#scrap.writing

[matchasprouts]

The Walls - Chapter 3

[ couldn't write for a while but [ hands you a glimpse into Felix's gay brain ] come and get your juice ]

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It took a while after getting upstairs for Felix to grab everything he needed (literally just the clothes he was going to change into, he was just easily distracted), but finally he was in the bathroom.

He didn’t shower in the mansion bathroom very often, since he lived in the cabin on the property, so he was immediately worried about the thing in the walls.

Well, it wouldn’t hurt to check.

Slowly, he made his way over to the most uncluttered wall that would have the crawl space attached to it. He knew it wasn’t omniscient, so if it were far enough away, it wouldn’t hear him. Hopefully it would be attached enough to Greta that it would be downstairs.

He paused for a moment, let out a breath, and lightly knocked three times on the wall. Three knocks was a greeting, or a goodbye between them. The thing usually only took a few seconds to respond.

…

Silence. Felix let out a sigh of relief, making his way over to the shower and turning it on. It was an old shower, but comfortable. He really did enjoy any chance he could use it without worry.

After a few seconds of making sure the water was at the right temperature, he started getting undressed. The overalls were off first, followed by the sweater he wore in the colder seasons. And then there was his binder.

He used to struggle a lot more with taking it off when he first started wearing it, but now he pulled it over his head without a fight. He draped it over the sink, away from his dirtied clothes, since he only really washed it when he absolutely needed to.

The water was almost scalding when Felix stepped into it, but that was on purpose. He’d basically shot his nerves when it came to hot water, barely feeling it if it wasn’t hot enough to leave marks on his skin.

He’d been told multiple times to go to therapy because of this. He assumed his nerves were so fucked because of the arson. Who fucking knows, he refused to go to a doctor.

The shower didn’t last very long, Felix just took as long as he needed to get the dirt off him and be done. The longest part was his hair, and he honestly wasn’t sure if he’d even gotten all the soap out of his hair by the time he stepped out of the shower.

It was while he was drying off his hair that he noticed the change in the room. Next to the t-shirt and sweatpants he’d laid out to change into sat a dark green, and very large, cardigan.

Felix knew for a damn fact that he hadn’t put that there. He didn’t even own cardigans- just an assload of sweaters. So where did this come from? It was too large to belong to Greta, too tattered too.

After a few seconds, it clicked. It belonged to the thing in the walls. The thing that always heard him complaining about the cold, or how it was hard to hide when he wasn’t wearing a binder.

And, it seemed, it finally did something about it.

Theoretically, he enjoyed the gesture. He was definitely going to wear it, the warmth was worth it, but still… this meant that it had come in while he was showering, and he hadn’t heard it. That didn’t imply good things.

He got dressed quickly, pausing before pulling on the cardigan. It was huge on him, even though he was average height and pretty well built. It smelled like wood, and smoke. It was… incredibly comfortable too.

After quickly glancing in the mirror, the green of the cardigan making the green of his eyes really pop. It probably helped that he was extra pale from the blast of hot water, bringing his freckles out as well.

He didn’t look too long. Felix didn’t like his face, and staring at it would make him shut down.

---

Greta had already started on dinner when he made it to the kitchen, and he was pleased to find Brahms sitting at the kitchen table.

“Hey. Sorry if you’ve been waiting long,” he said, rolling up the cardigan sleeves and jumping right into helping. She was making a soup apparently, probably because they didn’t have much at the moment. Malcolm was supposed to deliver some groceries tomorrow.

“Don’t worry about it,” Greta replied, handing him a knife and some vegetables to cut. He didn’t hesitate before getting into it, making quick work of them. “I hope soup is okay. We really need groceries.”

Felix hummed in response, keeping most of his focus on what he was doing. “Soup is always good, I’m just glad we could make something at all.”

Silence fell after that. They weren’t friends, they really didn’t have all that much to talk about. So they worked. At least it made the cooking go faster.

---

“So, where’d this come from?” Greta asked after they were finished and sitting down to eat, gesturing to the cardigan. He was surprised she could tell that it wasn’t his, especially because she knew next to nothing about him. Maybe it was because it was so big, or because of it being a dark colour.

Felix shrugged at the question, not willing to scare her off when Brahms clearly liked her. “It just kind of showed up. I’ve probably had it for years without realizing it. I can be forgetful like that sometimes.” No, he couldn’t. Distractible? Sure. Forgetful? Unfortunately, his memory was near photographic.

But Greta accepted it without question, just like he thought she would. It seemed like she was doing everything she possibly could to not question anything about this house. He vaguely wondered if she had seen Brahms move yet, but he doubted it.

When they were finished, it was Brahms’s bedtime. After making Greta promise she would follow the bedtime rules properly, he let her go to put the doll to bed, cleaning up the kitchen for her.

He heard rustling in the walls as Greta headed upstairs and smiled slightly to himself, knowing that the wall thing was making sure that she followed the rules.

The thought made him pull the cardigan tighter against himself, surprised at his own fondness toward the thing. Six years was a long time to grow attached to something, and he was honestly fine with being attached to it. After all, he never truly interacted with it. It probably wouldn’t hurt him.

Probably.

He shook those thoughts away, finished cleaning, and headed upstairs for bed. Greta’s door was already closed, Brahms was in bed, and the walls were quiet. Felix inspected his temporary bedroom once arriving at it, only laying down when he was satisfied that it was empty.

For once, sleep came easy.

---

The next morning, Felix woke up before Greta, and about an hour before Brahms needed to be woken up. Happy for the chance to get something done without Greta in the way, or needing to look out for Brahms, he wasted no time in getting up and dressed. He laid the cardigan out neatly on his bed for the thing to take back, making sure to close the door when he left the room.

Once downstairs he did some cleaning to take a bit of the workload off of Greta. Before heading out to do his gardening, he paused, glancing around the kitchen. They really needed that grocery delivery today, but he figured he could make breakfast before becoming the garden cryptid again.

So, he made something simple and wouldn’t need to be warm, put it in the fridge, and left a note for Greta. Once satisfied, he grabbed his gloves and headed outside. He’d probably come back in when Malcolm got there, just because there was something he’d need for later that he needed to ask him to grab.

It was time for Brahms to be woken up by the time Felix had started his gardening, a small smile crossing his lips when he looked up at the window and saw the light click on, followed by Greta opening up the curtains.

Well, maybe she was finally taking him seriously. He hoped so. He would sure hate to hate someone like her. She was nice and all, and really the only off thing that she’d done so far was not take care of Brahms right.

How unfortunate that that would change.

Felix happened to walk in during a conversation between Greta and Malcolm, relieved he hadn’t missed the man. He only caught part of the conversation, something about going out tonight. He didn’t hear Greta’s response, so he wasn’t annoyed yet, but it was getting there.

“Hey Malcolm,” he said as he grabbed a bottle of water, taking a sip before continuing, “could you grab something for me next time you go out? Nothing time sensitive or anything, it would just make my life a little easier.

Malcolm, sensing the change in conversation, replied without hesitation. “Sure man, what do you need?”

“A new pair of garden gloves, mine are falling apart. I’d get them myself but I don’t have a car and you know I don’t like leaving the grounds.” Felix was a little surprised when Malcolm nodded and wrote it down, but relieved. He really did need those gloves.

“I can grab ‘em for you today, I’ll be coming back tonight anyway,” Malcolm said as he tucked the small notepad back into his jacket. Felix immediately narrowed his eyes at him, his expression asking the “why” that he didn’t vocalize.

That’s when Greta cleared her throat and stepped in. “Malcolm offered to take me out to see the town tonight, and I accepted,” she explained, cringing at the harsh glare Felix sent her way. Before he could say anything, she continued, “Brahms will already be in bed by the time I leave! So there’s nothing to worry about.”

Nothing to worry about? She was breaking the rules! And it would know!! It was significantly more dangerous than Felix was!!!

He let out a sigh that bordered dangerously on a growl, before running a hand through his short hair and deciding that this was a battle he shouldn’t fight. “Whatever. Don’t say shit to me when something bad happens because you chose to break the rules.”

“Oh, come on man, she shouldn’t be cooped up in here-” Malcolm tried to step in, only to be cut off by Felix’s shears hitting the table hard enough that it shook.

“Don’t try to tell me what should or should not be happening here!” he snapped, the rage bubbling over before he could stop it. It was his fatal flaw- shortest temper in the Shaw family. “All I know is that she’s breaking the damn rules, and we’re all gonna get hell because of it!”

He hated arguing. He did. So, with that, before they could continue, he stormed off. Before he knew it, he had slammed his bedroom door and fallen heavily onto his bed. It took a godly amount of self control to not break anything, but he managed.

This was slowly but surely turning into a fucking nightmare.

[aniiplexoxo]

One of your saw boys with: “You look…you look very nice. Beautiful, I mean. Damn, why can’t I speak?” It feels like one of them

[ OUGH AHJBEJHBEWJHWE ANON I LOVE YOU /P THANK YOU anyway Strahm has to take me to an event momence <3 ]

[ “You look…you look very nice. Beautiful, I mean. Damn, why can’t I speak?” ]

[ Characters: Peter Strahm, Garrett Whitlock ]

[ Warnings: Strahm is gay <3 jhbefjhbjewhbjwe ]

"I didn't realize FBI did stuff like this," Garrett admitted from the other side of the closed door, standing in the bedroom as he got ready for the event Strahm had practically begged him to go to. "I know Mark has to go to events and shit, 'cause he's the lieutenant detective, but I didn't expect it from y'all."

It wasn't an event that the FBI itself was putting on, instead something that was supposed to commemorate lost lives during the hunt for Jigsaw. None of the apprentices had started killing yet since John's death, so they seemed to think that it was over.

Of course, Strahm knew that the killings weren't over, because he knew all three of his boyfriends were what was left of Jigsaw.

"It's not the whole department," Strahm replied, his voice slightly muffled by the door he was leaning on. His newly gruff and scratchy voice due to the scar on his throat didn't help. "Just the few of us that were working on the Jigsaw case, plus any of the detectives from the precinct that are still alive that worked it to."

So just Mark and Fisk. Everyone else was dead- that was the whole point of this event.

"Alright, I'm done," Garrett announced, hearing the door shift as Strahm moved away from it. Once he was sure he wouldn't send his boyfriend toppling to the ground, he opened the door.

Strahm seemed... surprised at the sight of him, wearing a long maroon dress with a slit up to his thigh. The sleeves were of the long, sheer and puffy kind, held on by the cuffs on his wrists. They matched the sheer part that covered his collarbones and neck, cut off by the part that covered his chest.

"Well? What do you think? It was not easy getting a dress that wasn't made for boobs and would fit my body type, you know," Garrett was of course teasing at the end, but he did genuinely want to know what Strahm was feeling, since he was just standing there.

Finally, Strahm seemed to find his voice again. "You look... you look very nice. Beautiful, I mean," he paused for a second, chuckling at himself. "Damn, why can't I speak?"

Garrett laughed at Strahm tripping over himself, grabbing him by the deep blue tie he wore and pulling him in for a short but sweet kiss. "Maybe because you've just had another gay awakening," he joked, laughing again when Strahm gave an annoyed huff and pulled him in for another kiss.

They didn't mean to get distracted with the whole kissing business, but Strahm really did think Garrett looked beautiful dressed up like that, and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted everyone else seeing him yet.

It was fine in the end, they may have showed up late but at least they both got plenty of kisses before the storm hit and they were too busy to see each other without it seeming suspicious.

[matchasprouts]

The Walls - Chapter 1

[ haha i'm totally not starting a new self ship fic just so i can kiss Brahms,,,,,, totally,,,,,,,,,, ]

[ anyway ya boy is back in business and ready to be painfully gay again ]

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Felix had been the groundskeeper for the Heelshires for three years now. He’d seen potential nannies come and be rejected on their first day. He had watched the traps laid out do their job time and time again, always wondering why the rats bothered the family so much when they willingly chose to live out here.

And, of course, he had seen the boy.

He considered himself friends with the doll version of the Heelshires’ dead son, Brahms. He would shake it’s little porcelain hand, say hello every time he walked by it, and even take care of it whenever the Heelshires asked him to.

But he was also aware of whatever lived in the walls.

Felix wasn’t stupid. He grew up in the country, down in the southern states of america. He knew what rats sounded like. He knew what a creaky house sounded like. This was something big, something fast. Something that had been in there for a long time.

Sometimes Felix felt like he was being watched, but only inside the house. He could tell. He never saw whoever it was, but he knew they were there. It honestly didn’t bother him much. He didn’t live in the house- there was a small cabin on the property that he stayed in.

He was out in the yard when the newest nanny arrived- a woman from the states, like him. He’d heard the Heelshires talking about her for the past week, cautious but hopeful.

Personally, he didn’t think she would last. Especially not when he saw her getting out of the taxi. She was small, weak looking. He didn’t trust her, so he just returned to his work.

It wasn’t until about an hour later that he was called into the mansion, presumably to be introduced to the new nanny. “And this is the groundskeeper, Felix Shaw,” Mrs. Heelshire said once he was inside. Felix instinctively reached his hand out for the nanny to shake, but promptly remembered that he was covered in dirt and dropped it.

“Greta Evans,” she greeted, giving Felix a small wave. He tilted her head at her, taking a moment to look her over.

She was a brunette, like him, with warm eyes despite her awkward stance and expression. Clearly she had not accepted the news that Brahms was a doll very well. Sucks for her, but she’d get over it eventually. How would she handle the thing in the walls though?

Felix opened his mouth to reply, but spotted Brahms first. “Afternoon, Brahms,” he said, giving the little doll a short salute of a greeting. “Found a flower I think you’d like out in the garden,” he continued, placing a pale tulip on the table in front of where the doll sat. “One for the thing in the walls too,” he added, patting the pocket on the front of his overalls that held a red rose.

And then he turned back to Greta, who didn’t seem all that pleased about the news. “There’s something in the walls?” she questioned Mrs. Heelshire, who simply shook her head and sighed.

“No, Miss Evans. Mr. Shaw is simply superstitious,” she reassured her, despite the short look she got from Felix. He wasn’t superstitious, and she knew that.

But he let it out. “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you Greta, but I really need to get back to work. It’s a large property, and it won’t tend to itself. If you ever need me, I’m usually in the cabin by the woods.” He gave one last glance between the two women, smiled to the doll, and returned to the garden, and his work.

Unfortunate as it was, Felix was now sure that Greta would be staying. She was pretty, and young, and he doubted that someone as childish as Brahms would let her go. Hopefully, she got over whatever conceptions she had of the doll child- the last thing she should do is end up ignoring him.

Not that he would be alone. Felix is all too used to taking over where others fail, and taking care of the boy was one of those situations. He expected he would unfortunately be staying in the mansion more often than usual while Greta was here.

Maybe he’d get to talk to the thing in the walls finally. Probably not.

It wasn’t long before he spotted Greta and Mr. Heelshire in the garden, checking the traps. “Now, Mr. Shaw usually checks these, but there are days when you’ll need to,” he heard Mr. Heelshire explain to Greta.

Of course Felix usually checked them. He had his doubts that Greta would stay long enough to need to take over it for him. He was glad when they left the garden, the silence he was used to falling again.

---

The Heelshires left almost immediately after confirming that Greta would be the new nanny. Felix watched them leave- they seemed like they were in a rush, which was a little confusing. He knew they were off-put by the doll moving around and all, but he never thought they were afraid of it.

When heading into the mansion to congratulate Greta, and make sure she was following the rules, he made the very unfortunate discovery that she wasn’t almost immediately.

He found Brahms sitting in a chair, alone, with his entire body covered by a blanket. Two rules broken almost immediately by the brand new nanny. Felix yanked the blanket off of Brahms without hesitation, picking the doll up like a child.

And then he took off to find Greta. He could feel the thing in the walls watching him during this, probably following him as he jogged up the stairs to the upper floor in search of the nanny. He could hear it. He ignored it.

“Greta?” he called out once he was upstairs, surprised to find her rather quickly. She looked uncomfortable the second she noticed the doll, which only served to piss Felix off. He was, however, a patient man. He had dealt with worse, he could deal with this.

“You need to follow the rules. I know Mrs. Heelshire laid them out for you, and I know they aren’t difficult. Brahms is more than just a doll. He’s all those two have left,” he told her, his voice calm but his expression telling her that this was simply a thinly veiled warning. He lived on the property at all times. He knew exactly what was going on within the house. It wouldn’t be smart to cross him.

