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jamespmarchapologist · 3 months ago

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Lawrence Gordon - spicy ABCs

prompt : short nsfw alphabet hcs for our fav homicidal doctor.

warnings : 18+ mature content. fem!reader. age gap?? kinda.

this is a requested fic! my writing has been a bit scratchy so my sincere apologies! <3 mwah

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Aftercare - after sex/scenes.

I imagine him to be very attentive. He’ll probably end up drawing you a bath after annoyingly searching your body for any injuries, depending on the activities beforehand. He’d throw in one of your favorite bath bombs you swear to him wasn’t a bad purchase for his wallet. One thing about your old man, is he knew how to take care of you.

Body part - his favorite part of your body.

I don’t know why but I feel like he’d be an ass man. He’d love watching you walk in front of him like the little pervert he was, and will take any excuse to use your ass as a pillow after a long day at the hospital. You let him, because well, that’s the least you could do after bleeding his wallet, right?

Cum -

Your face when you cum, has to be a picture he could store into his memory forever. You’re pretty sure he actually did take a picture once, but you can’t prove it. (He definitely did)

Dirty secret -

Lawrence is a pervert at heart, in my humble opinion. So, it shouldn’t be much of a surprise that he keeps intimate photos of you in his wallet to use when he’s alone in his office, and of course, thinking of his little princess. Will he tell you the presence of these pictures? Never.

Experience -

When it comes to the relationship, I much so see many scenarios where you have to introduce him to your kinks, or even just simply how you like it in the bedroom. Hes dominant leaning, but i definitely see him following your advice more often than not. And he definitely does as he’s told. Very well.

Favorite position -

He’s a missionary guy at heart, or he’d love to see you ride back onto him as he rocks his hips into you. It mostly coincides with him being an ass man, he just loves the view. His view.

Hair - how groomed is he?

I’m gonna be so honest here I don’t understand this category completely, but I figure he’d have a typical dilf happy trail that he refuses to shave off just because you said it was sexy one time while on a movie date.

Intimacy - Romantic

When it comes to treating you to romantic surprises, he takes his time. Trailing careful kisses down your neck, your spine, your collarbones, everywhere you let him reach. He’s probably whispering how much he loves you as he enters you, telling you that you’re his beautiful girl and what he’d ever do without you. He’s a big sap, for sure.

Jack-off -

As stated that he could be a grade-A pervert at heart, he masturbates to even the slightest mention of you. He gets horny often, and fast. The filthiest of thoughts running through the bastard’s head. Oh, and he’ll tell you when and how when he gets back home if you’re awake. He can’t keep many secrets.

Kinks -

One of the biggest kinks he’d have is a daddy/sir kink. You would bring it up to him one time and then he’d ask you to only call him that. He knew he was a good few years above you, and hated any mention of this or even being called an old man, but as soon as he heard your sweet voice call him daddy, he was done for. And maybe, being old wasn’t so bad after all.

Location -

He looooves taking you over his desk back at the office. When you take him lunch, you’ve given yourself a pattern to never wear anything underneath your skirt.

Motivation - what turns them on

There’s plenty of things. When you press your ass back onto him “accidentally” in the morning when he’s already late for work. When you wear any clothes he’s bought for you, including your many pieces of jewelry. Calling him daddy at random times of the day, of course. And his personal favorite, when you call yourself his little housewife (and dresses accordingly if you catch my drift.)

No - something they wouldn’t do

He doesn’t say no to any of your ideas often, but he did say no to feet play. (HAH)

Oral -

He loves eating you out, more than he loves when you suck him off. He often makes it a point to wake you up with such, loving his rightful spot between your legs. You’re always so, so happy to oblige.

Pace -

This depends more on the mood that’s set before each session. When he’s more irritated and is just aiming to take his stress out on his girl, he’s rough, taking on a brutal pace that is impossible to keep up with, yet expected from him. You commonly just let him. When he just wants to spend time with you before work, he’s sweet and slow, savoring every contented sigh and taking his time to enjoy your warmth.

Quickie -

With the amount of time that the two of you don’t have with one another, quickies are more often than wanted, or needed (but who’s counting). In his car, his office, in the shower before you go to college, in public when he can hide you on his lap. All that fun stuff.

Risk -

He’s always willing to take a risk as long as it makes his baby happy. And if that’s a random kink you found way deep into your tiktok fyp that you interrupt his reading for because you just have to do it that second, then so be it.

Stamina -

I’m a bit on the fence about this. Realistically, he could last about 2 or 3, I think he’d just get spent pushing himself more than an hour tops. You take whatever you can get, though, and if you weren’t done, you’ll just try to milk it out of him the next time.

