#Got the sweater for a bit and pissed off Killer in the process- it was funny as hell

[billygoat26]

Stole Borrowed A Sweater

Thanks again Dust 😂

Amber, I just asked. Christmas time = people in good moods time

Oh yeh, the sweater is from @xpau-official and from Dust soooo- wheeeeee!

(Not me wishing the sweater was real, it genuinely does seem comfy as hell- sob)

Edit: y’all got a face reveal in the form of a DRAWING! HAH!

[dreadpoetssociety]

I Told You So

TW: Suicide, abuse, kidnapping, blood, death

Note: Sorry for any spelling or grammatical mistakes, I didn’t go back through it LOL, but I may in the future. Enjoy !!! 

Request: “hi was wondering if i could request a reid x sister fic where the reader gets a boyfriend and spencer doesn’t like him and it turns out the boyfriend is an unsub. i love your work so much!!!”

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Sister!Reader

()()()()()()

When Spencer met your boyfriend for the first time, he told you immediately after that he didn’t like him. He began explaining the signs he was noticing, but you didn’t dare to listen. You told him he was a great guy, and that he was just being over protective because he was your brother. You told him to stop profiling everyone you meet, that who you date and who you’re friends with is entirely up to you, and that he should just let you live things out on your own. Of course, you did appreciate his concerns, but you just figured he was a bit overdramatic. I mean, you were all just kids, and of course Spence would have a biased view on you hanging out or dating someone.

Your boyfriend’s name was Noah. You’d been dating for about four months, he had wavy hair, dressed pretty plainly, very smart, and liked classic rock (Except Led Zeppelin, damn did he hate that band.) You’d met after the death of a mutual friend, Elaine Richards, a year ago, and the two of you became close after helping each other through such a hard time. You hung out all the time, called all the time, merged your friend groups together. Everything. And you loved him. Your friends all knew you both liked each other, and eventually, you finally went out on a date.

School had ended, and you had just got to the apartment to actually see Spencer in it, which was a very rare occurrence. 

“Hey Spence! I didn’t know you were off.” you said with a smile.

“I’m not, actually. There’s a case locally.” he said, which turned your smile o a frown.

“Well that’s not good.” you replied, trying to lighten his mood. He seemed stressed and aggravated, as that happened every once in a while when a case was particularly difficult. It always made you feel bad for him., “We should go do something before you have to go back. You know, some good ol’ sibling bonding.” 

“Sorry, Y/N, but not today. Serial killers don’t exactly wait for ‘sibling bonding.”” he sighed, annoyed. You figured at this point you’d just leave him to his thoughts, and decided to go out.

“I’m going out with Noah then. “ you replied, grabbing some of your things together. You didn’t’t notice, but this grabbed Spencer’s attention.

“No, Y/N, you’re staying here. This guy that’s out there is killing people who look like you. You fit his type.” he explained, “And I don’t trust Noah, not for a second.” 

“Jesus, Spencer, can you stop profiling literally everyone? There’s thousands of girls in this city that look like me, what makes you think I’m the one he’s gonna scoop up?” you realized that was a bit insensitive, and that you probably should care about those other girls, “Besides, wouldn’t it be safer to not be alone? You’re going back to the BAU anyway.” 

“Y/N, seriously, this can happen to anyone. You of all people should know that.” he answered. You knew what he was referring to. So a girl almost gets kidnapped once, and suddenly must live her whole life in fear.

“Spencer, that was a while ago.” you said in a small voice, “I don’ want to be afraid of it anymore.”

At that point, Spencer sighed and realized that he most likely shouldn’t have brought up the experience. He of all people should know that this was your way of trying to move on, and bringing up the past would mostly just set you back majorly, but his answer still stayed the same, “I shouldn’t have brought the up, but you’re still not going. I don’t trust Noah, you know that. Especially with a serial killer on the loose, Y/N. You’re staying home.”

This just pissed you off, “You know, you’re not right 100% of the time. You think you know everything about everybody you meet, but you literally do not. Noah is so good to me, and you just bash him and for what? I get you’re worried, but it’s started to get old. I’m not a kid anymore.” 

You walked off into your room without any other words being exchanged, and had decided you would just go anyway once Spencer left. You aren’t generally the rebellious type, but every once in a while you liked to have a little fun here and there. Spencer wasn’t home for long, after finding whatever it was he was looking for, and you just walked out the front door ten minutes after he did, texting Noah along the way. 

Your boyfriend lived nearby, so it didn’t really take him long to come driving up in his black sedan. You loved his car. It was so sleek, had a brown leather interior, a wood dashboard, and just drove beautifully. If he ever put it up for sale, you would buy it. But once you got into the car, you realized something was off. Noah seemed antsy, like something was bothering him.

“Hey, baby, what’s going on?” you asked, concerned. Noah got like this every once in a while, and you figure dit was just anxiety or something along those lines, and all you could ever do was jus be there for him.

“It’s nothing don’t worry about it.” he answered, somewhat blandly. Almost monotone, like he wasn’t happy to be there. But he was, and for what reason you were unaware. 

“Alright.” you said, “Let’s go to the mall, but not the one downtown, the one off the highway.” 

“No.” he snapped. He then recognized your surprised expression, “I mean, sorry, I just have a surprise for you.” this made you smile. Your boyfriend had always been a hopeless romantic, and he would constantly surprise you with nice dinners, cute gifts, and it just made your heart warm. He drove for a while, to an area you’d actually never been o that seemed to be completely secluded. There were empty fields, and eventually an old house that looked to be abandoned. You didn’t pass by much after that, except for one cemetery and a church. Even you had to admit, it was a bit weird, but knowing Noah, you knew to just be patient. He didn’t talk much the whole time, and just sat there smiling as he drove. The windows were closed, and you also noticed the doors were locked, but thought nothing of it.

“Spencer wasn’t even going to let me go out tonight, isn’t that so stupid? Like, he said some wack about some serial killer who’s been killing girls nearby. I looked it up, but they kinda seem to be right outside of town, like the dude’s avoiding it or something. I guess that girl from the Washington High soccer team got killed, too. It’s sort of scary.”

“That’s a shame.” was all he said in response.

Eventually, you pulled up to another house. It was absolutely destroyed, but you trusted him anyway. Stupidly. The two fo you walked in, and walked down to its basement. You knew Noah really dug these abandoned places, and you did, too, but the basement was full of rusted weapons, ropes, a table in the middle with restraints. It hadn’t clicked just yet.

“Noah, I don’t think I’m really fe-“ you turned around and were he was, gun in hand, pointe dat you, “What are you doing?”

“Get in the chair, and don’t scream.” he demanded. His whole personality changed. He was dominant, and his voice was heavier. You complied. He tied you tightly to it.

“So it’s you then?” you asked, weirdly calm. 

“Shut the hell up, Y/N.” and you did. You looked around you as he walked into another room. Looking to your right you noticed a shelf full of random things, mostly girl’s clothes and rings. Until you recognized one of them. A brown sweater with a tear in the shoulder, folded neatly on he bottom. Your heart stopped.

That was Elaine’s. And you had cut the shoulder open by accident after the two of you were messing around.

“Elaine?” you whispered, “You killed Elaine, didn’t you? She didn’t kill herself, you did! This whole time you faked it? You killed her and I mourned her and you pretended to feel with me? You killed her?” It was now that you fully processed what was happening. Your mind was racing, your heart was pounding, and all you could think about was the amount of clothes up on that shelf, and the fact that you were about to die. The items on the shelf far exceeded the numbers on the news. 

“I said shut the hell up, Y/N” he screamed, hitting you across the face with something solid, which knocked you out quickly, but not for long. The dizziness and pain when you woke up two minutes later was almost unbearable, and you had to re-process what was happening to you all over again.

Until your phone rang from the other side of the room. He must’ve taken it while you were out, and the ringtone was specialized to let you know that it was Spencer who was calling. 

“If I don’t answer it he’ll know. He’ll track everything from before I got here.” you said. Noah shot you a look, but promptly brought the phone to you. 

“Say anything, and I’ll make it painful.” he held a gun to you again, and your heart rate went up. He slide the phone open.

“Y/N?” you’d never been happier to hear your brother’s voice, “Where are you? I told you to stay home, and you’re not here.”

“Sorry,” your voice wavered slightly, “I just really missed Elaine Richards. I went to Southwoods Cemetery to visit her.”

Spencer sighed, “Please get back here as soon as possible, Y/N.” and he hung up. You prayed he picked something up.

()()()()()()

Spencer knew as soon as you spoke that something was wrong. Firstly, you’d never referred to your friend by first and last name, and Spencer actually hadn’t really known her last name until now, and secondly, Elaine wasn’t buried at Southwoods Cemetery. She was buried in the complete opposite direction, actually, at Rose Hill. He couldn’t pinpoint why you would say Southwoods, and why you would talk about Elaine, but he completely forgot about his case, and sped back to the BAU. 

The team knew instantly hat something wasn’t right when Spencer came back to the office. He couldn’t pay attention to the case evidence enough to put it together, and wasn’t staying on track.

“Reid, what’s going on?” Hotch asked him.  Spencer shook his head.

“Something’s not right.” he said, “Y/N went out earlier, but something’s not adding up.”

“I’m sure she’s alright, kid, teenagers go out all the time.” Morgan joked.

“No, no, really. I understand how the teenage mind develops, and how their brains develop. I know that rebellion is primarily a process that teens go through almost as a way to reject a “child” identity. I know that. But this wasn’t that. I told her not to go out, but she did anyway.” he rambled.

“Spence, kids do that.” JJ reassured.

“No, it’s not right. When I called to ask where she was, she would’ve lied. She wouldn’t have known I was home. She said she was visiting her friend’s grave, but she used her full name and said the wrong cemetery, her voice wavered, but nervously, not in a way that expresses sadness. If she had snuck out, she wouldn’t tell me she went there, and especially get the cemetery wrong when she’s been going to Rose Hill practically religiously. Southwoods is in an area she barely ever goes to.” he explained. Then his eyes grew a bit, “Garcia, can you trace her call?”

“I can try.” she said, rushing back to her computers, the team close behind. They knew not to question Spence, most of the time he was right. They all sat there for about three minutes before Garcia spoke up again, “That’s weird.”

“What?” Prentiss spoke up.

“Reid, her phone pinged off of like, twelve different towers in the two minutes you called her. I can’t track a location for the last hour.” she turned to him, concerned. The team all looked at each other worriedly. 

“We’ll have to split up, we’ve still go a case and this is off protocol.” Hotch broke the silence, bearer of bad news.

“No, actually, I think it’s the same case.” Spencer sighed. He looked up at them, “She fits the UnSub’s type.”

“You can’t be a part of this then, Spencer.” Hotch replied, which caused him to whip around, “It’s personal now. You’re  victim.”

“There’s no say in this.” Spencer had never defied Hotch’s authority before, but his sister was missing, “What do we have so far?”

“Well, we know he’s a sadist, white male, probably in his 30’s. He’d be social, fit in with a crowd. Probably good with the ladies, which means he sticks out, but not too much.” Prentiss relayed. Spencer thought for a moment. Who would you know that fit that profile at all. This UnSub seemed to make a connection with these girls beforehand. The team thought that maybe the victims were a surrogate to a daughter, or a sister.

“I don’t know how this related to Elaine and Southwoods. Southwoods is an hour and a half away, I had only been gone for about an hour, so she couldn’t have made it there yet.”

“Reid, who is Elaine?” Morgan asked.

“Elaine Richards. She was a friend of Y/N’s who died about a year ago. She committed suicide.”  Spencer explained. They were all silent for a moment.