Greta cleared her throat awkwardly at the warning, but still held her ground. “Is that a threat to tell the couple, Mr. Shaw?” she asked, clearly using his last name as some kind of “I’m better than you” trick. It wouldn’t work.

“No, Miss Evans,” he replied, the chill in his voice almost as bad as the chill outside. “I am merely reminding you of your duties as the nanny. Hopefully, I won’t have to step in. But I will if I have to.”

With that, he handed the doll to her. “It’s bedtime. Put him to bed.” He stared at her as she just stood there, until she finally got the message that he wanted to watch her do it. He watched as she laid the doll down in the bed, not even bothering to change him, before returning to the hallway.

Felix rolled his eyes at her, pushing past her and into the bedroom. He kneeled down next to the bed, feeling those wall eyes on him once again. “Good night Brahms,” he said softly, pressing a small kiss to the doll’s porcelain cheek.

Before leaving, he turned to the wall. There was a small hole, one the thing inside presumably used to watch the room. “I found something for you,” he said, pulling the rose from his pocket. “I don’t know what kind of flowers you like. I hope this is good.” He gently placed the rose, stem first, in the hole. And then he left, shutting off the lights and closing the door.

It was going to be a long month if Greta continued to act like this, and he most certainly wasn’t looking forward to it.

[matchasprouts]

The Walls - Chapter 6

[ classes started today so i really didn't expect to be able to write at all, but DAMN am i glad i got this chapter out so i can finally move on to the ship part jhwebjhhfbwehjf ]

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The banging in the walls continued, shaking the paintings and the lights above them. All of them were frantically looking around for the source, Felix especially.

And then Cole spotted the mirror.

“What the…” he muttered, moving over to it, his reflection growing larger with every step. Soon, he was right in front of it, slowly pressing his ear to the glass. “It sounds like-”

He never got to finish that sentence, the glass shattering with a massive force that sent him flying back with the shards. There was silence for a few seconds, before something happened.

A hand emerged from the hole in the wall behind the mirror, followed by another on the other side. Slowly, they helped propel someone through the hole- someone big.

All of them were frozen as the figure completely emerged from the hole, towering over them at least 6 ft and definitely buffer than any of the three of them. He had dark, curly hair that matched the black hairs on his chest and framed the porcelain mask on his, a glimpse of an equally curly beard, and barely visible green eyes.

Literally, he was huge. And Felix recognized him almost instantly.

“Brahms?” he asked tentatively, unsure if saying his name would set him off. Greta's gaze snapped to him, and so did Brahms’s, which basically confirmed it. Felix held Brahms’s stare, until Cole began to sit up.

Almost immediately, Brahms lunged at him, grabbing the man by the neck and slamming him into the ground repeatedly. Greta screamed, grabbing Brahms’s shoulders and trying to pull him off. Instinctively, Felix grabbed her arm and pulled her away, holding onto her as she tried to go back to stop Brahms.

After bashing his head a few times, Brahms started glancing around for a weapon, grabbing a shard of the doll’s head as soon as he spotted it. Before Greta or Felix could react, the shard was lodged in Cole’s neck. Unsatisfied with the fact that he was still gurgling, Brahms shoved it in even further, only letting go when he was sure Cole was dead.

Then, slowly, he turned to the other two. Greta instantly took off, grabbing Felix by the arm and pulling him with her. He couldn’t really process what she was doing, or why, instead keeping his gaze locked on Brahms until he couldn’t see them anymore.

Felix was still catching up when Greta practically threw them into one of the empty bedrooms, slamming herself against the door as she fumbled with the key. Finally she jabbed the key into the lock, managing to turn it right as Brahms started banging on the door to get in.

That seemed to snap him into reality. This was his bedroom. “The closet!” he yelled, Greta flinching at the suddenness of his voice, right before running over to the closet door. By the time he had it closed and locked, the rattling of the door had stopped.

There was quiet for a minute, before an arm came through the closet door. Greta screamed- Felix was getting sick of the sound, it hurt his ears- and grabbed the rotary phone, hitting Brahms’s hand with it to stop him from grabbing her.

“Come on!” Felix grabbed Greta by the wrist, quickly unlocking the bedroom door and kicking it open, running with her back into the room they’d just been in. “The wall!” he told her, when she gave him that panicked look of confusion.

She was smarter than he gave her credit for, almost instantly running for the hole in the wall that had been behind the now shattered mirror. Felix followed close behind, waiting for her to be up the ladder before climbing it himself. He caught a glimpse of the porcelain mask before Greta helped him up and they took off in the crawlspace.

About two seconds in, he started to hyperventilate.

Felix hated admitting it, hated admitting his greatest weakness, but he was extremely claustrophobic, and the crawlspace wasn’t helping. He vaguely wondered how someone as big as Brahms could get through it without trouble but, before he knew it, they were in a room.

Greta moved forward into the room, her curiosity winning over her fear, but Felix stood near the entrance, taking deep breaths as quietly as he could, as to not alarm her. It wasn’t long before he was looking around as well.

It only took a few seconds for something to grab his interest.

“Is that my apron?” he asked aloud, getting Greta’s attention. There, hung up on one of the walls, was his tattered old apron that he lost on his first day with the Heelshires.

It looked surprisingly well kept, even with some of the holes sewn up. He moved over to it, carefully running a hand over the clothing item. He honestly couldn’t believe that Brahms kept it this long- maybe he planned on returning it but decided against it as the years passed.

Soon his attention moved to the wall behind the apron. There were a few sketches pinned to the wall around it, all of him doing mundane things like making coffee, or watering the houseplants.

When he looked to the rest of the wall, he found very similar sketches of Greta, and a few of the two of them interacting. “Oh my god, he’s been living in here!” Greta suddenly realized, snapping her head toward Felix. “You- you were right. He’s been in the walls this whole time, watching us!”

Wow. Now someone believes him? It took the threat of death??

Right. Not the time to be petty.

“Don’t panic,” Felix told her firmly, looking around for an exit. “We need to keep moving, we don’t know where he is. Come on.”

They entered the walls again, much to Felix’s discomfort. After a little while of moving through the walls, Felix froze. He’d come across one of the holes in the walls and could see Brahms through it, ripping apart the room on the other side in probably anger.

And then he saw him.

“Run!” Felix yelled, pushing Greta slightly to get her going. Just as he moved away from the spot, an arm ripped through the wall, tearing open a Brahms sized hole.

Before they knew it, he was in the walls with them, and they were running as fast as they could through the cramped space to get away. Felix vaguely regretted being the one closest to Brahms, since the man was practically on his heels, but was mostly glad that he could, to an extent, protect Greta from him.

Soon they came across a door surrounded by pipes, with Brahms right behind them. “You go open it!” Felix told Greta, grabbing a nearby loose pipe, planning on using it as a weapon. “I’ll keep him off you, go!”

He hated breaking the rules, but he wasn’t going to let Greta die here. She didn’t deserve it.

He, however, had no one left to miss him. His death would mean nothing, and he was okay with it. “I don’t wanna hurt you Brahms,” he said as Brahms got closer, tightening his grip on the pipe.

Brahms paused for a moment, before lunging at Felix. Felix wasn’t a small man by any means, so he put up a good fight before Brahms managed to wrangle the pipe away from him. There was another moment of hesitation as Brahms looked down at Felix, who was now on the ground, the pipe raised above him. It almost seemed like he didn’t want to bring it down.

But apparently getting Greta was more important, and he brought the pipe down on Felix’s head with a heavy thunk.

He was out almost immediately.

---

Felix stirred after what felt like forever, laying on the floor next to Cole’s body. Upon realizing he was next to a corpse, he shot up immediately, ignoring the pounding in his head as he scrambled away from it.

He heard rapid footsteps after that, followed by Brahms appearing in the doorway, holding the fire stoker in his right hand. Felix instinctively moved away from him, his back hitting the wall.

Brahms tilted his head at the reaction, seeming… unfond of the look of fear in Felix’s eyes. He was used to a fire in there, not… this. He didn’t like it.

“I’m sorry,” Brahms spoke, using that childish voice that Felix hated. “I didn’t want to hurt you. But I didn’t want her to leave me… I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Ah. Implies that he’s going to kill Felix if Greta doesn’t return.

“So you’re going to kill me?” Felix immediately asked, finally making eye contact with the group’s attacker. “I’m not going down without a fight, Brahms.” Slowly, as to not worsen his headache, he stood up, ready to fight if needed.

Brahms apparently didn’t like this, taking a step back. They were quiet, just watching each other, before a familiar voice rang out from the halls.

“Brahms? I- I’ve come back for you. I promised I wouldn’t leave you,” Greta called out, bringing the man to attention instantly. He didn’t move though, clearly wondering if this was a trap. “Just- please just let him go. I won’t run again.”

That seemed to wipe away any hesitation he had, sending Felix one last glance before rushing out to meet his nanny.

Felix stood there for a long time after Brahms ran off, only moving when he heard Greta snap at him, telling him it was bedtime.

He didn’t remember hurting his leg but as he limped down the hall to the child’s bedroom, he noticed a long and deep gash in his calf. Had that happened when Brahms dragged him out of the walls? How hadn’t he noticed when he stood up? What a fucked up headache.

Soon he was leaning heavily against the bedroom’s door frame, watching Greta tuck Brahms into bed. He couldn’t believe he still wanted to ensure that the rules were followed. It was probably his abandonment issues.

“Good night, Brahms,” he heard Greta say, leaning back and away from the man. Before she could get too far, he grabbed her arm.

“Kiss…?” Oh. The desperate, quiet tone in Brahms’s voice broke Felix’s heart. He knew how important the kiss was to him. Greta glanced back at him, and he just looked away. He didn’t like feeling weak.

“No kiss tonight,” Greta told him, patting his hand cautiously. “That’s your punishment. You scared us, Brahms. That’s not okay.”

This didn’t deter him. “Kiss,” Brahms repeated, more forcefully this time. Greta sighed, finally giving in. When she leaned down, that’s when Felix saw the glint of something shiny.

He wasn’t fast enough. When Brahms moved the kiss to Greta’s lips, Felix tried to jump forward, to grab the weapon, but his injured leg toppled him over as Greta stabbed the screwdriver into Brahms’s torso.

The man cried out, swinging his arm out and sending Greta flying into the wall. When he got up and reached for her, Felix stepped in.

“Don’t!” he snapped from the floor, making both of the other people freeze. Brahms looked down at him, chest heaving and blood trickling down from where the screwdriver was still lodged in his torso. “You don’t want to hurt her… you went through all this trouble…”

He was right, and he knew that Brahms knew it. Unfortunately, this was the exact distraction that Greta needed.

With a yell, she lunged forward and drove the screwdriver in even deeper. Brahms let out another pained cry, this one worse than the first. He fell to the ground near Felix, who immediately started pulling himself over to him.

Greta tried to pick Felix up, to bring him with her, but he yanked himself out of her grasp. “Get out!” he yelled at her through gritted teeth, glaring at the former nanny. She seemed surprised, but figured Brahms would die soon enough and left it alone. She took off without a second thought.

Felix pulled himself over to Brahms, pulling himself into a sitting position and leaning back against the bed. He quickly ripped off one of his sleeves, getting it ready to hold against the wound before swiftly pulling out the screwdriver and covering the wound with the sleeve.

He wasn’t going to let Brahms die. He may not have ever known the real him until today, but this was his friend, the only one he had. There was no way in hell he was going to let him go.

No fucking way.

[matchasprouts]

The Walls - Chapter 5

[ whoa! idk how i got this out but uhhhhhhh enjoy ]

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Felix was surprised to be woken up by Greta, three hours after he usually got up no less. Before he could ask why she let him sleep in, she cut him off with the answer. “You looked ready to drop dead yesterday. I figured you needed the extra rest.”

She was right, those extra hours helped dissipate some of the ache in his muscles. “Maybe you should take a break today,” she suggested, readjusting Brahms on her hip. “I know you usually don’t do that, the Heelshires told me that much, but you really need it.”

And then she left, and Felix was left wondering what she meant by that. Until, of course, he caught a look at himself in the vanity mirror.

He looked nothing short of awful. There were deep, dark circles under his eyes from the lack of proper sleep he’d been getting, his eyes themselves were bloodshot, and if he looked closely he could see there was still dirt in his hair.

Not to mention the screaming ache that shot through every muscle in his body, almost making him feel like he was about to collapse.

The last time his body felt and looked like this was in college, and he hated it. He hated looking weak, much less feeling weak. If a break was what it took for him to have the energy to kill someone if needed, then he would take that goddamn break.

Starting with a hot bath to soothe his body and finally get that fucking dirt off of him.

---

He almost died in the bathtub.

Or at least, that’s what he told Greta when he came downstairs with his hair still sopping wet and dripping water everywhere. She seemed concerned for all of two seconds before deciding she simply didn’t care.

What actually happened is that he fell asleep in the bathtub, woke up suddenly to the sound of a child laughing, and freaked himself out. To be fair, he did hit his head on the side of the tub at least twice.

Anyway, Felix wasn’t built for breaks, so instead of relaxing or even just doing something small like playing the piano, he spent his time helping Greta with her chores. Being taller than her, he could reach higher shelves when dusting the bookcase, so he did. When she was occupied with Brahms, he would take over vacuuming or the dishes. He even took to going around and fixing every slightly crooked painting that he was sure had been jostled by the wall thing.

Basically, he was no good at sitting still. Felix was either doing something every second of the day, or he was sleeping. There was just no in between for him.

That is, until there was literally nothing else to be done. It was late afternoon now, the sun was just barely starting to dip past the horizon. Felix was sitting at the piano, playing a soft and somewhat cheerful tune, since Brahms didn’t seem to like the melancholic melodies he knew.

“When did you learn piano?” Greta asked after a while, setting down the book she’d been reading to the doll. The suddenness of the question made Felix’s fingers stutter, hitting a sour note that made him cringe.

“I don’t remember,” he admitted after moving his hands to his lap, so he couldn’t get distracted while playing again. “I imagine it was sometime in my childhood, maybe in highschool? I think I took a class… I’m not sure. My childhood memories are foggy at best.”

At least he was telling the truth. While fresher memories were burned into his head, anything before his freshman year in college was a blank. The only therapist he’d ever seen told him it was repression, due to trauma. Since he couldn’t remember what the trauma was though, they could never work on it.

The only thing he truly remembered was his mother. Soft voiced, a brunette like him, piercing green eyes. She was beautiful. She also had a grip like the devil, and spoke like it too.

To some extent, he was aware that his insecurities came from her. He also knew that she had been… less than supportive when he told her that he was trans, and that it led to probably one of the worst arguments of his life.

Sometimes, when he looked down at his hands, he thought he could still see the bruises her grip had left.

He shook his head, clearing it of the images of her. ‘She’s no longer a concern,’ he reminded himself internally, ‘you took care of that. She’s gone.’

“Oh,” Greta spoke again, snapping him back to reality, “well, that’s too bad. You’re really good at it, you know. You must have been practicing for a long time.”

Right. They were talking about the piano. He mentally scolded himself for getting off track before clearing his throat. “Yeah, I played all through college. Most at frat parties and the like, it’s a great party trick. My hands still cramp up sometimes though. Guess that’ll never stop happening.”

He returned to his playing after that, due to the soft scratching in the wall behind him. Sometimes the thing would let him take a break, but apparently today was not one of those days. He liked that it liked his music, he really did, but it could be so demanding sometimes.

After a little while, it came time for Brahms to be put to bed. After glancing at the clock, Greta stood up with the doll, told Felix good night, and headed upstairs.

Once Felix had finished the song, and confirmed that the thing had taken off, he followed her up.

And, since both were upstairs, neither of them heard the door open. The door they never bothered to lock because no one ever came all the way out here.

Felix had just collapsed face first onto his bed when he heard the thing practically running through the walls, back downstairs. Following that, he heard the familiar sound of the billiard balls hitting each other.

He shot up without a moment’s hesitation, running almost full speed back down the stairs and to the room where the pool table was kept. He almost fell over once there, slamming full force into the doorframe.

There stood a rather greasy looking man with long hair pulled back into a bun, sporting a messy beard. He stared at Felix in confusion, who was glaring so harshly at him that he would be dead if looks could kill.

