for their loved ones, in a hell zone, stuck without food, water and power. Deep anguish over people being told to leave and bombed as they left. I heard people share personal accounts of family members who have been jailed, humiliated, harassed, persecuted, targeted and killed for generations."

Lucy Dacus (boygenius) — repeated support in the past + openly calling Obama a war criminal + sharing humanitarian fundraisers for Palestinians + said Free Palestine must be the part of all global liberation movements

Tracy Deonn (author of The Legendborn Cycle)(she/her) — shared pro-Palestine posts including resources for how to help

DJ Snake — shared "Stop the genocide of Palestinians, stop the massacre, end the apartheid" + more about "Israel's" attack on Gaza

Ziwe Fumudoh — shared resources about calling US Congresspeople about pressuring them to de-escalate, with "SAY NO TO GENOCIDE CALL CONGRESS NOW"

Lily Gao (Resident Evil) — posting pro-Palestine content and information on the occupation and how to help

Ncuti Gatwa (Doctor Who) — shared pro-Palestine info and resources

Lily Gladstone (Killers of the Flower Moon)(she/they) —sharing pro-Palestine content and information about the occupation and news about pro-Palestine protests in the US

Halsey (she/they)— shared the quote: "Solidarity with Palestinians means little if it only exists when they appear as victims but disappears when they resist. Those who aren't under occupation or refugees from ethnic cleansing have no right to dictate how those who are resisting those responsible for their suffering." + more about "Israel's" attacks on Gaza + shared that she was initially scared to speak out because in the past, her home has been SWATed multiple times, and she was scared now that they have a baby — but said she spoke out anyway because "It doesn't sit right with me that a decision I made for my own family is in turn keeping me from vocalizing support for families enduring far worse violence."

Erika Ishii (Dropout)(all pronouns) — posting pro-Palestine content and information on the occupation and how to help, posted "From the River to the Sea" @ Zionists who were saying that phrase promotes "Israeli" genocide, and more

Aabria Iyengar (Dropout)(she/her) — shared "You SHOULD be watching the Genocide that's happening, BUT while spreading awareness is good but it's NOT the full picture. Work. Get on the phone with your local reps and pressure them. If you give money to any political parties? Pull it and tell them why." + more about "Israel's" attacks on Gaza, "Israel" committing war crimes, etc

(Tumblr wouldn't let me have a list this big, so I broke it up a few times)

Lauren Jauregui (Fifth Harmony)(she/her) — said "My heart is with the innocent lives lost to the perpetuation of the vile legacy of imperialism, colonization, apartheid and ignorance. [...] Those who were once the victims of persecution becoming the oppressor and being so cognitively dissonant about the hypocrisy. [...] I deeply condemn the violation of human rights and the violence of the genocidal ethnic cleansing we are witnessing in real time of the Palestinian people." + "Propaganda is a bitch and is the most well oiled tool of the empire."

Angelina Jolie — said “Gaza has a population of over 2 million people (half of them children), who have lived under a severe blockade for nearly two decades, on top of decades of displacement and statelessness. The few aid trucks that are entering are a fraction of what is needed (and was delivered daily before the present conflict), and the bombings are causing desperate new humanitarian needs daily. The denial of aid, fuel and water is collectively punishing a people. Humanity demands an immediate ceasefire. Palestinian and Israeli lives – and the lives of all people globally – matter equally.”

Michael B. Jordan — shared: "One cannot advocate for racial equality, LGBT & women's rights, condemn corrupt & abusive regimes and other injustices yet choose to ignore the Palestinian oppression." + more about "Israel's" attacks on Gaza

Mia Khalifa (she/her) — "If you can look at the situation in Palestine and not be on the side of the Palestinians, then you are on the wrong side of apartheid and history will show that in time" + more about "Israel's" attacks on Gaza + she lost her podcast deal for showing support

Kehlani (she/they) — shared many stories about "Israel's" attacks on Gaza + attended a pro-Palestine protest + said "To my peers and people that are in the spaces I’m in, what the f*ck is wrong with y’all? You’re being silent for the sake of money and business… there’s an insane amount of unchecked privilege.” and much more

Guz Khan (Our Fl*g Means Death) — said "What the enforcers of apartheid and their enablers have failed to realise is that the plight of the Palestinians is an issue that resonates with the PEOPLE. You can hide behind weapons of war and have the most powerful resources known to man, the PEOPLE will demand justice" + it's strongly rumored he was let go from Our Fl*g Means Death specifically because of his open support of Palestine

Kid Cudi — attended pro-Palestine protests, and said "I can't imagine the pain people are feeling. Seeing their entire neighborhoods bombed, losing generations of family members, parents crying over their children's lifeless bodies, communities turning into mass graves, people digging through the rubble of their homes in hopes of finding remains of their loved ones - a pain no one should have to go through. [...] I stand with the people of Palestine as they demand an immediate ceasefire and an end to the ongoing genocide. Free Palestine!!"

Kim Hyesoo (South Korean actress) — sharing many pro-Palestine posts

Matthew Kim (Matthew of Kpop group KARD) — said "While Im able to celebrate another birthday, there are too many innocent people in Gaza losing that privilege." + more about "Israel's" attack on Gaza

Kim Namjoon (RM of of Kpop group BTS) — attended multiple art exhibitions by Palestinians in diaspora who made art specifically about Free Palestine and "Israel's" apartheid, occupation, and genocide of Palestinians, and shared pictures of the art and himself at these exhibitions + he owns a piece of art about Palestine and when talking about it in a live vlog, to millions of viewers, called the country Palestine + posted pictures of this art ~coincidentally~ on days when the media reported that "Israel" killed civilians (such as Feb 18 2023, when "Israel" bombed Damascus)

Rebecca Kuang (author of The Poppy Wars and Babel) — shared multiple posts on how to help Palestine, information about the occupation and "Israel's" genocide of Palestinians, etc

Zara Larsson — support going back years + "We must call out a state upholding apartheid and KILLING civilians, funded by American dollars." + much more about "Israel's" attacks on Gaza

Lee Youngae (South Korean actress) — donated $45,000 to humanitarian aid getting food into Gaza, shared posts in support of Palestine

Jessie Mei Li (Shadow and Bone)(she/they) — shared pictures of themself attending pro-Palestine protests

Dua Lipa — support going back years, frequently mentioning Free Palestine + "The ethnic cleansing of the Palestinian people must come to an end. NO MORE!! This is a human rights issue!! WAKE UP PEOPLE!!"

Lorde — pro-Palestine including sharing a video from Palestinian Canadian artist Nemahsis talking about the occupation and attacks

Macklemore — said "We are witnessing an unfolding genocide in Palestine at this very moment. A US backed human catastrophe in front of our eyes." and more

Zayn Malik — said "I stand with the Palestinian people and support their resistance to colonization and protection of their human rights."

Tatiana Maslany (she/her) — shared many pro-Palestine posts and resources

Tobias Menzies — did volunteer work in the West Bank for Medical Aid for Palestine, spoke at a Palestinian literature festival, and much more

Moon Hyungsoo (Kevin of Kpop group The Boyz) — shared a post about how his K-pop company "isn’t allowing him to say anything," but then asked fans to “spread educational resources and financial support links,” along with: “❤️🖤🤍💚”

Brennan Lee Mulligan (Dropout)(he/him) — said "Peace cannot co-exist with collective punishment, ethnic cleansing and forced displacement. It cannot co-exist with blockades, embargoes, or with 2.2 million people, half of which are children, trapped with no hope of escape or political recourse. It cannot co-exist with murdered journalists, bombed hospitals, or years of protesters being shot and killed at the border. It cannot co-exist with illegal settlements, segregated roads, and the silent, imperial chill that settles over the gaps in the violence - the unspoken geopolitical consensus that a group of people need to unflinchingly accept permanent subjugation and occupation."

Yoshitomo Nara (famous artist/sculptor in Japan) — shared firsthand accounts from victims in Gaza + criticized Biden's horrible handling of everything

Alexa Nikolas (Zoey 101, the one who left the show because Jamie Lynn Spears was bullying her + she later accused Dan Schneider of CSA and now has a show called Eat Predators, about exposing sexual predators in Hollywood)(she/her) — has made several hour-long videos talking about Free Palestine, the occupation, and "Israel's" apartheid and genocide in Palestine

(Tumblr wouldn't let me have a list this big, so I broke it up a few times)

Normani — sharing firsthand accounts from Palestinian families in Gaza during "Israel's" current attack

Dylan O'Brien — shared a video of a young Palestinian girl talking about how "Israel" bombed her whole street, along with "10 years old. Heart wrenching. #FreePalestine"

Melissa O'Neil (Dark Matter) — sharing statements from anti-Zionist Jewish people condemning "Israel's" actions + more about "Israel's" attack on Gaza

Frank Ocean — posted on social media for the first time in years, sharing the statement from the director of the New York office of the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights, Craig Mokhiber, who resigned in protest over the UN's inability to stop the genocide of Palestinians

Jenna Ortega (Wednesday, Scream) — was targeted by a far-right "Israeli" site for her repeated support of Palestine, the site attempted to blacklist her, and she continued supporting anyway

Victoria Pedretti (You, Haunting of Hill House) — shared "As Jews we know genocide is something we can not sit by and let happen. We will not let Israeli settler apartheid continue to silence and kill Palestinians. We demand a ceasefire and past that WE WILL CONTINUE to demand Palestinians's right to live! To have a home! To be free! You cannot exploit our grief. You can not use our grief as a reason to kill. FREE PALESTINE!"

Florence Pugh — shared IG stories about "Israel's" genocide against Palestinians, including: "Bombing a hospital full of children & refugees is not a pathway towards peace. This is genocide." + sharing a lot of pro-Palestine stuff right now, including saying that "Israel" bombed the hospital

Ava Reid (author of The Wolf and the Woodsman)(she/they) — shared multiple posts on how to help Palestine, information about the occupation and "Israel's" genocide of Palestinians, etc

Archie Renaux (Shadow and Bone) — shared pro-Palestine information and donation links

Izzy Roland (Dropout)(she/her) — shared "We cannot and will not say today's actions by Palestinian militants are unprovoked. Every day under Israel's system of apartheid is a provocation. The strangling siege of Gaza is a provocation. Settlers terrorizing entire Palestinian villages, soldiers raiding and demolishing Palestinian homes, murdering Palestinians in the streets, Israeli ministers calling for genocide and expulsion." + more about "Israel's" attacks on Gaza

Arundhati Roy (author of The God of Small Things) — has been writing essays and articles in support of Palestine for decades

Susan Sarandon — said “Being against the occupation of Palestine does not make one anti-Semitic.” + shared multiple posts about Israel's war crimes, including "Israel's" use of white phosphorus in Gaza + she got dropped from her agency for her support of Palestine

Emma Seligman (director of Shiva Baby and Bottoms)(she/they) — outspoken about her support for Palestine + attended multiple protests + is sharing a lot of resources and info about supporting Palestine (also: she said her name was accidentally included on the Zionist "no ceasefire" letter to Biden because she thought it was the other letter (the one asking for a ceasefire and humanitarian aid) and she fought to get her name removed from the bad letter)

Rekha Shankar (Dropout)(she/her) — shared resources for contacting US government officials about calling for a ceasefire and humanitarian aid in Gaza, and more

Gustaf Skarsgård (Vikings) — pro-Palestine posts

Sza — shared infographics about the occupation and Free Palestine, including ones that explained the entire history of "Israel's" invasion of Palestine since 1948 + spoke out about the violence in Sheikh Jarrah in 2021 + more "Israel's" attacks on Gaza

Sabaa Tahir (author of Ember in the Ashes)(she/her) — posting about how to help Palestine, information about "Israel's" genocide and apartheid of Palestinians, etc

Emma Watson (she/her) — shared a quote about showing solidarity with Palestinians from activist Sarah Ahmed, who was harassed by C*nary M*ssion, a site dedicated to doxxing anyone who speaks out against "Israel’s" government.

Aimee Lou Wood (Sex Education)(she/her) — shared info and resources daily since Oct 7 in support of Free Palestine

Benedict Wong — shared many pro-Palestine posts and resources

Xiran Jay Zhao (author of Iron Widow)(they/them) — posting nonstop about the occupation and "Israel's" attacks on Gaza, they've attended pro-Palestine protests, and more

After Emma Watson made her post mentioned above, she was targeted in the media by "Israel," and in response, a group of celebrities released a joint statement in support of Watson and Palestinians, saying: “We recognize the underlying power imbalance between "Israel," the occupying power, and the Palestinians, the people under a system of military occupation and apartheid" (excerpt of statement).