“Garcia, can you bring up a picture of Elaine?” JJ asked. The analyst nodded and did so quickly, showing a picture of a brown hair, brown eyed, thin girl. It was saddening, really. They’re always too young. But JJ had confirmed her thought, “Spence, what if it wasn’t a suicide?” 

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“She fits his victim ideal, the hair, the eyes. Her file says she was smart, she had friends. They interviewed an ex boyfriend, her father, so on.” JJ explained, “What if Y/N stumbled onto something she shouldn’t have? Maybe Elaine was one of his victims staged as a suicide. The profile says he became active a few weeks ago, but what if it’s been a year? Maybe he’s been testing things out until he finally got something he liked.” 

“Garcia, bring up Elaine’s autopsy report. Is there anything about anything that matches up with his current MO?” Spencer asked, “Elaine was found at the basin of a bridge within the water. It was written that she had jumped off.” 

“Uhh,” she hesitated, “I’m not seeing anything. . . Wait. Yes, yes there is. The UnSub usually cuts three lines on their necks, right? Elaine had them, too, but there was loads of glass under her, so it was written off that she’d been cut when she reached the ground.” 

“This means he’s been at it for at least a year, then. The profile is wrong. This changes everything.” Prentiss sighed. Spencer still couldn’t pinpoint who you would’ve trusted enough that fit the rest of the profile, until it hit him. Noah.

“I knew there was something wrong with that boy.” Spencer said aloud, “Y/N’s boyfriend, Noah. He fits every part of the profile. We got the age wrong, he’s a teenager. He knew Elaine, too.”

“Noah’s the name of the ex boyfriend they interviewed.” Garcia stated. “Noah Allen.” 

“That’s him.” Spencer said, “What do we know about him?”

“Well, his parents are divorced, his mother lives somewhere in California while his father- oh geez. His father has a history of abuse towards his second ex-wife, who,” she stopped, “this poor kid. His second ex wife committed suicide after trying to file multiple reports of abuse towards her and Noah about three years ago. His father was finally convicted a year ago and sentenced to life in prison.” 

“That must’ve been the trigger. He blames her for his father being sent away.” Hotch said.

“But why would he be angry? Wouldn’t he be happy to see his abuser in prison?” Garcia asked.

“He’s lived with his father his whole life. Most likely he’d developed some kind of Stockholm Syndrome or was manipulated into thinking that’s how life was. He thinks his father can do no wrong.” Morgan said.

“But what’s this have to do with Southwoods? She wouldn’t have made it that far, and something tells me they were already at their destination.” JJ asked.

“Who owns Southwoods?” Spencer asked.

“Let me see. . . The Burke Family. They also own funeral homes.” Garcia said.

“Do they own any other cemeteries?” 

“Yes, one, Marshall Fields Cemetery. It’s in a more secluded area. It was considered completely full a few months ago.” she replied.

“Garcia, are there any properties around there that Noah’s family would’ve owned? Even a family friend?” Morgan jumped in.

“His uncle owned a house about a mile and a half up the road. It’s the only house in a two mile radius. It was foreclosed a few years ago and hasn’t been bought or even kept up since.” she said, “I’m sending you the address now.” 

“Let’s go.” Hotch demanded. The team ran to the garage and jumped into the SUV’s, but Hotch stopped Spencer beforehand, “You know you could get in trouble for this. This case is too personal.”

‘“I really don’t even care.” Spencer answered, quite informally. Hotchner sighed, and let him go.

()()()()()() 

It’d been a few hours by this point. You were beaten up, bloody, concussed probably. Noah had used a whole slew of different objects to torture you, pipes, knives, anything he could find. You could barely stay awake, but he wouldn’t let you fall asleep.

“I’m not going to let you die, yet.” he said with a twisted smile, “That ruins all the fun.” 

“They’ll come for you.” you replied faintly, blood dripping from your mouth. He yanked your head back by your hair, which caused a deafening wail from the bottom of your throat.

“They won’t find me. If they could, they would’ve by now.” he giggled. He tightened your wrists until you almost couldn’t feel your hands. Your shoulders were sore from being tied behind your back, but that didn’t amount to the pain in the rest of your body. You bleeding out practically everywhere, you could feel the start of every bruise forming, your head spun and pounded, and you were convinced you had a few broken ribs at least. 

“W-why?” you huffed out with tears.

“Why? Why? I’ll tell you why. I spent my whole life looking up to my father, but it’s women like you who ruin men’s lives. And for what? For attention? For power? You’ll never be on the same playing field, but the system is so messed up that it threw my father in prison for something that wasn’t his fault. He didn’t make Brenda kill herself, she did that on her own. And her reasoning? How she cried about him abusing us?” he let out a posh laugh, “That’s just how the world is. She should’ve known her place like I knew mine. And should’ve never spoken for me.” 

“Why me?” your face twisted in pain as you spoke, but if you were going to die, you at east had to know.

“I just told you!” he slapped you, causing you to sob, “It’s stupid women like you, Y/N. You just exist to ruin lives, and I’m going to stop you before you start.” 

But the door upstairs burst open just then, causing him to look. You smiled mischieviously, “They’re here. You better let them get to you before I do.” you threatened. It was an empty threat of course, given your state, but you felt so much rage that you honestly thought you might’ve killed him, too, which scared you.

“Noah Allen, FBI!” you recognized Emily’s voice, and it was like music to your ears. 

Noah had moved towards you and covered your mouth, holding a gun to your head, waiting for them to come down stairs. You watched frantically as you saw JJ and Morgan step carefully down.

“Noah, drop your weapon.” JJ demanded. At this point, Spencer, Hotch, and Prentiss joined them after hearing JJ speak. Spencer’s expression was horrified, and angry. 

“Death is an honor, you know.” Noah taunted as he pulled your head slightly back. 

“Noah, you don’t have to do this. If you cooperate, we can lessen your sentence, and we can negotiate a deal for your father.” Hotch said. Noah’s head turned slightly.

“That’s not how the system works and you know it. You’re lying!” he yelled.

“That’s not how the system works for civilians. I’m the Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. I can pull some strings, but only if you let her go.” he said. Spencer was surprised, Hotch never really used lying as a coercion, but he understood that all this boy wanted was his father to be free, and that he wasn’t a rational thinker. He’d fall for it.

“Swear? Swear on God?” Noah asked.

“Yes, Noah, I swear on God.” Hotch said. The boy lowered his weapon and came closer, but was startled when Morgan quickly, and not so kindly cuffed him.

“What? What are you doing?” he yelled out.

“Noah Allen, you are under arrest for multiple counts of murder. You have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer quest-“

“What the hell! You lied! I’ll kill you for ly-“

“Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future.” and with that Morgan walked him out with a few other backup, while the rest of the BAU rushed towards you.

“Y/N? Are you okay? Can you hear me? What hurts?” Spencer asked questions at about a mile a minute, but you ignored them.

“I g-guess,” you painfully said, “I guess this is that part where you say ‘I told you so.’ huh?” 

“Y/N, I don’t care about that.” he said, holding your face trying to check for any signs of concussions, that were definitely there, while Prentiss and JJ worked on getting you untied. One you were, you tried to stand up, stupidly.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Hotch said as you almost fell and hit the floor, “take it easy.”

You had your arm wrapped around Spencer while JJ had her hand pressed on your upper back and above your chest to keep you balanced.

“Heh, so humble.” were your last words before blacking out.

“A medic! Somebody get a medic, goddammit!” Spencer yelled, as he and JJ slowly followed you to the door, “Y/N? Stay awake.” 

()()()()()()

You woke up with bright white lines shining in your eyes. Confused you tried to sit up, but painfully failed.

“Y/N? Wait, Y/N, no, no, no, no, no, lay down.” you heard Morgan’s voice and felt him slowly and gently push you back down to the pillow, “How you feeling, kiddo?”

“Like sunshine.” you mumbled sarcastically. You heard Spencer chuckle, “I’m sorry. You were right.”

“Y/N, it doesn’t matter. I’m just glad you’re safe now.” he said. His face dropped, “Y/N, I’m honestly impressed by the hints you gave us. It was clever, and you just saved a bunch of lives.”

“They’re going to have to question you soon. They don’t care what condition you’re in.” Morgan stated.

“I don’t even really remember.” you whispered, eyes closing from exhaustion. 

“They’ll do a cognitive interview with you, then. It won’t be fun. But for now, get some rest.” Spencer knew that it didn’t matter what he said anyway, because you were already half way asleep. He was glad that you were falling asleep on your own accord, rather than from being knocked out or drugged up, and smiled at you. He swore then to do better at keeping you safe, and also not to underestimate you, either. How you knew that he would pick up on something as simple as a last name and a cemetery chain was beyond him, but it made him realize that you were actually much smarter than you ever let off. He patted your head gently, before falling asleep in a chair near your bed. 

[matchasprouts]

Listen Closer - Chapter 4

[ girl help i can't stop writing this ]

First || Next || Previous || Last

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.”

[connorswhisk]

mistletoe ain’t all it’s cracked up to be

Summary: This holiday season, Bitty's devised a plan: stick mistletoe over every doorframe in the Haus.

This is fine. As long as Ransom makes sure not to walk into a room with Holster under any circumstances, it's fine.

Ugh. He hates this stupid plant.

also on my ao3

“Ok, you lost me,” Holster says. “Why haven’t you done this before?”

Bitty huffs, clearly none too happy about being interrupted. “I don’t know why you don’t want to hear about the new cookie recipe my Mama found, especially considering you’ll end up eating half of them, Adam, but fine. I didn’t put up mistletoe frog year because I wasn’t living in the Haus yet, and I didn’t put it up last year because I waited too long and the Stop ’N Shop ran out.”

“Wait, wait,” Ransom cuts in. “Murder Stop ’N Shop or Smelly Stop ’N Shop?”

Bitty sighs and gives him a Look, but Ransom just shrugs. It’s an important question.

“Murder Stop ’N Shop, who do you think I am? I don’t want my mistletoe stinkin’ like the LAX team’s locker room.”

(“Nice,” Holster says, nodding sagely. Ransom elbows him.)

“Anyway,” Bitty says. “I went ahead and got there early this month.” He lifts a sprig triumphantly. “And here we are. Pick me up.”

Holster crouches, grabs Bitty around the middle, and holds him up to the front doorframe.

(Ransom tries not to stare at the strip of skin showing as Holster’s sweatshirt rides up. It takes a lot of effort.)

“That should do it,” Bitty says once he’s back on the ground. “Thanks, y’all. I’m gonna go get baking, now.”

And he heads off to the kitchen.

“Got any plans?” Ransom asks. 

Holster shrugs. “Annie’s?”

“Sure.”

They start for the door at the same time, and then Holster flings out an arm and Ransom stops. 

“Oh,” he says, looking up at the cheerily green plant hanging narrowly close to directly above their heads. “Right.”

Holster steps through first, and after a beat, so does Ransom.

Holster’s smiling, eyes crinkling at the corners underneath his glasses. “With the amount of time we spend walking through doorways together, it’s bound to happen eventually,” he jokes. 

Ransom snorts. “You wish,” he chirps back.

What he doesn’t say is, That’s what I’m afraid of.

— — — 

It’s not like Ransom’s never kissed Holster before. They’re on a hockey team, they throw a lot of kegsters, large quantities of alcohol are consumed, it isn’t difficult to do the math. But those occasional drunken make-outs are just that: drunken make-outs. They don’t mean anything, not in the way Ransom wishes they could. They’re sloppy, and quick, and they taste like tub juice, and Holster seems to always end up spilling his beer on either himself, the floor, or Ransom, and they’re pointless, just a bit of fun, and…

And from what Ransom can remember of them, really fucking hot. When your best friend is a 6’6 Adonis with killer abs and eyes bluer than the Pacific ocean, that’s kind of unavoidable. It’s also why Ransom’s so terrified of all this mistletoe.