It wasn’t long before Greta and the doll joined them, interrupting their staring match. “... Cole?” she asked softly, sounding both confused and scared.

Oh? Oh Greta was scared of this man? And he invaded their house?? Oh.

Almost immediately, Felix stood in front of Greta, grabbing one of the pool sticks and holding it up as a make-shift weapon. “You’re not welcome here,” he spat at Cole who, for the most part, seemed unfazed.

Boy was he gonna regret that.

“I don’t even know who you are,” Cole brushed him off, looking around him at Greta again. Felix once again stepped to block him. He accepted this fate, choosing to just speak at Greta. “Greta, babe, you just left without saying anything.”

It was hard to tell, but Felix could feel Greta’s free hand brush up against his back, seemingly grateful to have a shield against the other man. “Getting- getting this job was kind of sudden… and you know we aren’t together anymore…”

Knowing that Cole was an abusive ex made Felix want to kick his ass even more.

Cole took a step toward them, and Felix immediately held the stick up higher, more than ready to take a swing at the bastard. That made him pause, clearly wondering if getting beat up by a gardener was worth it.

“So, where’s the little kid?” Cole asked after a moment of tense silence. Felix glanced back at Greta, silently willing her to ignore him, but she stepped forward anyway and showed him Brahms. Cole laughed, as expected. “No, seriously, where’s the kid?”

“This is Brahms,” Greta said, standing her ground. She and Cole stared at each other for a long moment, before he seemed to accept that she wasn’t joking.

“Well, that makes this easier at least. We’re going home tomorrow. I already bought the plane tickets,” Cole announced, making Greta actually flinch. It was clear she didn’t want to go. Felix’s patience was running thin- he knew he needed to cut this off before he did something rash.

Before either of them could continue their conversation, Felix stepped in. “She’s not going anywhere. She has a job to do, and she will complete it. The Heelshires expect it of her. You’re welcome to stay here for tonight, only because I pity whatever hole you crawled out of, but you will be gone in the morning. Do I make myself clear?”

At least he was smart enough to avoid a confrontation. “Crystal,” Cole replied, putting his hands up in a mock surrender.

“I’ll get him set up. Can you go lay Brahms down?” Greta stepped in again, a hand on Felix’s bicep. He nodded to her, setting down the pool stick and taking Brahms from her. He sent Cole one last glare before heading upstairs.

Normally he’d be able to hear the thing follow him into the bedroom, but not this time. He assumed it was because it was watching over Greta, which he was glad for.

He changed Brahms into his pajamas with shaky hands, trying so hard to contain the rage that threatened to spill over just from Cole’s presence in the house. Another broken fucking rule, and he hadn’t been good enough to stop it.

After tucking Brahms into bed and giving him the obligatory good night kiss, he went back downstairs to check on Greta, only to be stopped by her at the top of the stairs. “Thank you for not doing anything… rash down there,” she told him, looking genuinely grateful.

“Believe me, if there was no consequences in beating him until he was unconscious, I wouldn’t have hesitated,” Felix replied harshly, now turning on his heel and heading back to his room. Greta stood in place for a moment, surprised, before heading into Brahms’s room.

The doll was the only comfort she had at the moment, so she laid down with him, holding him close as she drifted off to sleep.

---

They woke up to Cole yelling downstairs, practically screaming for Greta. When she and Felix got downstairs, the offending asshole grabbed Greta by the arm and yanked her into the room.

“What the fuck is that!?” he yelled, pointing up at something written in red on one of the upper windows,

‘Get Out’. Huh. Clearly the wall thing didn’t like this bitch.

Felix tuned out Cole’s frantic yelling when he noticed Brahms sitting in one of the armchairs, a bag full of dead rats sitting in front of him. Greta noticed it as well, gasping at the sight of the boy and rushing forward to pull him into her arms.

Apparently Cole did not like this.

“Of course all you care about is that fucking doll! He’s not a real boy, Greta!!” he shouted, making both Felix and Greta flinch. “Now you tell me who the hell did this!”

“Brahms did,” Felix cut in, making Cole look sharply at him. He figured he’d rather Cole yell at him over Greta. “He doesn’t like you. You’re an intruder in his home. He was bound to lash out.”

“Oh, so you’re telling me that the fucking DOLL did that?” Cole snapped, taking an aggressive step towards Felix and gaining a low growl in response. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“He’s not,” Greta cut in, her voice shaky. “Brahms… is very creative and- and he doesn’t like you. Not at all.”

Cole glanced between the two of them before letting out a frustrated yell and snatching Brahms from Greta’s arms, despite her protests. “Enough about this stupid doll!”

Before any of them knew it, they were upstairs and in the child’s bedroom. “Put him down Cole!” Greta begged him, staying a safe distance away but clearly wanting to run over to the boy.

Felix, on the other hand, was taking direct action. “Either you put him down, or I make you regret being born,” he threatened, grabbing the closest weapon- a small bat that he jokingly left in Brahms’s room “in case he needed it”.

“You’re not gonna touch me with this fucking thing here,” Cole retorted, holding Brahms up by the leg. He was right, because Felix just stood there, gaze glued on the doll.

Cole began to swing the boy around by the leg when he realized no one was going to do anything, quietly humming to himself. “Maybe… if this thing wasn’t here…” he mused, glancing at Greta.

Felix moved first, lunging for Cole, but he wasn’t fast enough. Not even close. Brahms’s head shattered on the chair before Felix managed to tackle Cole, sending both of them toppling onto the ground.

And then the walls started to shake, freezing both of them. Felix was up in a matter of seconds, truly panicking now. It had seen what had just happened.

And it wasn’t happy.

[matchasprouts]

Listen Closer - Chapter 9

[ obsessed with how this has more chapters than the walls <3 wjhbejwehbjewhbjewh ]

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“I’m gonna turn off my phone if people keep interrupting my conversations and naps,” Garrett said into the phone as he answered the call, even placing a hand on his hip as if Mark could see his annoyed position.

Mark chuckled on the other end of the phone, and Garrett could hear people talking behind him. “I’m gonna send you an address, and I need you to get here as fast as possible. You’re a specialist now, and you’re gonna pretend to help us figure out this case.”

Garrett paused, completely okay with lying to the authorities but also wondering what the fuck was going on. “Okay… why? Is this a ploy to spend more time with me? Mark, we see each other every day.”

“You said you like to watch investigations. I’m giving you the chance to participate in one.” Oh. So Mark was in love with him.

“I’m on my way,” Garrett replied without hesitation, hanging up and heading right outside for his car. He already knew where it was, so he didn’t need the address, and Mark knew that. He was probably just saying it because he was in front of people.

“Where are you going?” John suddenly asked, cutting off his mad dash for his car. He froze, and turned around with a sigh, like a teenager who had tried to run off before his dad could stop him.

Oh god, this meant he had to bring up the Angel Trap. “Detective Kerry failed her test,” he said, and neither Amanda nor John seemed surprised. “Hoffman’s at the scene now, and I’m gonna watch it. Don’t worry, I’m a good liar.”

John hummed at that, knowing he couldn’t stop him but clearly unsure about him being so close to the police. “Be careful. Try not to talk more than necessary. I trust you, but even the best can slip up.”

“Yeah, fair enough. I’ve gotta go, I’ll see y’all later,” Garrett replied, bouncing on his feet before John gestured for him to go, and then his mad dash continued, resulting in him literally throwing himself into his car.

He was like… ninety percent sure that he was speeding when he got on the road.

---

“Hey, sorry, John kept me up,” Garrett said as he met Mark in front of the building, now following him inside. “So I’m just a Jigsaw specialist? Shouldn’t I have equipment with me?”

“You don’t need it,” Mark replied simply, falling silent as they passed a group of his coworkers. “You, Mr. Whitlock, are just very good at your job.” He paused, looking Garrett up and down. “Is that my shirt?”

Garrett decided not to tell Mark that technically his title should be Dr., instead waiting until he introduced himself to literally anyone. “Sounds about right. I need gloves though.” And then he smirked at the question. “Yeah, it is. You probably shouldn’t leave your clothes in the base if you don’t want me to steal them.”

Mark was quiet for a moment before he sighed, pulling a pair of gloves out of his jacket as they reached the body. He handed them to Garrett, who immediately pulled them on and made a beeline for the corpse.

Of course some asshole stopped him.

“Who the hell are you?” one of the men standing in the room when he entered asked him, making him very tempted to glare but instead he smiled.

This random guy was tall, but only four inches taller than Garrett. He had mostly slicked back brown hair, deep blue eyes, and what seemed to be a permanent scowl. He was, unfortunately, attractive. Especially in that suit.

Garrett looked past him, glancing at the woman who he’d been standing next to. She was shorter, with curly dark brown hair that she had pulled back into a ponytail. Her eyes were a deep brown, and she looked significantly less asshole-ish than her presumed partner.

Finally, he turned back to the man, the small smile still on his lips. “Dr. Whitlock, I’m the Jigsaw specialist. I’ve been working with his traps since he first appeared,” he introduced himself, offering a hand for the man to shake.

He very, very hesitantly took Garrett’s hand, giving it a firm shake before immediately dropping it. “Special Agent Strahm, over there is my partner Special Agent Perez,” he said after a moment of inspecting Garrett, gesturing with a tilt of his head to the woman.

“FBI?” Garrett immediately asked, glancing over at Mark. He had NOT been informed of the fucking FBI, and he was going to have a long talk with him about that later. Garrett had already been accused of being Jigsaw once by the FBI, and he really didn’t need it again.

“When a serial killer gets this many victims, we tend to step in,” Strahm replied, looking up at the hanging body. “Besides, Detective Kerry was our link in the precinct. Of course we would step in when she dies.”

Fuck, Amanda really just HAD to screw him over like this.

“Did you know Detective Kerry?” he asked, looking back over to Garrett, who was now inspecting the wings on the trap, admiring how well he’d managed to get the hooks in her ribs.

“No, I didn’t,” Garrett answered, keeping his focus on the trap. “I only work with Detective Hoffman, occasionally Detective Fisk. I’m sure you know that officers tend to have a specific specialist or informant that they exclusively use.”

Wow. His first day as a fake specialist and he was already rocking it.

Strahm hummed at that, watching him do his “job” before offering his theory. “There’s another accomplice, other than Amanda Young.”

Garrett’s eyes widened for half a second, surprised that they knew Amanda was an apprentice. Did this mean they knew who John was too? Clearly they didn’t know him, or they would have recognized him immediately.

“What makes you think that?” Mark asked, stepping so Garrett didn’t have to. “This could have very well have been done by Amanda Young, or John Kramer-”

“John Kramer is a dying cancer patient, I highly doubt he would be able to lift anyone up. And Detective Kerry is almost twice the weight of Amanda Young, so there’s no way she could have hoisted her up,” Strahm continued, cutting Mark off.

Garrett clenched his jaw at the explanation, knowing Strahm was right not only because he was the one to put Kerry up there, but also because he had pegged John and Amanda exactly.

“Also, we couldn’t find a tape recorder like usual, and there was no jigsaw piece cut out of her.”

… Shit.

Garrett had wanted out of there so bad earlier that he’d completely forgotten to leave the tape, or cut out the jigsaw piece. Mark shot him a look, and he knew he was going to be in trouble later.

It wasn’t his fault that he liked for games to be fair and that it pissed him off when they weren’t. He just couldn't stand staying there for any longer.

“Kramer was a mechanical engineer, he could have made a pulley system, and both of them are only human, they could have simply forgotten-” Mark offered, only to be cut off once again.

“Jigsaw doesn’t ‘forget’ or make mistakes. This was someone else entirely, and I will find them.” Strahm sounded so confident, despite not knowing that he was standing right next to the man he was looking for.

“Well, that’s not my department,” Garrett spoke up, taking a few steps back to get a better look at the trap. “Don’t those mechanisms look like wings? It’s one of the few times a function of a trap has been both aesthetic and actually useful. I imagine they were closed when she was strapped in, and then they opened when time ran out, thus ripping out her ribs. What a way to go.”

He was technically talking to Mark as he explained the trap, but both of them knew he was saying it for everyone else, so it would seem more believable. It seemed to be working, because now someone was checking out the ‘wings’.

Strahm, however, clearly did not like him. Before the agent got the chance to start questioning Garrett though, he looked over at Mark. “Y’all got the pictures, right? We should probably get out of the way of the CSIs.”

Mark nodded at that, glancing back up at Strahm one last time. “I think it’d also be smart to get Officer Rigg out of here. If you need me when you get back to the precinct, we’ll be in my office.”

He put a hand on Garrett’s shoulder, a gesture he leaned into as much as possible, before gesturing for Rigg to follow them out and away from the body. Of course, they split up from the officer once outside, as well as going to their own cars with the silent promise that they’d talk at the precinct.

---

“You forgot to leave the tape AND the jigsaw piece?” Mark was apparently not giving Garrett a chance to recover, tearing into him the second the office door was closed. “You’ve been at this longer than I have, and yet here we are.”

“The game was rigged,” Garrett quickly replied in a vague attempt to defend himself. “I was rigged and I didn’t know and I don’t like it when games are unfair so I freaked out and-”

Mark cut off his rambling with a large hand over his mouth, since he was starting to get a little too loud. Garrett’s first instinct was to bite, but he figured Mark had enough wounds from his inability to keep his mouth closed.

Once Mark was sure he’d be quiet, he removed his hand. “Calm down. I understand. You’re only human.”

You shouldn’t say that to someone with a god complex. Luckily, Garrett kept his mouth shut.

“You should probably go check on Rigg,” Garrett spoke up, grabbing the folder with the pictures of the trap off the desk so he could at least pretend to be working. “He looked pretty shaken up. You don’t want someone like that getting in the way.”

Mark sighed, knowing Garrett was right. Rigg wanted to save everyone, and that would get in the way. “Right. You stay in here, I don’t want you wandering and getting lost.”

“Wow, so much faith in me,” Garrett teased, rolling his eyes before pulling Mark down into a kiss. He’d talk to him about the polyamory thing later, it wasn’t really appropriate here.

“Just stay put,” Mark reiterated as they pulled back, leaving one last kiss on the top of Garrett’s head before leaving the office, leaving him to his own devices.

… Yeah he actually didn’t want to get into any more trouble, so he sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk and opened up the folder, spreading the pictures out so he could “work”. Maybe he should actually get a job in this, it was kind of fun.

He was getting into the groove of things when the door opened. He looked up and behind him, expecting Mark, but was surprised to see Strahm instead. “Looking for Hoffman? Last I heard, he was dealing with Rigg.”

“He already has, he’s looking into something else right now,” Strahm replied, stepping further into the room and closing the door behind him. “I’m here to talk to you.”

Well that wasn’t good. Garrett settled back down in his seat, extremely aware of Strahm coming up behind him and placing one of his hands on the back of the chair to look down at his notes.

“You said you’ve been working the Jigsaw case since he first appeared, but I couldn’t find any record of you in the files. Care to explain?” Strahm asked after a tense moment of silence, but Garrett already had a response.

“I’m not employed by the precinct. The only person I officially work with is Detective Hoffman, so there’s no need to mention me. Besides, it’s not like I have a huge job, I just look at the traps and tell him what happened,” Garrett answered, humming softly as he continued his sketch of the Angel Trap.

So funny how he’d only had this fake job for like two hours and still had an excuse for everything.

“Fine, that makes sense, but-” Strahm put his hand on Garrett’s shoulder and Garrett, feral bastard that he is, reacted on pure instinct…

… And bit into Strahm’s hand.

For his credit, the agent didn’t scream, instead letting out a gasp that was somewhere in between surprised and pained. He probably didn’t want to make any louder of a sound so he didn’t cause a scene.

The problem with that was the fact that Garrett wasn’t letting go. In fact, he was sinking his teeth in even deeper.

There was blood now, Garrett could taste it, and it just made him want to stay latched on longer. Strahm was to the point of trying to pry him off while still being quiet, letting out little grunts of pain.

“I’ll fucking shoot you if you don’t let go,” he growled, but Garrett didn’t budge, knowing it was a bluff.

Fortunately for Strahm, the door opened, revealing Mark in the doorway. It took him a second to realize what was going on, but he was rushing over to the two as soon as it clicked.