Toys -

He doesn’t personally own toys, he typically likes the old hand method. He really doesn’t wanna learn about anything else. Very old school, very mindful.

Unfair -

He’s a huge tease. More so with his words than anything. You regret buying him a new phone for his birthday and you definitely regret showing him how to text properly. Your phone would ping constantly while you’re in class, induced with all the things he’d want to do to you in that exact moment, knowing you had a hefty 2 hours ahead.

Volume -

The man whimpers. I just don’t know how to describe that properly, but he just… does.

Yearning -

His sex drive is well.. it’s pretty high. He insists on having you everywhere he could imagine, and whenever he’d like.

Zzz -

He falls asleep SO fast after sex, instantly if you insist on playing with his hair.

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A/N : ok I really hope this wasn’t too bad, don’t hate me if you were the one to request this. School has been kicking my ass already (ew) and all that’s on my mind is accounting shit.

#cary elwes #doctor Gordon #saw fanfic #sawposting #lawrence gordon fic #lawrence gordon

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miistymemorii · 1 year ago

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I could not stop thinking about Lawrence going back for Adam so...

hey guys, I was really depressed last night and got really drunk and this is the result. I haven't sat down and written anything in A WHILE (and I wrote this at like 4 am) so please be gentle with any grammar mistakes lol. Thank you and enjoy xoxo

Lawrence Gordon’s body was on fire.

It had started in his leg, of course, the burning that comes when you tear away at your own flesh and bone with a rusty saw. That pain had been reduced to a nagging ebbing, however, the rest of his remaining limbs working in overdrive as he desperately dragged his body through the corridors of the hellscape he had been dragged into. Lawrence swore he could hear the blood rushing through his own veins, his head throbbing, adrenaline surging through his entire body. He could still hear the sound of Adam screaming, which only fueled his desire for escape. THe sounds, the rancid smells, the decrepit surroundings, everything equated to an environment that he wanted to get the Hell out of. His arms and remaining leg helped him scuttle along, and he tried to push any feelings of exhaustion to the back of his head. He had only one priority, based on a promise he was determined to keep.

“I will come back for you.”

Lawrence was far from an honest man, something he had been forced to come to terms with while he was in his game. He had lied to Allison, lied to Diana, lied to almost everyone in his life, but he wanted to be cleansed of his lies. He was determined to be a new man, a “reborn” man, one that kept his promises, especially to those he loved. He had wasted his life in a sea of insincerity and guilt, but he was damned if he was going to let a serial killer decide his fate. He knew he wasn’t a good man.

“I can do this one thing right”, he kept telling himself, clenching his jaw as he continued his aimless crawling. If he could do this one thing, keep his promise and save Adam, he could prove to himself that he had, as twisted as John Kramer’s methods were, learned something. It didn’t matter that he had met the man today, he had made a promise, and good men kept their promises.

The corridor was coming to an end, and Lawrence lifted his head up, squinting through the low lighting to see that there was a door at the end. His lungs felt like they would explode, his remaining limbs threatening to give out, but he let out a low groan before continuing on. The door was a gamble, because Lawrence knew exactly how much more travel his body could handle before it ultimately gave out, trapping him in this sick prison forever. His promise gave him strength, however, as he swung his arm up at the door, latching onto the handle with a tight fist and pulling himself up as much as he could, leaning his weight on the door and flinging it open. His body instantly fell back down, much to Lawrence’s dismay, but a familiar sound gave him instant relief.

When he stumbled through that door, his eyes had instinctively closed as he braced himself to lose his balance, so rather than seeing the outside, he heard it. He didn’t know where he was, but wherever it was, a large truck drove by, honking his horn. It didn’t matter if that truck driver didn’t see Lawrence, because when he opened his eyes and saw the night sky above him, he almost began to cry.

He was out.

Lawrence was desperately trying to catch his breath, but he knew time was of the essence. His eyes scanned the street, desperate for a passerby to make contact with. He could hear a sound in the distance, a rythmic thumping sound that he concluded was a jogger. He took a moment to really listen, coming to the conclusion that the sound was getting closer. As he laid there at the exit of the building, the pain in his leg began to come back, a nagging reminder that he was losing blood, but that wasn’t his priority. Lawrence cleared his throat, which was a painful act in itself, but when that jogger rounded the corner of the building across the street, officially in Lawrence’s view, he used the last of his strength to call out to them. Of course,a stranger writhing and calling out in the middle of the night was a terrifying concept, but he prayed that the bystander would take pity on him, or see his condition, and help him.

Lawrence Gordon was a lucky bastard.