Kegster kisses don’t have to count, and they don’t. But under the mistletoe? A time-honored, over-done, clichéd holiday tradition? Odds are, if they get stuck under there, they won’t be drunk. And while Ransom knows that Holster will have no problem kissing him and then having a laugh about it, Ransom’s not sure how well his brain’s going to process the inevitable. 

He’s in love with Adam Birkholtz, and there’s really nothing to be done about it. Ransom can’t ever tell him because it’ll ruin their carefully cultivated bromance, their fucking co-captaincy, kick everything out of sync, throw a wrench into the coral reef and eff it up entirely. Holster isn’t going to return his feelings, and Ransom still can’t come to terms with that fact.

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to do that.

— — — 

“Yo, you want me to bring you back some latkes after break, right?”

Ransom scoffs. “Dude, is that even a question? Of course. You’re sure your dad won’t mind?” he tacks on as an afterthought.

Holster rolls his eyes, panting a little with the effort of bench-pressing the weight across his chest. “Are you kidding me? My dad like, gets off on cooking for other people. We can’t take him to potlucks because he ends up bringing a whole buffet.”

Ransom laughs. “Nice. I’ll make sure to get my auntie to bake you some of her ginger snaps.”

Holster sets the barbell back on the hooks and sits up, grinning widely, a drop of sweat trickling its way down from his temple. “Don’t tell Bitty, but Auntie Oluransi’s ginger snaps are probably better than his.”

Ransom says, “Careful he doesn’t hear you say that, or you’ll be banned from pie-eating for a month,” and then, “Spot me?”

“Duh,” Holster says, and they trade places.

Ransom’s just about to start lifting when Holster whispers, “Dude, check it.”

Ransom pushes himself up on his elbows and glances over at where Holster’s looking. Nursey and Dex are standing in the weight room doorway, staring up at the mistletoe Bitty had stuck to the top the week before. Nursey’s eyebrows are raised and Dex’s face is starting to redden. Chowder’s standing by, looking unsure of what to do. Ransom knows they’ve got about ten seconds before the yelling starts. 

“I mean,” Holster says, shaking his head as Dex shouts out an, Are you kidding me, Nursey?!?! “You’d think they’d realize that they don’t actually have to kiss. It’s just mistletoe.”

“Right,” Ransom says, lying back down to start lifting. “Just mistletoe.”

And then he starts thinking that even if he and Holster ended up in that situation, Holster might not even want to kiss him. He might just walk away.

Ransom isn’t sure which is the better alternative.

— — — 

He ends up getting screwed with Jada Forrester, who usually sits near him when he’s studying in the library. Ransom’s not actually that into her - sure, she’s nice, and she’s pretty cute, and she does this thing when she’s concentrating super hard where she bites down on her lip a lot, but he’s never really considered asking her out. Holster must have gotten the sense that Ransom’s more into her than he really is. 

Jada’s wearing this red Christmas dress that looks real nice on her, and she’s got a string of tinsel in her hair, and sparkly gold eyeshadow, and glitter all over her face. Ransom feels a little underdressed in his knitted sweater with the ice skates and hockey pucks on it, but his date doesn’t seem to mind, so he tries not to worry about it too much.

“This is fun,” Jada yells over the music, some bass-heavy remix of “Sleigh Ride” that’s making Ransom’s head buzz.

“Yeah,” he shouts back. “Do you want to get a drink?”

Jada nods, grabs Ransom by the hand, and pulls him over to the kitchen where the alcohol is.

“I never know what to get,” she says, staring at the table. 

“Mmm,” Ransom hums, not really paying attention. He’s just noticed Holster and Pauline Fishbein making out in the hallway. It isn’t a super heartening sight.

It’s not like Holster hasn’t had his fair share of girlfriends and hookups. It’s not like Ransom hasn’t had his, either. They’re open about it with each other, give each other dating advice and consolation after bad breakups, like any friends do. It’s normal. It’s casual. It’s not a big deal.

It’s just that this is the first year that Ransom has known how he feels about Holster. And now it seems like maybe it was all a big deal, after all.

“You like him.”

Ransom nearly jumps out of his skin. “What?”

Jada hands him a snowflake-patterned solo cup of beer and takes a sip of her own. “Adam.” She nods towards the hall. “You’re into him, aren’t you?”

Ransom stares down into his drink. “Would you believe me if I said no?”

“Not really. It’s a little obvious,” Jada says, shrugging.

Ransom’s pulse quickens. “Oh,” he says, and takes a long drink of beer. God, this is awkward. “I hadn’t realized.”

“I mean, anytime I saw you in the library, he was with you,” she continues. “And half the time you were leaning on his shoulder while you worked.”

“Uh - “ Ransom is pretty sure that half of said shoulder-leaning was automatic, that he did it without thinking because he knew that Holster would let him. The realization isn’t exactly helping his case.

“It’s ok,” Jada says, nodding. “I don’t mind. I’m guessing he doesn’t know, since he set us up.”

“No.” Ransom swallows. “He doesn’t know. I don’t know how to tell him.” He looks up at Jada. “You’re not pissed off?”

“No way, dude,” she says, eyes getting big and shaking her head. “I’m honestly just here for a good time. I’m not really looking for a hook-up or a relationship or anything.”

“Oh. Ok.”

She rolls her eyes. “Man, lighten up. How likely is it that Adam’s gonna keep seeing this girl after this party?”

Ransom shrugs. “It depends. Sometimes he goes out with them afterwards, sometimes not.”

“Ok,” Jada says. “So there’s a pretty good chance he won’t. And, bro, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he returned the feelings.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not!” she exclaims. “Seriously. Even if he isn’t into you, he’s still your best friend. I don’t think he’ll freak out if you tell him.”

“Right,” Ransom says, taking another, smaller sip. “Ok.”

Jada drains the rest of her cup. “Whatever, forget I said anything if you want. Let’s keep dancing.”

Ransom finishes off his beer, too. “Yeah, let’s keep dancing.”

They’re leaving the kitchen when Jada suddenly stops. 

Ransom frowns. “What’s up?”

“Huh,” Jada says, looking up. “Mistletoe. I didn’t even notice it when we came in.”

“Oh,” Ransom says. “Oh, yeah, our teammate put them up. I kind of forgot about them.” He looks at her. “Um. You don’t want to…?”

Jada raises an eyebrow. “Shut up,” she says, gives him a quick peck on the cheek, and drags him back out to the living room. 

Ransom spends the rest of the night drinking and dancing with Jada. He doesn’t catch sight of Holster and Pauline Fishbein again, and he doesn’t think much about it until he goes up to the attic at three in the morning and finds them in Holster’s bunk, asleep. 

He doesn’t do anything, just turns out the light and stares into the dark for what feels like hours before finally drifting off.

— — — 

Ransom manages to be in the kitchen by two. Bitty’s already in there of course, way too chipper for the morning/afternoon after Winter Screw, or any Kegster, for that matter. 

“Morning, Ransom!” 

Ransom winces. “Bits. Loud.”

Bitty rolls his eyes. “Oh, whatever. Not my fault you got drunk last night.”

Ransom’s about to fire something back when Bitty shoves a plate of scrambled eggs and a mug of his coffee in his hands, effectively shutting him up.

“I love you,” he says, and Bitty hums and goes back to whatever it is he’s doing at the counter.

Ransom sits down and mindlessly scrolls through his Twitter feed, shoving his face with eggs and trying to wake his brain up. He doesn’t really have much to do today, but he absolutely hates being hungover, even a little bit, so the sooner he gets out of this stage of post-Kegster blues, the better.

“Yo, are those eggs?” 

Ransom glances behind him. Holster’s alone. Pauline must have left.

Good.

“Here you go,” Bitty says, swooping in and giving Holster his own plate and mug. “And that’s the last of it, so if you want more, you can make it yourself.”

“Nice.” Holster sits next to Ransom, knocks shoulders with him casually, and digs in.

“Have fun last night?” Ransom asks. 

Holster shrugs, mouth full. He swallows. “Yeah, it was all right.”

Ransom looks back down at his phone. “Ok.”

“How’d things work out with Jada?”

“We just hung out,” Ransom says. “Nothing really happened.”

Holster frowns. “Oh. Shit, did I fuck up this year?”

“No,” Ransom says quickly. “It’s fine. I still had a nice time, we just…we didn’t end up doing anything.”

Holster’s quiet for a second before he nods. “Yeah, ok. Sorry, bro, I thought you were into her.”

Ransom shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

Holster smiles. Ransom’s chest hurts.

“Hey,” he starts to say, though he has no idea how he’s going to finish. “I - “

He’s interrupted by Bitty blasting Beyoncé through the Bluetooth speaker, making them both wince. Nursey (who’s apparently been passed out on the couch this whole time) groans loudly, and Bitty calls, “Sorry, but it’s about time the rest of y’all got up!”

“You think Jack would let him get away with that if he were still captain?” Holster mutters. 

“Dude,” Ransom says. “I think Jack would let Bitty get away with anything. That man is whipped.”

Holster snorts and knocks his shoulder against Ransom’s again. Ransom grins.

— — —

“What time is your flight?” 

It’s an hour later, and they’re sitting on Holster’s bunk watching random episodes of 30 Rock. Ransom may not always get the hype, but he does enjoy watching it with Holster a lot, even if he’s not always paying attention. It’s been a pastime of their’s since at least sophomore year.

“Ugh.” Holster groans. “It’s at nine.”

Ransom shrugs. “Being at the airport at night is kinda fun.”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s just, y’know. Kegster.”

“Right,” Ransom says, smirking. “This is why I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“Shut up.” Holster watches Liz Lemon cram a sandwich down her throat, and then he says, “I’d totally wolf my Teamster sub for you, bro.”

“Dude, I still don’t really understand what that means,” Ransom says. “But thanks. And I guess I’d do the same for you?”

Holster grins and holds out his fist. “Fuck yeah, bro.”

Ransom taps it with his own. “Fuck yeah.”

And their hands don’t really stop touching even after they fist bump, but Ransom doesn’t freak out about it, he totally doesn’t freak out about it. Nope. Not at all.

It’s not like it’s never happened before.

— — — 

“So. Latkes?” Ransom asks.

“Chyeah,” Holster says. “Latkes. Ginger snaps?”

“Ginger snaps,” Ransom agrees.

They’re in the living room. Holster’s about to leave for the airport. Ransom had offered to go with him and see him off there, but Holster’d told him he didn’t want to put him through the holiday season blitz a day earlier than Ransom has to, which, fair.

The Haus is uncharacteristically quiet. Everyone else seems to be packing to go home, too.  Ransom hasn’t even started yet, and the fact is grating at the back of his mind, but he hasn’t packed because he spent the whole day with Holster, so it’s justified.

“Well,” Holster says, adjusting the straps of his backpack and stepping backwards onto the porch, roller bag in hand. “See you in the New Year, yeah?”

“Right. See you then.”

Ransom hugs him, long and tight and full, and when he leans back, Holster whistles and says, “Hey. Mistletoe.”

Ransom freezes. No. No way. Absolutely not.

He looks up, and that stupid green plant is smiling cheerily down at him, white berries glimmering, and Ransom silently and fiercely curses it, tradition, Bitty, the holiday season, and all plants in general because why is this happening this is not supposed to happen.

“Oh,” he says, barely able to hear himself over the rush in his ears. “Yep. Haha.”