These celebrities called themselves “Artists for Palestine UK," and included:

Gael García Bernal

Peter Capaldi

Steve Coogan

Liam Cunningham

Miriam Margolyes (Prof. Sprout in HP)

Matt McGorry

Michael Malarkey (Vampire Diaries)

Viggo Mortensen (Lord of the Rings)

Mark Ruffalo

Susan Sarandon

Ramy Youssef

(I took all the names I recognized — read the full list here)

Examples of "Israel's" foreign propaganda machine hitting pro-Palestine influencers:

tiktoker thewizardliz (@/thewizardliz, 4.9 million followers) as a beauty influencer originally from Chechnya, she made several pro-Palestine posts, but then deleted them all and said "Guys I didn't want to delete my posts. But I was just called and told that I'm playing with my life by speaking on these things and that I should delete, I shouldn't involve myself in politics, but I stand with what I said."

tiktoker Guy Christensen (@/yourfavoriteguy, 2.9 million followers) — shared a video with screenshots of emails sent to him by an “Israeli” company, attempting to bribe him with $5,000 to post pro-”Israel” content, but he refused and said no amount of blood money could make him support genocide

tiktoker Cara Watson (@/carawatsca, 288.3k followers) shared that she lost a brand deal for being pro-Palestine and that this same brand attempted to bribe her (wanting her to delete all her Palestinian posts and then post pro-“Israel” content) but she refused

Celebrities who signed the good letter to Biden — not the Zionist letter, but the one calling for a humanitarian ceasefire and immediate international aid to Palestinians in Gaza, and saying that the US is "aiding and abetting Israel's war crimes":

Riz Ahmed

Mahershala Ali

Joe Alwyn

Mo Amer (comedian)

Omar Apollo

Rowan Blanchard (Girl Meets World)

Cate Blanchett

Connie Britton

Quinta Brunson (Abbott Elementary)

Daniel Caesar

May Calamawy (Moon Knight)

Margaret Cho

Priyanka Chopra-Jonas

Clairo

Ryan Coogler (director of Black Panther)

Dominic Cooper

Jai Courtney

David Cross (Arrested Development)

Alfonso Cuarón

Alan Cumming

John Cusack

Manish Dayal

Ayo Edebiri

Joel Edgerton

America Ferrera

Peter Gabriel

Andrew Garfield

Richard Gere

Lily Gladstone (Killers of the Flower Moon)

Ilana Glazer (Broad City)

Kimiko Glenn

Bella Hadid

Tom Hardy

Simon Helberg (Big Bang Theory)

Oscar Isaac

Milla Jovovich

Rupi Kaur

Kehlani

Jas Lin

Dua Lipa

Macklemore

Zayn Malik

Rooney Mara

Rachel McAdams

Natalie Merchant

Miguel

Alyssa Milano

Hasan Minhaj

Fatima Farheen Mirza

Arian Moayed (Succession)

Victoria Monét

Indya Moore (Pose)

Kathy Najimy (Hocus Pocus)

Kumail Nanjiani

Hari Nef (Barbie)

Ruth Negga

Lupita Nyong’o

Sandra Oh

Jenna Ortega

Mandy Patinkin (Criminal Minds, Princess Bride)

Florence Pugh

Busy Phillipps

Joaquin Phoenix

Mark Ruffalo

Susan Sarandon

Naomi Scott (Aladdin)

Amanda Seales

Michael Shannon

Alia Shawkat

Rachel Sennott (Bottoms)

Yara Shahidi (Black-ish)

Wallace Shawn (Princess Bride)

Sarah Snook (Succession)

Martin Starr

Jon Stewart

Kristen Stewart

Jeremy Strong (Succession)

Cree Summer (A Different World, Kida in Atlantis: The Lost Empire)

Omar Sy

Wanda Sykes

Channing Tatum

Tessa Thompson

Kali Uchis

Lena Waithe

Wale

Jeremy Allen White

Jesse Williams

Shailene Woodley

Ramy Youssef

(I took all the names I recognized — read full list here)

The letter said: "Half of Gaza's two million residents are children, and more than two thirds are refugees and their descendants being forced to flee their homes. […] As of this writing more than 6,000 bombs have been dropped on Gaza in the last 12 days — resulting in one child being killed every 15 minutes. Children and families in Gaza have practically run out of food, water, electricity, medicine and safe access to hospitals, following days of air strikes and cuts to all supply routes. […] The humanitarian situation has reached lethal lows, and yet all reports point to further attacks. Compassion — and international law — must prevail."

Celebrities who signed the open letter in the UK calling for an immediate humanitarian ceasefire, and condemning "Israel":

Khalid Abdalla

Steve Coogan

Liam Cunningham

Charles Dance

Miriam Margolyes

Maxine Peake

Tilda Swinton

(over 2,000 more people — I took all the names I recognized; after it was released it became an open letter anyone can sign so it's now full of random people's names)

Their joint statement said: "Gaza is already a society of refugees and the children of refugees. Now, in their hundreds of thousands, bombarded from air, sea and land, Palestinians whose grandparents were forced out of their homes at the barrel of a gun are again being told to flee – or face collective punishment on an unimaginable scale. Dispossessed of rights, described by Israel’s minister of defense as “human animals”, they have become people to whom almost anything can be done. Our governments are not only tolerating war crimes but aiding and abetting them."

Drag performers who support Palestine:

(List compiled by @pencopanko in the notes)

Willow Pill, winner of RuPaul's Drag Race S14

Lady Bunny (openly criticizes both the Israeli government and the US government for its allegiance with Israel)

Bosco, RuPaul's Drag Race S14 runner up

Eve 6000, RuPaul's Drag Race Canada S2

Halal Bae (Egyptian-Palestinian drag queen), RuPaul's Drag Race Canada S3

Barbi Ghanoush

Tenderoni (drag king)

Irma Gerd, RuPaul's Drag Race Canada S3

The Vixen, RuPaul's Drag Race S10 (retweeted a video edit from the S10 reunion which explains the Palestinian struggle)

Shea Couleé, RuPaul's Drag Race S9, winner of AS5, AS7

Sasha Velour, winner of Drag Race S9 (attended the Jewish Voice For Peace rally at the Statue of Liberty)

Pixie Pixie, RuPaul's Drag Race Mexico S1

Lawrence Chaney, winner of RuPaul's Drag Race UK S2 (seen with a sign in support of a ceasefire at the Scottish BAFTA Awards)

Celebrities who signed the Letter Against Apartheid in support of Free Palestine (2021):

Mahershala Ali

Brian Cox (Succession)

Bella Hadid

Rebecca Hall

Miriam Margoyles (Prof. Sprout in HP)

Yann Martel (author of Life of Pi)

Viggo Mortensen

Mira Nair (Indian American filmmaker)

Kathy Najimy (Hocus Pocus)

Thandiwe Newton

Boots Riley (director of Sorry To Bother You)

Run the Jewels

Saeed Jones (author of How We Fight For Our Lives)

Stellan Skarsgård (Thor, Mamma Mia)

Ocean Vuong (poet)

(I took the names I recognized — read full list here)

This letter said: "We call for an immediate and unconditional cessation of Israeli violence against Palestinians. We call for an end to the support provided by global powers to Israel and its military; especially the United States, which now provides Israel $3.8 billion annually without condition. We ask all people of conscience to exercise their agency to help dismantle the apartheid regime of our time. We ask governments that are enabling this crime against humanity to apply sanctions, to mobilize levers of international accountability, and to cut trade, economic and cultural relations. We call on activists, and especially our peers in the arts, to exercise their agency within their institutions and localities to support the Palestinian struggle for decolonization to the best of their ability. Israeli apartheid is sustained by international complicity, it is our collective responsibility to redress this harm." and more

Celebrities who condemned "Israel" for labeling Palestinian non-profit charities as “terrorists” (2021):

Claire Foy

Peter Gabriel

Richard Gere (has also been very vocal about supporting Palestine over the years)

Ian McEwan (author; Atonement)

Simon Pegg

Philip Pullman (author; His Dark Materials)

Mark Rylance

Irvine Welsh (author; Trainspotting)

(I took the ones I recognized + read full list here + I didn’t include a few who are also in other pro-Palestine lists on this post)

---

Please add more if you know of any, but NOT if it's something along the lines of them just liking a post or trying to say both sides are bad. Please also include what they said/shared — now is the time when speaking out is most important.

Feel free to add any pro-"Israel" people as well. I'm keeping an eye on the notes and will update it.

HOW TO HELP:

US and Canada residents: find a protest near you here

How to protest safely

Contact your reps and tell them you will not vote for anyone who approves of genocide

US residents: Download the free app “5 Calls” and set your zip code, and it will give you the phone numbers of your representatives, as well as a script for what to say to encourage them to de-escalate and vote for a ceasefire

Via yurgir: if you're european, you can go to this site, click on your country at the top bar, and it will tell you how to reach your representatives and also provides an already written script which you can simply copy and paste. alternatively, this google doc also provides scripts for different countries.

***BOYCOTT THESE COMPANIES***

There is also currently a boycott against Starbucks, in addition to the official BDS boycott list, because the former CEO and current board member is a Zionist, and because Starbucks fired a bunch of employees for being pro-Palestine, and after the Starbucks Workers United union made a statement saying they support Palestine, the company made a big stink about how the union "doesn't represent the company's values" (and that's in addition to the other ways they mistreat employees, and all this is besides the fact they're documented using child slave labor in producing their coffee beans and chocolate). Starbucks also regularly donates to the IOF, just like the other boycotted companies.

a thread of ways to support Palestine

text CEASEFIRE to 51905

combat propaganda online, in person, or even by just having a conversation with one person — do not underestimate the power of word of mouth. tell everyone you know how you feel about Palestine; don't just read about it and despair while doing nothing. being on the right side of history has never been popular or easy.

Continue spreading Palestinian voices. Do not stop sharing voices from Palestine. Do not spread hopelessness or anything about parts of Gaza being "successfully" ethnically cleansed. We owe Palestinians our resilience and our hope that Palestine WILL be free, within our lifetimes.

Do not quote or reply to pro-"Israel" accounts on Twitter. "Israel" is paying people to spread propaganda and lies — do not make their job easier. Do not give them attention or views. Do not let them succeed in their goal. Just block them and boost Palestinians, or screenshot them if you absolutely must react/respond to what they're saying.

Haymarket Books is currently giving away the ebook for "Palestine: A Socialist Introduction" for free

support Palestinian art, cuisine, businesses, and culture — Shop Palestine, Al’Ard Palestinian products, Palestinian recipes from Mariam, a Palestinian home cook in diaspora, etc

Palestinian literature: Poems from Palestine, Introduction to Palestinian literature — novels, non-fiction, and poetry

US residents: Tell Congress to Stop the Gaza Genocide

UK residents: Tell the UK government to Protect Palestinians and Healthcare Workers

Decolonize Palestine: Palestine 101

Eye on Palestine

Times of Gaza

Middle East Eye

FOLLOW PALESTINIAN JOURNALISTS such as Bisan, Motaz, Plestia, Hind, and Bayan

DONATE HERE TO HELP FOOD GET INTO GAZA — be wary of anyone asking for donations, but this one has been confirmed to definitely be legit and helping food enter Gaza

15K notes · View notes

relatable-trxsh · 4 months

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To all the people that have been waiting like 2 years for me to continue “What We Came Here To Do”

I am so very sorry I went so MIA on updating it. Thank you to everyone that has shown it love, I do genuinely appreciate it so much. I had so many big plans and ideas for the story and then life hit me in the balls with a pillow case full of bricks.

I’ve been thinking about continuing it but it’s been so long since I’ve updated it, is that something you guys would be interested in? If I did I would try to stick to schedule, probably update once maybe twice a week? Let me know

#the 100 bellamy #Bellamy Blake #bellamy x reader #the 100 #the 100 clarke #clarke griffin #monty green #jasper jordan #octavia blake #the 100 x reader #bellamy blake x reader

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relatable-trxsh · 5 months

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Memories - Sirius Black X Reader

Summary: Harry finds an old notebook that belonged to Sirius during his Hogwarts days. In his scruffy handwriting, in an old dusty journal found in Sirius's bedroom is the story of Sirius' first real love.

A/N: Fluff, nostalgia, a little bit of angst if you look too hard. The reader is feminine, using she/her pronouns. Oneshot - blurb is very short but very sweet.

I made a friend today on the train to Hogwarts. She is very sweet and seems very nice. She had a ribbon in her hair, I thought that she looked nice. we talked and she said that she liked my hair too. I also made some new friends. I got sorted into Gryffindor house, it's crazy since my family is all from Slytherin house. I'm sure Mother will be so upset. She is always upset about something.

Harry read aloud to his curious friends, Hermione leaned over his shoulder curiously to look at the small dark grey journal, it was tatted beaten-down bound with leather, covered in dust, but well used.

"Keep reading, Harry," Hermione said gently, knowing that he wasn't reading it with malicious intent, but instead in an attempt to feel closer to his godfather. he turned a few pages until a page caught his eye, and began reading once more.

Reg and I got into a quarrel over some things that didn't really matter. he says I should be more concerned with our family. Reg and I used to be close, but after my third year, he became cold. I love my brother, but I hate to see him hanging around those gits. Malfoy in particular, but I know he is happy now as he has joined the Slytherin team. he's their seeker, but he's no match for Gryffindor this year.

This entry made Harry smile slightly, and chuckle. he continued to flip pages, it was heartwarming. He turned the pages, looking through some messy potions class notes and annotations, and an entry about the marauders map, and how he saw Peter Pettigrew (Wormtail.) sneaking out every night to sneak food from the kitchens. One page, in particular, caught his eye.