At the sight of Mark, Garrett released Strahm from hold, wiping the blood off his lips with the back of his hand, only to lick it off his hand, still staring at the agent.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he warned, finally letting go of Strahm’s gaze and instead looking up at Mark. “I think I’m gonna go home now, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, yeah… I’ll see you later,” Mark responded, accepting the closed file Garrett handed to him and watching him head out.

Strahm was still holding his bleeding hand as he also watched Garrett leave. His face was tinted pink, which Mark found curious but wasn’t going to ask about, and blood was dripping through the gaps between his fingers.

“Let’s uh… get you patched up. I can at least get him to apologize later.”

Garrett probably wasn’t going to apologize later.

[matchasprouts]

Listen Closer - Chapter 7

[ no more writing like a madman! normal update times now wjhejhewbew also Strahm is joining the polycule ]

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“We need to go pick up Amanda,” Mark explained to Garrett when he got the most tired yet spite filled glare he’d ever received, all because he had shaken him awake.

Garrett had stayed planted, asleep, in Mark’s lap throughout the rest of the game, which was only a little less than an hour. Even with the incredibly short nap, he still looked better rested than when Mark first showed up.

The apprentice groaned, burying his face in Mark’s neck for a few seconds, as if not being able to see would make it all go away. “... Fine,” he eventually said, sighing softly and picking himself up.

He almost smacked Mark for laughing when his legs tried to give out on him. “Oh shut up,” he growled, gathering up his clothes and getting redressed.

He paused when Mark started to do the same, taking a moment to admire his handiwork in the bite marks and hickeys he’d left. He didn’t usually get the chance to see the marks he’d created, so he was simply soaking it in.

As soon as Mark looked at him, he looked away and finished making himself presentable again.

He didn’t hear Mark chuckle at his embarrassment.

---

“Took you two long enough,” Amanda complained as Mark and Garrett made their way to the bathroom, Garrett tilting his head at the sight of Daniel.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine staying here for another whole day?” Garrett asked her, hoisting the unconscious teenager up and over his shoulder, securing him with an arm over his back and another over the back of his knees.

Amanda scoffed at the concern, which made him narrow his eyes at her. “I’m a big girl, I can handle myself. Besides, we don’t have any other options. We don’t know when Mathers will show up.”

She was right, but Garrett still didn’t like it. Daniel was going to wake up at any point though, so he didn’t have time to argue. “Whatever. Be careful,” he told her, glancing down at Adam’s body before he headed out.

As he placed Daniel in the back seat of his car, he thought back to Adam. He remembered him being alive and in need of medical help. Lawrence had told him that when Jigsaw found him, he had been trying to go and get help for Adam.

Garrett had planned on being that help.

He knew Adam was still alive when he planned to go back for him, he even made sure to check. But, when he finally got down there, Adam was dead. Not from starvation or dehydration- strangulation.

There was a plastic bag around his head and face, filled up with his blood. It was awful. Adam hadn’t deserved to die, he managed to survive all that time just to end up like this.

He couldn’t even be buried, or moved. The bathroom would forever remain his tomb.

That was the night Garrett grabbed the simply white lighter that he kept on him now. The fluid had long since evaporated, so it was truly useless, but it was the lighter that let him see Adam.

Maybe it wasn’t smart to keep the ghost of a man he’d failed to save with him, but this was his version of feeling guilty for not being fast enough.

Garrett shook those thoughts away as he sat down in the driver’s seat.

It wasn’t long before Mark joined him, awkwardly settling down in the slightly too small passenger’s seat and pulling off his thick, leather gloves. It wasn’t likely that Mathers would be smart enough to bring back-up with him, or that anyone would know where he was going, but you could never be too careful in the Jigsaw business.

“You’re fitting into your role well,” Garrett commented once they were on the road, absentmindedly reaching up to scratch the bite that Mark had managed to leave on his neck.

Almost immediately, Mark grabbed his hand and placed it back on the steering wheel. “I’ll admit, this was definitely not how I planned on my life going,” he replied, letting his hand fall back into his lap. “I don’t think any detective plans to become a killer.”

“By technicality, we’re not killers,” Garrett corrected, thinking back to the time Lawrence gave the same speech to Adam. “We just put them in the traps. We give them every chance to get out, and if they choose not to take it, then all they’ve done is kill themselves. Humans inherently want to live. They just forget that sometimes, and we have to remind them.”

Mark just stared at him. “Do you know how apathetic you sound?” he teased, earning a light slap on the arm from Garrett. “I guess you’re right, though.” He didn’t know if Garrett knew about his “trap”, the one he set up for his sister’s killer. The one that was purposefully inescapable.

Not that it would matter if Garrett knew or not, because he would support it. He had a little sister of his own back home in the south, one he would kill for without hesitation. He understood. Murder was just necessary sometimes.

It wasn’t long before they arrived at the current Jigsaw “base”, the one they were using for Mathers’s part of the game.

“You sure you’re okay with putting coworkers in traps?” Garrett asked Mark as he hoisted Daniel onto his shoulder again once they were parked in front of the building. “I mean, Mathers and Kerry are in this.” He only knew either of those people from John’s research, but he knew that they were on the Jigsaw force with Mark.

“I’ve been hoping I won’t be the one to test either of them,” Mark admitted, walking ahead of Garrett to open the doors for him, so he wouldn’t have to risk dropping Daniel. “I know I probably will but… I don’t want to think about it.”

Wow. He cared so much more about his coworkers than Garrett did. He was already planning a trap for the people he worked with.

Garrett hummed at Mark’s reply, leaving it when they entered the main room where John wanted Daniel. “Alright, you go set up the oxygen tank, I need to check all the monitors and make sure they’re set up right.” Mark nodded, and he set Daniel down in the closest chair, heading over to another room to check out the monitors.

The monitors in this room wouldn’t have the tape in them, since they would find it almost immediately, so they were instead connected to the monitors in the apartment. Did Garrett understand how? No. He didn’t ask. He doesn’t care. He just needed to make sure it worked, and he knew how to do that.

When he was done, he returned to Daniel, grabbing him as Mark opened up the safe. He placed the teenager in the safe, curled up and probably uncomfortable, before placing the oxygen mask over his mouth.

Once secure in the knowledge that Daniel would not suffocate, he closed the safe.

“And that’s all we can do,” Garrett said as he moved away from the safe, checking over a few last things before leaving the building. He reached the car before Mark, but only had to wait about a minute before he joined him in the car.

Garrett started the car, but didn’t start moving yet. “So, anywhere you want me to drop you off? I’ve gotta go home- I’ve got shit to do- but I know the city pretty well and can take you just about anywhere.”

Mark just stared at him for a few seconds, thinking over how he should answer. He was silent for like a whole minute, long enough for Garrett to get on the road, before finally responding.

“Can I just go home with you?”

Garrett almost crashed the damn car.

“You- you can say no, it won’t hurt my feelings or anything, I just figured it would easier-”

“Yeah man, I’m cool with that.”

There was silence again, before Mark did that curious little head tilt of his. “Really? You’re sure that’s okay?” he asked, completely unsure if he actually meant it or not.

Garrett shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, you’re cool, and you’ve already literally seen me naked, so I’ve really got nothing against it. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

It was rather out of the blue, of course it caught him off guard. But, he said it was okay, so Mark assumed his apartment was where they were headed.

---

“I think I have pizza in the fridge if you’re hungry,” Garrett said as he opened the door to his apartment, already knowing that the gossip would hit him hard tomorrow. “Don’t bother trying to find any sort of alcohol, I don’t drink.” Yes, he knew Mark was an alcoholic for a while.

Mark rolled his eyes at the mention of it, but did seem surprised to learn that Garrett didn’t drink.

He pulled off his jacket after carefully closing the door, hooking it on the jacket stand next to the door. He glanced around the room, even more surprised that Garrett’s apartment was incredibly clean and organized.

“Yep, there’s pizza in here.” Garrett’s voice snapped Mark out of his thoughts, turning to watch as his fellow apprentice placed a pizza box on the kitchen counter, opening it up and grabbing a slice that he straight up bit into cold.

“Well, make yourself at home. I have some trap plans I need to work on,” he continued, pulling Mark down by the tie to kiss him on the cheek before moving past him into his bedroom.

If he wanted to be left alone, he probably shouldn’t have touched Mark, because now he was following him to the bedroom, and closing the door behind him.

It was going to be a long night if this keeps happening.

[matchasprouts]

Ashes - Chapter 1

[ lmao i'm really out here. anyway this a swap au for Felix and Brahms! Felix is prettily heavily misgendered until he's revealed, so be warned of that ]

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When he saw the job listing, Brahms decided to do some research before contacting the number provided on it. It wasn’t that far away from him, still in Britain even, but there was no way he was going to take a nanny job if he didn’t know anything about the family.

He was almost immediately gifted with results from his first search, and was shocked to find that the family’s child was dead. The house had burned down when their daughter was eight, after the mysterious death of another young girl.

If their daughter was dead, why would they need a nanny?

After a moment of wondering, Brahms decided that they’d simply had another child to deal with the grief of the first one’s death and now needed someone to watch that child while they were on vacation.

Yeah. That’s the only option that made sense. He checked the promised salary again on the job listing, and decided that it would be easy enough. The pay was great, and he really needed the money. He’d never been great with kids but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

So, he called the number provided. After a few simple questions (“Have you ever been to jail?” “How old are you?” “What’s your previous work experience?”) he was told that he needed to come up to the house so they could evaluate him in person. Their daughter’s comfort was very important to them, and they would need to ensure she liked him before he could get the job.

That seemed fair enough, so he bought a train ticket and packed to leave for the next day.

---

The estate was fucking massive.

Brahms had taken a taxi out to the house, and- despite how much he was getting paid- was surprised when they came up on a huge gate surrounded by forest. The driver got out to open it and drove right in when it was opened. There wasn’t even a road here, but he seemed used to the bumps.

Well, there wasn’t a road in the woods part, but the family at least had one of those circular driveways. The driver parked right in front of the porch before getting out to help unload the trunk. Brahms quickly got out as well to join him.

He hadn’t brought much with him, just a few bags, since he wasn’t sure if he’d actually be getting the job. The lack of security made him nervous as he approached the large door, taking a deep breath before knocking against the heavy wood.

Almost immediately, the door swung open, revealing an elderly man. He looked simultaneously frail and well built, which was probably because his body was in shape but his mind was not. Was this child a terror? What had Brahms walked into?

“You must be Brahms,” he said, in a voice Brahms didn’t recognize. He was shocked by the American accent, which made him realize that this wasn’t the man he’d spoken to over the phone. This must be the other man’s husband.

He nodded in confirmation. “Yes sir, I just got here. Are you Mr. Shaw?” he replied, tilting his head slightly to the side.

“One of two, yes,” the old man answered, gesturing for Brahms to come in, which he did. The house was colder than the outside, making him pull his green cardigan tighter against himself. “To avoid confusion, you can just call me Damien,” Mr. Shaw continued.

Ah. What a very american thing to say.

“Come on, you’ve got to meet Bella,” Damien told him, gesturing once again for Brahms to follow him upstairs. “If you get the job, there are a set of rules you need to follow. Bella gets very fussy when you don’t, and you don’t want that.”

Of course it was a fussy child. Brahms was starting to regret this, but really needed the money, so he was unfortunately willing to put up with it.

Soon, they came to a child’s room. When the door opened, Brahms could see another elderly man crouching in front of a rocking chair, talking quietly to whatever was in it. That couldn’t be the child, could it? There was no other voice, just the man’s.

“Dear? The new nanny is here,” Damien spoke up, making his husband turn around to look at him. He stood up and came over to shake Brahms’s hand, giving him a good look at the child.

Well, it wasn’t a child. In the rocking chair sat a porcelain doll the size of a small eight year old, with long and brown slightly curly hair. Her eyes were green, and devoid of life. There was a permanent small, pink smile on her face.

It was awful.

Brahms had come into this assuming that the child wouldn’t be the long dead Belladonna Shaw, but it seemed that that was exactly who he would be watching.

On the positive side though, it was a doll. Aka not a real child, which means this job would be infinitely easier for him.

Since he was pretty desperate for this job, he didn’t let his shock show. He just shook Mr. Shaw’s hand with a smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” he told him.

Mr. Shaw looked him up and down when they dropped their hands, as if sizing him up. “You too,” he replied, his voice holding a british accent. “This is Belladonna, as I’m sure you’ve figured out,” he continued, turning to the doll and going back to her, picking her up and putting her on his hip.

“She will decide if you will get the job or not. We’ve tried to hire many nannies, and she’s rejected all of them. You will be quite lucky if she wants you to stay,” he explained with a sigh. “She’s made it quite difficult for us.”

Without another word, Mr. Shaw handed the doll to Brahms. At first he froze, confused as to what was happening, but he quickly snapped out of it and took the offered doll, holding her exactly how Mr. Shaw did.

“I’ll explain the rules to you, please follow me,” he said, brushing past Brahms and heading back to the stairs.

First they went to the parlour, where Mr. Shaw explained the rules around music, reading, and lessons, all of which were meant to be loud. Then they moved to the kitchen, where he was told he needed to save the food given to Bella in the freezer rather than throwing it out.

“It’s about time for her lunch,” he said, taking the doll back from Brahms and sitting her down in one of the chairs. “Miss Evans can explain your outdoor duties to you. She should be easy enough to find.

Brahms took that as a dismissal and heard outside to find the aforementioned Miss Evans. He found her out in the garden, pulling up the weeds. “Miss Evans?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. She looked up at him, and gave him a cautious smile.

“You must be the new nanny. You can just call me Greta.” Like Damien, she was also american. “I guess Mr. Shaw sent you out here to learn about the traps. Come on.”

Man, he’d been told to follow a lot today.

Greta explained the rat traps to him, telling him that usually she cleaned them out but there would be times when he had to. She didn’t leave the grounds very often, but sometimes she went to town in cases of emergency.

When she was done, she sent him back inside. The day was coming to a close, and Bella needed to decide if she wanted Brahms to stay or not.

“It’s bedtime now, we would appreciate it if you watched what we do,” Damien told Brahms when he found them upstairs. Brahms nodded, and Mr. Shaw moved to lay the doll down. He tucked her in, then gestured for Damien to come in. “We need to speak to her privately, but know that the goodnight kiss is very important,” he explained, closing the door when he was inside.

Brahms waited outside of the room, nervously fidgeting with his hands. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he didn’t get this job, he didn’t have a back-up plan. He almost jumped when the door opened again.

“She likes you,” Damien said with a smile, albeit a sad one. “We’ll be leaving immediately. We regret leaving you so quickly, but it’s been so long since we’ve had a vacation, and we’re rather desperate to get it on with.”

Damien gave Brahms a small wave as he walked past him, leaving finalization to Mr. Shaw, who followed him out of the room and stopped outside of the door. He reached out to shake Brahms’s hand, pulling him closer so he could whisper to him. “I’m sorry,” he told him softly, giving Brahms one last look before leaving.

Well, that was ominous as fuck.

As soon as the Shaws left, Brahms got to unpacking. He was glad the doll was already laid down, and that he didn’t have to do it, since it gave him uninterrupted time to unpack.

He went to bed when he was done, not noticing the page of rules on his nightstand.

Luckily, he was an early riser.

[aniiplexoxo]

“I didn’t mean to love you so much. Just sort of… happened.” with that Other guy? Maybe you telling it to him?

[ OUGH THAT'S SO BIG BRAINED I LOVE IT ]

[ Prompt: “I didn’t mean to love you so much. Just sort of… happened.” ]

[ Characters: The Other (Nathaniel), Cain Terran ]

[ Warnings: i'm just. so soft <3 wjhjhefbhjbfwejwe ]

It wasn't uncommon for Nathaniel and Cain to end up in this position- Cain laying on his back on the couch and Nathaniel laying on top of him with his face resting on his stomach.

It was incredibly comfortable for both of them, and Cain would always spend the entire time playing with Nathaniel's hair, much to his delight.

Tonight they'd ended up like this when they sat down to watch a movie, since Annabelle was staying the night at a friend's house, leaving her two dads to their own devices.

Of course, that just meant they would spend all night doing the same thing they did every day: enjoy each other's presence.

Eventually, Nathaniel hummed against Cain's stomach, his way of letting him know that he had something he wanted to say. Cain paused the TV in response, knowing that if he left it on, he wouldn't be able to hear his lover.