God damn it, he’s spent all this time making absolutely sure not to walk through any doorways at the same time as Holster, always on the lookout for any mistletoe, Bitty’s or otherwise, and now, on the last day that it could possibly happen, he forgets. 

Of course.

“Well.” Ransom clears his throat. “Well, we don’t have to - “

“You don’t want to?”

Ransom stops. Blinks. Holster doesn’t look embarrassed, or upset, or - or anything really. He’s just sort of looking at Ransom, shrugging. “I mean, why not, right?”

Fuck. Holster’s just standing here in his Falconers cap and his Samwell hoodie and that same stupid pair of sweatpants that he’s always wearing, and he’s about to leave for the airport to go home for two weeks, and Ransom is not going to kiss him, he isn’t, he can’t - 

“Right,” Ransom says. “Why not.”

Shit. 

Holster’s eyebrows knit together. “Hey, I mean, it’s totally cool if you don’t want to. We don’t have to kiss.”

“I…” 

Holster breaks eye contact with him. “It’s fine, bro. I mean, I was halfway joking anyway - “

Ransom kisses him. It’s quick and messy and a little bit wet (gross), and it’s also really, really nice.

“Oh,” Holster says once Ransom leans back. “Ok then.”

“I’ll see you next year,” Ransom says. “Next year.”

“Yeah,” Holster mutters, blinking. His cheeks are dusted a rosy pink color, and Ransom can’t be sure if it’s from the cold or what. “Yeah, yeah.”

Ransom holds out a fist. Holster seems to shake himself awake. He grins and bumps it.

“Have a good time, bro,” he says.

“Have a good time,” Ransom repeats. He’s still not totally sure what just happened.

“Say hi to your sisters for me!” Holster calls out as he’s getting into his car. 

“Say hi to yours!” Ransom calls back, and once Holster’s gone, he shuts the door, slides down the wall, and just sits. 

He doesn’t know what’s going to happen now, but he does know that this is gonna be one hell of a New Year.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chisaki’s fem!S/O being kidnapped

Someone please stop me from writing for the villains. I think I have an obsession or something-

Okay so, first of all, he most likely had an arranged marriage with his S/O as a way to make a contract with her father who was an amazing underground Quirk researcher, so of course, Chisaki wanted to make sure the man only helps HIM and nobody else, so what better way?

The girl, he later found out, was much of a genius in many ways, like hacking, seducing, information gathering, science and so on, which she self-taught, having been locked up in her house for so long by her father who only ever wanted to use her as a deal-breaker.

It all started when she saw Mimic, the first person she got along with really well from the very beginning, struggling while trying to hack into an important database, so she offered her help and easily hacked into the program and explained everything in detail so her could understand the more abstract ways of coding, and since then, Chisaki let those two go out of the hideout  together so the girl could see and enjoy the freedom that she deserves but never got the chance to have.

It took a long time for the both of them to become truly attached to one another, but it was the cute, subtle ways in which they showed their love that was truly attractive. It was the caring looks they gave each other, the protective hand-holding and the warm hugs they shared that made a strong bond between their once cold as ice, frozen hearts that knew nothing of the warm feeling of love.

On one lovely day of Spring she went out to the Starbucks in the town center with her childhood friend, a girl with whom she hasn’t been in contact with for a long time, but they got along really well back in the days and decided to catch up and gossip all day long.

As she was drinking her beverage, she spilled a bit of cake on herself, so laughing, she excused herself from the table and went to the bathroom to clean herself up. There, she looked at her phone to check for any missed calls or messages, which she saw were flooding, from both Chisaki and Mimic. Curious, she called Mimic back since he seemed the most frantic to get a hold of her, for some reason.

Y/N: Yes, Raffa? Mimic: GOODNESS GRACIOUS, WOMAN, WHY DO YOU HAVE A PHONE IF YOU DON’T USE IT?! Y/N: Uhh Sorry, it was on silent mode. I forgot to change that this morning. Mimic: Arrghhh nevermind!! Are you okay?! Y/N: Yes, of course, why wouldn’t I be? Mimic: There’s a killer on the loose, dammit!! Y/N: Like...You and Chisaki? Mimic: I’M NOT JOKING, Y/N-

But he was cut off by Chisaki calling and the girl accepted the call, making that a group-call.

Chisaki: Where are you? Y/N: The local Starbucks. Wait, I’ll share my location with you- Chisaki: Keep the GPS on at all costs and make sure to hide your phone and have it at you at all times. Y/N: Yes, okay, but guys, can you tell me what’s going on?! Mimic: There’s this serial killer chick that is targeting some super boss yakuza leaders and one of them is- Chisaki: Me. Y/N: And what does it have to do with me? Mimic: We...We think that she knows of your connection to us and especially Chisaki. Y/N: How could she? We’ve never been out in the public or anything of the sort. Besides, I’ve always been extra careful when posting stuff on my social media. Mimic: I know, I was there to check them with you, but we don’t know why or how, but she might be targeting you. Y/N: Do you have a picture with her or something so I can be on the lookout? Or please make it fast, my friend might suspect something. Chisaki: Friend...? You are not alone? Y/N: Goodness, no, it’d have been boring to go out alone. An old friend contacted me again and asked to meet up. Mimic: Uh...Does this picture look famili- Y/N: *gasps* Th-That’s...That’s...M-My... Chisaki: That is your friend, isn’t she? Y/N: Y-Yeah...B-But...Do you know if she’s affiliated with anyone? Mimic: She might be affiliated with some underground people. Y/N: Only my father knew of our arrangements...My father...My father wants me dead. Just great! Freaking fantastic! Chisaki: Keep calm, Y/N. If she finds out that you know about her plan, she’s going to proceed with her plan much faster. Y/N: Yeah...Just great. Now I’m scared to think that she might have poisoned my drink. Chisaki: She wouldn’t. She needs you alive if she wants to blackmail me and use you as a bait. Y/N: That’s far more reassuring. Chisaki: Can you jump out of the window? Y/N: No...It’s much too tiny.  Chisaki: Then go back to her and act as if nothing happened. We are on our way there. Y/N: Yeah, sure, no problem. Totally not freaking out. Mimic: Y/N you taught me how to be a better gangster and refine my skills, okay? You are far better than me at this, so use your skills of deceiving people and act as natural as possible so she won’t pick up on anything. Y/N: *sighs* Okay, fine. The GPS is on. I’ll hide my phone and keep this group convo on going so you can hear what we’re saying, but I’ll be putting it on mute so no sounds from your end will be heard around here and make it suspicious, okay? I’ll tell her I let my phone at home to charge. Chisaki: That’s my smart girl. Stay strong, we’re going to be there soon. Y/N: *nods* Roger that.

Sighing and running a hand through her hair, she closed her phone’s screen and hid it in her bra, thanking whatever possessed her to wear a nice and large sweater so the phone won’t be visible no matter what.

She put on her vixen face and acted as natural as she could and went to ramble about how annoying it is to get the stains off such a nice cardigan, but what surprised her was when her friend asked her if she could use her phone to call someone. She blinked in confusion and smiled at her apologetically, saying how she forgot to charge it the previous night and that she left without it, letting it plugged for the day. 

What was a bit shocking, however, was how her friend’s face twisted in rage for a split second before she gripped the girl’s wrist weirdly tight and forcefully dragged her out of Starbucks, saying how they need to leave for the day. The girl only gulped and tried to struggle, saying how she doesn’t understand her friend’s unexpected behaviour, but the friend only got angrier and slapped her friend before putting a chloroform napkin on her face, making her faint since she couldn’t hold her breath for too long.

Of course, by the time she woke up she was in a dark cell, only a lamp above her lighting up the sombre place. She got up quickly and rushed to the bar door, trying to see if it was locked or if she could somehow unlock it with a hair pin... No chance.

Chisaki, Mimic and Chrono found themselves in front of the enemy hideout and strode inside nonchalantly, pissed off beyond belief, as Chisaki looked as stoic as ever, only unleashing his rage by using his Quirk on everyone who dared stay in his path.

As he got in front of the cage, he easily destroyed the bars, only to see his semi-conscious S/O, several cuts on her face, who knows how many other bruises on her body, being held by her hair, on her knees, by the person she once called a friend, a knife at her throat.

“Now, now, look who decided to show up! How did you find us, young Yakuza leader~?” asked the enemy with a sly grin on her face. “Her phone GPS, of course.” Chrono replied in a low, threatening voice as if it was as clear as the day light. “Phone...? What phone?! She has no phone at her! I checked her bag and pockets!” she yelled, enraged. “My bra, you idiot...Why do you think I kept...Crossing my arms to my chest...? If you somehow hit the phone with you...Stupid boots then it was bye-bye for me...” the victim tried so say in a weak voice, occasionally stopping to cough some blood. “You...! YOU LITTLE BITCH! YOU LIED TO ME!!” the kidnapper shouted at her, putting a hand on her throat and squeezing it, making the poor girl gasp for air. “S-So did...You...” she managed to choke out. “It’s over now. Give up and return her to me.” Chisaki said, his eyes holding a burning fire, barely able to keep himself composed. “You think I got through all this trouble to just peacefully return her? How stupid can you be?! I think I’d like to have a little more fun with dear Y/N here-” she said, but was quickly interrupted when she tried to move but realised her movements were extremely lethargic and it confused her to no end.

At the same time, her knife suddenly jumped out of her grasp and went next to Chisaki, making it obvious that Chrono’s and Mimic’s jobs were done there. “Wh-What did you do to me?! Freaks!” the enemy asked, her hand still around the girl’s throat, but no longer posing as a danger. “As I said, it’s over. You were so busy letting anger take over you that you lost focus of your surroundings. Chrono touched you with his hair and Mimic’s mind went inside the knife. Now...It’s my turn.” with that, he went to the two girls and grabbed a fistful of the enemy’s hair, dragging her away from her beloved and kicked her in the face with his combat book as hard as he could, slamming her in the wall in the process.

“Chrono, Mimic, bring this unclean filth to the base. If I use my Quirk on her it’d be meaningless. Also...Arrange a meeting with Y/N’s father. I think a discussion between a husband and his father-in-law would be very important now.” “It shall be done” said Chrono, as he dragged the unconscious one away.

Chisaki grabbed a napkin from his pocket and kneeled in front of his wife, one hand on her face and the other trying to wipe away the dirt and blood from it, tenderly.

“Thanks for saving me, Chisaki. I’d be dead without you.” she whispered, a small smile on her face. “You got involved because of me. It shouldn’t have happened.” he said, closing his eyes. “Sorry for the trouble. I’ll try to be more careful.” she said, leaning in his touch. “I’ll make sure that never happens again. Let’s go home for now.” with that, he picked her up bridal style, making her smile softly and snuggling to him all the way back to their own hideout, where he made sure to make her as comfortable as possible as she healed herself, thanks to her amazing Healing-Water Quirk.

When night came and the girl was in her nightgown, messing around on social media on her phone, Chisaki went in their room, putting his mask carefully on the table and changing in his sleeping wear before getting in bed next to her, thing that never happened before since he was always too busy and preferred to stay alone with his work.

He said nothing as he watched her looking at him, surprised to see him there and putting her phone on the nightstand.

“Chisaki? Are you okay?” she asked, worry dripping from her sweet, angelic voice. “You seem to have completely healed. Your Quirk is something useful in this world.” he muttered, examining every inch of her body to see if he could spot any little bruise. “It is,I suppose. But if I were in your place, I wouldn’t have been able to save you.” she said with a half-grin. “Come here.” he mumbled, his eyes boring deep into her soul.