The jogger was a kind woman named Sara, who assessed Lawrence’s decrepit state and saw that he meant no harm but was harmed, and quickly made her way over to him. He croaked out praises and thanks to her as she quickly dialed 911, hooking her arm under his shoulder to drag him away. Lawrence could feel reality slipping away at this point, his eyes growing tired as he staved off unconsciousness. The last thing he saw was police lights before he succumbed to the loss of blood, passing out in his stranger-savior’s arms.

Lawrence had been outside, but it had been dark, so when he woke up to bright lights, he was something beyond disoriented. His eyes opened, then immediately shut, a headache already beginning to settle in. He tried to focus on the sounds, and let out a small sigh when he heard the familiar sounds of the hospital. It took him a few moments, but he eventually managed to open his eyes and keep them open. Allison and Diana were at his side, and he burst into tears at the reminder that he was safe. Diana provided a warmer presence than Allison, but Lawrence understood, and was ready to beg for his wife’s forgiveness.

Diana called him a hero, which Lawrence questioned, causing Diana to point over to the bed next to Lawrence’s. In the bed lay Adam, his face pale and his body rigid, but Lawrence could tell from Adam’s vitals monitor that he was, in fact, alive. He had fulfilled his promise.

Eventually, Allison pulled Diana away, allowing for a quick goodbye before stating that she needed to be put to bed. Lawrence reached out for his wife, but she turned away from him, prompting him to think, “Fair”, as he had had plenty of time to reconsider his marriage and all the pain he had caused his wife while in the trap. He was alone in the room, well, with Adam, who had still been asleep after several hours. Doctors checked on Lawrence, and Adam, but it seemed that the younger man was knocked out. Lawrence couldn’t help but continuously glance over at him, afraid that if he stopped monitoring him, Adam wouldn’t even be in that bed next to him, the idea that his own rescue might be some sick nightmare plaguing Lawrence’s mind. Lawrence fell asleep, but only for a few hours before he was violently snapped back to reality after a nightmare in which he hadn’t escaped. In his nightmare, he was still wandering through endless halls, blood slowly leaving his body as Adam’s screams played over and over in his head.

Lawrence’s eyes snapped open, his chest heaving and his throat raw again from crying out in his sleep. His heart racing, he turned his head to Adam, who, to Lawrence’s surprise, was now awake. Adam’s face was visibly tired, but when he made eye contact with Lawrence, his face twitched into something close to a smile, the best he could give under the circumstances.

“You look like shit.”

Lawrence let out a small laugh, something that he thought he could never do again. “I was about to say the same thing about you,” Lawrence shot back hoarsely.

Adam looked away, scanning as much as the hallway as he could see through the room’s windows. “How much do you wanna bet I could get a nurse to bum me a smoke?” It was a joke, but Lawrence could tell by how quiet Adam’s usually boisterous voice was that it was a half-assed attempt at denying the severity of the situation they were in.

“Well, as someone who works in a hospital, I can safely say that most nurses don’t encourage smoking.” Lawrence pointed out. There was an odd sense of pain settling in his chest, a bit hurt that Adam wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

Adam sighed, turning his head only slightly in Lawrence’s direction. His eyes were darting around the room, fixating on random items. Lawrence remembered this behavior from when they were stuck in the bathroom, coming to the conclusion that Adam was still in a state of nervousness. Lawrence felt another pang of pain in his chest; did Adam still not trust him?

“How did you get out?”

Lawrence sighed. “I crawled like Hell until I found a door. There was a jogger and she called the cops, that’s all I remember.”

Adam was quiet for a moment, before he finally turned his head to look at Lawrence. The two held a gaze for a moment, before Adam let out an almost silent, “thank you”. When Lawrence smiled at him and opened his mouth to speak, Adam looked away once again, causing Lawrence’s thoughts, and heartbeat, to falter. The two men let a silence hang over them, the events of the past few hours really starting to settle in.

“I don’t want us to forget each other.” Adam said quietly, his eyes still refusing to meet Lawrence’s.

Of course, Lawrence didn’t want that either. He understood that people who share traumatic events often find solace in each other, and thought he had Allison and Diana, who had both gone through a traumatic experience that night, he knew that the bond he and Adam now shared was special. Lawrence knew there was something about Adam that had struck Lawrence so deeply that it had fueled him to survive, for once, for someone besides himself.

Lawrence cleared his throat before replying, “I don’t think I will ever forget you, Adam.”

Adam turned his gaze back to Lawrence, cracking a small smile. “Do ya promise?”

Again, Lawrence let out a small laugh, a feeling close to joy filling him that only Adam could provide in this situation, because for the rest of his life, he knew that Adam would be the only person to understand the pain he was feeling.

“I promise.”