"What's up, babe?" Cain asked, looking down at Nathaniel at the same time he looked up, both of them locking eyes with each other. Nathaniel took that as an invitation to push himself up on his arms and capture Cain's lips with his own, pulling him into a surprise kiss.

"Love you," Nathaniel muttered into the kiss, before kissing a trail down to Cain's jaw. "So much. More than expected. It's scary," he continued just as softly, now trailing the kisses down to his neck.

Cain hummed in reply, the noise getting him a kiss to the throat. "Wouldn't trade it for the world though," he finished, laying his head on Cain's chest now that he was done speaking.

He closed his eyes at the feeling of a hand in his hair again, relaxing immediately. "I love you too," Cain spoke up, his voice soft and giving his chest a pleasant rumble that Nathaniel was pleased to listen to. "A lot. I didn't expect it. I didn't even mean to love you so much. It just sort of... happened. I don't regret it though. Don't know what my life would be like without you, and I don't like thinking about it."

Damn, he didn't mean to spill his heart like that. Not that he was upset about it, because the way Nathaniel looked up at him with the most content and loving smile he'd ever seen on him, he knew he'd spill his heart a thousand times over just to see that look again.

Maybe falling in love with a murderer hadn't been his greatest idea, but he would never, ever regret it.

[matchasprouts]

Listen Closer - Chapter 14

[ OK OK I FINALLY GOT IT DONE SO I'M GONNA START VAMPIRE AU CHAP 1 ]

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Garrett definitely noticed that Strahm refused to make eye contact with him when they got back to the precinct, and couldn’t help but feel very proud of himself for that, even if all he’d done was get caught after having sex.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go home? It’s going to take more than a day for you to make up for all that blood loss,” Mark spoke up beside him, snapping him back to attention.

“I’m sure. I want to make sure they don’t dig too much into Lawrence,” Garrett replied, shifting in his seat.

They were currently sitting in the room hidden from the interrogation room by the two way mirror, waiting for Strahm and Perez to go in and ask Lawrence where he had been for so long. He was one of the only Jigsaw victims they had known of, but had never been able to find after his trap.

Of course, they couldn’t know that he was healing up at the meat packing plant. So he came up with something else, something John approved of.

They didn’t have to wait much longer before the door of the interrogation room opened and the agents entered, Strahm hovering closer to the mirror while Perez sat down across from Lawrence.

“So, Dr. Gordon, you’ve been missing for over six months now. I’ll admit that we don’t know very much about your “game” other than the fact that your fellow captive, Adam Stanheight, is dead. You were presumed dead as well. Where have you been all this time?” Perez asked, resting her hands on the table between them.

“Hiding,” Lawrence answered simply. “I had to… kill Adam in order for my family to live. It wasn’t my best moment- or my best shot, because of the blood I was losing- but I couldn’t just let them die. Not because of my mistakes.”

Garrett knew that Lawrence’s ex-wife had gone to the police after escaping Zep, only because he had looked at the files as soon as Lawrence told him he was going to be questioned. The police knew about their part of the kidnapping, and they had told them that Zep told them the game was over, and that Lawrence had lost.

They had a way around this too.

“I- I know that my ex-wife probably told you that I lost the game, but it’s not true. Zep’s clock was wrong. I checked as soon as I could walk.” This was a complete lie, both of the clocks were perfectly set up.

However, knowing that one day something like this would happen, Zep’s clock turned off permanently when the game was done, so no one could ever check. The police didn’t know that, and they never would.

Apparently they hadn’t been expecting Lawrence to be so cooperative, because there was silence for a minute, before Perez spoke up again.

“You said you were hiding? Is that because you killed Adam? You were trapped, Dr. Gordon, and it was the only way to protect your family. You wouldn’t have been arrested for that,” she said, leaning back when he scoffed at her.

“Do you honestly think that I was thinking about that after sawing off my own foot and murdering someone?” he asked coldly, his gaze flicking to the mirror for a second before dropping back to the table. “I was afraid, ashamed, and bleeding out. That didn’t exactly make me very open to thinking logically.”

There was silence again, before they decided they were satisfied. “Thank you for your time, doctor,” Perez said as she stood up, offering him a weak smile. “We’re glad to see you’re alright. Take care.”

With that, she and Strahm left, leaving Lawrence in the room. Garrett had already been told earlier that he could take Lawrence home when they were done, so he wasted absolutely no time in doing so, only pausing to give Mark a goodbye kiss.

“So, do you think my acting was on par with yours?” Lawrence teased once they were in the car, gaining a chuckle from Garrett. “Be honest. It was pretty important.”

“Yeah, it was,” Garrett admitted. “You could put a little more into eye contact, but they definitely believed you.” Lawrence gave a quiet “whoop” next to him, which made him laugh hard and sudden enough that he had to slam on the brakes as pain shot through his face from his wound.

Lawrence was on him in seconds, tilting his head to the side to check the stitches. Luckily he hadn’t pulled any out, but it hurt like HELL. “I’m fine,” Garrett muttered, getting an incredulous look from his boyfriend before he was released.

Soon enough, they were back on the road, the only thing breaking the silence being the radio.

This was probably the most quiet car ride Garrett had ever been in.

---

Upon arriving back at the meat packing plant, Garrett almost immediately locked himself in his room, getting straight to work on the plans for his next trap.

There wouldn’t be many traps for the next few months or so, other than a few small ones that Amanda and Mark would be putting on. Only one of them would need Garrett’s touch- he was going to have to put one of them together piece by piece in a motel room.

He was looking forward to the challenge, but that required the trap before it to happen, and that wouldn’t be for at least a month.

So, he worked on his own trap instead.

Honestly, part of him thought it would make more sense for Mark to design and build a trap for Strahm, but he found it rather poetic that it was his job instead. Since they’d met, they had continuously been forced into situations together, one even bad enough that Garrett literally passed out in his arms.

Strahm was growing attached, and Garrett was planning his death.

Some people might call that love.

His focus turned entirely to his plans as he sat down at his desk, surrounded by pieces of scrap metal and small models of traps. Luckily, he already had a plan in mind and didn’t have to sit there and try to figure it out.

The trap was going to be a box that would be placed on his head and quickly fill up with water. Theoretically there should be no escape, which was why it wasn’t his most creative trap. He wasn’t even going to make a tape for him.

He was, however, going to spend as much time as possible on it, in order to ensure that there was no way for him to get out.

Theoretically, of course.

Once he had the plans sketched out and finalized with a design he liked, he got to work on the actual building. He knew he had several months to put it together, but he didn’t want to waste any time.

He knew his little found family got worried when he threw himself into his work like this, but they did the same damn thing so they never said anything. He was pretty sure they worried just because he was the only one that locked himself away when he worked.

Nar still came in on occasion to make sure he was hydrated and not accidentally starving himself, but it was mostly Lawrence checking in on him now that he could walk.

What finally brought him out of the hyperfocus was the sound of a folder hitting his desk, the sound making him flinch.

The perpetrator was Mark, who was now leaning against the desk. “What’s that?” Garrett asked, tilting his head to the side as Mark handed the folder to him.

“That, sweetheart, is the paperwork you need to fill out to become my official specialist, instead of one accepted on my word alone,” Mark explained, gesturing for him to open the file, which he did.

Most of it was already filled out by Mark, leaving only a few black spaces that Garrett needed to fill in. “Man, you wanna be around me that bad?” he joked, but he really did appreciate the work Mark was putting in to let him into crime scenes.

“Just fill out the forms,” Mark shot back, pressing a long kiss to Garrett’s head before leaving the room.

… Maybe a little break would be okay. These forms were probably more time sensitive than the water box, and he’d take any chance he could to get away from his bookstore job.

Besides, all he had to do was sign his name, explain why he was certified to be a specialist, and any criminal history, which he did not have.

The form was finished quickly, and he took the chance to get something to eat while he looked for Mark to return it to him. After that was done, he went right back to his room and got right back to work.

John had only given him two traps to work on, and by god was he going to work on them.

Besides, the faster he got the water box done, the faster he could put together the pieces needed for one of his favourite traps yet.

[matchasprouts]

Listen Closer - Chapter 19

[ i promised a listen closer update and by god i will give y'all a listen closer update ]

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It was the next week that all the final touches on the big game were complete, and John was ready to let himself inevitably die at the end. Amanda was out collecting Dr. Denlon, having already moved Matthews into the room for his trap. Garrett had already retrieved Jeff Denlon, the doctor’s husband, and had him set up in the crate he would have to escape to get started.

Mark was heading out to get the players in Rigg’s game at the same time Garrett was leaving to get the other parts of Jeff Denlon’s game. Theoretically, that meant they would be back at the same time, despite two of Mark’s players not needing to be brought in. He still had to set up the trap that would start off Rigg’s game, after knocking Rigg himself out.

If all went accordingly, that meant Garrett would be there to help Mark get set up for his role in the game. Mark really didn’t want Amanda to do it, and neither did Garrett.

Garrett probably had it the easiest out of the two of them. He could get all his players at once, since his car was large enough for all three of them and none of them really had a fighting chance against them.

He got the most difficult one first, the one that would be going on the rack. He put up a fight, but Garrett was faster. The second one he grabbed was the Judge, who was actually asleep when he came in. Last, but not least, the witness that did nothing.

Honestly, he didn’t think any of these people needed to be trapped. The crash was an accident, the judge was just doing his job- it’s not like the accident was murder- and the witness was probably just scared.

Denlon, however, deserved this and they, unfortunately, were part of it.

As expected, despite the planning, Garrett got back before Mark. This wasn’t ideal, but it was preferred over Mark getting back first. He was likely still setting up Rigg’s apartment and trap. He doubted it would take much longer, it had been several hours since they first left.

He took the chance to hang the witness up in the freezer room (he felt bad stripping her naked, but he knew it had to be done), chain the judge up in the meat vat (he knew he wouldn’t be able to watch this one), and set the second most important player up in the rack.

John watched him do this, apparently wanting to ensure that he did it right. Amanda stood behind him, her eyes never once leaving Garrett.

Really? She didn’t trust him?

Maybe she should change her mind on killing Lynn Denlon before deciding to be pissy with him.

He glared at her, the sight of his wide eyes narrowing making her visibly uncomfortable. He turned back to the trap, using his shoulder to hold him up as he strapped him in by the ankles. Once that part was done, a hand on his chest held him upright as Garrett strapped in his wrists. Last was his head.

Once that was done, Garrett sent one last glance at John and Amanda, debating saying something to them but being cut off before he got the chance by his phone beeping with a text.

Mark was back, and it was time to set him up.

---

“You know, you look awfully pretty tied down like this,” Garrett teased, tightening the straps on Mark’s wrists a little bit. He’d already gotten the ankle straps done, he was just making sure the wrist ones were secure.

Mark rolled his eyes at the statement. “Yeah, sure. Enjoy it while it lasts.” Oh, he definitely was going to.

Garrett was, rather unfortunately, the only apprentice not participating in the game. John had made it clear that he wanted someone to watch the whole thing at once, in order to make sure that all of the rules were followed. He was not, however, allowed to intervene.

Once Mark was strapped in, he moved on to Detective Matthews. Admittedly, it was rather difficult to get him onto the ice block and not accidentally hang him, but he worked it out.

After finishing up with the wires meant to be tripped and giving the lever that would activate the trap, he took one last glance at Mark, offered him a smile, and shut off the lights.

Art Blank would be arriving soon, and Rigg would be waking up in no time. It was time for him to get to his viewing room.

The door unlocked with a click, and relocked with a higher pitched one. He couldn’t have anyone getting in here- the operation surviving relied on Mark and Garrett keeping up the lie. Not to mention the fact that he couldn’t get captured, he needed to put Strahm in his trap.

He sat down at the desk and turned on all of the monitors, not entirely sure how well he’ll be able to focus on all of them at once. If all else fails, he will probably just focus on Mark’s.

Though, he did want to make sure he watched the trap he built for Ivan. He was very invested in how it turned out since it was so much trouble to build.

He hummed a soft tune as he got set up, keeping a weapon close by in case someone did get into the room. He quieted down when Lynn woke up, and sat down to watch the game unfold.

It was going to be an interesting one, that’s for sure.

---

Amanda was starting to lose her cool, even Garrett could see that.

He’d chosen to turn his attention for the time being to John’s part of the game, while Jeff dealt with the Judge. He just couldn’t watch that trap- it was sickening, and that had to mean something when it came from someone like him.

Rigg was definitely taking his time as he went through his own part of the game, which was curious considering how desperate he was to get out of there. He’d only just put Ivan in the trap when Jeff freed the judge, staring at him for a moment before running out of there.

Next was the teacher and his wife, a trap Garrett wished he’d had the pleasure of putting together.

Obviously, he was fond of killing abusers. He had a plan for a game he would put together later with a similar premise of killing an abusive lover that the player just couldn’t leave. It wasn’t a punishment for staying- it was a key to freedom.

He watched as Rigg found the woman and her husband, flinching when she suddenly woke up. His attention turned back to Jeff, who was now entering the room with the Rack.

Amanda had decided to take a break from John’s game, storming out of the room and disappearing from the sight of the cameras. If Garrett had to guess, he’d say that she was probably cutting herself again.

She’d made him swear not to tell John, but even that precaution wasn’t needed because at this point, he wanted her out of the way. She killed with no remorse, and he couldn’t keep her in check like he could with Mark. Unfortunately, she had to go.

Garrett hummed as he turned to Mark’s game, Art Blank just now handing the gun over to Matthews. He watched as Matthews considered killing himself, loading the single bullet into the gun and pressing it against the underside of his jaw.

But, in the end, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Garrett wasn’t sure if he was weak willed, or if he cared enough about Mark to not kill him.

Possibly both.

Rigg was helping the woman down now, putting his coat over her to keep her warm after the blood loss.

As he did that, Strahm and Perez entered the motel room where Ivan’s body lay. Through one of the cameras, Garrett had seen the addict that grabbed him last time he was there pull Strahm to the side, likely telling him in a frantic voice about the man with the wide eyes.

Knowing Strahm, he was going to ignore this completely.

In fact, he probably thought Rigg was the apprentice he was hunting, which was exactly what he was supposed to think.

Of course Strahm seemed angry while talking to Perez about the trap, but then she said something and he shut up. It seemed like it was a suggestion, because after a second, he pulled out his phone and typed something in.

Garrett didn’t realize he was making a call until his own phone started ringing.

“Shit-!” he hissed, not having accounted for the fact that of course Strahm would try to call the only Jigsaw specialist in. But he couldn’t leave, and none of them had time for this. He debated just letting it go to voicemail, but that would be suspicious, so he finally picked up.

“It’s my off day Strahm, I don’t care what kind of trap you’ve just run into, I’m not leaving my damn apartment,” he started immediately, cutting Strahm’s greeting off. There was silence for a moment, before Strahm spoke up again.

“I know, but this is the second trap we’ve come across. It’s a multistage game and-” Garrett cut him off once again, not willing to sit through the explanation of a game he was facilitating.

“All the more reason for me to not come in right now,” he said, glancing at Jeff’s game in time to watch the driver’s head get twisted all the way around, killing him instantly. “If it’s a multistage game, the likelihood of me walking into something I can’t defend myself from is too high. Contractually I can’t go.”

That was actually the truth. Part of the contract he signed when he was hired on was that if a trap was found and the game was still active, he couldn’t look at it. There was far too high of a chance that he could get hurt, and the police couldn’t handle that liability.

Strahm’s end of the phone was quiet, probably pressed against his chest as he spoke to Perez about something. Finally, he broke it. “Fine. I’m not getting fired over you.”

“Oh, don’t be so bitter,” Garrett all but hissed, watching Jeff try to find a way out as Rigg ran through the halls in search of his coworkers. “I have to go. Good luck.”

He hung up, and watched as Strahm got another location and rushed out of there.

Now his focus was solely on Amanda and Lynn. Amanda had a gun with her, apparently, and Garrett could tell that she was close to snapping. Hopefully she’d hold out long enough for Strahm to arrive.

---

Strahm was alone when he entered the building, blood spattered on his shirt and his gun drawn. Garrett watched as he and Jeff both headed for the same room, turning to one of the other monitors and watching Art get shot by Rigg.

He’d enjoyed watching Matthews die, his head crushed by the giant ice blocks suspended above him. Though, he was a bit surprised that Mark managed to avoid any of the chunks that went flying.