She complied, scuttering over to him, but to her surprise, he got her into a very tight embrace, stroking her hair, his heartbeat visibly calming down. She then realised that he was worried sick and this was his way of being 100% certain that what was happening was real and that she was really safe and sound, in his arms, a pulse still beating. She could only grin and cuddle to him, putting the blanket over them and kissing him lightly on the lips, saying soothing, reassuring words to him.

For the first time since they got married they slept in the same room, together, two heartbeats forming into one as he continued stroking her hair, not being able to sleep that night in fear that something might happen and she will be snatched away from his grasp once again.

He won’t ever let that happen again. His angel will never ever be stolen away from him. He made a mistake that almost endangered her, but no more. He knew what was to be done and made sure either Chrono or Mimic were with her at all times when she was to go out of the hideout, no matter what.

He will protect his beloved wife, Y/N, at all costs. Y/N is his.

Forever.

[noradarhkpalmer]

Rider, Massachusetts

Title: Rider, Massachusetts

Rating: PG

Pairing: Nora Darhk/Ray Palmer aka Darhkatom

Warnings: Minor swearing

Summary/Notes: AU Based on an ask prompt: only two people in this hotel/inn and sitting in my room alone wasn’t fun so I’m invading yours.

Nora Darhk checks into the Storybrooke Inn after getting lost in the storm, pausing her road trip to be anywhere but Star City after the death of her parents. Ray Palmer's GPS stops working on his way home from a business trip in New York and that brings him to the small picturesque inn. They're the only two guests checked in and decide to be lonely together.

This started out as an ask prompt thanks to @jakelovesamy and now it turned into all of this. I am so please and so stoked about this. I've always wanted to write an ooey gooey holiday fic like this but never had the right idea. 

SO THANK YOU SO MUCH EL REALLY YOU HAVE MADE MY DAY. Enjoy everyone! El I hope you love it! PS there will be a bit of an epilogue type chapter after this just so Maude can gloat.

She hadn’t planned to be here. Neither had he. When the snow got bad somehow, kismet, serendipity, fate, maybe even God, led them to both pull into the Storybrooke Inn. Coincidence or not, the Inn looked something straight out of a storybook. It was still covered in Christmas lights and decorations as was the small quaint town of Rider, Massachusetts. Ray was in New York for a business meeting when his GPS suddenly stopped working and he got lost. Nora was trying to be anywhere but Star City. She was a long way from home, across the country to be precise, she’d been taking the cross country trip ever since her parents were killed in a car crash just before Christmas.

Nora had arrived first. She walked into the just as equally decorate foyer of the inn and then walked up to the front desk, ringing the bell. She glanced around to the adjoining living room, seeing presumably locals since there was only one other car than hers in the parking lot, probably the owner’s, playing cards, chess, reading, just sitting somewhere to get warm and be a little less lonely on New Years Eve.

An older woman came from another adjoining room that she couldn’t tell what it was and smiled warmly at her.

“Can I help you?” Nora looked the woman over and the warmth didn’t seem to fade, she was embodiment of the holidays and everything Nora never had growing up.

Nora nodded. “Yes, I got a bit lost and the storm is making it pretty impossible to get anywhere so I’ll be needing a room for the night.”

“Well we’re happy fate brought you to Rider either way. I’m Maude Mills, I own the inn.” She extended her hand to Nora and Nora shook it.

“I’m Nora… Sorry, my hands are still a bit chilly from the storm outside.” Nora quickly retracted her hand and watched as the woman reached behind her for keys off the very full key rack behind her.

“That’s alright, dear, just sign in here.” Maude pointed to a pad in front of her on the desk and Nora filled out her basic information. “You’ll be our only guest, if you get too lonely up there, a lot of the locals like to stick around late into the evening to ring in the new year. You’re welcome to join us.”

Nora smiled sadly, not quite in the New Years Eve mood and nodded. “Thank you, but the warm bed in the room will probably just put me right to sleep.”

Maude nodded. “Okay, well, we’ll be here if we change your mind. Let me walk you up to your room.”

xxxx

Ray pulled up to an inn that he hoped was open. He saw just a few cars and was even surprised to see the Washington plates on the car next to his. Of all the gin joints. He walked inside with his bags, seeing an older woman at the front desk as he strolled up, glad that the inn was in fact open.

“Hi there!” He greeted.

“Well hello there! What a treat, I get two guests in the span of an hour. I’m Maude, who you might you be?”

“I’m Ray… I got a bit lost in the storm and need a room for the night, please tell me you’re not all booked up for the holidays?” He asked and going off the full key rack, save for one set of keys missing, it probably wasn’t.

Maude waved him off and laughed at his joke. “Nope, you’ll be my one of two guests. Just sign in here and I’ll get you all set up.”

Ray obliged and noticed the only other name on the guestbook. Nora Darhk. He’d heard that name before but he couldn’t place where. He finished and took the keys from Maude and let her lead him to his room.

xxxx

Nora looked up from her book when she heard shuffling and voices move past her door. Maude? Another guest? She heard a deeper, charming, male voice chatting with Maude. She heard a door open near her and shut a few moments later. Nora shivered slightly and stared at the unlit fireplace across from her bed. She really didn’t want to start a fire and possibly set something else on fire in the process so she resolved to sitting on her bed in her thickest sweater and coziest socks.

Another few hours passed and Nora, despite moving under the covers now, was almost completely freezing. She looking at the time 10:13pm. Less than two hours to midnight. To a new year. To the first full year ahead of her without her parents. She swallowed thickly, trying to not let herself be sad about it. She let herself grieve and mourn up to the funeral and the wake after but quickly locked that part of herself away after that.

Nora was brought out of her thoughts when she heard a loud noise from the room next to hers. The clunking of logs and a satisfied sigh. Whoever was next door had started their fireplace. She sighed. Who was she? Sitting in here all pathetic by herself on New Years Eve. She couldn’t even be bothered to start her own fireplace. Nora, now in her pajamas, grabbed her robe and slipped on her houseshoes and padded out of the room. Wait what was she doing?

Not being alone. That’s what she was doing.

Knocking on a complete stranger’s door two hours to midnight? They could be a serial killer? Or they could just make her feel a little less lonely.

Nora gently rapped on the door next to hers and she sucked in a breath as a very tall, handsome, and shirtless man answered the door. She was so stunned her hand was still raised as if she were still knocking.

“Hey, can I help you?” The man greeted with a smile.

Words stuck in Nora’s throat as she tried so hard not to stare at the man’s muscular chest and arms. “Umm… I just heard you starting your fire and I really don’t want to set my room on fire so I was wondering if I umm wow this sounds so stupid now that I am saying it out loud but… I was wondering if I could hang out in here?”

The man looked down after Nora was noticeably staring and realized he was still shirtless. He fetched his shirt from the bed and slid on the plain black tee. He leaned against the doorframe and listened to her request. Something inside him told him to let her in.

“Sure. Come on in, get warm, you look cold.”

Nora smiled in thanks and walked inside, wrapping her arms around herself, not sure what to do but thankful for the good 10 degree difference between his room and hers.

“I’m Ray by the way, Ray Palmer.” Ray held out his hand to Nora.

Nora shook it. “I’m Nora, Nora Darhk.” She smiled and then puzzle pieces clicked in her brain. “Like as in Ray Palmer of Palmer Technologies?”

“That’s me.” He grinned.

Nora guffawed. “What in the world are you doing at this tiny little Inn in Massachusetts?”

“I was on a business trip in New York and got a bit lost.” He shrugged. “Guess you can’t always count on GPS’s huh?” Ray offered her a seat on his bed and she gingerly sat down, pulling her legs up to her chest. “It seems we’re the only two guests so… what brought you to Rider?”

“Same as you… I mean… I got lost because of the storm. I’ve been on a cross country road trip since Christmas Eve.”

“Are you the one with the Washington state plates? Are you driving across the country to see different family members?”

Nora nodded. “Yeah… that’s me, why? And no… I don’t have any family, kinda why I took the roadtrip. To get away from that small fact.”

Ray had a sudden flash. An obituary in the paper for a Ruve Adams and a Damien Darhk, killed in a car crash, survived by their daughter… Nora. “You live in Star City, don’t you?”

Nora furrowed her brow, now suspecting this man was either a stalker, serial killer, or too good to be true. “Yeah… why do you know this much about me?”

Ray realized how all of his questions sounded and waved her off. “No it’s not like that… I saw your parents’ obituary in the paper a couple weeks ago… I’m sorry for your loss. That must be so hard losing them so close to the holidays.”

“Yeah well… that’s just how fate likes to treat me.” She shrugged. “I lost my job back in September and then this… I basically emptied my savings and found myself on the interstate on Christmas Eve, which is a bitch to dive in by the way, I’ve just been trying to be anywhere but Star City or any place that reminds me of my parents. I was on my way to Boston when I got lost and ended up here.”

Ray reached out and took her hand. “I’m sorry. I really am. Four years ago… I lost my fiancee, we got mugged at gunpoint and… he shot us both I somehow survived. I don’t know why or how… it doesn’t seem fair. I don’t think I’ll ever understand why she died and I got to live. I spent a lot of time with that pain, I wish I had the agency you did to just take off and deal with it in whatever way you pleased. If you want to talk about it more, I’m here, I know we just met but maybe opening up to a complete stranger you’ll never see again might be easier.”

Nora wiped away a stray tear that she was pissed she let fall and shook her head. “You never know, you might bump into me on the streets of Star City. But, I know what you mean. I’m sorry you lost her, but maybe you’re still here because of a greater purpose. I read the papers, your tech company is not only successful but gives back and really makes an effort to change things at a grassroots level, that’s revolutionary. None of that would be possible if you weren’t still here.”

Ray hadn’t thought of it that way. It didn’t make the pain of losing Anna any less worse four years down the line but it did make him breathe a little easier thinking about it. She was right. He had found purpose in those four years even though some of it was because he had thrown himself a little too much into his work but, he was still proud of all that he had accomplished.

“So, what’s this job that was stupid enough to let you go?” He asked, trying to move onto a lighter tone to the evening.

Nora tried to hide her smile. “I didn’t technically lose it, it’s just over for the season. Don’t judge… but I work at a Renaissance Fair. I’m considering not going back next season because my boss is a jerk so I kind of decided to lose my job.”

Ray tried to hold in his laugh. “Of all the things I thought you would say, that was definitely not it.”

Nora rolled her eyes. “You can laugh, go ahead. It wasn’t my first choice in jobs either. I have a teaching degree but no one wants to hire a drama teacher in the age of STEM.” She sarcastically airquoted ‘STEM’ and realized she was talking to a man with probably multiple degrees all in STEM fields. “Sorry.” She blushed and looked away.

Ray shrugged. “No, it’s okay. I love the arts. I have a lot of paintings in my apartment I commission from local artists and I love musicals. The arts are still important no matter what other science fuddy-duddies say.”

Nora smiled and realized they were still holding hands, she tried to retract, realizing he probably hadn’t meant to hold her hand this long but he simply put his other hand on the other side of hers and smiled, so she kept it there.

“So you like musicals?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Do I? Singin in the Rain is my favorite movie of all time.”

Nora grinned. “I’m more of a Grease girl myself, but I can appreciate Debbie Reynolds in her prime.”

“What else do you like to do other than watch musicals and what exactly is it that you do at the Ren fair?”

“I’m a witch. I tell fortunes and pretend to cast loves spells or curse enemies. All very Morgana Le Fey type stuff.” She found herself now playing with his fingers as he let off one of his hands off and she tangled their fingers together. It felt almost instinctual to do this. And she wasn’t sure why.

“You continue to surprise me, Nora Darhk.” He shook his head and gazed at her longingly, he really truly hoped he’d bump into her one day in Star City.