I Love Her.

I have loved her every day I've known her. She is brilliant, her eyes sparkle when she speaks, her smile is so bright it lights up the room as if you'd cast Lumos. She's incredibly intelligent, but kind. She's always been gentle with me. I've never met another like her.

I wish that I could make this all go away. All the secrets, the war, the hatred. I wish we could start a family one day, live in a little cottage, and raise children far away from here. We'd visit James and Lily every Christmas, and Remus on halloween. I could give her my mother's ring. I doubt Regulus would mind. We could be so happy. I remember the first day we met. I think i knew then that she was special. She has been unconditionally devoted to me. The night my mother burned my name off our family tree she held me in her arms as i cried and i finally felt what home is supposed to feel like. I wrote her a letter, expressing my yearning for her. I plan to give it to her very soon, along with a locket I picked out. Lily insisted on the dainty silver chain with a locket of our picture from our first year together, she even helped me enchant to image to capture y/n's smile as she sat next to me. she say's it's sentimental, and that girls like this sort of thing.

I never had a home, truly. just four walls surrounding me. My own mother disgraced my name, Regulus has been absent in my life. I'm thankful for my friends but my love for y/n is like no other. i just wish want her to feel the way i do, i hope she does. With everything, she can not get involved it's too dangerous. But I will love her anyway. The kind of love that could break the most heinous curse.

Harry stood for a moment, looking over his godfather's handwriting. it was sentimental. "I wonder if we could find her," Harry offered hopefully. "There's no mention of a last name." Ron pointed out. "I'm sure we could ask someone, if she knew the black family she can't be too terribly hard to find," Hermione said, offering a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "I think Sirius would love that."

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relatable-trxsh · 6 months

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The Neighbor Across the Street pt. 2

Mike Schmidt x Babysitter!f!Reader

Read part 1 here!

wc: 1.9k

warnings: none! fluff, hurt/comfort if u squint, tiny age gap (as always, lmk if there’s anything i’ve missed)

summary: the neighbor across the street needs a babysitter, so you take the job, not knowing what’s in store for you as you grow closer to the siblings.

quick note, AU where nothing bad happens at the pizzeria, so we r diverging from that storyline slightly. more info to come next part :) happy reading!

———————————————��——————————

“Mike! Y/n is here!” Abby shouted through the house.

You had just walked through the front door of the Schmidt house. You had been Abby’s babysitter for just over a month now, but tonight was different. It was going to be your first night shift. Mike had just started a new security gig where he had to work a few nights each week.

So far, it’s been great babysitting Abby. The two of you have grown closer, doing more and more activities together. It rarely felt like work babysitting Abby. Becoming closer to Abby meant you were also, slowly but surely, growing closer to Mike.

You were hanging up your jacket on the coat hanger next to the door, looking up just in time to see Mike standing in the hallway in front of you. He had his usual attire on: some kind of long sleeved shirt with a jacket, a pair of jeans, and some old tennis shoes. But this time, a vest sporting the phrase “security” was worn over his jacket.

“Nice halloween costume.” you said sarcastically, holding in a small laugh.

“Don’t judge.” he said sighing, rolling his eyes. “Only I can hate it.”

“I’m just messing with you. You give that vest character.” you said, playfully pushing his shoulder as you walked past each other. You headed over to Abby as she sat at the dinner table, pushing her food around on her plate. “What’s up Abs?”

“Nothing. Can you tell Mike to stop making this stuff? It sucks.” she said looking up at you.

“Thanks for the feedback, next time I’ll leave dinner all up to you.” he said as he grabbed his keys and backpack. The young girl rolled her eyes, sticking her tongue out at him when his back was turned. You pulled a chair to sit with Abby at the table when Mike walked over.

“You gonna be okay tonight?” Mike asked you, he placed his hands on the backs of the chairs. This was probably the 20th time he asked you this. He knew nights weren’t what you signed up for, but you were flexible and didn’t mind the change of plans.

“Yes, I promise. My parents are just across the street if we need anything.” you said with a smile.

“Alright, my phone number’s on the fridge if you need anything.” If only you knew I already had it memorized. “Abs you gotta be in bed by 9:30, you understand? You have school in the morning. Don’t give y/n a hard time.” Mike said as he ruffled Abby’s hair, kissing her head.

“Sounds like a plan.” you said, looking at Mike as he headed towards the door. “See you in the morning.”

He looked at you one last time before saying his goodbyes, shutting the door behind him. It wasn’t long before Abby had her first activity recommendation of the night.

“Can we have a movie night before bed?” she asked you. You decided to donate some of your old favorite movies to the siblings, giving Abby a whole new array of movies to choose from.

“Sure, what do you have in mind?” you asked.

“The Little Mermaid!” she squealed.

The two of you made some popcorn, even allowing Abby a cup of her favorite soda, before settling down with some cozy blankets and pillows for your movie night. You watched as the girl sat in awe at the film playing before her eyes.

You always hoped to see the day a young child’s eyes would light up from experiencing your favorite films from your childhood. You never thought that feeling would’ve come from seeing Abby experience the magic for the first time.

You both sat watching the film intently, occasionally throwing a handful of popcorn into your mouths.

“Do you ever wish you’ll find a prince like Ariel?” Abby randomly blurted out.

“Yeah, I think it would be nice.” you said, not giving much thought to the silly question. Abby often asked questions like these. “Do you?”

“I don’t think so. I’m too little.” she scrunched her nose.

“Good answer.” you said with a small laugh.

You turned your attention back to the movie, taking a sip of your drink.

“I think Mike’s still waiting for his princess.” the young girl blurted out again. This time, it caught you off guard.

“Yeah?” you asked, choking on your soda a bit.

“He’s always so sad and tired. Maybe a princess would cheer him up.”

“What kind of princess do you think he would like?”

“Someone to make him laugh. Someone who gives him a big hug when he is sad. Someone who makes better mac and cheese than he does.”

You smiled at the girl listening to her list off all of the qualifications.

“That sounds like the perfect princess Abs.”

“You would be a good princess for Mike.” she blurted yet again, eyes still on the screen, catching you off guard once more.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” you said, feeling your face warm up. You thought about that comment the rest of the night.

You somehow managed to get Abby to bed at 10, which isn’t bad considering how much she loves talking and playing with you. She went down fairly quickly, giving you the rest of the night to yourself.

You flipped through the channels on the TV, trying to stay awake, also trying not to think about Abby’s comment earlier. “You would be a good princess for Mike.” Ultimately, you failed, falling asleep to the sound of the 12am news.

At around 4:30am, you heard the sound of shuffling at the door, sitting up groggily to see what the fuss was. The door quietly opened and you heard the sound of a backpack hit the floor.

“I’m so sorry, did I wake you up?” Mike whispered.

“No it’s all good. I just kind of woke up on my own.” you replied, half lying, with a small yawn. “I tried to stay awake but the TV line up in the middle of the night isn’t fantastic.”

“You’re fine, y/n. You deserve rest while you’re on the job. You have class tomorrow anyways.” he said as he went to sit on the recliner next to the couch you laid on. You both sat in silence for a minute or two, it felt like forever. “How’d Abby do?”

“Great as always.” you said rubbing the sleepiness out of your eyes. “We watched a movie, I might’ve given her a soda. She went to bed at around 10, but I don’t blame her I was her age once too.”

“That’s good. No problems?”

“When has there ever been any problems, Mike.” you said with a chuckle. More silence filled the air.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

He thought for a moment, hesitating before he spoke up. “Thank you for all you do for us. I’ve really seen a change in Abby lately and there’s no doubt you are a big part of that.”

“Of course.” you said with a smile. “Abby’s a great kid.”

“You know things haven’t been easy.” he said with a sigh. “I think you bring just a little more happiness in her life – in our lives.”

You looked at him for a moment, noticing his eyes like you did the first time you met him. They were still that shade of brown with the little green specks, but this time they were filled with sadness. He looked absolutely drained. He knew you noticed the hopelessness in the interaction.

“I’m sorry about that, didn’t mean to drop any of this on you.” he said looking down at his hands.

“Mike, it’s okay.” you said softly, reassuring him. You just honestly didn’t know what to say.

You stood up from your place on the couch, watching him sit up a little taller in his own chair.

“Come here.” you said quietly, surprised he even heard you.

He stood up, stepping towards you quietly not to wake up Abby with the creaky floorboards. Once he was right in front of you, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. It took him a second until he also put his arms around you. You rested your head on his shoulder, breathing in the smell of his shirt. You guys just stood there for a minute, you waited until he let go. You knew he needed this. You knew all of those things Abby told you earlier were true.

He finally let go, taking a small step back as your hands rested on his shoulders.

“You guys are going to be okay. I’m here for both of you.” you said looking into his eyes.

“I promise I’ll have the money by the end of the week.” he said, attempting to change the subject.

“Don’t worry about the money. You worry about you and Abby, whenever you have the money will be okay.” you said as you removed your hands from his shoulders.

“Are you sure? You have things you need to take care of too. College tuition is enough to worry about.”

“It’s okay, Mike. I’ll be fine.” you said with a soft smile. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, same time?”

“Yeah.” he said as you walked to the door grabbing your jacket. He followed behind. “Thanks again.”

He pulled you in for another quick hug, before you opened the door, waved bye, and began walking home. He stayed at the door until you safely crossed the street, like he always does, before closing it.

That morning, Abby had a lot to say about her movie night with you to Mike.

“She let me have soda before bed, Mike!” Abby exclaimed while she took a bite of her toast. “And we watched The Little Mermaid, and I asked her if she ever wished she had a prince like Ariel.”

“You know y/n is busy Abs. She has lots of homework, she doesn’t have time for princes.” Mike told his sister as he flipped through some mail. It was true though, some days you would end up doing homework during most of your time babysitting.

“She said it would be nice, then I told her that you definitely need a princess, and I told her that your princess needs to be funny and–“

“Alright Abby I think it’s time for you to go to school now.” Mike said, quickly interrupting her before she could say anymore.

“What?” she questioned him.

“Nothing.” he said standing up to grab his keys, avoiding looking at his little sister.

“I knew it! You have a crush on Y/n!” she said with a gasp.

“I do not, Abs.”

“I won’t tell her, I’ll keep it a secret, I promise!”

“Abs, I don’t have a crush on anyone. People don’t have crushes when they’re adults.”

“You’re blushing, Mike.” she said giggling as she ran to grab her backpack. When she returned, Mike was just heading out the door. Abby picked up her shoes, walking out of the door behind him.

As the pair walked to Mike’s extremely worn out Honda Accord, it just so happened you were also heading to your car just across the street. Abby took notice of this quickly, making sure not to miss this moment to embarrass her brother even more. It’s what little sisters do.

“Hey Y/n!” she shouted, making sure to drag out the ending super long.

“Hey Abby!” you shouted back. “Have a good day at school!”

“Mike say hi.” Abby said to her brother.

“Abby.” he said back, trying to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

“Say it now or I’ll tell Y/n you have a crush on her.”

He gave you a small wave and a smile as he unlocked the doors.

“See you guys tonight!” you said happily as you got in your car.

“You so have a crush on Y/n.” Abby said one last time, grinning, just for good measure.

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relatable-trxsh · 6 months

Text

Carousel - part 1

Had to write about Mike, bro - saw the fnaf and that Josh Hutcherson crush came back full-fledged 😭

That messy, disheveled look and the "i can fix him" complex really, really hit home here, lmao. Tried to do canon but probably failed miserably. It just means i gotta watch it again 😏

NOT BETA-READ

Summary: You and Mike broke up a while ago... but of course, one small encounter sent you spiraling back to him.

Angst and smut coming in part 2 and 3.

Word count:1.5k

■ □ ■ □ ■ □ ■□■□■□■□■□■□■□

You look into the room to the right of you. There, you see Mike Schmidt. He was holding the comatose girl's hand. As he got up and leaned down, he whispered something to her, and he made eye contact with you.

You looked at him and then down at her and continued to walk forward. You don't bother to look behind to see if he followed, it was an intimate moment and that wasn't for you, not any more at least. You pushed the doors open and saw her. Her eyes glazed over you and light up with recognition.

"Y/N!"

She hopped off the chair and ran towards you. Your heart ached, you gave her a small smile and returned her hug.

"Hi Abby. How are you? How's school?"

"I've missed you so much. None of the other babysitters are as fun as you. Schools fine! I've made real friends."

You knew it was hard for her with her active imagination and timid personality. A warm and sincere smile made it to your face. "That's so good Abby!" Abby motioned you to lower down and bit, you obliged, crouched down and was face to face.

She brings her tiny cuffed shaped hand towards your ear. "Mike misses you." It waa small and timid, she was unsure of your reaction to the secret she shared. She was there when the fallout happened and she knew it was horrible.

The smile faded a bit but was plastered back on when she was done whispering. Her face was full of hope and worry.

Leaning in, you whispered back, "I miss him too sometimes. But you gotta keep it a secret Abs." She nodded and put her pinky out.