#saw franchise #saw 2004 #saw movies #saw #lawrence gordon #dr lawrence gordon #adam faulkner stanheight #adam stanheight #fanfiction #one-shot #ficlet #angst #chainshipping

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pics-pizza-peace · 4 months ago

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Saw MLP AU drabbles/headcanons pt 3.

This post includes a little bit about various different characters/cutie marks, but the only ship material featured this time is chainshipping(not much) and xrayshipping.

@j1gsawz

Adam Stanheight & Lawrence Gordon(chainshipping):

Someone reminded me that canon Adam beat a Billy puppet to pieces w/a bat(probably to check and see if there were wires/cameras/whatever in it, and possibly because he was used to nasty pranks). In this AU Adam happens to be more interested in the toy, actually asking aloud if anypony had left their art project in his place, in case they were still there for whatever reason(he grew used to other pegasi/neighbors dropping in for naps occasionally).

Lawrence admires how much Adam cares about animals and younger ponies, after he learns more about him. He can tell that plenty of his anger comes from his passion to help others in need.

Logan Nelson & Zep Hindle(xrayshipping):

When the shorter colt finds out what his friend's full name is(Sheppard), he can't help but think of it as fitting/attractive. He knows not to mention it immediately after noticing, as he doesn't want to make the other uncomfortable.

Zep used to like to paint when he was younger, but he hasn't touched a brush in years. Eventually he's inspired to try again, and surprises Logan with a portrait of his favorite species of jumping spider for his birthday.

After getting a little more used to each other's company, Logan can't help but notice how often Zep squints or closes his eyes at random. At some point it gets in the way of a conversation & visit that they can't exactly postpone. Melissa(AU name could be Melody but idk yet) was at a friend's house for the weekend, and they had planned to catch up on recent things, maybe stay in to watch a movie. Zep's migraine had other plans.

Logan stops himself before explaining his last week's activities. They'd already gone over most of Zep's week, when he seemed to shut himself down suddenly. "...Hey, you alright?" He asks the taller pegasus laying on his couch, his beanie placed over his eyes. Zep grumbles, "No... Don't need light." The other goes to turn off his living room lamps, acting on personal autopilot. "..You having a migraine?" He continues, making sure to get a warm towel ready and trying to remember if he had any ice packs in the freezer. "..Yeah..." After a minute or two he takes his hat off of his face as he sits up and blinks, surprised at how dark the room is now.

Zep's eyes already feel a little better when he notices Logan walking swiftly & silently towards the kitchen. "How, do you..?" He manages. "Oh, sorry," The other laughs at himself a bit, "I get that a lot. I just have Really good vision in the dark... Sorry if that's, uh creepy--do you need something warm or cold?" he calls from the kitchen. Zep takes a minute to answer, the pain gripping his jaw & ears as he thinks to try. "Warm, Please" He lays his head back down on the arm of the couch, not wanting to move to try and answer the other again.

He didn't want to embarrass himself any further by possibly sounding weird, and his neck and head were in so much pain that it was too much effort to sound the same in the moment. Logan returned with the warm towel and placed it onto his friend's forehead carefully. "You don't need to strain yourself, just gimme a sec..." He murmured to him before trotting off to do something else in the kitchen. He could tell just from how he'd already sounded and looked that Zep couldn't force himself to keep talking, and he wanted to help as much as he could.

Right as Zep closed his eyes again, the warm towel already helping with some of the pressure sensation, Logan walked back into the living room. "I'm brewing a cup of tea, a kind that I like to drink when I need to relax, just in case." He started quietly, "Is... Does it feel like a tension headache? Because I might know another treatment for that. If you think it'd--" Zep interrupts him, having watched his new friend inspect his hair/scalp area from a standing position for a little while now.

"You can play with my hair, I um.. I don't mind," He replies, guessing correctly which method the other was referring to, having already tried everything for his pain over the course of his recovery. He wants to thank the other for being so kind, but before he can another wave of pain grabs him, causing him to wince.

Logan had forgotten himself in the moment, what with it being basically pitch-black in his living room. He remembers accidentally disturbing others before with his punctual nature, and he sometimes worries that he'll scare his friend off. Lucky for him Zep doesn't seem to mind at all, he almost couldn't believe how quickly the other had read the situation and helped to alleviate his worst symptoms by at least 30%.

The pegasus takes a deep breath and closes his eyes again, feeling safer than he's felt in a long time, despite the ongoing pain. Logan takes another minute or two to gather himself before gently using his forelegs to rub Zep's scalp, occasionally bringing them together to carefully tug a tuft or two of his hair, hoping to ease some of the tension. He makes himself look out his backdoor window as he works, trying to count fireflies while they make their silent calls to each other for the evening. The last thing he wants to do is disturb his friend, and the dark is no excuse...