Nora moved their hands so they were in a position to thumb wrestle and gave him a smirk. They absently started thumb wrestling as they continued to talk.

“And to answer your other question, I like to draw, paint, I dabble a little bit in photography, I sort of do a little bit of everything since I don’t exactly have the most stable job in the world.”

“Paint anything I might have seen in a gallery or coffee shop?”

She shook her head. “I’m not that good, I’d love to start a photography series called Faces in the City where I just capture Star City for what it is, the good and the bad. Maybe it’ll help bring change, I’d love to donate and proceeds I make off of selling prints to homeless shelters around town.”

His heart swelled. This woman had had the worst few months of her life and there was still room in her heart for people less fortunate than her. She was a marvel.

“I could help you with that,” he offered.

Nora realized he meant financially and she waved him off. “No… you don’t have to do that.”

“No, come on I think it’s a great idea, maybe if not with that but with the drama teacher gig. I give a lot to STEM camps but I also give a lot to art programs. Summer programs that teach kids how to write, draw, paint, do theatre, music, dance. They’re always looking for qualified instructors.”

“I had one real year of teaching before they cut the funding at my school so I’m not exactly what you would call ‘qualified’,” she said.

“I think you’re plenty amazing and any school would be lucky to have you shaping and encouraging the future minds of this country. Teachers don’t get enough credit. If you ever need a recommendation while you’re job hunting, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Nora choked out a laugh. “You’ve known me for an hour, why would you want to do that?”

“Because I see that there is something incredibly special about you, Nora, and I’m really glad whatever it was that brought us here together tonight did. I don’t know how we ended up being the only two residents of this inn but I’m thankful it meant we got to meet.”

Nora face flushed. What exactly did he mean by all of that? Was it romantic interest? Plantonic interest? Was she even ready for romantic interest? She’d known this man an hour. She glanced at the clock 11:15pm. Forty-five minutes until 2019. She looked into his eyes and smiled. “Me too.”

They spent the next forty minutes talking about life, laughing at how rowdy the locals downstairs were getting, Ray showed her some of his personal invention ideas that he just had to get on paper somewhere, he wasn’t sure if they’d ever come to be, but they all revolved around making the world a safer and better place and Nora’s heart swelled at his heart for humanity. It was now five minutes to midnight and they had moved to sit in front of the fire. Ray had snuck downstairs and nabbed a bottle of sparkling grape juice and two glasses. He poured them each a glass and settled down next to her in front of the fire.

Nora had shed her robe, it was too hot to have it on and sit in front of the fire but now it was almost like she was just still a smidge too cold to be comfortable.

Ray noticed her shivering and fetched a blanket, he sat back down across from her and draped the blanket over the both of them, their legs brushed together. Nora looked absolutely beautiful next to the fire. An absolute angel if he were honest. Maybe one day she would be his angel.

The minutes ticked by and they sat in a comfortable silence, two minutes to midnight now.

“Hey, Ray?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever kissed anyone at midnight?” She asked, looking a little apprehensive to even broach the subject of the New Years Eve tradition.

Ray nodded. “Anna and I did every New Years we were together. What about you?”

Nora shook her head. “If my dad was awake he’d kiss my cheek and say ‘Happy New Year, Nora-doll’ but other than that, no.”

“Why do you ask?” He couldn’t help himself now, he reached for her free hand and tangled their fingers together.

“Will you kiss me at midnight?” Any boldness she had left her body the minute she asked and immediately tore her hand away to cover her mouth. “I’m sorry… that was really forward wow are you sure this is non-alcoholic?”

Ray chuckled. “Yes.”

Nora looked up at him. “Yes to what?”

Ray heard cheering from below and a clock tower chiming in the distance. Midnight. He smiled and pulled her in for a soft, sweet kiss and then pulled back. “What do you think?”

Nora smiled in return and pulled him back in for another kiss. “I’m really happy we decided to be lonely together.”

“Happy New Year, Nora.” If she hadn’t just met him tonight, she’d consider the look in his eyes to be of complete adoration and love.

“Happy New Year, Ray.” She knew now that 2019 would be her absolute best year yet.

[hazeofhearts]

Back Seat Bingo (Connor x reader)

Warnings: mentions of abuse

You had made your love for 1950’s films known publicly from simply how you decorated your little cubical at the station. You had several film star posters up on the walls, including Fred MacMurray, Edward G. Robinson and Barbra Stanwyck. People made light fun at you but never pushed it too hard. You were always friendly to everyone in the office.

Connor had noticed your unique niche interest, taken note and stored it in his data banks for a later date. When it came time for the precinct Secret Santa, Connor had miraculously gotten you and had scoured the internet for hours trying to find mint condition films to buy you. Hank was pissed that over $200 got charged to his account but when he saw how happy Connor was at your excitement, he let it go.

Now though, Hank was currently nursing a headache at the theatrics of his adopted android son. The older man was watching the android pace around his bedroom in their house, his outfit laid out on his bed and his processors whirring.

“Hank? Do you have suspenders?”

“Jesus, son. Why do you need suspenders?”

Connor was quiet for a moment and his hands came together where his stomach would be and he fidgeted with his fingers, a trait he had picked up from subconsciously watching you all the time.

“I want to impress Y/N.”

“I know that, kid,” Hank spoke as he strode into Connor’s room, turning on the lights in the shadow covered room. It was just past sunset and there was dinner waiting on the table for them. Hank had traversed through the wet February snow to get it and he wasn’t about to let it go cold.

“But we can order suspenders tomorrow. Y/N doesn’t know that you’re planning this outfit so really, you have all the time in the world to get your stuff together.”

Connor hummed, nodding and allowing Hank to lead him out to the kitchen.

After dinner, Connor was relaxed on the couch, flipping through channels on the TV with Sumo covering him like a blanket. Hank was rustling around in his room before emerging with a small box. He tossed said box and Connor caught it with one hand before he even turned in the direction of Hank.

“What’s this?”

“Open it and find out.”

Hank settled in the armchair. Connor opened the box and a large smile grew on his face. Plain, black suspenders!

“Thanks, Dad.”

Hank grumbled a bit before picking up a magazine and swiping through it. Connor clicked his tongue, which woke Sumo and said dog lumbered off of him. Connor then rushed to his room, closing the door gently behind him.

Hank watched him go, rubbing Sumo on the head.

“What are we going to do with him, Sumo?”

Sumo could only bark softly in response.

The next morning arrived and with it came Hank’s embarrassment.

“Do ya have to wear that hat?”

“I’ll take it off when we get inside the station but for now, yes.”

Hank cringed into his coffee cup as he watched more people stare at the two of them walking down the street.

Arriving at the station, Connor did indeed take off his black felt fedora but he kept the rest of his outfit on, including the trench coat that Hank thought made him look like a flasher.

Walking through the sliding doors, they caught the attention of many of their coworkers. Gavin nearly shot coffee out of his nose at the sheer ridiculousness that was Connor’s outfit. He was about to comment when they heard a loud squeal coming from your direction.

There you were, hands to your mouth and eyes wide as you spotted Connor. You rushed over quickly, your hands out stretched.

“Hello, Detective L/N. How are you this morning?”

“So much better now than I was doing! Connor, you look almost exactly like Humphrey Bogart! With the coat and the hat and everything! You look so handsome!”

Connor’s processors were overheating at the onslaught of compliments you were giving him. It was true, Humphrey Bogart was his inspiration for this particular outfit but he wasn’t expecting your attention this soon. He didn’t have anything to respond with.

“Thank you, Detective,” Connor said after a moments hesitation where you carefully traced the hem of his coat, clear glee in your eyes.

“This is exactly like his coat in one of his more famous headshots. Where did you manage to find this?”

“A lot of scouring the Internet was needed.”

You huffed out a laugh.

“I can only imagine so. Well, I should let you get back to work. Captain Fowler gave us some new evidence for the case we’re working on together so I’ll let you look it over.”

Hank thanked you, grabbed Connor by the back of his neck and sat him down in his chair.

“Did you get the reaction you wanted?”

“I suppose I did. Did I look.... cool?”

Hank snorted.

“Yes Connor. You looked very cool.”

Your newest case with the boys included several victims of a murder. This included the wife of the murder victim and his three children.

Today you were tasked with interviewing the wife while the children were at school.

“Ma’am, we know that is is a very traumatic event for you. We called you here to see if you could give us any insight or a possible reason your husband was killed. But we encourage you to take all the time you need. We’ll be here to help you.”

After you said this, you slid the tissue box over to the woman trying to keep her tears in. Connor was leaned on the wall behind you, still in his cute 1950s get up. You couldn’t handle it! He was so adorable. You knew that the point was to look manly in those particular outfits but Connor just looked too adorable. You’d been staring at him periodically throughout the morning, easily being distracted. Who knew that your work crush also liked 1950s film noir.

The woman sitting across from you, nearly skeleton thin and wispy blonde hair, took a tissue and blew her nose. It was so loud it echoed in the cinderblock room. You heard rustling behind you and Connor’s jacket went onto the back of the chair by your side.

You kept your eyes on the woman though, as she was the main priority. She was shaking. Her skin was extremely translucent, almost as if she had never seen the sun in her life. You could see the veins in her small hands, which disappeared into the sleeves of her baggy sweater. You noticed that her wedding ring wasn’t on her ring finger.

“M-my husband dealt with r-really harsh people at times and h-he-,” the woman choked back a sob.

You leaned backwards in your chair. You felt Connor lean forward.

“Have everyone leave the observation room except for you. I need her to trust me. In cases like this, it’s usually the spouse. I think we have our killer.”

Connor nodded, taking his jacket. As he left, you noticed suspenders strapped to Connor’s torso and you swore your heart skipped a beat.

“W-where’s the android?”

You turned back to the woman and leaned in.

“I told him to leave. He made sure the others in the observation room also left. It’s just you and me.”

“W-why?”

You stretched out your arms and watched as the woman flinched back. You waited for her to calm down and she put her hands in yours.

“Ms. Roberts,” you began, using the woman’s maiden name.

“Cierra,” she interrupted.

“Cierra,” you began again. “We know your husband was a dealer and provider of Red Ice. We know what that drug does to people and what it can do to families. Now, we try not to make the assumption of anything here at the DPD but as a woman not an officer, I can tell you’re keeping something from us.”

Your fingers edged up her hands to her sleeves and she just closed her eyes. You pushed the sleeves up to reveal dark welts circling her wrists and forearms. You choked back your horror, fighting to keep your own tears from falling.

“I did it,” she muttered. “I killed him. He was going to kill my youngest, my Emily. Please you have to believe me. Please don’t send me to jail. She’s in the hospital right now being looked after by my mother.”

You held Cierra’s hands, which had tightened significantly around yours.

“I understand why you didn’t report the abuse. I understand you wanted to keep your children safe. I will make sure you will walk out of this better than before. You and your children are safe now.”

Cierra let go of your hands and collapsed onto the table face down, sobbing loudly in what seemed like relief. You turned to the one way mirror and gave the smallest incline of your head to show you were done.

After you had someone escort Cierra back to the hotel she and her kids were staying at, you decided to go out for lunch. Connor had elected to come with you but Hank declined. He had pulled Connor back to him and talked to him for a few minutes before he let his son go.

Now you were walking down the street, breathing in the crisp air and being distracted by Connor. He had forgotten his jacket at the station and now you saw those suspenders doing God’s work in the light of day.

The plain black material stretched perfectly across his torso and pecs. His shirt was tucked into his pants as usual but with his trousers and time period shoes, he looked straight out of a film noir.

“You really look great today, Connor. Is there a specific reason you decided to dress like this?”