"I will!" It was sealed with a stamp. The doors opened again and Abby looked behind you to see her brother.

Mike's breathing hitched as the doors opened. There you were with your long h/c hair. A black spaghetti dress, with little flowers, a green knitted jacket, with see through leggings and boots. When you turned to face him he saw the onyx necklace he gave you for your birthday. It had been two months before he saw you again. With your flushed cheeks, long eyelashes, and full lips, and here you were in the hospital waiting room.

"Hi." It was meek and awkward and so fucking Mike.

You gave a silent sigh, "Hi Mike." You gave a wave. He noticed your nails were longer, and painted dark green, his favorite color.

He stuffed his hand in his pockets. "Um… what were you two talking about?"

Abby spoke before you had a chance, "It's a secret." He raised an eyebrow at her and gave a snarky smile.

"Oh yeah?"

She nodded her head, "Yup," she popped the p.

You gave a smile. Mike looked at you. And you looked back.

"Well I guess it can't be helped."

You shook your head, "Sorry those are the rules." Abby giggled at your solemn expression.

"Can Y/N come over for dinner? Please Mike I miss drawing with her." His eyes widened at the sudden request.

"Oh… um.. well… we- we don't know if uh Y/N has plans or not." He stumbled to get the words out.

There was a nervous pit in your stomach. You wanted to vomit. Abby turned to you.

"Please Y/N we can have pizza or spaghetti or both!"

'Ah her favorite combo.' You gave an inward chuckle. She skipped to you and grabbed your hand.

"Pretty please? With a cherry on top?"

"Oh well with a cherry on top? How could I ever say no to that?"

Abby smiled and giggled. She started to pull you towards the exit. "Come on! Let's go then."

You laughed and smiled. "Okay Ab's, but I gotta go home first."

She gave a dejected look. "Don't worry I'll be there for dinner. Mike can text when?"

Mike gave a wide eyed look when the question was directed at him. He found himself nodding. "Yeah of course."

The smile came back on her face and she ran to Mike. She started to pull Mike now. "Mike hurry! We have to get food for when Y/N comes!"

"Okay okay jeez. Um I'll text you then?" There was a slight desperation in his voice.

You nodded and the sibling duo left.

You groaned and let your head fall in your hands. Of course, just fuck yourseld over. Great. Perfect.

Your mind and heart were racing. 'This could only end badly.'

Mike started the car and looked at Abby through the rear view mirror.

Abby stared back. "What."

"Why did you invite her Abs?"

"Because I've missed her. And so do you! Y/N was the best babysitter ever and you scared her off." She mumbled the last part to herself but Mike still heard.

He sighed and reversed out of the parking space. Abby was right, Mike scared her. No, what he did was worse. If Y/N ever forgave he would thank god himself.

There you were, same outfit but with a simple gold chain, the one your mother gave you. You held an artist box and a plate full of ginger snap cookies. You baked them without realizing these were Mike's favorite cookies. You were so used to making them for him and Abby, it came naturally without a second thought.

You rang the doorbell, there was something you assumed was stumbling to the door, and then there was Mike. He looked disheveled and bags under his eyes, while he looked incredibly fucking hot it made you want to jump him right then and there; he also looke tired and worn out. It made your heart ache at the thought of him falling deeper into despair.

"Hey."

"Hi."

He glanced down at the art supplies. "Oh uh here let me get them for you."

As he took it, your hand touched and a shock ran up your back. "Thank you."

"Y/N!" Abby dashed through the hallway and all but shoved Mike. She gripped your hand like you would disappear if she let go.

She babbled on and on about Mike and how he cleaned the house and cooked and took a shower.

"Abby! Go get the plates ready." He gave her a look and she rolled her eyes. You chuckled.

You glanced around, everything was the same. Everything felt the same. It felt like a regular Friday night when you would get back from you class and Mike would have dinner ready and you would pick up a dessert. It made you want to cry. Of course it wasn't perfect but it felt like home, safe and warm.

You blinked back the tears, you jumped when you touched your shoulder.

There were so many things he wanted to ask but he was a coward. "Let's eat."

You nodded and trailed behind him putting the coolie in the center.

Dinner was filled with Abby talking and asking questions about you.

"What classes are you taking now?"

"What did they teach in art this time?"

"Could you show me?"

That was something Mike couldn't understand, art. Any degree of it. But when he brought you home the first time to meet Abby, he knew he made the right choice. It was the first in a while she would take that much. It startled him at first.

Mike snapped out of thought when he noticed you staring with a slightly tilted head.

"Hmm?"

You gave an eye roll and a slight smile, "I asked if you wanted a gingersnap? Homemade."

Mike nodded yes. A ginger snap? His favorite cookie? His mind raced if what it could mean but in the back of his mind the thought of 'just for Abby's sake' rang.

You glanced at the clock. It was already 9. Fuck how did the time pass by so quick. Mike noticed, as did Abby.

"Y/n could you stay til I go to sleep so you can show me what you've learned in art?"

'Fuck.' "If it's okay with Mike then sure sweetie."

Abby turned towards Mike. Mike was not gonna turn this down. "Yeah that's fine with me."

After Abby grabbed paper and 2 trays, the three of you settled in the living room. Mike was going to sit on the couch when Abby grabbed his hand and ushered him next to her. While you hated the proximity you chuckled at Abby's antics, same old Abby.

Abby started to doze off watching. While she was interested in the exercise you did in class, it was near her bedtime.

Mike chuckled. He gently picked her up, "Come on Ab's, lets get you to bed."

She mumbled something you couldn't quite catch. She did it again, "...want both… bed."

Mike looked at you helpless. Nodding you followed him to Abby's bedroom, there he laid her to bed while you tucked her in.

You gave her a kiss on the forehead. "Night sweetie, sweet dreams." As Mike was about to do the same, Abby spoke with a slurred speech.

"Night Y/N… wished.. you… baby… wanted..you…sib..."

'Baby.' It echoed. Mike hurriedly gave her a kiss on the forehead too, said 'goodnight,' and took you to his room.

He noticed you were in a state of shock. You mindlessly followed him, not aware of anything going on.

That one word sent you back into your memories of that night.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Thinking about doing 3 - 5 parts series ??? Maybe??

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relatable-trxsh · 6 months

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remus: there will come a time when you have a chance to do the right thing

james: i love those moments. i like to wave at them as they pass by

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relatable-trxsh · 6 months

Text

Forget-Me-Nots

James Potter x Female!Reader

A/N: Hi there! I haven't written in a while, but this idea just struck me, and because I've been struggling with writer's block, I really needed to write it. In a way, it's my salvation. This is the first series I am starting, but I will be finishing and starting others.

IB: The Other Zoey by Sara Zandieh. (This movie so good by the way).

Summary: James could never forget a love like yours.

Warning: It may contain swearing and soon-to-be smut.

Part 1

There were three things that you couldn't stand.

One was really cold classrooms, which not only made you sleepy but also made it difficult to concentrate on your studies. As a result, you started carrying a jumper with you everywhere you went.

The second was being sick; you detested missing out on opportunities and activities due to circumstances beyond your control, as well as how awful it would feel and how little you could do about it.

Three was crying,

Since fifth year, the idea of crying had both repulsed you and made you dislike how vulnerable everything was, as well as when someone felt sorry for you.

Of course, others could cry in front of you and you would give them comfort but you didn't want people to see you in pain and you making it everyone else's problem.

It wasn't right in your book.

But those were the three things you absolutely despised. They were all simple things you could avoid if you truly tried and you had for years.

But if we wanted to add a bonus point,

You would add James Fleamont Potter.

Quite ironic to hate "The Golden Boy,"

It was one of the most funniest cliches that even you could think of.

The girl who basically had no friends or social standing versus the most popular guy in Hogwarts.

Sounds about right.

But the reason that you couldn't include this in the things you couldn't stand is because it was complex. It wasn't simple and it wasn't something that you could easily describe nor avoid.

You couldn't say that you weren't being immature but what James had done had completely indescribably affected you.

To be fair, it was in fifth year and you were now on your seventh year which means the hatred is pre-historic but when 'The James Potter' cheats on you with Jade Davies AKA the girl you despise that has bullied you since first year,

It gets pretty intense.

Since then, you had refused to talk to James and he let you have your space.

Unfortunately, it didn't mean that Jade would stop bullying you but it only meant that she had more material to bully you with but James did his best to help you avoid her by distracting her when you came by or kissing to distract her.

But you weren't thankful for his gestures, you wished nothing but a quaffle to be shoved up his ass in all honestly.

Then again, it was all so long ago and you wanted to let it go and just have fun for your last year.

Which is why you attended the first Quidditch game of the season.

You were practically freezing, hugging your cheeks with your palms. It was especially cold and you forget to bring another jumper to top over the one you had now.

There was loud cheering all around you as you heard a few chants for James as you saw him dive for the golden snitch.

At the same time, the quaffle came fast in the same direction, colliding with James's head.

He went into instant unconsciousness as he was about to dove straight in the ground.

The crowd went silent as James fell in the air but it felt like he was already moving in slow motion.

Your instincts kicked in as you stood and grabbed your wand from your boot "Arresto Momentum!" You yelled, pointing your wand at him as his movements slowed and he hit the grass floor lightly.

You gasped as everyone watched you, their mouthes agaped but a small part of you only cared if James was okay.

You heard people yelling and whispers asking if he was okay and parts about how you had saved him.

But it wasn't your problem.

You grabbed your bag, moving from the stands as you made your way to the castle. Your feet rushed over to your dorm, trying to make it there as fast as you can.

"Y/N!" You heard someone yell as you looked behind you to see Lily.

You looked ahead of you, trying to rush faster and then Lily said, "You saved him," She panted as a few seconds of silence went.

"It wasn't intentional," You responded, rolling your eyes.

"But you did it instantly," She replied, "You saved him," She looked at you as if she was trying to figure you out.

You stuttered, "Y-You said that and shouldn't you be with him?" You questioned, trying to keep your composure.

"You should come with me," Lily said.

"No, that's a bad idea," You declined, "Jade should already be with him," You cleared your throat, setting your book bag on your shoulder again.

"They aren't together," Lily mentioned, "He wants to see you,"

You raised your eyebrow in confusion, why would James want to see you?

"Lily I don't think-" You tried,

"You must!" Lily responded.

"But-" You tried again.

"You have to," Lily sternly said.

"If I do, will you leave me alone?" You asked, her face lighting up as she grabbed your arm dragging you into infirmary.

You both entered the infirmary, surrounded by hospital beds. You looked around at other sick students as Lily dragged you over to where James was laying.

Sirius, Peter, and Remus were around him, quietly talking as you approached him.

He had a harsh, purple bruise on his temple that was the size of your hand and a bandage wrapped around his head.

"James, I got her for you," Lily said as James groaned, blinking to take a good look at you, his eyes still squinting from the light and how much his head hurt.

"Baby," He sweetly said, a wide grin appearing on his lips as he squinted.

Baby.

He hadn't called you that in so long.

You flinched, trying not to show how taken aback you were in order to not freak him out but you were. You looked at the three boys in front of you but they were equally confused too.

"Potter, have you lost your-" You said as Lily elbowed you, earning a hiss from you.

"Play along," Lily mouthed, making you even more confused.

"But-" You were about to speak before Lily pushed you in front of James.

"Um, are you okay?" You asked, looking at him awkwardly.

"I'm amazing now that you are here," He said, smiling.

"Oh that's great!" You fake excitingly said.

"I missed you so much," James took your hand, rubbing it as your face was hit with surprise, "I heard you in my dreams," He dreamingly smiled.

"That's nice," You awkwardly laughed, "You should sleep, your head is probably pounding," You said, patting the back of his hand as he only caressed yours.

"Stay with me?" He asked, drifting into drowsiness.

You looked around at his friends as they urged you to say yes, "Sure," You sighed.

James's eyes closed as you laid his hand next to him on his bed. You watched at how pretty he looked sleeping, his eyelids fluttering but that was before you snapped into reality.

"What is going on?" You asked sternly, crossing your arms.

"Well," Sirius was about to start but Remus continued for him.

"James had called your name on the field after you performed that spell for him," He explained, making you blush, "And he wouldn't stop calling your name until the nurse gave him a drowsy potion,"

Your eyebrow raised, why was James Potter calling for you out of all people? You couldn't help but question the entire thing.

"And why was he calling my name?" You asked.

"We don't know," Lily answered.

"Well, I can't be with him when he wakes up," You said, looking off.

"You have to," Sirius answered, "Prongs can't be stressed out, it will only worsen his brain and he will end up like a pound of sausage," He said, confusing you.

"Great analogy but I really should be-" You started as you were interrupted.

"James!" Jade yelled dramatically, running over to him, "Oh will he make it?" Jade asked, fanning herself as the group rolled their eyes.

"He will be fine," Remus said.

"But I think seeing you will make it worse," Sirius added with a smile.

Jade scowled at him before looking at you, "What is she doing here?" She furiously said.

You were about to speak before Lily did it for you, "He called for her,"

"No he didn't," Jade laughed, dismissing the ridiculous thought.