As Logan wonders silently why he was so nervous about being caught staring at the other, Zep begins to feel his migraine thankfully resolving itself for now. The pain slowly but surely leaves, and is eventually replaced with ticklishness, the usual sensitivity returning to his head and neck. He opens his eyes when he's sure most of the pain's subsided, and is grateful to see Logan peacefully gazing towards the back lawn, still paying enough attention to his task to be careful. He smiles to himself and stares for another moment before a full-body chill hits him suddenly, causing him to gasp.

"Oh--!" Logan jumps at the sound, making sure not to pull his legs & hooves away from the couch too quickly. "You okay? What happened??" Zep laughs to himself and sits up, "Sorry... The pain mostly faded, but I got really ticklish right after." The other turns a couple of the lights back on in the room, chuckling as he does his best to recover from such a startle. They'd been in comfortable silence for around 20 minutes when the taller pegasus had finally made a sound. "Did you still want that tea? It's probably done brewing now." Logan offers on his way into the kitchen. Zep thinks about it for a minute before replying, and decides it wouldn't hurt to try. "Yes, please."

Cutie Marks & Special Talents/Powers:

Logan has unnaturally good night vision for an earth pony, same with his reflexes/inuition. His "strength" is mostly in his patience, though he won't hesitate to get violent if the occasion calls for it. His old cutie mark, a spider's web and bones, came from an early interest in unusual animals/pets. He didn't want to get into anything arts-related(he briefly thought about being a writer) even though his family had history in such a path, and ended up going to war before settling into medicine... his newer cutie mark, a laser collar trap around a red spiral with a tape player, symbolizes Logan's patience/trust in John's influence & his plan for Halloran. The tape player is there to reflect how skilled a Jigsaw Protégé he is.

Lawrence can use the magic he was born with to tell if other ponies are lying or telling the truth. This power got him into trouble when he was younger, and is part of why his mental breakdown still fits into his backstory in this AU. He's very good at counting his steps without trying, measuring approximate distances at a glance. The first phase of his cutie mark is a stethoscope & a (sewing)needle, the second is a large red spiral background w/a saw & scalpel replacing the shapes of the previous tools.

Adam has always had great height-endurance when it comes to flying for a different point of view. His skill seems almost unaffected by the scar on his shoulder once he's fully recovered, as he heals well. He also has an excellent eye for color differentiation. When he is abducted for the bathroom trap, he's a blank-flank, which isn't as uncommon in this AU. After it's decided that he should live to help carry on some of John's work as well, his cutie mark finally reveals itself. It's a polaroid camera w/a large red spiral reflected in the lens, a picture of a key on a chain falling out of it.

Zep can paint really well, he just doesn't practice a lot anymore. Not sure how this'll fit into his first cutie mark matching w/his first appearance, but I'm wondering whether or not he'll have 3 phases. One for before/during the field choice, one for the pawn/apprentice stuff, and one for moving on after surviving. We'll see idk yet.

(thank you to whoever mentioned a Jersey Italian Hoffman headcanon btw because now I can't shake it for personal reasons) Mark can cook well, thanks to his background. His more distant family(grandparents, great aunts & uncles) had been amazing cooks, but their specialty was baking. He took to an early interest in perfecting specifically some of their breakfast pastry recipes(added a new flavor of glazed donut to their lineup, a raspberry donut), and helped his elders keep their favorite coffee shop open(noticed maintenance needs to do w/equipment, and helped make repairs before it could go under). When he was old enough to get into policework, most of his elders had passed away, so his cutie mark served more as an inside joke over time("wow, so fitting for the badge haha" "nobody in this city has time to stop & enjoy fresh-baked goods anymore kid, they're too busy, too angry" "thank goodness the coffee's never drying up though" *eye-roll*). His sister Angelina was studying to get into mane-styling and makeup as a career path before she was murdered(this changes, working on it soon). They were both still 'only children' born to their original parents, just raised by older & more distant relatives early. On Mark's second cutie mark, the spiral symbolizes John's influence & the natural symbol for change, and the pendulum blade reflects his loss and resulting vengeful nature.

Peter Strahm's first cutie mark was a pen layed over some papers, which reflected how well-organized and determined a learner he was in school. His intelligence and attitude could've led him to many different career paths, but his stubbornness and attention to detail led him to EBI(idk??Equestria's FBI?idk) work. His second cutie mark is a red spiral(symbolizes John's influence vicariously through Mark's actions, self exploration and acceptance of his dark side) inside of a glass coffin(he doesn't know it yet but his magic can alter glass/mirrors, and this proves useful later on).