You allowed Connor to pull the door open for you at your favourite lunch spot. You didn’t even have to order with how frequently you came here, the wait staff all knew you and your order so you simply sat at a table by the window.

“Yes, actually there is.”

You leaned forward to show him you wanted him to continue.

“I did it to impress you and hopefully win your affection.”

You sat back in your chair, stunned into silence. The waitress brought your food and set it down before walking quickly away to watch behind the counter.

“Wait.... really?”

“Yes. I’ve felt this way since December when I purchased those films for you for Christmas.”

You processed this. Your work crush liked you back? This was better than you could even imagine! What a twist of events this day was bringing.

“Well, we should probably do something about that. How about a movie date tonight? A regular movie, not a film noir.”

Connor fiddled with his hands on the table, a wide smile on his face.

“I’d love to.”

[modifiedmelody]

Luck was on his side (Chaper 3)

(Part 3 of 8)

The boy walked into his room, leaving George alone in the hallway. He ambled down the hall to his own room, about three doors down from his Soulmate. For a while he didn't know if he even existed, but he was relieved. The boy, Samuel, seemed like a bit of a pushover. Not that it was a bad thing, but it highlighted the fact that they were probably opposites. George almost hoped he wouldn't find the boy who's name was on his arm, due to his promise. What promise? A promise to his mother. She was a smart woman, and George knew to listen to her. So he did. His father was a crime boss before him, and he always hurt his soulmate. He always hurt George's mother. And George hated him for it, who wouldn't. His mother made him promise her he would give whoever his soulmate was the best life possible, and he agreed. A week later her body was found a few miles downstream.

He was going to keep that promise, if he could. He did think the boy was cute, although a bit naive. George let down his hair and got dressed into his pajamas before flopping onto his bed. He didn't really know if he'd like Samuel or not. He didn't believe in soulmates, to be honest. His 'business' probably wasn't the best place for the boy. Although he couldn't kick him out, the kid'd die on the streets. George didn't really know what to think of this situation, but he was going to get through it. He just had to be smart about it.

It took a few hours, but he finally fell asleep.

The next day George woke up around six, and rolled out of bed to get dressed. After about an hour of deciding what to wear he came out in pretty much what he wore the day before, but his vest was white, while his undershirt was dark red. His black pants stood constant, however. After he fixed his hair, (Down today, because he didn't want a receding hairline) he walked out the door and toward Samuel's room. After knocking, he heard a loud 'THUMP' which he assumed was the boy falling off of the bed. Soon the door opened and Samuel looked up at him, clearly embarrassed from falling. George looked from his rat's nest of light-blue hair and his clothes that looked like five generations of hand-me-downs,

"Didn't you wear that yesterday?"

"I- uh, sorry- I don't have any clothes,"

"I see. Well, I'll just have to fix that." George began as he motioned for the boy to follow him, he took him to his room,

"Before we get you dressed,  we need to fix your hair. How do you like it?" George asked as he brought Samuel to the side-room to the left of his room, where he did his hair and picked out his clothes. As Samuel was thinking, George rolled his sleeves up,

"I don't really mind,"

"In that case it's going up. From what I've seen It's always in your face anyways," he states before finding a wooden brush from his desk and beginning to run it through his hair, and spraying in a bit of dry-conditioner in there too so the tangles would come out easier. Samuel sat in awkward silence. He couldn't really think of much to say, so he just decided to talk about the only thing he knew about George,

"So... whats it like being CEO of a big-name company...?" he asked as George finished brushing out his wavy hair.

"Pretty boring, but that's not even my job so," he chuckled before pulling Samuel's hair into a pony-tail, although he left some down on either side to braid back.

"You're not?"

"No, that's just a cover. I'll be honest, I don't think you'd live if you decided to tell anyone, and I kind of trust you, Samuel, don't know why, I guess since we're soulmates are something" he started,

"I'm a leader of a big branch of organized crime. I steal lots of money, and kill a few people, it's pretty simple. It's fun, really, but blood doesn't wash out easily," he states as he continues to braid Samuel's hair. Samuel gulps, he realized he didn't know what he was getting into when he came here. He didn't even know how to process this information. Part of him was in denial, or praying it was some twisted humor. Although he did believe it possible, he'd read news on organized crime in the city on some news sites, it worried him. George noticed the boy became pale and laughed, Samuel noticed that his laugh was very pretty, and very silky. And the laugh of a murder.

"Samuel, don't worry, I wont let anyone hurt you~" he teased while finishing the braids on one side of Samuel's head,

"Ok- um, George are you s-serious?" he stuttered out,

"Yeah, but it's chill. It's not like i'm insane. I control a third of NY, so I don't rob banks or anything that much anymore." he speaks non-nonchalantly, and Samuel started to breath a bit heavier. George started on the other side,

"So, you k-kill people?"

"Only people who deserve it,"

"...what qualifies as deserving?"

"Killers, Rapists, People who piss me off,"

"So you just kill anyone in your way?"

"Yup."

"That's a bit... harsh,"

"Yeah. Sometimes. Y'know what, your being pretty talkative. I thought you were shy, guess I was wrong."

"I'm n-not shy, you're just intimidating..."

"I try," he deadpanned as he finished Samuel's hair,

"All done," he said with a grin, and surprisingly Samuel was impressed. His hair looked better than it ever had, to be honest. George then spun Samuel's chair aground to look at the front. Samuel felt a bit trapped, due to the fact George had a hand on either arm of the chair. But his face wasn't that close to his so he ignored it. That was when George noticed the bruise his father left on his left cheek- it had become extremely visible by now.

"...How the hell did I not notice that yesterday..." he mumbled to himself before moving his had to touch it, although Samuel flinched away. That didn't make George very happy at all, it was a sign of abuse that he was too well-aware of.

"Who did this?" George asked with fake mild interest, and Samuel silently panicked,

"I- uh, it doesn't really matter, it doesn't even hurt anymore," he answered, and George rolled his eyes,

"I'm not gonna go kill whoever did this, chill, I just think payback is necessary. Plus, they could be a good example as of why not to mess with my soulmate. This is a dangerous job for everyone involved, kiddo. And if people don't know you're protected, then they might try something." He said, and Samuel gulped. He realized very quickly that he didn't want to be part of a crime boss's private life! In the movies they boss's dame is always the one that gets killed, or kidnapped, or... worse.

"So, who did it?"

"I'd really rather n-not say, George," he mumbled, and George lowered his head so he was eye to eye with Samuel,

"I won't hurt them, badly. I just... was it your dad? Some kid at school? Warmer or colder?" He asked, and Samuel blinked,

"Wh... I am not playing the warmer-colder game about my dad! It's not even that noticeable!" He squeaked, he didn't notice his mistake until he saw a sly grin grow on George's face,

"Your dad huh... good to know." He mumbled before motioning Samuel to stand. Samuel hesitantly did,

"You aren't going to hurt him, right?" he asked, and George sighed.

"If you care that much, I guess not." He states flatly as he starts to look Samuel up and down.

"What to dress you in..." he says to himself, and Samuel tries not to make eye-contact,

"Actually, I have an old suit you can use. It should fit loosely, but the meeting we're going to is going to start in a few hours... we can fit it right afterwards."

"...meeting?"

"Yeah, just with some of my men. They need to meet you anyways." He says as he walks towards Samuel, who was still rather confused.

"First of all, let's get rid of this baggy sweater. It seems like it's been handed down for your last three generations," He said as he grabbed the rims of Samuel's sweater,

"W-wait, are you just going to strip me or something?" He asks, already starting to blush (it was an exceedingly easy feat to make Samuel blush), George smirks before pulling the sweater up and off,

"Yup. But it's just to get you dressed, it's also kind of to check if you have a recording device, although." He said, and Samuel nodded. He guessed that made sense. George then folded Samuel's sweater and turned back to him,

"Are you going to take your pants off or do you want me to do that too?" he asked with a smirk, and Samuel shook his head before taking them off himself. It was quite embarrassing to Samuel, to be honest, to be standing in the middle of the room in nothing but his underwear on. George was looking him up and down, and that only made him more uncomfortable. He chuckled before sauntering over to Samuel and placing his hands on the rim of his boxers from behind him,

"We can wait until later to take these off~" He said as he ran his hands slightly higher,

"Or now," He flirted, although after him mumbling something to himself he jerked his grip away harshly,

"No, sorry, self control isn't my strong point," He said in a strained voice, and Samuel took that as something to be weary of as George walked off to the closet. Samuel shivered,

"What's your favorite color, Samuel?" He called from the closet, and Samuel thought a bit before answering,

"Blue, I guess," he said, and George hummed in response. Samuel decided he found this entire situation very odd, considering he was half naked in the room of a New York crime-boss with a British accent, who was finding an old suit of his for him to wear. He honestly wondered why he thought it was a good idea to find this man before doing any research. The thing was, though, that Samuel did think George looked good. He couldn't judge his personality yet, but from what he'd seen the man was a slight bit too murder-y for his taste. He wondered about his temper, if it was bad or not. Samuel gulped when he thought of the flirting, and if it could lead to anything. The boy, of course, had no experience with sex whatsoever. He assumed he wouldn't have to worry about it to much, but was going to text his friend's later anyways because Philip claimed himself a 'ladies man'... he must know at least something. After many of these thoughts started to make Samuel dizzy, George left the closet with an old suit neatly folded in his arms.

"Here ya go, the smallest thing in blue I have," George gestured with his head towards the clothes, and Samuel nodded. He really didn't feel like seeing people

"Do I... um... do I really need to go to this meeting?" Samuel whispered, and George barley heard him,

"I hope you plan to speak up when talking to me, I don't think I can understand mumbling," He said in a tone that screamed pristine, and Samuel held back an eye-roll. He praised the lord he managed not to scoff,

"Sorry... George... um, well, what I wanted to ask is if my attendance at this meeting is necessary?" Samuel asked wearily, and George chuckled,

"Yes. It is. I feel like you need to meet the others, and that the others need to know their respective boundaries" George said clearly, as if Samuel wouldn't understand otherwise. The boy nodded and started to pull the black pants over his lanky legs, it didn't take long. Lucky for him, they weren't too baggy. He grabbed the white undershirt and buttoned it on, he started to have trouble with the cuffs and after enough struggling George rolled his eyes, and then the sleeves. In Samuel's opinion, the light-blue bow-tie was his favorite part of it all. It was fake, (Button on), so it was on quickly. After he put the vest on, George buttoned the front and took a few steps back.

"Perfect, now we can go. Right in time too, my business partners should be arriving by now." George pointed out before guiding Samuel out of his room and down the stairs, finally to the mud-room type area right inside the door. George pointed to a door to the right,

"I'll greet them. You can wait in the dining room right outside that door,  don't be loud, sit on the one of the two chairs at the head of the table" he commanded, and Samuel nodded hesitantly before approaching the door. As he left the room he heard a pattern-knock, although he wasn't paying attention so he couldn't remember the start of it. After sitting down he heard muffled greetings and many footsteps, it made him pretty anxious to say the least. The only other people in the room aside from him were some armed guards beside each exit. As the men all filed into the dining room the glared at him, each taking their seat. Samuel decided he wanted to not be there. After they had all taken their seats, George took his beside Samuel. The men spent no time before skipping small talk,

"Who's the kid?" a man at the other side of the table asked, he was wearing a lot of magenta, Samuel deduced it was a favorite color of the man's. Just like him, a shorter man sat beside him in all green,

"Soulmate. Just found him today," He stated simply, and Samuel looked to his feet. He didn't enjoy all of these people staring at him.

"What a cute kid- despite this we have business to attend to. How about our darlings hang out in the living room while we talk about the big stuff? We shouldn't worry them with business" He suggested, and Samuel didn't know why but he took offense.