"But he did," Peter said as Jade has a disgusted look on her face.

"Well I'm his girlfriend so I'm sure he will want to see me," Jade boasted as if she only cared about the label and not the fact that James had truly gotten hurt.

"You guys have been broken up for six months," Sirius scoffed.

"I would prefer on a break," Jade corrected, glaring at Sirius.

"Okay well, this has nothing to do with me," You said, trying to move past Jade but she blocked you.

"What do you think you're doing?" Jade asked.

"Moving out of the way so that you can coddle James and kiss his boo boo's away," You mocked.

"Honestly, I keep forgetting that James chose me over you, it's actually quite hilarious," Jade smirked as you rolled your eyes.

"Congrats on being easy, it's one of your best accomplishments," You insulted, trying to move past her but failing once again.

"Nice of you to assume that James was only with me because I'm "easy," She gaped, causing you to step back.

"Seriously bugger off Jade," Sirius defended.

Jade kept going, "Or are you sure it's not because I'm better than you in everything I do and that James couldn't stand to be with you for another second with your daddy issues and a failure at everything," She aggrieved.

Your eyes watered as Madam Pomfrey came in, "Oh Mr. Potter must have a lot of admirers," She joked as you only smiled in return, "Which one of you is the famous Y/N?" She asked, looking between you, Jade, and Lily.

You spoke, "I am,"

She smiled at you, "He had been calling you for ages, what a beautiful girlfriend he's got,"

"I'm actually not his-" You started but the nurse kept going.

"Mr. Potter will be fine but a few things are jumbled in there" She said, checking his vitals, "It's best if he isn't stressed out or confused because it could only make matters worse," She finished, looking at all of you.

You all nodded in reply, "Other than that, he is good to go tomorrow morning but he can only have two visitors tonight," She mentioned, exiting.

"Y/N, you should stay with him," Peter said shyly.

"I don't think-" You started before you were interrupted.

You were getting tired of being interrupted.

"No, James would wanna see me," Jade almost yelled.

"You will only give James more brain damage, Y/N stays," Lily spat, clearly annoyed by Jade.

Jade huffed, "I will be back in the morning," She stomped away.

"We'll leave you to it," Remus said as Sirius smirked, leaving with the group as Lily squeezed your shoulder before exiting too.

You sat on the chair next to James's bed, wondering how you got in this situation in the first place.

And then you wondered how you would get out of it.

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relatable-trxsh · 6 months

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CHOCOLATE LIPSTICK ( 17﹢) — MIKE SCHMIDT

tags fem reader. enemies to ( ? ). mike is mean + angry. 2-3 year age difference. sexual tension. oral fixation. semi-brat taming + 1k words.

mike was staring at you funny, it made you feel weird — annoyed, actually.

“what?” your voice was harsh, muffled by the sweet frozen yogurt coating your mouth.

he raised a brow at your tone, a little vexed from your sudden attitude. it reminded him of the bratty kid he happened to escort out of a toy store just an hour ago. he’s in a bad mood already, but there was no reason to get mad right now.

“don’t talk with your mouth full.” mike tiredly mumbled. an honest suggestion, but half of what he really wanted to say.

you rolled your eyes at his critiquing words. he always seemed to lecture you about the littlest things. how you’re not as productive during your usual security checks or even that one time he was finding the mall keys during your shared nightly protocols — making sure to make a sly comment and sprinkle in an unneeded suggestion about how untidy your bag was. exactly how an obnoxious parent would.

it was annoying. being treated like a child and especially by someone like mike. so what if he was a few years older? slightly more mature than you, much more responsible, and definitely not hot. just a little bit tho, but you’ll never admit that.

but ninety-percent of the time he pisses you off, and this is one of those times.

you swallowed down the yogurt that melted from your seething irritation, brows furrowed at the snarky comment he had to make about your dining etiquette. it’s a fucking mall food court, not a fine dining restaurant.

“do you always have to be a dick to me?” your words were laced with venom, all the suppressed anger managed to bubble out your throat.

his calloused fingers suddenly stopped twisting on the volume of the two-way radio, usual soft hazel eyes darken to a muted brown, stubbled jaw clenched. mike swallowed back the urge to say a few fighting words at your childish retort.

your tone wasn’t a big deal. well, until now.

his day has already been ruined. parents weren’t so attentive when it came to their bratty children, that meant he had to parent them himself — awkwardly standing until their tantrums fall silent or escorting dozens of children that happen to run off for some ridiculous toy. he didn’t need anymore whining from you, especially about something he’s done without the intention of malice — you were childish, immature.

“i don’t need to hear this right now.” mike was too tired to argue. a heavy sigh escaping his lips, his rough hands brushing away the tired feeling in his eyes. “you’re acting like a kid right now, you know that?”

you swore your blood pressure just went up.

“see that’s what i’m talking about! you treat me like a kid and you have to be a total asshole about it. why?”

passing families and teens curiously looked towards your table, the sudden blast of your agitated voice drawing unneeded attention. just what mike needed.

he turns away from their prying eyes, flustered that he was a victim of your grownup tantrum. mike continues the silent treatment as he listens to your incoherent babbling, colorful words like “old man” and “asshole” passed through his eardrums like a sour tune. the grip of his arm was deadly tight. yet, your pouting made his heart skip a bit. it was adorable, it always has been. but not when it’s accommodated with your high-pitched whines, your brows knitted with all these negative emotions, cheeks redden from breathless insults. the angry look in your face looked so familiar — it was the same look everybody seemed to give him.

all this over a smudge of frozen yogurt on your mouth. he would laugh if he wasn’t at his breaking point.

“fuck, i hate yo – !“ with sudden force, mike grabs you by your chin, the pouring insults latched shut with a firm grip.

the reddish hue on your face that was once from your vexation became brighter from mike’s unusual forcefulness — he has never been this angry with you before. weirdly enough, you don’t hate it.

the chocolate remnants blotched over your cheeks, dribbling from your unwiped mouth, was he pointing this out the whole time?

“watch your mouth.” you didn’t know if he meant the mess you made or your little tantrum session that set him off.

maybe both, you can’t tell anymore.

you both stare at each other for a second, the tension so thick in the air — the invasive looks felt like a blur in the background, or rather, seemingly drawn away by this peculiar exchange. hazy eyes slowly peered down at your mouth, deliciously glazed with chocolate yogurt. it was tooth aching, he could imagine the taste on his tongue. if only he was a little closer, he never had to daydream about this ungodly sight for weeks.

his thumb slowly drags over your pinkish flesh, gathering the sweet residue that coated your quivering lips. he reached over the corners of your mouth, studying every hitch of your breath and the way you nervously fiddle with the plastic spoon. someone so loud, bratty, could be silenced with a single touch.

pushing past your pursed lips and clenched teeth with ease, his sweetened touch swirled all over your taste buds — the subtle hints of sweat somehow tasted sweeter than the chocolate goodness. mike watches you closely, his slacks suddenly feeling tight. you’re letting him do this to you, without a protest or your usual dirty look.

for another second, his fleeting touch brushed against your wet muscle, mesmerized by its softness. the darkness that looked in his irises vaporized into a soft green, lured by the sight of an obedient mouth. he finally draws away, a string of saliva connecting his cleaned off thumb and your glossy lips. the rigid grip on your chin loosens as mike huffs in mild irritation, mostly out of astonishment from this predicament.

mike stands from his seat, hiding his hard-on with his bunched up security jacket — hand still soaked from your dribbling saliva. awkwardly, he picks up the trash splayed over the table, making sure his car keys were stuffed deep in his pocket.

“i’ll see you tomorrow.” he steadily spoke, seemingly unbothered.

you nodded, mouth still slightly agape.

mike walks off, leaving you with your own muddled thoughts.

out of complete horror, you hover your nimble fingers over your mouth — the taste of his skin still permeates on your tongue. even with how intimate that whole situation was, mike made sure to clean the remnants of frozen yogurt off your face.

the gall to leave you utterly confused, edged by this new side of your usual grumpy coworker. there was a line between guilty attraction and burning hatred towards mike, you were stuck in the middle of it. but your racing mind seemed to linger towards the shadows casting his tired eyes, the focused look on your compiling mouth, the demand in his voice animating your body like a toy. fuck, yeah okay, he was hot.

the ache between your legs seeped arousal through your pants, you thanked your employers that your uniform was black. gosh, it’s been so long since anybody has touched you like that.

you nearly break your skull when your head falls defeatedly on the table — a heavy groan vibrating in your chest.

you don’t know if you could come to work tomorrow.

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relatable-trxsh · 6 months

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The urge to write for the marauders / regulus black is soooo fucking strong but the lack of ideas and writers block is too real 😭 with that being said if you have Harry Potter requests please send them I’m so bored

**not my meme**

#harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #the maruaders #the marauders x reader #the marauders x y/n #james potter #james potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin fluff #regulus black #regulus black x reader

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relatable-trxsh · 6 months

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to the moon and back

Once upon a time, there was a powerful wizarding family that was powerful and mighty. Nicholas Selwyn was the last of their family, and he and his wife Calliope had yet to have a child—an heir to continue the Selwyn name.

Then a miracle happened: Calliope had finally borne a child. A child born of the Selwyn and Rosier bloodline, the heir for whom they have waited so long. On the summer solstice of 1962, a daughter was born. And she was given the name Y/N, a fitting name for a princess. Families from the Sacred Twenty-Eight came from all around to offer gifts and praise for the little girl.

Among those families were the Blacks. Walburga and Orion Black had two sons. An almost two-year-old Sirius clung to his father's leg, hiding from everyone else. While the almost-one-year-old Regulus was sitting comfortably in his mother's arms.

“Oh, Calliope, you are glowing!” Walburga Black praised the new mother, balancing her son on her hip. Walburga peered over the little girl that was bundled in a pink swaddle in Calliope's arms. “She's a darling!”

“Yes, she is.” Calliope agreed with a wide grin. “The sweetest angel I've ever seen.”

Calliope looked up at the tiny hand that was a few inches away from her daughter's face. Six-month-old Regulus had his tiny hand over the newborn's face, seemingly admiring her.

“It looks like Regulus likes Y/N.” Walburga laughed, beaming at her son. Suddenly, Regulus' smacked Y/N square in the face.

“Regulus Arcturus Black, you do not hit women!” Walburga scolded the boy in her arms, who had no idea what was happening. Meanwhile, the little baby in Calliope's arms was screaming her head off, her face red as her cries echoed in the banquet hall.

Calliope soothed her daughter, an amused smile on her lips as she glanced at the little boy who had just hit her child.

"Oh, hush, Walburga. The boy doesn't know any better; he's just a boy.” Calliope chuckled. “I think he just really likes my daughter.”

“Regulus has great taste, then.”

“Maybe one day they'll fall in love.” Calliope mused, a twinkle in her eye as she looked at the little boy who had his eyes locked on her sleeping daughter. Walburga laughed, shaking her head. “We'll see.”

June 21st, 1968

Selwyn Manor was filled with colourful decorations, bright pink and lavender ribbons, and balloons lining the parlour and hallway. There were beautiful floral arrangements in tall vases, and even pink and purple flowers have been planted in the garden outside.

It was Y/N's sixth birthday, and she was beyond excited. Her mother and father opted not to throw another lavish party, but the house elves insisted on decorating the manor according to their young mistress' desires. Calliope and Nicholas proposed that instead of a party, they would take her on a summer trip to France as a gift for their daughter's birthday.

“Mummy, how do I look?” Y/N asked, twirling around as she modelled the dress in front of her mother. She was wearing a frilly lavender-coloured dress made by Miffy—their house elf—that doted on Y/N far too much.

Calliope beamed proudly at her daughter. “You look enchanting, mon ange.”

The little girl furrowed her eyebrows. “Mon ange? What does that mean, mummy?”

Her mother chuckled. “It means 'my angel' in French, my love. This summer, I'll be teaching you French, alright?”

Y/N nodded eagerly, nearly jumping with excitement at the mention of learning another language. “When are we going? When, when?”

“We'll just wait for your father to finish up at the ministry, my love. After that, we'll go ahead.”

“Okay, okay. Can I go to the garden now, Mummy? I want to play with Miffy.”

Calliope laughed. “Alright, alright. Just don't get messy, okay?”

Y/N nodded before darting out of the room, the little house elf hot on her heels. Calliope shook her head at her daughter amusedly. Her little girl is going to get along quite nicely with the youngest Black son.

“Both of you shall be on your best behaviour for the whole summer in France; do you understand me?” Walburga reminded her sons, her gaze narrowing at her eldest. “Do you understand me?”

Sirius tried his best not to roll his eyes at his mother, but he failed miserably. “You've told us that at least ten times this week, Mother.”

Walburga glared at her eldest, letting out an annoyed sigh before turning to her youngest with a smile. “Do you understand, Regulus?”

The boy nodded, not wanting to get on his mother's bad side, like Sirius always did.

Walburga beamed at her youngest son, patting him on the cheek. “We lare to leave eave at six in the evening, after your father gets done with business. You two better be ready to leave before five.” She turned to her eldest, snarling at him before turning and walking away from the young boys.