He heard gunshots, and watched Strahm kill Jeff. He grabbed his pig mask, and ran from the room, pulling it on as he went. He hid in the next room that Strahm was supposed to find, hidden by the shadows and pressed against the back of a pillar.

Strahm didn’t take long to get into the room, slowly making his way to one of the gurneys. He ran a hand over it, and Garrett rushed out at him, grabbing the back of his head and slamming it into the gurney before jabbing the needle into his neck.

The liquid went in, and Strahm went limp in his grasp. Garrett took the chance to look him over when he wasn’t hopped up on pain meds, humming softly as his thumb brushed over the agent’s cheek.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, he hoisted Strahm onto his shoulder and made his way to the water box room.

It wasn’t long before Strahm was set up in his trap, everything he’d been carrying on him laid out on a small table in front of him. Originally, Garrett was going to plant the pen on him before he woke up, but now… now he wanted him to know that the only reason he survived was that someone acting as Jigsaw spared him.

It’d be quite the ego killer.

Garrett stood in the darkness of the room as he waited for Strahm to wake, giving him a significantly watered down dose of the sedative they used so he would wake up sooner. The longer it took, the more he fidgeted, needing to get outside so he could have an alibi.

Finally, he woke up… and immediately started banging at the glass and yelling for help. Garrett tilted his head at him, watching him thrash until he pressed a button on a remote kept in his pocket, getting the water to flow.

He’d blocked out Strahm’s yelling at this point, waiting until the water was close to his mouth before slowly making his way over to him, the pen hidden in his hand by the sleeve of the jacket he wore.

Strahm froze for half a second before thrashing even harder the closer he got. Garrett pressed his gloved index finger to the mouth of the pig mask, before leaning close to Strahm and slipping the pen into his pocket.

They made eye contact for a few seconds, before Garrett was pulling away and leaving the building. He heard Strahm yell out to him, just barely hearing him beg for him to come back before the door was closed and he was removing anything that would make it seem like he was Jigsaw.

His mask, jacket, and gloves went in the back of his car. He also changed his general clothes at his car, making it seem more like he had just thrown some clothes on in a rush. Then he went around the building, slipping into the crowd at the front.

Once he saw Mark, he started to act panicked, just like he was supposed to. He shoved his way through the people, yelling out for his boyfriend when one of the cops keeping the crowd back grabbed him, saying something about civilians not being allowed past the tape.

“I’m the fucking specialist you ass!” Garrett spat, forcing his way out of their grasp and ducking under the tape and making a beeline for Mark.

He hit his lover’s chest hard, making him stumble back a little, but he immediately felt Mark’s arms around him. “Is everyone dead?” he whispered, looking up at the detective.

Mark just nodded. Of course, he didn’t know that Strahm was still alive, and he’d probably never know that that was because of Garrett. “It’s just us now.”

Garrett pulled him into a kiss to hide his grin from the cameras, one that Mark quickly returned. They both immediately pulled back when they heard someone say that they had a live one, finding Strahm laid out on a different gurney and being pulled into an ambulance.

“Shit,” Garrett hissed, glancing up at Mark, whose jaw had tightened at the sight of the agent. He looked down at Garrett, not angry with him but clearly angry at Strahm’s survival.

“I hope you have a plan to fix this…” he practically growled, his features softening when his boyfriend looked uncomfortable.

Garrett sighed softly, resting his forehead on Mark’s chest. “I always do. It’s gonna take time though.”

“Better than nothing.”

Hopefully, the questioning wouldn’t last too long.

[matchasprouts]

Listen Closer - Chapter 8

[ i wrote like a madman <//3 sorry besties ]

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Garrett hated when his phone ringing woke him up.

He struggled to find it for a moment, before finally slapping his hand onto it. He picked it up off the nightstand, vaguely aware that there were arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

“Whitlock’s chop shop-” he paused, instinctively launching into one of his fucked up openers as soon as he answered the call. “Sorry. Who is this?”

“Who is this?” an unfamiliar voice replied, and Garrett became significantly more alert, wondering what the fuck was happening. “Why do you have Detective Hoffman’s phone?”

Oh shit. That wasn’t his phone.

“Shit, give me a second,” Garrett said, moving the phone away from him as he turned around in Mark’s arms. “Mark,” he whispered, gently shaking the detective. “Someone’s trying to talk to you.”

Mark groaned in response, but took the phone after a second, pressing it to his ear while still laying down. “Hoffman,” he greeted, his voice gruff and sleepy.

Garrett immediately laid back down and cuddled up to Mark again as soon as he was no longer required to be social, tracing a finger over the detective’s chest as he spoke to whoever it was on the phone, presumably a coworker.

That got him a soft hum from Mark, who moved to wrap an arm around Garrett again. “Yeah. Okay, I’ll be there in 10. Keep an eye on Matthews.” He hung up after that, letting his arm drop back to the bed.

“Job stuff?” Garrett asked as he looked at Mark, smiling when he looked back down at him before nodding. “Man. Sucks to suck, I guess,” he teased, pressing a kiss to one of the newer marks he’d left.

“Yeah, yeah,” was Mark’s reply, pausing for a second to kiss Garrett on the head before he was getting up to get dressed.

Garrett stayed on the bed, simply watching as Mark got his clothes from last night back on. He’s legally obligated to admire his handiwork when he made partners bleed, and BOY did he make Mark bleed.

Mark came around the bed and gave Garrett one last kiss before heading out. Garrett didn’t move until he heard the front door close, followed almost immediately by his alarm. He sighed, wondering if he could just call out of work today.

….. Yeah, he had someone to kill anyway.

---

Garrett honestly loved the Angel Trap. And he told Amanda as much, because sometimes she needed the ego boost.

Kerry was laying unconscious on the ground in front of the trap and behind Garrett, who was admiring the hanging trap. The idea of someone having their ribs ripped out all at once… he loved it.

He pat down his pockets before moving Kerry into the trap, ensuring he had the key that Amanda had given him. Once he was sure he did, he picked the detective up and hoisted her up, holding her up with his shoulder as he strapped her in.

The leather straps were first secured around the top part of her chest and under around her shoulders. Once they were latched on, he didn’t have to hold her up anymore, leaving her dangling.

Next there were the straps around her waist, and then he had to stick each pin into her ribs. The sedative they used was very powerful, so he didn’t worry too much about her waking up despite the pain. He still wore his pig mask, just in case she did.

Slowly but surely, he got each and every pin into each and every rib, right where they were supposed to be.

Kerry was starting to stir. He looked up at the sound of her groaning, hissing under his breath. He scrambled to get the key out of his pocket, dropping it into the beaker of acid hanging in front of her as soon as it was in his hands.

He had to dart out after that, because her eyes were opening and she couldn’t see him. He hid behind one of the pillars in the room, watching silently as she woke up and began to struggle when she realized where she was.

Once he was sure she was completely awake, he played the tape with her message.

“Hello, Kerry. I want to play a game. Up until now, you have spent your life among the dead, piecing together their final moments. You're good at this because you, like them, are also dead. Dead... on the inside,” the tape started, echoing through the room. Kerry had stopped struggling, pausing to listen.

“You identify more with a cold corpse than you do with a living human. I believe you want to join your true family, indeed your only family, in death. The device you are wearing is hooked into your ribcage, and by the time this tape is finished, you will have one minute to find a way out. At the end of that minute... you should know better than anyone what happens then.”

Damn, where did that come from? Garrett didn’t know much about Kerry, but he knew she wasn’t that “dead inside”. At that point it just sounded like an excuse to put her in the trap.

“There is a simple key that will unlock the harness, Kerry. It is right in front of you. All you have to do is reach in and take it. But do it quickly. The acid will dissolve the key in a matter of seconds... Make your choice.”

The tape clicked off at that, and Garrett slipped the recorder back into his bag at the tick of the timer starting. Kerry was struggling again, fighting with the padlock. It took her all of three seconds before she realized the only way out was in the acid.

To her credit, she stuck her hand right in.

She cried out as the acid hit her skin, and Garrett stopped watching. He hated acid, and her screams were more than enough to tell him what was happening.

And then it calmed down, and he looked back. She had gotten the key and was struggling to put it in the lock. She finally did and…

Nothing happened. The lock didn’t move.

Amanda had given Garrett the wrong damn key.

“Shit-!” he yelled, running out to do something to stop the trap, even if he didn’t have the key. He was, however, too late.

The trap activated and the wings spread out, ripping Kerry’s ribs from her torso in a matter of seconds. Garrett just watched, staring at her exposed organs. He slowly pulled the mask off, tossing it to the ground.

“Shit…” he repeated softly to himself, unbothered by the smell of blood but unable to look at Kerry’s face.

Some part of him knew it wasn’t his fault- Amanda had rigged the trap to be inescapable, and didn’t tell him- but he still felt awful for not being fast enough. He should have checked before he put her in there. He thought it was going to be fair.

He’d known Amanda for so long now, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to trust her the same after this, especially not with traps. Either she could put together her own damn traps, or she could make them fair.

Finally, he grabbed his mask and stepped away from the body. He quickly shoved everything of his into his bag, taking one last glance at the dead detective before leaving her for her former coworkers to find.

---

Instead of going home to his apartment, Garrett went straight to the meat packing plant they used as a base. He tossed his bag on the closest chair once inside, heading straight for the room Lawrence stayed in.

“Hey, long time no see,” he said as he opened up the door, grinning when Lawrence looked up at him with a smile.

“I was wondering where you ran off to,” Lawrence replied, even though he knew that Garrett worked during the week. He gestured for Garrett to come into the room, and he did so without hesitation. “How’s work going?”

Garrett groaned loudly at the mention of work, sitting down next to Lawrence on the bed and falling back into the mattress. “I can’t wait to finish the game for my coworkers. This is what they get for being such gossipy bitches.”

Lawrence chuckled softly at his ire, readjusting himself for a second before laying back with Garrett. “Hopefully I’ll get to see it. I’m sorry I missed your first trap. It was an iron maiden, wasn’t it?

“Yeah,” Garrett confirmed. “I wish you could have seen it too, but there’s always the next one, right?”

“Right.” He could see Lawrence smile at the idea, which made him realize that that would be a pretty fucked up date.

Oh yeah. Dates. “How do you feel about polyamory?” Garrett blurted out, immediately mortified with his own bluntness. He felt worse the longer Lawrence was quiet, especially when he remembered that the doctor literally cheated on his wife.

“I suppose it would depend on the other person,” Lawrence finally answered, turning his head to look at Garrett. “Unless you don’t feel like I have to date both of you.”

“You wouldn’t have to,” Garrett assured, relaxing now that he’d gotten an answer. “You totally could if you wanted to, and you won’t have to worry about secrets because he’s an apprentice like me, but you definitely don’t have to.”

Lawrence hummed at that, looking back up at the ceiling. “I’d be willing to try it with you. As long as he’s willing too.”

“I hope he is,” Garrett muttered to himself, and they slipped back into a far more comfortable silence, just happy to be next to each other, even though it had only been a few days since they’d last seen each other.

Garrett could have stayed there forever, but he could hear Amanda and John coming through the door, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before Kerry was found.

He sat up and leaned down to give Lawrence a little kiss before standing up and heading out of the room to see the others.

On the way there, he decided not to confront Amanda, just because he didn’t want to embarrass her in front of John.

In fact, he wasn’t going to bring up the Angel Trap at all, except to say that Kerry failed.

And then his phone rang.

[matchasprouts]

Listen Closer - Chapter 5

[ can't stop won't stop. when will Lawrence not get cockblocked by Nar <///3 ]

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Luckily for all of them, Garrett did finish that furnace before the day was over. He managed to check the trigger on the fire right before passing out face down on his bed. He told them they’d just move it to the house in the morning.

It wasn’t morning when they moved it, but it got moved out of his room at the very least before he was running out to get to his real job. He was definitely going to be late, but at least he wouldn’t have to deal with that giant machine in his living space anymore. Mark and Amanda could figure out how to get it to the house themselves.

“You’re late,” one of his coworkers teased as he clocked in and he just rolled his eyes. “And you look like shit. How do you live like this?” they continued, receiving a short glare from Garrett.

He didn’t necessarily hate his coworkers, but he wasn’t friends with them either. “Easily,” he replied shortly, leaving no more room for conversation as he clipped his nametag on his shirt and got to work.

Normally he wasn’t so short with them, but he was tired and wanted to get on with the day so he could help with the final preparations for the game.

The day went by quickly, especially because Nar remembered he had his phone number and would occasionally send him pictures of Amanda working, or a joking picture of Hoffman’s ass. He even received a picture of Lawrence ranting about something, probably a bad hospital show. Stuff like that always got him through the day.

“Is that your new boyfriend?” The coworker from earlier, Nadia, asked when they got a glimpse of one of the Hoffman ass pics. They backed off at the look Garrett gave them.

“No.” That was where he left it, putting his phone in his pocket and getting back to work. He was very lucky that Nadia didn’t get the chance to see him turn bright red at the mere idea of Hoffman being his boyfriend.

It was around 5pm when Garrett finally got off, practically running out of the bookstore and heading directly for his car. He was kind of aware of Nadia trying to talk to him as he sped out of the door, but didn’t care enough to stay put.

He was partly rushing so much because he needed to help finish the trap, but mostly because right before his shift ended, he’d gotten a text from Nar:

‘help gordon is trying to walk and idk what to do, he’s just hobbling around with his lil prosthetic help-’

He TOLD Gordon to wait until he could help him, and now he was speeding toward the base, two miles away from being pulled over for how fast he was driving. Plus there was the fact that the other two apprentices weren’t supposed to know about him, according to John, and the picture attached to the text showed him one of the main work rooms.

Fucking idiot, Gordon was supposed to be smart and here he was, being the dumbest bitch in the Jigsaw house, stepping way too close to getting killed.

---

… Apparently the other apprentices weren’t home.

Amanda was already at the Nerve Gas House to help with finishing touches, and Hoffman was at the precinct to “help” with the newest Jigsaw case, meaning Gordon was not in danger of being killed.

Garrett still scolded him.

“I can’t believe you!” He hissed as Gordon leaned into his side, trapped by the arm across his back and the hand placed on his midriff. “I told you! I told you not to try to move around without my help! You know Nar can’t support your weight!!”

Gordon just chuckled at him, the gravelly sound just pissing him off more rather than flustering him like usual.

“Lawrence!! This isn’t a joke!!! I’m genuinely worried about your dumb ass!!!!” Garrett continued, his voice slightly more high pitched in annoyance. Gordon just laughed at him again, making him huff as he practically dragged the doctor back to his room.

It was when he was finally sat down that Gordon said something. “I know you’re worried, but I wasn’t going to call you out of work just so I can walk around.”

“Wh- That’s what I expected you to do!!” Garrett countered, almost offended at the idea that Gordon thought his job was more important than him. “You literally can’t walk without help, and you’ve been bedridden for months! You don’t even have a cane yet!”

Gordon was just watching him at this point as he continued to list off reasons he should have been called, a small smile on his face at how animated Garrett got when he was passionate about something.

“... Why are you staring at me like that?” Garrett asked once he noticed Gordon’s gaze, his hands frozen midair in one of his wild gestures.

“You called me Lawrence.” Garrett’s eyes widened, he hadn’t even noticed. “And I like listening to your voice. I know you’re busy, but I wish you would visit more often, even if it was just to talk.”

Bro stop you’re scaring the hoes with attachment issues who are afraid of relationships (Garrett).

“Wh- I don’t-” Garrett’s stammering was cut off by Gordon’s lip suddenly connecting with his, and he mentally cursed himself for almost immediately melting into it.

The kiss didn’t last long because Gordon had stood up to reach Garrett, and he pulled back to sit back down on the bed, but that didn’t last long either.

As if he’d been waiting for it his whole life, Garrett practically lunged at the doctor, pulling him into another, slightly more desperate kiss. His hands were gripping Gordon’s shirt hard enough that it would definitely be forever wrinkled like that, and he was pretty much in the other man’s lap.

He was worried he was coming off too strong for all of two seconds, the concern dissipating when Gordon’s hands found his hips, holding him there in a tight grip.

Garrett had just begun to thread his fingers through Gordon’s hair- two seconds away from pulling at it- when there was a knock on the door.