#i know i said there'd be hoffrigg this time lol. lemme study up and i'll prolly get there dw #pizza's fics #mlp crossover #saw au #xrayshipping #logan nelson #zep hindle #chainshipping #adam stanheight #lawrence gordon #mark hoffman #peter strahm #more about amanda and jill and john and a couple others coming soon too of course #also i'm putting together my own playlist for xrayshipping a couple songs at a time but that's for another post lmao

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xqnqx · 11 months ago

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Breaking Glass

Description: She wasn't given a choice. Instead, it was made for her.

A/N: This is a Lawrence Gordon (kind of) imagine/fanfiction I wrote for my friend! @urfavsuh @thinkingoflawrence

And this being my first post is kind of random and new to me, but enjoy it as much as you can!

TW: Mentions of blood, trauma.

Word Count: 4.619

The old TV flashed with a static sound. A bright light flashed, followed by waves of gray lines that rushed across the screen before merging into a complete image. However, Nia still seemed to be unconscious, as she didn't catch the odd-looking puppet appearing on the flickering screen. For most trap survivors, this was a very obvious start to what soon became their nightmares—the famous Jigsaw puppet. It was an odd way of introducing someone to a torturous device from which you would most likely not get out alive, but if you did, it would be the trauma that kept the torture going. Either way, you were about to experience the most terrifying pain of your life. And Nia didn't know. Nia didn't know what it was all about. Besides not knowing where she was and how she got there, Nia had no idea who this 'Jigsaw-Killer-Guy' was. Because for the last few months, Nia had been busy trying to escape the shithole she was forced to call 'home'. She was looking for quick, easy jobs left and right that would give her just enough money to pass the month. She never had the chance to take a break. She never had the chance to watch TV. Whenever she heard a mention of Jigsaw's name leaving customer's mouths or in the news that played in the background of the few cafés she worked at, it was brushed off. Why would she care? Nia had only herself to care about.

Perhaps that was the mistake.

"Hello, Nia. You don't know me, but I know you."

A dark voice, difficult to follow from the old speaker, rang out each time the odd-looking puppet's jaw dropped. This was when Nia finally jerked her head towards the TV, still having a hard time keeping her head up. Her eyelids kept dropping, but her ears were open to listen as the voice continued, "You may now feel confused or frightened." There's a pause. "Angered." Nia began to make muffled noises, confused at that. She tasted metal, rust, and something pressed on her tongue that she couldn't push out of her mouth. Her head dropped again, and her eyes widened as she noticed the straps around her wrists and, when she looked further down, around her ankles too. Nia made another muffled whimper. Her heart started to race. She tried to struggle herself out of the tight restraints, but to no avail. No matter what she did or how she tried, she couldn't get off of that metal chair.

Before Nia tried to struggle again, she heard the voice explain, "But you should know not to lose. Here, I'll show you what happens if you do."

The white puppet disappeared in delay before there was something presented and instructed to her; she couldn't remember. The images and her memories were now only blurred into a few sections of that trauma. And Nia remembered the sudden explosive sound coming out of the television. She remembered the muffled scream she let out, which would have sounded much louder if the device around her head hadn't been hooked into her upper and lower jaws. "Permanently ripped open," the voice said, and Nia cried out. There was nothing to remember anymore, only parts.

...

"Oh, I know how it feels to let out that rage you're building up inside. Maybe this time not onto another person, but yourself," he said so simply, so understanding.

...

"Listen, Nia. There's only one key to open the device."

...

A bright light sprung out before her eyes from the ceiling. This light, resembling that of a spotlight, seemed to present a glass box not far from her feet. The glass walls of the box were too dirty to reveal any of the contents. Even from where she was sitting, she couldn't see anything. "Look in front of you. There's a glass box you're going to have to break in order to retrieve what's at fault for your sensitive heart."

...

Nia put the small invitation card back into her pocket after she took a look at the name again. "Bobby Dagen, survivor of the great Jigsaw killer," as the writing said. The name belonged to the man standing next to the group circle of other Jigsaw survivors. He's considered an author, or whatever—just some ordinary-looking guy with a pretty wife who's not over his traumatic experience yet. This 'Bobby', who was talking to his PR team at the time, organized this whole group meeting. But of course, with lots of cameras—more than enough so that the whole world was able to see what a truly amazing person he was, empathizing with survivors like him. Though Nia couldn't bother to remember his name again. She couldn't bother to join the group of people either. She preferred to sit somewhere near the exit, next to this one doctor, she couldn't remember the name of either. And Nia told herself that she was not like them. Not like those bunch of traumatized people who couldn't stop clinging to what made them eventually form this meeting. She saw tears rolling down faces and quivering lips that formed words she couldn't hear from where she was sitting. But it's not that talking about your experiences is necessarily a bad thing, Nia thought to herself. But in front of cameras? In front of everyone? Alternatively, if her mother hadn't convinced her that this would be the first step towards 'self-healing', and if she hadn't threatened to force therapists on her if she didn't agree, Nia would've still be rotting in her apartment.