“Reggie, wanna go play in the garden?” Sirius asked as soon as their mother was out of earshot, a mischievous grin on his face. Sirius was often the troublemaker between the two, always rebelling against their mother's rules. Sirius despised their parents' belief in blood supremacy. It was a load of dung, according to Sirius, who loved watching muggle children play out in the streets in Grimmauld Place.

“But mother said to behave, Sirius.” Regulus hissed at his brother. Regulus hated it when Sirius got in trouble with their mother, usually persuading Sirius to go along with their mother's wishes in order to keep him from getting punished, but his brother was one stubborn git.

“Come on, Reggie,” Sirius urged, wiggling his eyebrows. “It'll be fun! We can pretend to have wands and duel.”

Regulus rolled his eyes at his brother. “If Mother-”

“You're goody-goody with the elf; ask him to zip his mouth.”

Regulus scowled. “That elf has a name, you know.”

Sirius waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. So, are you coming or not?” Regulus sighed before giving in and following his older brother outside. As soon as the two boys got outside, Sirius looked around in search of a branch they could use as make-believe wands.

“Aha! Here you go, baby brother, a wand.” Sirius grinned, passing a thin branch to him. Regulus eyed the branch in his hand. “Do all wands look like this?” He asked, his nose scrunching in disgust.

“I dunno, s'pose so,” Sirius shrugged. “Bella's wand looks like a wonky twig, though.” Regulus cringed at the mention of their eldest cousin.

“I don't like Bellatrix.” Regulus muttered.

Sirius chuckled. “Who doesn't? Bella's a bit...mad. Glad we're not spending summer with them this year.”

Regulus smiled at the thought of spending the summer away from London. It was going to be their first time in France, and both boys were ecstatic. They have heard so much about the Black estate in France from their uncle Alphard, who spent all of his summers along with his siblings in the estate. Sirius and Regulus could not believe that their mother was once a happy child, much to Alphard's amusement.

“You think Mother and Father will leave us alone in France?” Regulus asked, fiddling with the stick in his hands.

“They do it every day, Reg.” Sirius rolled his eyes at his younger brother. Walburga Black was not the maternal kind; she had no patience for things related to child care. She decidedly left it all to the house-elves to care for her sons.

“Right,” Regulus cleared his throat, “so are we duelling or not?”

Sirius gripped his wand and waved it around. “Prepare to duel!” He grinned mischievously, aiming the faux wand at his brother. “Jelly legs!”

Regulus pretended his legs had turned to jelly and stumbled around clumsily. Making Sirius burst out into laughter. Regulus quickly turned and pointed his wand at his brother. “Tickles!”

Sirius twitched his nose and looked around himself, pretending that he could feel the invisible tickles. He aimed his stick at his brother again. “Eat slugs!”

Regulus fell to his knees, pretending to vomit on the ground with a smirk. The garden was filled with giggles from the two boys as they duelled each other.

“That was fun!” Regulus laughed, trailing behind his brother as they carefully walked back inside the house.

Sirius turned to look at his brother and grinned triumphantly. “Told you.”

“You two look filthy!” Sirius and Regulus turned around, only to see their mother glowering at them.

“What did I tell you?” Walburga seethed at her sons. Regulus hid behind Sirius, who stood defiantly in front of his mother. “We just went out to the garden, Mother.”

“Kreacher! ” Sirius and Regulus flinched as their mother's shrill voice echoed through the house.

There was a loud popping sound, and the elf appeared next to their mother. “Mistress be wanting Kreacher?”

“Take the boys and make them look presentable. After that, pack their trunks for the summer.” Walburga ordered the elf before yanking Sirius by the arm and pushing him to Kreacher. Regulus whimpered, shifting under his mother's gaze, before walking to his brother's side.

“Keep them in line, Kreacher. We leave at six sharp.”

The elf bowed. “Yes Mistress. All shall be done, oh yes, shall be done.”

“Oh, for Merlin's sake! Hurry up!” Walburga screamed for her children. It was already five forty-five in the evening, fifteen minutes before the Blacks had to leave. She turned to her husband with an annoyed look. “Go get your children.”

Orion let out a loud sigh before turning to walk up the stairs to the boys' room. “Bloody woman, treating me like a dog.” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that!?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Orion quickly ran up, evading his wife's anger.

“Boys, what's taking so long-” Orion opened the door to his sons' room, expecting them to be slacking, only to see Sirius fixing his brother's hair.

“There you go, Reggie!” Sirius declared proudly, handing his little brother a mirror. “You look good, if I do say so myself.”

Regulus took the mirror and looked at himself. His curls were slightly slicked back, with a few tendrils hanging loose and framing his face perfectly. Regulus grinned, passing back the mirror to his brother. “You should do my hair often, Sirius.”

Orion smiled at the sight of his sons. He never had that kind of bond with his own brother. He opened the door and stepped inside, the smile gone from his lips.

Orion cleared his throat, making both boys jump. “Boys, come on. Your mother's waiting downstairs, and you know she's not fond of waiting.”

“Yes, father.” Sirius turned to Regulus, taking his hand in his. “Come on, Reg, summer awaits!” All three of the Black men descended down the stairs. Walburga scowled at the sight of her oldest son's hair.

“I said to look presentable, Sirius.”

Sirius smirked, running a hand through his black mane. “I am presentable, Mother."

“You little-” Walburga raised her hand to strike her son when her husband cut her off.

“Just get in the fireplace, Sirius, Regulus,” Orion sighed, shaking his head. When they didn't move, he lightly pushed his eldest. “Now!”

Both boys scrambled to the dusty old fireplace, Regulus gripping the ends of his brother's robes. Sirius had a grin plastered on his lips, provoking his mother further.

“Get a handful of floo powder, Sirius,” Orion ordered. Sirius turned to the pot of black powder on the side of the wall, taking a handful of it in his small hands.

“Now you must say this clearly; otherwise, you and your brother would get transported to the wrong place. Black Manor, Dinard, loud and clear, Sirius.” The seven-year-old boy nodded, clearing his throat before loudly speaking.

“Black Manor, Dinard!”

Green flames engulfed the two brothers as they were transported into a beautiful sitting room. The smell of wood and spice immediately invaded their nostrils as soon as the two boys stepped out of the fireplace. Sirius and Regulus were awestrucked. The manor in France was far better than Grimmauld Place.

It was a sight to behold. It had a grandiose feeling, as if it had been lifted straight from the pages of an old French novel.

The walls of the elegant room were a deep forest green, the shade of which had been carefully matched to the hue of the lush gardens outside. In the centre of the room was the focal point, a large emerald green velvet sofa that seemed to invite anyone to sink into its depths. On either side of the sofa were two matching armchairs, upholstered in the same emerald velvet. The cushioning was studded with silver buttons that shone when the sunlight hit them, and the legs were carved from dazzling marble. Behind the sofa, the walls were lined with large, dark wood bookcases and cabinets filled with fine silver trinkets and antique books. An old-style grandfather clock was tucked away in the corner, counting down the minutes with its sombre ticking. Rich tapestries hung from the walls, and Persian rugs covered the floor.

For illumination, several grand candelabras rested on the tables and were held aloft by marble pillars, which were intricately carved with rococo details. Each candelabra was adorned with five burning white candles that cast a soft, golden glow over the room.

A grand piano sat in the corner by the arched window, while a gleaming bronze chandelier hung above it. There were gilded mirrors on the walls with silver frames that gave the room an extra sparkle. There were huge windows around the room, with rich green velvet curtains in a silver pattern parted in the middle to let light in.

A place of true elegance and sophistication. It was as if every detail was chosen with care, from the luxurious green and silver brocade that draped the walls to the gleaming marble floors and the grand mahogany-framed clock overlooking the room.

The flames roared again, revealing their parents. Walburga stepped out and immediately screamed for a house elf.

With a loud pop, a small elf appeared. It looked better than what Kreacher looked like. The elf wore a tea towel around its waist and a huge green ribbon atop its head.

“Mistress be needing Dilly?”

Walburga turned to her sons. “These are my sons, your young masters. They will be spending the whole summer here. I trust that my sons will be taken care of.”

“Dilly will take very good care of her young Masters; yes, she will. Only the best for the heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.”

Walburga nodded curtly before turning her attention to her sons. “You both shall be on your best behaviour for the whole of summer. Do you understand? If word gets out to me that you two show anything less of what I have taught you, there will be consequences.”

Regulus visibly gulped, shifting under his mother's gaze. “Yes, mother.”

Sirius looked unaffected by their mother's gaze. “Yeah, yeah, behave and all that.”

Suddenly, the fireplaces erupted into green flames once more. Out stepped a little girl with long (y/h/c) hair and bright (y/e/c) eyes dressed in a frilly lavender-coloured dress. She was clutching a white-stuffed bunny in her arms as she looked around.

“Greetings, little one.” Orion greeted the little girl, who gave him a small, shy smile. Y/N fiddled with her hair as she stood by the fireplace, waiting for her parents. A little while later, the flames erupted again, revealing Nicholas and Calliope Selwyn. Y/N quickly hid behind her mother, clutching the skirt of her robes.

“Walburga, Orion, it's been so long,” Calliope greeted, taking a step closer to the Black matriarch, leaning in for a hug.

Y/N eyed the older woman curiously. She had aristocratic features, high cheekbones, and full lips, making her look regal and elegant as she stood. The little girl tugged on her mother's skirt. “Mummy!” she whispered fiercely, tugging on her mother's skirt harder. Calliope pulled away from the raven-haired witch with a chuckle as she looked down at her daughter.

Regulus looked at Y/N with an unamused look, scrunching his nose in annoyance. “She looks like a spoiled brat.” he whispered to Sirius, who nodded in agreement.

Walburga smiled down at the little girl, which shocked Sirius and Regulus. “You must be Y/N.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at the older woman. She looks scary, Y/N thought before promptly hiding behind her mother's back.

Walburga chuckled. “She's a bit shy, I see.”

Calliope laughed. “Oh no, my daughter is anything but shy.” Her gaze then fell onto the two boys huddled in the corner.

“Sirius, Regulus, come forward and introduce yourselves,” Orion instructed. Both boys stepped forward, standing tall and proud.

“Sirius Orion Black, the third at your service.” Sirius grinned proudly before bowing, his long hair falling over his face.

Calliope laughed at the young boy's enthusiasm. “You've gotten bigger since the last time I've seen you, young Sirius.”

“My name's Regulus, Regulus Arcturus Black.” Regulus smirked proudly, bowing like his brother.

“My, my, such well-mannered boys.” Calliope praised.

Walburga beamed proudly. “I taught them well.”

Sirius snorted, making Regulus chuckle. Their mother did not teach them anything because she threatened them if they did not comply with all her rules.

"Y/N, darling, introduce yourself to Mr. and Mrs. Black, my love."

“No.” Y/N huffed behind her mother.

“Come on, darling. Introduce yourself; tell them how you love dressing up.” Nicholas chuckled, nudging his daughter from behind his wife. Y/N reluctantly stepped out, a scowl etched on her lips. “Y/N Artemis Rosier Selwyn.” She introduced herself with a curtsy.

“Sirius, Regulus, go ahead and kiss Y/N's hand like a true gentleman.” Walburga urged, pushing Sirius slightly.

Sirius grinned mischievously as he took Y/N's hand and softly placed a kiss on her knuckles. “I am pleased to meet you, my fair maiden.”

“Likewise.” Y/N gave him a small smile.

Regulus rolled his eyes at Y/N. She looked like a girly girl. And he hated those kinds of girls. His cousins Narcissa and Andromeda were like that, and it wasn't fun. The two older girls would always drag him and his brother into whatever they pleased. And it annoyed Regulus more than it annoyed Sirius.

“Go on, Regulus,” Walburga urged her youngest son, who scowled.

“Hello, Y/N. I'm very pleased to meet you,” Regulus said, his tone annoyed.

“Pleased to meet you, Regulus.” Y/N curtsied. Regulus walked back to Sirius, only to be stopped by his mother. “Ah, ah, ah!” She urged her son, pushing him to kiss Y/N's hand.

Y/N raised an eyebrow as Regulus' face contorted in disgust. He looks conceited, and Y/N wanted to punch him in the face just because of it. Regulus reluctantly took her hand, scrunching his nose in disgust before kissing her hand as quickly as he could.

“So happy you could come.” Regulus sneered.

“So happy to be here.” Y/N said with a sickening sweet voice, rolling her eyes at the boy.

“She's a darling, Calliope. Such a fine young lady!” Walburga complimented the little girl with a smile.

“Yes, she is.” Calliope chuckled, beaming at her daughter.

“But don't let that innocent face fool you. She has the famous Rosier temper.” Nicholas laughed.

“Ah yes, the famous Rosier temper.” Orion agreed. “I do believe we all know what that temper is capable of.”

“Ah, so you've been a victim of it?” Calliope asked with a smirk.

“Cygnus' wife, Druella.” Orion laughed. “Let's just say that I couldn't utter a word for a week.”