Both of them jumped, Garrett shooting back like he’d been shocked. “I forgot we weren’t alone,” he whispered to Gordon, gaining a soft laugh from the doctor. Both of them took a moment to put themselves back together (when had Gordon started unbuttoning Garrett’s shirt?) before answering the door.

Nar glanced between the two of them, seemingly surprised that they looked like they had when they went in- luckily, the room was dark enough to conceal their flushed faces and Garrett’s very red lips.

“You done yelling at him?” he asked Garrett, who nodded in reply. “Good. John wants you at the Nerve Gas House, he wants you to set up the razor box.” Right. Garrett had forgotten about that.

He took one last glance at Gordon before sighing. “I’m so sick of that box,” he muttered, though he accepted his fate and headed out in far less of a frenzy than before. To be completely honest, he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to finish what he started with Gordon. But… the others needed his help, and he needed to give it.

That didn’t mean he didn’t spend the whole drive there thinking about the feeling of Gordon’s lips on his, and what else he could do to the good doctor the next time they were alone.

---

“Does that look good?” Garrett asked Hoffman once the razor box was attached to the ceiling, taking a few steps back to stand next to the detective.

He’d been having trouble with getting the box to hang evenly, which was a struggle he was no stranger to, so he’d brought Hoffman in to take a look at it.

The detective tilted his head slightly to the side as he inspected it, before letting out a soft hum. “You finally got it,” he confirmed, straightening back up. He didn’t flinch when Garrett let out a triumphant whoop, which was proof that one could get used to him quickly.

“You’re a godsend,” Garrett told him, slapping him on the shoulder before leaving the room, running down the hall to tell John and Amanda the good news. He could hear Hoffman following him, but absolutely did not slow down.

He skidded into the main room where John and Amanda were going over the plan for the thousandth time, almost tripping over his own foot and sending himself crashing into the ground. His only saving grace was Hoffman grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him back onto his feet.

John and Amanda stared at him like he was crazy for all of two seconds, before completely ignoring the fact that he almost just curbstomped himself into the floor. “I finally got the razor box straight,” Garrett spoke up, also acting as if he did not almost just die. “All my traps are good to go. Now, I desperately need sleep, so I’m gonna go home and take a two hour nap.”

He wasn’t. He was going to go back to his apartment and frantically draw up plans until he passed out from sleep deprivation at 2am. That was his permanent Jigsaw trap, one he could never escape from.

Wow. That was the most emo thought he’d had since middle school.

“Anyway. Good-bye.” With that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the house, but not after patting Hoffman- who had still been awkwardly standing behind him- on the chest, slipping a piece of paper into the front pocket of his shirt.

What was on it, you ask? A gay little doodle of Hoffman setting up the door gun. Why did he give it to him? He doesn’t know how to flirt. This is the best he’s got.

He went straight ‘home’ after that, a little annoyed he couldn’t go back to the base but also knowing that his neighbours were weirdly nosy and would “get concerned” if he didn’t show up to his apartment regularly.

Plus, his couch there was a really comfortable bed.

[matchasprouts]

Listen Closer - Chapter 2

[ your honour, i simply love him. also this may become my focus for a while so idk if The Walls and Ashes will keep getting semi-regular updates ]

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“Do you ever think about making traps that aren’t iron maidens?” Amanda asked, looking up from her own work to watch Garrett attach a chain to a literal iron maiden.

Garrett glanced at her before scoffing and placing the collar on the chain down on the ground as he went around to the back of the maiden to check the pulley the chain was attached to. “I think about plenty of traps. Iron maidens are just my favourite. Would you rather I-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Amanda cut him off, already knowing he was about to spew some shit on medieval torture methods. “I was just curious. I mean, they work, so I’m not complaining. And it keeps you busy.”

Right. Because if he wasn’t building or designing a trap he was writing, and that would be falling back on what he was trying to unlearn.

When he went to respond, he was cut off yet again by his phone ringing. He answered it almost immediately, since the only people with that number were his Jigsaw associates. “Yeah?” he greeted, tucking the phone under his ear as he got back to work.

“Garrett. I am in the car, outside. I need your help,” came the voice of John through the phone, the way he spoke making Garrett chuckle to himself. “Be prepared to carry a person.” Oh! There was no scheduled game for today?

Garrett once again tried to reply, just for John to hang up. He let out an annoyed groan, but flipped the phone shut and tossed it on the table. “Don’t touch my trap,” he told Amanda, before pulling down his sleeves and jogging outside to help John.

He was ninety percent sure he heard her fucking with his trap as soon as he left.

---

“Who in the FUCK is this guy?” Garrett asked, struggling slightly to keep John’s newest victim standing, his limp body leaning heavily into him. Garrett was the strongest of the three of them, sure, and the second tallest but this guy was HUGE. He had to be at least 6’0, and carrying him was like carrying a brick wall.

John glanced at him, a vague amusement in his eyes but a neutral look on his face. “That, Garrett, is Detective Mark Hoffman. Normally I don’t go after cops if I had no evidence that they’re dirty, but he attempted to frame us, and I cannot tolerate that. Getting caught myself doesn’t matter. Keeping you and Amanda safe does.”

Aww, murder dad moments. Better than the dad Garrett used to have. “Right,” he let out a huff, readjusting Mark as he dragged him through the room, FINALLY dropping him into a chair in the middle of the workshop. “No wonder he’s a detective, the man’s a fucking giant.”

He stood in front of the still passed out detective, giving him a proper look over. He was big, like he’d already said, with short dark brown hair that had looked black outside. He had surprisingly well formed lips for a presumably cis white guy, and Garrett surprised himself with the thought that they looked awfully biteable.

Ah, there’s his gay instinct. He’d been wondering where it had gone, since it hadn’t fucked him over when he’d met that Adam Faulkner guy- who was definitely cute, but also now haunting him, which kind of ruins the appeal.

Moving on from that, Hoffman also had a little bit of scruff on his jaw, which Garrett quickly realized was what he’d felt on his temple while he was carrying him to the chair.

His little inspection was cut short when John began setting up the trap, strapping Hoffman to the chair with a shotgun strapped to his chest, the barrel directly under his chin.

“That doesn’t look very escapable,” Garrett joked, sending a short look to Amanda, who immediately looked away, at least having the decency to be embarrassed about her rigged traps.

“You would be surprised what human beings will do to escape entrapment,” John replied simply. “But this one is not built for him to escape from on his own. I’m going to make him an offer.”

He looked at his two apprentices, gesturing for Amanda to come over to them. “I want both of you to keep working on your games tonight, out of the warehouse. I know much about the detective, but not everything. I’m not going to risk him lashing out.”

Of course. John Kramer was nothing if not protective of his apprentices. Theoretically, Hoffman would fall into this category when the night was over. “Well, my iron maiden’s done,” Garrett said, glancing back at his newest device. “My game could take place soon, if not tomorrow. I know where the player will be.”

John nodded at this. “Good. Run your game then. If all goes as planned tonight, it will be good for our newest recruit to see one of you in action. Maybe he’ll learn something. Now go, both of you.”

Usually, Amanda argued when he dismissed her, but apparently she could see that he was serious, and simply packed her things and left. Garrett looked at Hoffman one last time before doing the same.

He could hear Hoffman begin to stir as he stepped out the door, and he found himself hoping that everything would go smoothly tonight.

Gay ass.

---

“Man, just carrying bodies is giving me a work-out,” Garrett muttered under his breath as he readjusted the woman slung over his shoulder, finally lowering her to the ground of the room her game would be taking place in.

As much as he wanted to do one of those big, multi-room games he’d seen John put on, he just didn’t have enough experience for those yet. So, it was a single room, with a single trap. Since it was small, he’d chosen someone with a small offense.

He’d even gotten to record the tape himself.

The collar let out a satisfying click as he fixed it onto the player’s neck, humming a soft tune as he gave it a tug to ensure it was one correctly.

There was a key for her to get in the middle of the room, just barely out of reach of the chain. She’d really have to get creative with getting to it. He checked the chain itself as well, ensuring it wouldn’t break off. He finished his check-up with a look at the hinges on the doors of the iron maiden, and the pulley attached to the chain.

The player was starting to stir, so he placed the tape recorder next to her and took his chance to leave. After all, if she survived, he really needed her to not see his face.

Soon enough, he took his place in the camera room, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up on the desk.

“Do you always watch your games like that?” he heard someone speak up, looking to the door that Hoffman had just come through. He tilted his head at the detective, before grinning at him.

“Sure do,” Garrett replied, turning back to the screens. “Well, I would, if this wasn’t my first game. Usually I’m tinkering with something while John’s games are running.”

The player had woken up by then, clicking the tape on and cutting off the conversation.

“Hello Cara. I want to play a game,” the tape said, the voice making Garrett smile. It had been hard work getting his distorted voice to sound similar enough to the original Jigsaw’s. “For years you have kept yourself in a closet of your own creation in order to help others rise above you, allowing them to steal your work.”

“Well, unless you want that closet to become your death, you will rise above that today. Before you is a box, and inside it is the key to your freedom. You will have to work to get it. You have ten minutes. If you do not get to the key in time, the closet behind you will become your coffin. Live or die, Cara. Make your choice.”

The tape clicked off after that, and Cara did exactly what Garrett guessed she would- run straight for the box and find out the hard way that the chain was just barely short of the required length to grab it.

“This is usually the part where they start screaming for help and panicking. I gave her ten minutes because I knew she would, and that’s when a lot of people tend to die. I wanted to give her a fair chance.”

That almost seemed nice, but it was a lie. Garrett liked watching them thrash around and panic. The more time they had alive, the more time they could slowly go insane.

Hoffman had moved closer at some point, now sitting next to him in a chair that he’d pulled over to the desk. This was the first time Garrett had seen him since last night, so he finally got a chance to look at his eyes.

For someone who wasn’t a fan of blue eyes, Garrett thought Hoffman’s were gorgeous. He very, very quickly looked away, turning his attention back to his game.

“Did you build the iron maiden yourself?” Hoffman asked, and Garrett scoffed at the question.

“No, unfortunately. I didn’t have enough time to build one from the ground up,” he answered with a soft, disappointed sigh. “I found most of it from a collector that built replicas of medieval shit, but never got around to completing it. I finished it off, added the extras.”

Hoffman gave a hum of acknowledgement, his gaze glued to the screen in front of them. “How is this supposed to help her? How did it even help you?” There it was. Since Hoffman hadn’t gone through a real game, he didn’t feel the same as Garrett and Amanda. He didn’t understand it like they did.

Garrett readjusted himself in his chair, tilting his head at the screen. “I don’t want to tear every person I see to shreds anymore,” he offered with a shrug. “I don’t feel like screaming for hours on end until my throat bleeds. I’d say it worked pretty well on me. Sometimes you just need that kind of release.”

“For her, she’s supposed to learn her worth. She’s not just the sum of what she can do for others, what’s more important is what she can do for herself. And she needs to figure that out. I don’t want her to die. Why would I? That’s not the point.”

He didn’t notice Hoffman turning to look at him while he spoke, so he almost flinched when he glanced over and made eye contact with him. They held each other’s gazes for a moment, before they both looked back to the screen.

Cara really was trying to get that box, having now resorted to removing her belt and attempting to loop it around the box. It took a few tries, but she finally got a grip on the box and pulled it over to herself.

She scrambled to open it, and Garrett glanced at the timer.

Eight seconds.

“She’s not going to make it,” he realized aloud. He hadn’t even noticed how quickly time was passing, but he didn’t feel anything when the timer went off, or when Cara screamed as the chain yanked back, dragging her into the iron maiden.

Her screams became wet and gurgled when the doors of the maiden closed on her. Blood seeped out of the cracks at the bottom of the door. He just stared at the screen.

“Huh. Maybe ten minutes wasn’t enough time. Shame. I was really looking forward to seeing her get better.” With that, he stood up, turned off the screen, and headed back to the room to leave the iconic jigsaw piece in her skin. Hoffman followed, and watched him do it. “Most important part, if they die,” Garrett told him as he cut the skin with a scalpel John had given him, closing the door again when he was done.

And then he turned to Hoffman, his head tilted to the side in a curious motion. “Will you be the detective on the case? I suppose this will be your first test of loyalty, hm? I’d hate to kill you. You’re very pretty.”

He gave Hoffman a pat on the shoulder as he left the room, leaving him to think on what he’d said. It wasn’t a threat, but it was clear that he would kill him if needed. But he genuinely did not want to.

A smile formed when he heard Hoffman follow him out of the room. It was nice to have another apprentice, and it was looking like they’d get along.

[matchasprouts]

Listen Closer - Chapter 12

[ Lawrence still hasn't gotten bitches but! Strahm bonding <3 ]

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Garrett woke up in the hospital, stuck between feeling pain in his wounds and absolutely nothing in the rest of his body. He still tried to scoot back in the bed, groaning when the headache hitting his temples made itself known.

That’s when he noticed Strahm, still wearing his bloodied shirt. Garrett realized now that he had bled a lot more than he intended or even thought he would, because Strahm’s shirt was absolutely soaked. There was definitely no saving that thing.

“You’re awake,” Strahm suddenly spoke up, shocking Garrett enough that he actually flinched, making the pain hit him again. He’d honestly thought Strahm was asleep.

“What happened?” Garrett croaked out, cringing at the dryness of his throat and the tug at the stitches on the left side of his lips.

Strahm handed him a small styrofoam cup of water before replying, letting him take a few sips. “Well, we haven’t been able to get into that house yet,” he admitted, which Garrett was very careful to seem worried about rather than relieved.

He set the cup down in his lap, resisting the urge to scratch at his bandaged hands. “You… passed out after you got out of the building. You woke up once when they were putting you in the ambulance, but that was it.”

Well, Garrett knew that wasn’t the only time he woke up.

Anesthetics never worked very well on him. John told him a little while after he became an apprentice that he woke up three times when he was putting him in his trap.

Garrett remembered waking up in the ambulance, looking over and seeing Mark sitting next to him, which wasn’t very surprising. He was probably the only one they would let be in there with him.

He also remembered waking up while they were stitching him up, thrashing around and quickly discovering that they had him strapped down. Mark probably warned them beforehand.

But he wasn’t going to say that. “Did… did you catch me?” he asked, already knowing that he did, but wanting to hear it from him. “Before I passed out. I remember falling and someone caught me. I know it wasn’t Mark.”

Strahm was silent for a moment, before giving him a quiet “yeah”. “I was closer. I didn’t want you to hit the ground.”

Their conversation cut off when the door opened, revealing Mark in the doorway, holding a cup of coffee in each hand. He froze when he saw that Garrett was awake, quickly handed the coffee to Strahm, and made his way over to the side of the bed.

Without hesitation, he pulled Garrett into a hug, one that Garrett immediately returned, both of them clinging to each other like they’d disappear.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” Mark muttered against Garrett’s hair, pressing a long kiss to it. Honestly, the concern just made him even more attractive, and Garrett realized just how lucky he was to have him.

“I’m sorry,” Garrett apologized softly, burying his face against the detective, even if it bothered the stitches in his face. “I didn’t mean to go that deep.” He just wanted it to be believable, but he wasn’t going to say that in front of Strahm.

Mark let out a soft sigh, honestly just happy that Garrett was safe and on the path to healing. “We can go home, if you want. Your injuries are just superficial, so they’re not worried about you passing out at random.

As much as Garrett wanted to make sure Strahm no longer suspected them, he wanted a nap in his own bed a lot more. “Please?”

“I have to go sign you out, just stay here,” Mark told him, kissing his hair one last time before letting go of him and leaving the room again after taking back his coffee from Strahm.

Garrett turned to the agent, who seemed rather surprised that he and Mark were together. “You’ll bring me in when you get into that place, won’t you? I want to see it. And I’m the only Jigsaw specialist you’ve got.”

Strahm seemed hesitant about the idea, but he realized that if he didn’t call Garrett in, someone else would. Probably Perez. “Fine, okay. But I think it’s too much, you’re out of there, understand?”

“Yeah,” Garrett replied, turning away so Strahm didn’t see him grin at the fact that the agent worried so much. Looks like he had a new plan brewing…

Mark returned again with a nurse, who checked Garrett’s vitals before confirming that he could leave. Strahm was shooed from the room so Garrett could get dressed, Mark allowed to stay because they were dating.

“That’s gonna be one gnarly scar,” Mark commented as Garrett pulled on the pants that he’d brought for him long before he’d even woken up. “You said you didn’t mean to go that deep?”