Nia glanced over at the man next to her, who seemed to wear the same uninterested expression on his face as her. She couldn't help but slightly smile at that. The thought of having some sort of company with this was reassuring. Still, Nia had to sigh once more, looking impatiently around the room. She was waiting for the camera crew to finally send signals. And she carefully placed her hands on her shaking leg when she was about to switch her gaze to the author again. That's when she heard the chair next to her squeaking and the doctor in it asking her, "Does it still hurt?" He hesitantly pointed at her bandaged arms as Nia replied with a raised eyebrow. Without even realizing it, her arms shifted a little in his direction. "May I take a closer look?" the man asked, making sure. After a moment, she nodded.

His hands barely touched her arms. Instead, he gently turned her palms back and forth and lightly tapped a few spots, which she had no suspicion of. Nia attempted to read his face, and she hesitated at first. There was no way Nia would've told him the actual truth—that she didn't know what actually happened. What a stupid thing to believe, too, Nia thought. So Nia tried to come up with words to explain what had happened while he examined her arms. However, for some reason, she was unable to find those right words—or any words, for that matter. Only Uhh's and Yeah, well's formed her sentences before she started them all over again. The doctor offered her a small smile after he looked back up at her and assured her that there was nothing she should be concerned about. But his eyes lingered a little too long on her cheeks, causing Nia to switch her gaze.

Unsure why she did, Nia tilted her head slightly, asking the doctor almost in a whisper, "Do you believe Bobby?" Nia didn't know why she asked him that. She guessed that it might have been an attempt at starting up a conversation, which was already difficult and awkward enough for her in this situation. She saw a change in his expression that she couldn't quite pick up on. Nevertheless, there was no time for that when she heard Bobby's loud shout, "Welcome!" interrupting her from across the room. He opened the introduction with the same speech that is printed on the back cover of the book he published. It was the same choice of words that had the fancy-dressed PR team grinning with excitement behind the cameras. Nia, on the other hand, took his speech as an insult. The man next to her seemed to agree, as she huffed at Bobby's words. Bobby Dagen did not continue to speak for long before he sat back down in his chair and, with a bow, invited the survivors to share their stories as well. Or, as he put it, 'finding trust in him'.

But at first, there was silence. At first, the people's eyes in the group wandered around, unsure of where to begin. Some glances paused at the cameras until Bobby held up his palms to give in. "All right," he admitted, opening his eyes again. With one short exhale, he gestured to the random survivor he selected with an extended palm. "You made a decision, right?" he asked. The woman he was aiming this question at raised her head to reveal the dejected expression on her face. "A decision that saved your life," Bobby added. "How did that make you feel?" Her arms were folded tightly together, and she faltered before she answered with one single word, "Free." After a moment of silent crying, she continued, saying, "He was abusive. I tried to stop it before, but it wasn't until that moment that I really did something. It was him or me, and I chose to live. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. He gave me a choice." The woman seemed a little proud in her glassy eyes as Bobby gave her an understanding nod. But Nia simply shook her head, looking away before commenting, "Bullshit."

Nia's comment caught the attention of all the many eyes in the circle at once. Between the heads, she noticed Bobby staring at her, and as if by instinct, the cameras followed his gaze as they automatically shifted to her as well. As she went on, Nia made an effort to ignore the unexpected attention, even from the man beside her. "You chose to live? Is that what you're all talking about—having a choice?" The question was directed at every single survivor in the group. With that, she stretched out her arms in front of her to present the thick bandages wrapped around her skin. "Look at my arms!" she shouted. "I had to break a glass box, using my bare hands, for a key that didn't even fit the fucking lock. I had no damn choice. I was supposed to die."

...

"Live or die; make your choice."