All the adults burst out laughing, leaving the children confused. Regulus perked up at the mention of his aunt Druella, whom he liked the most because she gave him the most sweets.

“I remember that! Drue was absolutely furious that you called her fat once when she was pregnant with her first.” Walburga snorted, almost forgetting about her manners.

“Mummy, can I go play?” Y/N asked, interrupting the adults' laughter.

Calliope looked down at her daughter. “Why don't you ask Mrs. Black, mon ange?”

Y/N scowled, much to her father's amusement. She then reluctantly turned to Walburga, with a pleading look in her big, bright eyes—a look her father knew so well.

“Can I please go and play, Mrs. Black?” Y/N asked, her voice sweet and innocent.

Walburga chuckled. “Yes, my dear. After all, the manor will be your home for the summer. Go ahead and play in the garden with Sirius and Regulus while your parents and I catch up.”

“Thank you!” Y/N grinned before running out to the garden.

Sirius chuckled while Regulus groaned. “What a total bummer.” He couldn't believe he was going to be stuck with her all summer long. Regulis was sure she didn't like anything that he and Sirius liked to do, like quidditch or playing in the dirt. She looked so stuck up, and it made Regulus want to run away from her. He'd rather get chicken pox than be in the same room with her.

Walburga cocked an eyebrow at her sons, telling them to go and follow Y/N. Sirius ran outside to the garden with Regulus hot on his heels. The boys spotted Y/N sitting on the grass as she looked up at the starry sky.

“Whatcha lookin' at?” Sirius asked as he sat beside Y/N.

“What do you think I'm looking at?” Y/N said sarcastically, not batting an eye at the two boys who were beside her.

“Ouch, venomous.” Sirius grinned, scooting closer to Y/N. “You looking at the stars? Looking for me, huh?”

Y/N rolled her eyes at the older boy beside her. Her eyes then landed on Regulus, who had his lips curled into a scowl, as if it were normal.

“What are you scowling at?” Y/N snapped at Regulus.

“Nothing,” Regulus sneered, turning his gaze away from Y/N. He couldn't stand her; just looking at her made him want to vomit. Y/N rolled her eyes, wanting so badly to just run away and never come back.

“Your brother's a git.” Y/N whispered in Sirius' ear.

“He'll grow on you.” Sirius promised with a smirk.

“Regulus looks conceited.”

Regulus' ears perked up at the mention of his name. He was conceited!? How dare she!?

“What did you say?” Regulus snapped, stepping closer to Y/N.

Y/N smirked. “You heard me.”She then turned to face the stars.

Regulus huffed, his annoyance towards the girl turning into anger. He walked up to the flower beds and scooped up a handful of mud before walking back to Y/N and Sirius.

“Oi, Y/N!” Regulus yelled. As soon as she turned around, Regulus threw the clump of mud at the younger girl.

“My dress!” Y/N shrieked as mud splattered across her face and dress. She tried to wipe it off, but it was of no use. She glared at Regulus, who was smirking. Y/N balled her hands, clenching them into tight fists before storming up to Regulus and punching him square in the nose. Regulus stumbled back as he clutched his bleeding nose.

“You git!” Y/N screamed angrily as she tried to land a punch again. Regulus then pushed Y/N into a nearby bush. “I hate you! I hate you to the moon and back!” Y/N screamed at him, standing up and running back inside the house.

Sirius and Regulus burst out in a fit of giggles. That girl is certainly a spoiled brat.

“Mummy! Mummy! He threw mud at me!” Y/N shrieked as she approached her mother from the Black's back garden. Her dress was covered in mud, her pigtails were dishevelled, and she had twigs and leaves stuck in her hair. “Mummy! Regulus threw mud at me!” Y/N yelled again, tears forming in her big, bright eyes.

Meanwhile, the boy in question was snickering from behind the large oak door.

“The little spoiled princess got what she deserved.” Regulus grinned triumphantly at his older brother, who was trying his best not to burst out laughing at the sight of little Y/N Selwyn, stomping her foot at her mother and father, demanding that they do something about Regulus' behaviour towards her.

This was not her idea of fun.

@helens3amstuff @gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @tchalamss @lilmaymayy @ashlynnmalfoy @crazycat-ladys-blog @michakune @mxltifxnd0m @spencerr3idd @dangelnleif @sthkate @ferrjulie @imnotoverlyobsessive @mel-vaz @elsagreeer @lovely-maryj @meowmeowmau @bobthe-turmpetman29 @saintcosette @starrystormwritings

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relatable-trxsh · 6 months

Text

Glitch

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: You never intended to admit you would fuck James Potter. You hate him. Well, turns out you hate him a little less when he's touching you in ways you'd only dreamed of.

Genre: SMUT (NSFM), enemies to lovers 😘

Warnings: intoxication, swearing, mentions of spiking a drink, unprotected sex (but fr wrap it before you tap it besties), penetration, degradation, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, kinda dubious consent in the beginning? (James does ask for consent and reader agrees though!), kissing, premature ejaculation lmao

"Would you date James Potter?"

James lifts his head at the sound of his name and he smiles when he sees you and your best friend.

His eyes had been focused to you from the moment he saw you enter the Common Room. How could they not be when the way your dress hugged your curves had his pants feeling three sizes too small?

James's been making sure to keep an eye on you all evening. Just so you won't get yourself in trouble. If he counted correctly, the butterbeer in your hand is your fourth and he can tell just by the way you stumble on your heels that you're already tipsy.

Your eyebrows crease in the middle at your friend's question and James sits up on the couch, moving his arm from the cushion where Primalia (some Ravenclaw who won't leave him alone) sits. He wants to hear your answer clearly, although he thinks he knows what you'll say,

"I would never date James Potter?!" You slur loudly. James's smile turns into a smirk.

You're so goddamn predictable.

You down your drink, clearly annoyed by the question and James returns his attention to the brunette on his left. Primalia looks at him with her glassy, hazel eyes and sends him a sweet smile — which means exactly what James thinks it means.

But, he finds himself looking at you almost automatically and frowns when he sees a boy hand you another drink. Five, he counts in his head and his frown deepens when the same boy starts to snake his arm around to your lower back.

"Excuse me," James tells Primalia absentmindedly as he stands. Jealousy prickles at his skin as he stares at you and the boy.

Luckily, it passes just as quickly as it came when he hears you yell and the boy reluctantly turns away and decide to leave you alone.

Still, James continues to make his way to you and just as you bring your drink to your lips, he swoops his arm over your head and plucks the glass from your hand.

"What the hell?" You exclaim, spinning around. You look up at him, eyes flaming when you realize it's him as he takes a sip from your drink and then obnoxiously spits the liquid back into the glass. Your eyes widen with disgust and James can admit he enjoys how flustered you look a little too much.

"Potter," You grit and snatch your drink back, glaring at him.

James diverts his attention from you and looks at your best friend, who sends him a weak smile, and he salutes her with his hand. Then, he turns his attention to you and just as he's about to explain, he feels foamy liquid drip down his cheeks and over his nose as he squeezes his eyes shut.

James hears shushed laughter all around him as he realizes you just threw your drink in his face. He stands a little straighter and his jaw tightens. He runs a hand down his face, "Always a pleasure, Y/l/n." He mutters and opens his eyes just in time to see you stomp away from him.

He hides an amused smile as he takes off his glasses and wipes them on his sleeve.

"I don't understand why you continue to try, mate." James hears Sirius suddenly laughs from next to him and pats his shoulder, "She hates you."

James shakes his head, "Nah. She thinks she hates me, but she doesn't. Not really."

"She threw her drink at you." Remus, who is standing next to Sirius, points out with a smile.

"Yeah, because I spit in it." James retorts nonchalantly.

Sirius and Remus look at each other, confused and distraught, "Prongs, that is not how you flirt with someone—, " Sirius starts to explain hesitantly, but James just laughs.

"I think that jerk put something in her drink. It tasted funny." James barely explains and adjusts his collar, "Jus' wanted to make sure she wouldn't drink it—keepin' her safe, y'know."

Remus shakes his head in amusement, "You do the stupidest things, James, but somehow they almost always end up being the right reasons."

"Thank you?" James sends his friends a lopsided smirk and absentmindedly wipes his wet hands on the front of his blazer, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna find the loo and clean up. I don't want to smell like beer all evening. Can you guys keep an eye on her, ya?"

Remus and Sirius look at each other again, very clearly exhausted by their friend's antics, but promise him they'll watch over you anyway.

* * *

Your hatred for James Potter began in your first year when he and his friends caused an explosion in Potions that intentionally turned your hair lime green for a month.

You'd understandably been upset about the incident and because of this James, more than the rest of the Marauders, found out it was endlessly entertaining to pull his favorite pranks on you.

Even now, in your last year of school, James still insists he loves how deep the wrinkles between your eyebrows crease and how flustered you always look whenever he really annoys you.

You loathe him.

Your hands tremble in anger as you pour yourself some punch in a new, untainted by Potter lips, glass. "He's so fucking infuriating." You slur.

"Sure, but you must admit he's super bloody hot." Lily randomly points out from behind you and you almost choke on your fruit punch, "Handsomest guy in our year, I'd say." She grins.

"Gross." You scrunch your nose and lean on the table, "Remus is cuter."

"Yeah, and Sirius Black is hotter." Your best friend, Izzy, adds quietly, her chubby cheeks pink.

Lily rolls her eyes and chuckles, “So you wouldn't fuck him, Y/n?” She raises an eyebrow at you.

You all turn silent. Sex with James Potter? Sure, you'd had your fair share of wet dreams where he was, unfortunately, the one to fuck you senseless — but you would never admit it.

Or, at least you wouldn’t if you weren’t completely shit-faced.

"Oh, I'd fuck him. I'd just have to do it with my eyes closed so I wouldn't have to look at him," You feel extremely proud of your joke until you realize your two friends' faces have become pale as their eyes fix on something behind you.

"You'd do what with our boy, Y/l/n?" A familiar snicker comes from near your shoulder and you freeze. Even as drunk as you are, you know you messed up.

You chew on your lip a moment, deciding you can stand your ground, and then you turn and narrow your eyes, "Tell him and I'll make sure to cut your dick in half, Black." You hiss.

Sirius puts his arms up and smirks. Remus, who stands next to him, looks at you sympathetically, "Sorry, doll, but Jamie will be over the moon to know you'd actually shag him." Sirius says.

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment and you try your hardest to take back your words, "I wouldn't want to touch James Potter even if it was with a pool-stick." You retort.

"Ouch," Remus mutters, "We definitely won't tell him that."

Lily interrupts, "Just leave us alone, you guys are pricks." She sounds exhausted and annoyed, "This was a private conversation."

"Sorry, Evans, no can do. We're supposed to look after this one," Sirius looks at you but Remus digs his elbow into Sirius's side, "Ow." His dark haired friend scrunches his nose but then his eyes round when he realizes what he’d said, "I mean —"

"Me?" You ask and then you realize, "Potter asked you to look after me, didn't he? Merlin, he's the absolute worst. I don't need babysitters," You whine and you can tell both Sirius and Remus look a little guilty at your annoyance.

"You can tell that wanker I am leaving and that he can suck it," You tuck some hair behind you ear and finish your punch in one sip, 'Oh, and if one of you tells him I said I would fuck him, I'll cut off his dick as well as yours." You point your index at them and the boys swallow.

They don't speak for a moment as you walk away with your friends. Sirius breaks first, "Is it wrong that I'm turned on?" He whispers.

Remus instantly slaps the back of his head, "Yes. You're disgusting."

Sirius frowns at his best friend, "I'm kidding. Y/n is James's girl, remember? He called dibs on her since first year."

"I remember." Remus rolls his eyes, "But, she isn't exactly his girl, is she? She can't stand the poor bloke."

"I mean, James's girl or not – she does want to shag him." Sirius shrugs.

"Who wants to shag me?" James cuts in from next to them, his blazer damp the water he's used to wipe the stench of beer from his clothes. He's also found himself another drink. Remus and Sirius freeze.

"No one." Remus mutters quickly, avoiding James's eye.

"Moony," James warns, "Tell me."

Remus stays silent but James has turned his attention to Sirius. Sirius, who can never keep his mouth shut.

"It's Y/n. Y/n wants to fuck you."

"Bloody hell, Sirius!"

* * *

You wake up with the worst hangover of your life. You can barely remember what happened until Lily reminded you.

"I said what?!" You cry as you frantically comb your hair.

"You said you'd fuck him," Izzy points out as she pins her hair behind her ears with barrettes, "With your eyes closed, mind you." She smiles.

"I would never fuck him!" You stare at yourself in the mirror, ashamed you had admitted you'd fuck someone you hated so much.

Lily looks at Izzy and they don't seem convinced, "Okay, sure. It doesn't matter, come on, we have Potions in less than ten minutes." She hurries you out the door.

Potions. You've hated that class since first year. You especially hate it this year because James and Remus sit next to you and your partner.

You are happy it's not James and Sirius, because that would be even more annoying.

This morning you try very hard not to look at James. Usually, you'll send him an occasional glare when he makes an obnoxious comment but today, you don't even lift your head at the sound of his voice.