“It was only supposed to be deep enough that it was believable,” Garrett confirmed, buttoning his pants before pulling on the loose t-shirt that most definitely belonged to Mark. “I got a little carried away. But it’ll definitely work to our advantage.”

Once dressed, he took a look at himself in the mirror. The scar was much more jagged, and thick, than he anticipated when he first made the wound. He carefully ran the tips of his fingers over it, grimacing at the spike of pain from it.

He quickly turned away, pulling on his socks and shoes and leaving the room as fast as possible with Mark close behind.

Mark drove them home, obviously, since Garrett’s hands were too wrapped up to do much of anything. He’d meant to check on the others before leaving, but he realized he really didn’t give a fuck about them. They’d served their purpose- if they healed or not was their own problem.

---

Garrett had fallen into bed almost immediately after they got back to his apartment, only getting up again because Mark didn’t want him to sleep in uncomfortable clothes. The pain meds he’d been given were really starting to kick in now, so Mark had to help him take his shoes and jeans off. He left the shirt, figuring Garrett would prefer something with his scent on it.

Then he let him lay back down and took off his own clothes. He was still wearing the same thing he’d been wearing when they found the house, so it was relieving to get them off. He stripped down to his boxers before crawling into bed with his boyfriend, immediately wrapping his arms around him and pulling him tight against his chest.

Mark had no intention of sleeping- he was just too worried that something would happen. Hell, he was even afraid of the possibility that Garrett would have a nightmare and end up screaming, therefore tearing his stitches.

But Garrett had passed out hard and was barely even moving too much, his breaths steady and even. Mark ended up with one of his hands up his shirt, tracing gentle circles on his torso.

It really was nice to see him this relaxed, this comfortable. There weren’t many chances to see him like this since both of them worked a lot, so Mark was going to take the chance to soak it in.

About an hour later, the doorbell rang. Mark thought Garrett would be too out of it for it to wake him, but he was wrong, and it did.

Without hesitation, Garrett got up to answer it and almost fell flat on his face. Luckily, Mark had leaned over and grabbed him by the back of his shirt. Once Garrett was sitting down again, Mark got up, went around the bed to him, and helped him to the door.

If Mark hadn’t known better, he would have made Garrett stay in bed, but unfortunately his boyfriend was stubborn and would have fought him tooth and nail. Better to join him than fight with him.

Mark was the one to open the door- only remembering that he was just in boxers too late- but Garrett was the one to recognize the man in the hallway.

“Lawrence?” Garrett asked after blinking harshly a few times, as if that would make him even more real. “Are you already done cleaning everything up?”

“I finished last night,” Lawrence replied, moving into the apartment when Garrett stepped out of the way, dragging Mark with him. He looked Mark up and down, seemingly unbothered by the general lack of clothes. “I assume that you’re the ‘other half’ Garrett was talking about. Lawrence,” he greeted, holding out the hand that wasn’t on his cane to Mark.

“Mark,” the detective replied, taking Lawrence’s hand in a firm grip that he matched and shaking it. They let their hands drop after that, just kind of… standing there.

Either oblivious to the tension or extremely aware of it, Garrett grabbed both of them by the hand and started making his way back to the bedroom.

As good boyfriends do, they just kind of accepted their fate. Garrett only released Lawrence to allow him to remove his extra, uncomfortable layers but dragged Mark back onto the bed with him, immediately pressing his back to his chest.

Lawrence wasted no time in shedding his jacket and button up, pulling on one of Garrett’s oversized t-shirts and changing into a pair of sweatpants that he found after Garrett vaguely waved his hand toward his dresser.

That was when Mark noticed his prosthetic foot- but only because he just popped it off and set it down on the floor before laying down in front of Garrett, allowing him to pull him as close as he wanted.

And then, almost immediately, Garrett passed out again. Those pain meds were really kicking his ability to stay awake for longer than a few minutes in the ass.

Lawrence and Mark were definitely… a little awkward at first, but made a silent agreement that they both loved the dumbass between them and that he would kill them if he suddenly lost their warmth, so they simply got comfortable and fell asleep with him.

You would not believe what happened another hour later.

If you guessed that someone started knocking on the door, you would be correct. Congrats.

This time, it was only Garrett that got up, because when Mark fell asleep, he fell asleep HARD. Lawrence didn’t get up with him because that would require him to put his foot back on, and Garrett insisted that it wasn’t worth it.

So Garrett stumbled his way to the front door and pulled it open, surprised to find none other than Special Agent Strahm standing in front of him.

It was then that Mark joined him again, having been shaken awake by Lawrence, who was afraid that Garrett would fall and not be able to get back up.

Which… made it very tense when Strahm and Mark spotted each other, both of them freezing where they were.

There was silence for a long moment as Mark and Strahm attempted to recover from this incredibly unexpected and weird moment, and Garrett tried to figure out why the fuck Strahm was at his door.

“What are you doing here?” Mark finally asked, the question coming out a little more hostile than he intended, but he was tired and confused and trying to keep Garrett upright.

Despite the hostility, it seemed to snap Strahm back to attention. “I just wanted to make sure you got him home okay. I meant to come earlier, but I’ve been helping to get access to the house where the game took place. We’re close, but everyone’s taking a break.”

“How sweet of you,” Garrett spoke up, and for once he wasn’t being subtly sarcastic or rude. “Sorry about your shirt. I know it was ruined.”

It took a second for Strahm to realize what shirt Garrett was talking about, but he gave a nervous chuckle when he did. “Don’t worry about it. I’d rather a ruined shirt over a-” he was going to say ‘corpse’, but a sharp glare from Mark cut him off.

Garrett just hummed, before tilting his head to the side. “You were really warm,” he stated, before reaching out to Strahm and making a grabby hands motion at him. “Come on. I’m gathering all the heat I can get.”

Strahm stood there, unsure what the hell Garrett was talking about before he took initiative and took the agent’s hand, pulling him into the apartment and back to his bedroom. Strahm was surprised, Mark wasn’t, and Garrett laid down again with Lawrence.

Strahm almost immediately recognized Lawrence but when he opened his mouth to say something, he was cut off by a hand on his shoulder. “You’re not escaping this. May as well make yourself comfortable,” Mark told him, closing the door before joining Garrett and Lawrence.

Ah. He had basically been roped into being in a bed with two men he silently accused of being a serial killer and a man who’s been missing for over six months. Bonkers.

Again, Garrett made grabby hands at him and he looked down at the bed, realizing now that Lawrence had moved to be behind Mark so that Strahm could be in front of Garrett.

Man. There really was no escape.

Without any more hesitation, Strahm pulled off his button up, leaving his white undershirt, followed by his shoes and pants. He carefully got onto the bed, allowing Garrett to grab his hands and pull him close.

He was trying very hard not to touch Mark, but it was damn near impossible with how close he was to Garrett. The detective readjusted the arm slung over his boyfriend to make it easier on Strahm, and he quickly took the chance given to him.

Carefully, he tucked his head under Garrett’s chin, relaxing significantly when Garrett started playing with his hair.

When he knocked on the door, he really hadn’t expected to be in bed with Garrett (or Mark, for that matter), but he couldn’t find it in him to argue or be upset as he began to drift off. After all, he craved this kind of love and security. Why would he give it up?

[matchasprouts]

Listen Closer - Chapter 4

[ girl help i can't stop writing this ]

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He woke up to someone pounding on the door, which only successfully left a pounding in his head, therefore setting him up to be a little bitch for the rest of the day.

Since he was off on weekends, he usually spent them working on traps, or helping facilitate traps for John. Today was Sunday, which meant he needed to spend the whole day working on the furnace, or it wouldn’t be finished in time, which is probably why someone was banging on his door.

That realization didn’t make him any less pissed.

After a moment of fumbling around blindly without opening his eyes, he grabbed something solid and flung it vaguely at the door. He heard it hit the metal door with a thunk, followed by someone cursing in surprise. Amanda. Of course.

“Sorry ‘Manda!” he tiredly yelled at the door, having expected it to be John or Hoffman. Amanda never woke him up because she never had the courage to- not that he would scare her on purpose.

“I’m gonna get you back one day,” Amanda replied, giving the door one last bang before retreating back to her work.

It took a good few minutes, but Garrett finally rolled directly out of bed, hitting the concrete floor with a groan. After yet another few minutes, he properly got up, finally taking that shower he didn’t have the energy for last night before getting dressed.

Logically he should wear things that would be good to weld in but he was gay, and dressed like it. So he simply pulled up the sleeves on his cropped sweater and prayed to whatever god that would listen that his exposed midriff would not get burned.

He emerged from his room only to retrieve his goggles- which he hadn’t meant to leave out on one of the public tables- before retreating back to his personal workshop.

The furnace was so close to done, really just needing some closed up gaps and other various touch ups, plus he needed to make sure the trigger for the flames worked. He could finish that in a day if he started early enough, so he dove into it.

A few times he could hear the door open and close, either Amanda or Nar coming in to make sure he wasn’t secretly dead or injured. Occasionally they brought him a glass of water too, or tried to have a conversation. They only sometimes got a response.

“How long have you been working?” Narcissus asked, setting a new glass of water on the desk next to where Garrett was sitting. “Have you taken a break in the last hour? You know you can’t work non-stop without a break.”

Garrett knew he wasn’t just going to leave without getting a response this time, so he leaned back from his work and pulled his goggles down so they hung around his neck. “I need to get this done,” he said, gesturing to the furnace, “the game is starting next week. This is like, a huge part. Everyone’s counting on me.”

“Please get therapy for that,” Nar replied, surprising Garrett enough that he let out a sharp laugh, quickly turning away to hide his grin. “Don’t launch into a spiel about how this IS therapy, I get enough of that from Amanda. But seriously, you need to take breaks. If you work yourself to death, you won’t be of use to anybody, least of all John.”

He, unfortunately, had a point. Garrett didn’t like accepting defeat, but he could at least get something to eat. “Alright, fine, but if this is some kind of ploy to get me to interact with people, I’ll lose it.”

Nar chuckled at that, patting Garrett on the shoulder as he headed over to the door. With a sigh, Garrett stood up and followed, making a beeline for where they kept snacks for while they were working. Now that he realized he hadn’t eaten all day, he felt like he was dying.

“So he lives,” Hoffman spoke up, scaring the shit out of Garrett, who hadn’t seen him in his rush to get something to eat. “We were beginning to worry you had gotten hurt in there and were just too prideful to ask for help.”

“I think out of everyone here, I’m the least likely to just die for the sake of my ego,” Garrett retorted, grabbing a mysterious muffin he didn’t know the origin of to be his very late breakfast. Or would it be lunch at this point?

He took a bite into the muffin, letting out a sigh of relief when he didn’t die instantly.

Amanda was known for baking stuff for the apprentices, but she wasn’t very good at it if it wasn’t strawberry shortcake specifically or donuts. Since the muffin wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever bitten into, his second guess was that Nar baked them instead. He tended to be able to bake without accidentally introducing poison to the ingredients list.

“Don’t you have a real job to be at?” Garrett asked, leaning back against the table Hoffman was seated in front of, standing next to him, like an idiot. “You know, pretending to be on the good guy’s side, throwin’ off the trail…”

Hoffman just looked at him like he was insane. “You do realize that detectives don’t spend most of their time in the precinct, right? No one is going to question why I’m not there. They’ll just call me in if they need me.”

Can’t imagine having a job like that. “Right, right. Have y’all ‘found’ Cara’s body yet? I wanna watch when you do.” Through the cameras, of course. Garrett found it amusing to be right next to a police investigation and, since he covered the ‘on’ light on cameras he used, they never knew he was there.

“What?” Hoffman asked after a moment of bewildered silence, and Garrett vaguely recognized what he said was weird but simply stared back at the detective.

“I said I want to watch. It’s fun watching cops scramble around for an answer, like they did when they discovered my game. One of them threw up when they realized it was teeth marks in that bastard’s throat. So, let me know when you ‘find’ the body.”

Garrett looked away, returning to his muffin, leaving Hoffman to process the fact that he DESPERATELY needed real therapy.

He went to continue the conversation, maybe to learn WHY Garrett was so weird about watching the investigation, but his phone cut him off. “Hoffman,” he greeted when he answered, immediately catching Garrett’s attention. “Right,” he continued after a moment, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder as he pulled out a notepad and a pen.

After a few “uh-huh”s and “got it”s, Hoffman had an address scribbled down- one Garrett immediately recognized as where his game had taken place. “Speak of the devil…” he muttered, gaining a somewhat concerned look from the detective.

“I’ll be there soon,” Hoffman said into the phone, grabbing it from his shoulder and flipping it shut. “I assume I’ll be meeting you there,” he told Garrett, before standing up and heading out. Garrett watched him leave, just like he did last night, except this time he wasn’t out of the door before Garrett was following.

---

Garrett actually ended up getting a ride from Hoffman, which was undoubtedly awkward.

They hadn’t been in this confined of a space together yet, and Garrett was making it a point to not look at Hoffman, which in turn just made Hoffman nervous because usually that means someone is about to lash out.

It was not a pleasant trip.

Garrett practically lunged out of the car when they arrived, moving much faster than Hoffman thought he could in order to avoid detection by the police. The last thing he saw was Hoffman getting out to greet another cop before he was sneaking into the building through one of the windows.

The building had two floors- the room he used for the game was on the bottom floor, and the room he had the monitoring equipment set up in was on the top floor. The building was easy to scale, which is why Garrett had no problem getting up there. He wasn’t worried about being found either, because he blocked off the door to the room when he left after the game.

He would take every possible precaution under the sun not to be found if it meant he got to watch the chaos he created unfold.

Garrett dropped to the floor from the window as quietly as possible, avoiding any chance of the floor creaking as he made his way over to the single monitor set up for the game. He clicked it on, and settled down in the chair in front of it.

The camera came to life almost immediately, and he grinned at the sight of the crime scene.

They’d moved Cara out of the iron maiden, which was a little disappointing but understandable, since they needed to inspect her body.

He couldn’t hear what they were saying, having turned off the sound just to be safe. If he knew any more about this investigation than what he could see and slipped up… he just knew he couldn’t let that happen.

So he settled for silence, instead reading their lips as best as he could.

At some point, they’d closed the box, though he wasn’t sure why. Did they put the key back in there? Were they using it to store the tape recorder, which was nowhere to be found despite Garrett leaving it right where Cara had dropped it?

It was odd, and Garrett didn’t like not knowing why they had done it. He would ask Hoffman later.

Speaking of the detective, Hoffman looked very… in his element here, in the middle of a crime scene. He looked confident and sure of himself, which Garrett didn’t see much back at the Jigsaw base. Maybe it was because they didn’t talk often, or Hoffman just still wasn’t sure about this whole apprentice thing. Either way, he was very attractive when he knew what he was doing.

Garrett also noted that Hoffman didn’t struggle even a little bit to pretend he had no idea who had done this, or deciding he simply didn’t see the difference between a normal Jigsaw game and this one. Part of him wondered if he was playing along because he knew Garrett was watching, but a larger part of him appreciated that he was such a good actor.

John had told him about Hoffman’s copycat killing- the pendulum trap built for his sister’s killer- so he wasn’t totally surprised that this came naturally to him. Still, it was nice to know he wasn’t going to slip up and get them all caught.

They were looking at the iron maiden now, and Garrett tensed up without noticing it. He didn’t want to leave it behind when the game was over, but he had to, so the body could be found the exact way she died. And he’d worn gloves while setting it up and building, but seeing people inspecting it made him nervous, and he started fidgeting.

It started with just a bounce of his leg, but the longer they looked, the more nervous he got. By the time they finally moved away, he had bitten hard enough into his hand to draw blood.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself, running his tongue over the wound so the blood didn’t start dripping. They were wrapping up the investigation now, since he hadn’t really left many clues for them- they already had Detective Hoffman and Detective Mathers was already warned about his upcoming game.

He watched them leave the room and shut off the camera once it was empty, listening through the window for the retreat of the cars. When he was sure no one was left, he climbed out the window and back down the building.

Admittedly, he was a little surprised to find Hoffman still there, leaning against the side of the car and waiting for him. It made him smile, and he realized that being grateful for small shit like this wasn’t helping his case to not get attached.

“Better drive fast, detective, I’ve got a furnace to finish.”