"Sounds good to me. Boys, go on." George said in a serious tone, the man across the room stood first and left out a side-door, Samuel copied him and hoped it was right. After he left the dining room he sat on a couch across from the man awkwardly, the man was pretty much staring into Samuel's soul. He had dark brown hair, and a goatee of the same color. It made Samuel wonder what hair products he used. His hair looked really silky. Samuel, being the naturally shy person he is, decided not to be the first person to say hi. Lucky for him, the man placed his hand out to shake,

"My name is Alexander Hamilton, nice to meet you," He said, and Samuel shook his hand. He recognized that name almost immediately,

"My name is Samuel Seabury... hey, uh, you wouldn't know a Philip Hamilton, would you?"

"Oh yeah! He's actually... me and Thomas's son. You're Sammy?" He asked, and Samuel was surprised. The man in magenta- who he assumed was Thomas- and Alexander didn't seem a day over 25. They seemed way to young to have a 19 year old son.

"Uh, yeah?"

"Jeez, he talks about you a lot. His little girlfriend, Theo too- are you friend's with her too?"

"Um, yes?"

"Oh, isn't that neat! What a trio-" But Samuel cut him off with concern,

"Wait- so if Philip's dad is a crime-boss... is he safe?"

"Um... kinda."

"Am... am I safe?"

"Ehhum.... I'm pretty sure..." the man trailed off, which made Samuel want to barf. Alexander must of been able to tell, so he quickly reassured him.

"I-I mean, yeah! Totally! Organized crime isn't even that dangerous," he lied, and Samuel gulped. Alexander looked to Samuel wearily, as if he was thinking of something Samuel couldn't begin to comprehend. He cleared his throat,

"I don't mean to scare you are anything kid... but I hope you like sex because that's George's favorite hobby," He murmured,

"...Favorite? As in... he does it a lot?"

"Heh, yeah. And, once again, I don't mean to scare you, I just think you should no what you're getting yourself into with this dude." he started, and Samuel gulped,

"This is really helping my anxiety to be honest," He mumbled with an awkward laugh, and started to breath a bit heavier,

"Hey, it'll be fine though. I'm fine, and I've been married to Thomas for 4 years now, we're both alive," He states simply, and Samuel nods slightly,

"Wait... so we're just not going to go back to the fact that he loves s.. s... eh- idon'tlikethisword -sex? A l-lot of it?" Samuel asked, slightly worried.

"Uh, yeah, but i'm sure he won't do anything without consent- some weird chivalry thing he's got going on. Don't worry about it too much. Actually, wait-" He said before grabbing a slip of paper from his pocket,

"How about this, if anything bad happens, call me." He says before handing Samuel the slip, and standing up. Samuel found it kind of weird that the man kept his number in his pocket at all times, but decided not to say anything.

"Are you going somewhere?" Samuel asked, and Alexander nodded,

"The meeting part is over. It's time to eat," He said, and Samuel wondered how the hell he could tell. Samuel decided to stand as well, and both of them walked into the room and sat at their seats from earlier. 'Thomas' cleared his throat.

"So, you and George have known eachother for a day, i'm guessing you've fucked at least three times," he teased, and Alexander elbowed him in the stomach. George scowled at him,

"Thomas, i'm sure you're not insulting me," George said in a threatening tone. Although, Samuel was more distracted by the fact the men sitting on the chairs to the side seemed far more high-strung than before. This comment may have started something.

"Why, of course not, I'd never try to do that, I was joking, of course."He says, Samuel deduced that this man's voice was way too loud for his liking.

"Sure you were. Well, either way, the food is nearly done. And, Thomas, i'd rather you not speak to Samuel, you could very well corrupt him with your inappropriate jokes and mind."

"Well, either way I know that you have a dirty mind anyways. You just don't laugh at my amazing jokes."

"I do not. And your jokes are not amazing, they're juvenile. You're so classless, you could be a Marxist Utopia" Laughed George, and it seemed Samuel, who was giggling and trying to hold back a guffaw, was the only person to get the joke. Thomas seemed to decide he didn't care enough to look for an answer. George noticed Samuel got his joke and smiled,

"Hey Samuel, oxygen went out on a date with potassium today... it went ok." He said with a giggle, and Samuel laughed back.

"I thought oxygen was dating magnesium... omg" Samuel said in mock surprise, and George chuckled. Alexander and Thomas shared a confused look, although Alexander was secretly trying not to laugh due to the fact he just started to get the joke.

"... you guys are nerds. Stop. When will the food be ready?" He drawled, and the king cleared his throat,

"Soon. And i'm not a nerd, i'm just intelligent." He stated flatly. Samuel was getting over his giggles as the food came out,

"So, Samuel, what do you do for a living?" Thomas drawled, bored out of his mind and willing to make a conversation of anything.

"I, uh, just graduated high school a few months ago. I want to have a sweet shop somewhere but I don't have a lot of time to work on it. Well, I didn't- my family had me work a lot." He said, before realizing it might of been TMI, Thomas nodded before looking to Alexander and back to Samuel. The boy looked to his food, some french sticks and what his family called an 'egg-in-the-hole', although he assumed there was a more formal name that these men used. He wanted to ask, but he felt like he had already talked too much during this brunch. Samuel wondered what they must have been talking about while him and Alexander where alone. They all ate somewhat silently, with small banter between Alexander and Thomas here and there, but eventually they all finished. Thomas was the first to stand,

"Well, thanks for the food, our transaction on Saturday will be smooth. So don't worry about it," He  said, and Alexander stood with him.

"I won't. I do love our visits, and I hope we can talk again soon!" He said with a smile, and Alexander smiled back. Thomas nodded,

"Me too," He said before leaving with his soulmate. The moment the door closed George looked to Samuel,

"I hate that guy," George said as his workers cleaned up the table. He stood, and Samuel copied this.

"...why?" Samuel asked as they both left the dining room, and George grumbled,

"He thinks he's better than me or something," He said as he grabbed Samuel's wrist and led him to a side room. Samuel looked around and noticed it was filled with fabrics and needles.

"So, we're gonna do the outfit thing now?" Samuel asked, and George nodded.

"Yeah. I just need to measure you so I can send that to tailors, and you'll have a few suits ready in a week or so," He said as he grabbed some measuring tape from a wooden drawer, Samuel hummed in understanding before George walked to him. During dinner he had forgotten, but as the man towered over him by a foot he found himself worried about the other's comments. If George, who was much stronger and bigger than him, wanted to do anything to him, he could. Very easily. Samuel snapped out of his thoughts when George pulled his arm out to measure it. He found the entire situation awkward and decided to try and start a conversation.

"So, uh, what do you do for fun?" He asked George, and the other shrugged,

"Go to bars, get drunk, buy... um, well..." He trailed off, realizing he didn't want to say the last part. Samuel, however, could guess what he would buy after a night at the bar. George wrote some things down on a notepad and placed the tape down before turning back to Samuel.

"So, Samuel, want to do something? We have the rest of the day," He said, and Samuel nodded happily.

"Ok, cool, want to go watch TV, walk around the garden, or what?" He drawled,

"I'd like to watch TV," He mumbled, and George nodded before leading him to a room with a TV larger than the wall of Samuel's room at his house. George plopped down on the couch, and Samuel sat down politely about a foot away. George turned on the TV and got up off the couch with a sigh, realizing he would have to walk. He walked across the room and kneeled down to the TV-stand before opening it,

"I have Pet Sematary, The Omen,  The Fog, It- ooh I didn't know I had that one, and Insidious. What sounds good to you?" He asked, and Samuel gulped. He hated scary movies so damn much. He didn't want to say anything, though, because he didn't want to seem cowardly. He hadn't seen any of them, and he only remembered the name 'Pet Cemetery', so he decided on that one,

"Uh... Pet Cemetery?" He asked, and Samuel chuckled,

"I love this one, Stephen King really is one of my favorite authors," He said, and Samuel gulped. He had heard that name be used before, and he knew that this movie was going to scare the shit out of him. George put the film in and ambled back to the couch, this time sitting slightly closer to Samuel, which the boy took extreme notice to. The movie started, and for a while it didn't seem that bad. That was, until (Spoilers but not really) the kid died. Afterwards it became much too scary for the boy. He squeaked any time anything remotely scary happened, which always made George chuckle quietly to himself. Although, Samuel was shaken from his fear when he nearly slapped George for doing the stupid 'pretend to yawn but rally put your arm around them' move. Samuel would have protested, if not for a jump-scare that made the boy lean into George for protection. He didn't even notice he had until he saw the gloating smirk and George's face. He was about to say something about it when the movie scared him once more, and he finally screamed aloud. George seemed to be trying not to laugh at him,

"I-It was scary, OK? You can't blame me for having a normal human reaction!" He said quickly, but George shushed him in favor of the movie. Samuel had barley noticed, but it had became dark outside and in the room, they must have started watching right before the sun went down. The rest of the movie Samuel squeaked every now and then, but was otherwise fine. Until the screen went black, in the dark room. He hated the dark so much. He hated it more when he still had the thought of dead children in his mind. George yawned and Samuel closed his eyes, not wanting to see what he was imagining in the dark. George clapped and the lights turned on, which nearly made Samuel scream. George, who was bored now that the movie was off, used the hand on Samuel's shoulder to start playing with his hair. Samuel, however soothing it was, did not like it. He did not like it due to the fact that he loved it, and couldn't bring himself to tell George to stop. George moved his head closer to the side of Samuel's, and the boy squeaked.

"You're really close, George," He mumbled as he turned his head away from the other. George took the chance of Samuel's bare neck being turned to him and kissed it lightly, Samuel nearly jumped three feet in the air. Samuel really wanted to say something, anything, but his words were caught in his mouth, and George seemed to take this silence as consent. He pulled Samuel onto his lap and started to kiss the back of the boy's neck, at this point Samuel wasn't completely sure if he wanted George to stop or not. He wondered if this was too soon, or if anything like this would be considered 'too soon' for George. The man started to kiss less, and suck more, Samuel, however, stopped him by placing a hand on George's cheek,

"I, uh, don't like hickies," He mumbled, and George hummed before going back to just kissing and licking the back of his neck. George placed either hand on Samuel's waist and slowly slid them into his shirt. The boy whimpered as George ran his cold hands higher, although suddenly his smoothness deteriorated into hesitance,

"Shit, I'm doing it again," He mumbled to himself as he removed his hands

"Sorry, Samuel, I did it again," He says, and prepares to take Samuel off of his lap, Samuel thought it was a bit more serious than a habit, although he said nothing. After he was off of George's lap and onto the couch, he sat there awkwardly, looking in any direction but George's. He still had a bright-red blush on his face. Both of them sat in tense silence. George grumbled before getting up, leaving Samuel on the couch. Once he left the room, he cringed at himself

"Ugh, I'm an idiot! What am I doing? Why am I like this?" He whispered to himself, although he waited until he was in his room to punch a wall,

"Why can't I just act normal? No one normal wants to fuck someone the first day they meet," He said as he paces back and forth across the room,

"How can I even face him, now? I basically just molested him, I'm a terrible person!" He said as he plopped himself onto his bed,

"I doubt I even deserve a soulmate," He mumbles to himself as he lays back, alone with his thoughts.

Samuel sat in the living room, still breathing heavily from the prior encounter. He slightly regretted not asking George to stay, or something similar. He just didn't feel close enough to George to do anything. After collecting his thoughts he wandered to 'his room'. Through the night he tried to shake the feeling of George's lips on the back of his neck, and his cold hands on his chest, but a ghost of the feeling stayed with him through the night.