"Hey, Y/l/n." James calls but you ignore him. "Y/n." He tries, but still no answer. "Y/n/n?" He teases and is rewarded by your frown and glaring stare.

"What do you want, Potter?" You snap, pausing your concentration on the potion you're currently making. James leans one hand on your desk and, licking his lips, he points to the jar of worms you have next to you.

"Can I borrow that?" He looks at you with his famous puppy-dog eyes. You feel your stomach flip and pretend it's because you want to puke.

Thalia, your partner, immediately slides the jar towards James and bats her pretty eyelashes at him, "Here," She says sweetly.

Now it's definitely because you want to puke.

James doesn't look at Thalia as his eyes fix you, "Thanks, love." He says to her but smiles at you and then returns to his desk. You follow him with your eyes and scoff when you see Remus tap their own jar of worms on their table. James shrugs with a smirk.

You want to strangle him.

Once Potions is over, you almost run out of the classroom. Usually, James and his friends find a way to annoy you on your way to Charms but not this time. No, this time you ditch Lily and Izzy and take the longer way to class. The one with the usually empty corridor and echoey walls.

You hum along as you walk, completely unaware of a presence behind you until you feel a hand clasp around your arm.

You don't have time to think of screaming as you're pushed against the wall, someone's body pressed against your back as your left cheek hits the cold brick. Your leather bookbag slips down your shoulders and onto the floor with a thud.

"Say the words and I'll leave," An all too familiar voice whispers into the shell of your ear and your initial fear is replaced by annoyance and a hint of arousal — which you hate yourself for.

"Potter." You breathe out, feeling his hold loosen a little but his body presses into yours a little more. You shut your eyes and sink your teeth into your lower lip,

"A little birdy told me someone has naughty dreams about me," James mocks, his voice low, "Is that true?"

You frown and then struggle against him, "You're absolutely delusional." You hiss, hiding how turned on you are.

"Am I?" James chuckles and then his hand starts to wander up and down your side and you suck in your breath.

"Y-yes." You say, voice quivering.

"I love how quickly you turn into putty in my hands, Y/n." James chuckles and your core aches. You wince. What is wrong with you?

You're supposed to hate him, not want him.

James rolls his hips into your ass and you let out a gasp, "James!" You use his first name and he pauses, "S-someone could see us." You try to reason and your chest heaves.

"No one walks by here," James breathes down your neck, his hand squeezing your waist as the other pins one of your hands to the wall, "And, classes have started by now."

You realize he's right and start to fight against him again. James loosens his hold, "Do you want me to let you go?" James asks seriously and you can tell if you did want him to walk away, he would — no questions asked.

"Or, do you want me to touch your pussy and make all those wet dreams you have come true." He sounds cocky and you frown, wanting to wipe the grin you know he's wearing off his stupid face.

"I have a feeling your panties are soaked already." You feel embarrassed, knowing James is entirely correct. You're so turned on you can barely think. You don't know if you want to curse Sirius and Remus for snitching on you, or thank them.

"Fuck you." You manage to hiss but you have stopped your very weak attempts at resisting James's advances. Perhaps you've wanted him to fuck you more than you thought.

"Tsk tsk, language, darling." James laughs in your ear. His hair tickles your neck and you shiver, "Here, I'll tell you what, suck me off and then I'll fuck you exactly like you want."

Your breath hitches in your throat as James spins you around and pushes you down onto your knees. You let him and then look up. He smirks down at you and runs his hand along your cheek up to your hair — which he takes in his fist and you moan.

"Merlin, you're a slut, aren't ya?" James chuckles, eyes dark with lust and your core throbs.

"Don't call me that," You still snap. James's hand falters in your hair and you realize that he's beginning to doubt you want this. So, you smile at him and decide to tell him you do. "Potter, if you're trying to impress me, so far all you've done is prove you're all just bark and absolutely no bite. Is this the best you can do?"

James smirks at that and then holds your hair tighter, "Unbuckle my jeans," He demands and you do so quickly. When you see him you have to admit you're a little surprised James's confidence is warranted.

"Well? Suck." James interrupts your thoughts. You roll your eyes and take him in your hands. You run one hand along his dick for a moment, earning a small moan, and then take him into your mouth.

You enjoy the control you have as you suck his dick, bobbing your head up and down. You occasionally look up to admire the look of pleasure contorting his features.

James curses under his breath and then, suddenly, he's completely face fucking you. You gag, tears brimming as your throat opens wider.

"Shit," James groans. He's lost in pleasure.

You hold onto his thighs as he fucks your mouth. You're taken by surprise when, without warning, he comes and you almost choke on the salty liquid.

James lets you go once you've swallowed and you recover with a small cough. A little disappointed, you wipe at the sides of your mouth.

"Stand up." James orders, his voice hoarse. You look up at him, confused.

"Excuse me?"

"What? You think I'm done with you? I still haven't fucked you."

You stand slowly, "But you just came?" You stutter.

James tilts his head and smirks, "And?" He takes your cheeks in his hands and kisses your forehead quickly. You don't have time to be surprised by the intimate gesture because he's spinning you around and pinning you to the wall again. James holds one of your hands near each side of your head, "I'm not satisfied until I've fucked you senseless, Y/n."

Your eyes flutter shut as you feel him kiss your neck. One of his hands teasingly slides down to your stomach and then under your shirt as he untucks it from your skirt, "Keep 'em up." He mentions your hands when he feels them slip and you keep them pressed to the wall.

James starts to knead the flesh of your breasts over your bra, his fingers occasionally flicking your nipples. You bite your lip. When you feel him harden against your ass again, you let out a small moan.

"Tell me how much you like this," James whispers, his lips near your ear, and your stomach tightens.

"Cocky much? I've had better," You say, wanting to push his buttons. With one last pinch to your nipples, James's hand abandons your breasts and instead travels into your panties. You suppress a moan when he easily glides a finger across your pussy.

Smirking, James brings them to your lips so you can taste yourself, "Wanna try that again?" He asks as you suck on his fingers. His hand then comes down to your throat and he squeezes lightly.

Stubbornly, you shake your head

"No?" James pushes his hips into yours and squeezes your throat harder, "Fine, I'll just have to make you admit it then and trust me, Y/n, I won't be satisfied until you're screaming my name.”

You moan again, your face feeling incredibly hot when James starts to bunch up your skirt into your panties, "Merlin, you're so fucking pretty." He compliments, squeezing your ass and you smile.

However, when you feel him start to push your panties to the side you panic, "Wait!" You cry and James retreats his hand immediately, moving away from you. 'I- I'm a virgin." You whimper, embarrassed.

James backs away a little and asks, his voice calm, "You said you'd had better?"

"I lied."

"Okay. Shh, you're okay. Want me to stop?" He asks softly.

You chew on your lip and shake your head. You feel warm and fuzzy all over, "Can I- can I see you?" You ask, your voice small.

You hear shuffling behind you, "I thought you didn't want to look at me," James teases with a hint of a smile.

Your cheeks burn, "Please, James."

Gently, he turns you around so you're resting the back of your head on the wall and your hands press on his chest. You look at him in his beautiful eyes and your heart flutters. Lily was right, James Potter is really really handsome.

James sees you staring and grins, "Better?"

You nod and his hand hesitates at your thigh, "May I?" He asks and you whisper a quiet yes. You shiver when he takes your thigh and wraps it around his waist. Once more, he uses his other hand to push your panties aside and then you feel him press his tip at your entrance.

You inhale, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you prepare for the pain. James's voice soothes you, "You're okay. No one's gonna hurt you, it's just me." He whispers.

You feel him stretch you open and you cry out into his shoulder, "Yeah, but I don't like you." Your voice is a little muffled.

James breathes deeply and whispers, "It's okay not to hate me anymore, Y/n. I know I've done some hateable things but — " He curses at how hard you're squeezing around him, "I've changed."

You feel pain and you squirm a little, "Ow — I frankly don't care about that right now. I — James, it hurts."

James stops. He doesn't pull out, afraid that will also hurt you, but he does wait, "I'm sorry, love. What do you need? What can I do?"

You wipe your tears on his shoulder, "Just continue, Potter." You order, wanting this to work. You can't imagine letting him walk away now.

James listens and when he's finally all the way in and he starts to move, the pain quickly starts to disappears. "I- it feels nice now." You tell him breathlessly.

"Yeah?" James's thrusts are slow and he's looking at you sweetly. You hug him closer as his cock drives into you and makes you feel so unusually full.

You squeeze around him and he groans. He starts to pepper kisses onto your neck and with every thrust he presses you further into the wall, "There you go, sweetheart, squeeze around me. Show me how much you like me. Is this what you imagined when you were alone?"

James's pace quickens, "Did you come on your fingers moaning my name?" He seems lost in his own world as he mumbles obscene, filthy, questions in the shell of your ear.

"Y-yes." You admit and you let the feeling of his cock overwhelm you.

"Tell me." James suddenly squeezes your cheeks in his hand, forcing you to look at him, and his voice becomes raspy. He's fucking you with no mercy now.

"I touch myself thinking of you." You admit.

"Yeah?"

You nod and let out another moan when James lowers his hand and rubs lazy circles onto your clit.

"Look down at what I'm doing to your pretty pussy," He snaps and you lower your eyes. Your cheeks burn as you see James's cock disappear into you. "Merlin, you're mine now. Molded just for me." He whispers with a smirk.

You groan in approval and whimper, "Harder."

"Hmm?"

"Harder." You punctuate your words and moan loudly when James complies. His hips snap into yours with more precision and every time you feel him, that tightness in your stomach worsens and your vision starts to blur.

James lets out a breathy moan, "Shit, I'm gonna come." He continues fucking you until he comes inside you. However, his thrusts don't falter until he feels you squeeze around him one last time.

Your skin tingles from your orgasm as you let your head drop onto James's chest and your hands clutch at his arms. All you can focus on is your raspy breaths as James shuffles with his clothes, drops your leg, and then gently adjusts your panties as he unbunches your skirt from inside them.

You make a sound of disapproval when James holds your hand and walks you to the girls bathroom not far away from where you were. He opens the door and motions you inside with his head. You look at him with a frown, confused.

"You gotta pee." He explains softly.

Your frown deepens, "No I don't." You argue, feeling defensive.

James shakes his head with a small smile, "No, love, you really gotta pee. Trust me." You look into his eyes. Trust him? Your cheeks feel warm.

You decide it's no use arguing and you leave him outside the bathroom door. As you sit on the toilet and you stare at the floor, fear starts to bubble inside your stomach.

What have you done?

And why don't you regret it?

After you've washed your hands and swished some water around your mouth to dull the taste of cum, you exit the bathroom and James pushes himself off the wall and steps in front of you. "You okay?" He asks genuinely, a concerned look on his face. You look at him blankly, feeling all sorts of complicated emotions. James rubs his nape, "Listen, I-"

"I know. It was just the spur of the moment." You interrupt him.

James's eyebrows scrunch, "What?"

"I don't want this to happen again either, if that's what you mean." You state. You don't understand why James looks so hurt.

"Oh? I-Is that what you want?"

You blink. Is this what you wanted? No.

You nod and the glimmer in James's eyes disappears, "Well, that isn't what I want," He says. He looks so serious it feels like you're talking to a completely different person.

James walks closer to you and you let him. Delicately, he cups your cheeks in his hands and you look at him. His eyes flicker to your lips, "Y/n, tell me you hate me and I'll leave you alone. I won't even breath in your direction anymore. Tell me you want me too and I promise I'll make up for all those years I made you hate me."

Silence.

"I don't hate you," You whisper, surprising yourself for admitting that aloud, "I've never really hated you," You roll your eyes subtly, "I don't think I'm capable of hating you."

James smiles, "I couldn't hate you either."

You turn your head slightly, James's hands restricting your movement, and frown, "Then why were you such an asshole all these years?" His smile disappears and his cheeks dust pink.

"I don't know," His words die in his throat, "You made me nervous and I- I didn't know how to approach you properly. There is no excuse, I know. I was an idiot and I'm sorry." He looks into your eyes, "I'm really fucking sorry and all I want to do want to make it up to you. I'll do anything." He sounds so sincere you don't know what to think.

"James," You whisper and your hands come to brush against his forearms, "Kiss me." You say, realizing that after all you've done you haven't kissed him.

"Huh?" He makes a breathless sound, his eyes flickering to your lips.

"I said, kiss me." You say, a little harsher this time.

James doesn't waste anymore time and when his lips touch yours, you think you must have imagined them because of how delicate they are. His thumbs starts caressing across your cheeks as his lips move over yours.

You grip his arms harder and then clutch at his shirt as you kiss him with more dedication. More passion. You bite his lip lightly. "Bloody hell," James mutters as he takes a breath. His lips are bruised and his cheeks are now stained crimson. With a smile, you pull him back in and kiss him again.

You kiss him as if you'd been best friends for years. As if you'd explored each other's bodies more than just this once and you know each birthmark on each other's skin.

You kiss him like you like him — which, it's time to admit that you do.

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