This sentence still echoed inside Nia's head. Like a switch being flicked, it made her instantly think back to what had happened. How her knees collided with the freezing, stony ground and how her face was just inches from the glass box as she slowly lifted her head. She remembered her shaking hands groping the surface of the box, whispering little hopes for something as simple as a button that would open it. Hopefully, some answer would've saved her from this hell. But that hadn't been the case; she was forced to realize that as she began to pound her fists on the hard glass. She could barely hold herself upright, but the pain in her bones and the pain in her arms urged her to keep going. And with every swing and every hit, she heard the ticking of the timer at the back of her head getting louder. Her muffled screams grew louder until Nia was finally able to stick her arm through the broken, bloody opening with the sound of her skin ripping, which nearly made her vomit. The key tied to the thread sank deeper into the dirty glass shards, causing Nia to widen her eyes in terror. Like a crazed animal, she tried to dig and shovel the key out of the broken glass, and it took a while before she finally pulled it out. Without taking a single glance at the key, she quickly pressed it against the small lock at the back of her head.

But it didn't fit.

Nia still remembered the way her heart was pounding against her chest as she tried again and again and again, but the key just wouldn't fit into the lock. Nia yanked the key back into her sights again, struggling to calm her frantic gaze.

On the key were words engraved, "no second choices."

...

Nia carefully blinked back up at the crowd of people still staring at her. Despite her mouth being open, she didn't say a word. Instead, she pressed her lips together before spitting out a nasty, "That's bullshit. Jigsaw is bullshit." If only Nia could've caught the face the doctor made. Bobby, on the other hand, twitched his eyebrow as he clasped his hands together. "Well, you still decided to agree to the invitation, seeing you here. You survived," he said, speaking as if he were doing this as a profession.

Yet he didn't know anything. Her eyebrows shot up in fury, but Nia bit her tongue, preferring to lean back in her chair and find a way to somehow calm the anger that was boiling inside her. "There's no reason to be glad about surviving if you're wanted dead," Nia said. Bobby seemed a bit taken aback by her words. He did anything but answer, going through many facial expressions. And his last irritated look faded into relief when the cameras switched in his direction again. With that, his personality changed again in the blink of an eye. "But that's exactly what defines each one of us. We were forced to endure a traumatic experience," he concluded. "And I don't necessarily think that there can't be any positive outcome to that."

"Like what?" a woman in the circle asked. Bobby smiled, getting up from his chair again to deliver yet another speech.

"Fucking prick," Nia whispered in a snarl.

"Liar too," she kept going, feeling something tickling down her cheek. "Shit-" Red drops fell down her chin to sink into her white bandages. It was after another drop fell that Nia realized that the blood was coming from her cheeks. She carefully placed her fingers to touch the wounds that had undoubtedly reopened. Beside her, she could hear the doctor say something, but she didn't listen to what he exactly said. Instead, she continued to quickly rub her cheeks with her bandaged hands, but this only resulted in the blood smearing. "Are you alright, miss?" Nia felt herself becoming more nervous, and she leaned down to her bag before explaining, in short, "Wounds opened." Without giving him time to react, Nia rose from her seat to rush out of the room in hopes of finding the nearest bathroom. While she did, she was rummaging through her bag, seeking out any plasters, bandages, or even tissues that she knew she had thrown in earlier. For some reason, though, Nia found nothing, repeating the process over and over again. Stumbling, she eventually found the ladies' bathroom and pushed down the door handle with her elbow. "Where did I..." She pushed the door open with a swing of her hips.

Nia threw the bag into the sink and picked it up again from the bottom, shaking it like crazy. While she listened to the contents falling against the white ceramic, she kept asking herself, "Where?! Where?!" And as she searched through the dumped items like a madwoman, thankful that there appeared to be no one in those bathroom stalls, her eyes dared a few glances into the mirror. Her forehead creased. Nia carefully touched her right cheek with her tied fingers, nearing her reflection. The cuts weren't particularly huge, but they still hurt like hell, mostly on the right side. Nia turned on the faucet after taking far too many paper towels from the dispenser once the drips started hitting the sink. "Jesus," she murmured as she dabbed layers of paper towels on the corner of her lips.

"Jesus!" she yelled out this time as she heard a knock on the bathroom door behind her before it opened. With her eyebrows pressed together, she exhaled in relief when she recognized the person in the mirror's reflection. "It's you."

"I'm sorry, I just couldn't help but make sure," the doctor from before paused from where he was standing, noticing her startled reaction. His hand was still placed on the door as she asked him, "Make sure? Well, why? I..." Nia turned to the mirror once again, raising her hands from the sink's edge and bringing them to her lips. She started wiping again. "I don't think there's much you need to make sure of," she snorted under the paper. The man offered a small, hesitant smile before moving to the red first aid box, which was hanging on the wall next to him. Nia heard the little door of the box creak, sighing again. "I was about to head home anyway." And as the words left her mouth, Nia felt a hand on her cheek, followed by the feeling of a damp cloth being rubbed against her skin. She felt fingers carefully gripping her chin, and their faces being far too close to each other for strangers. He's a doctor, Nia assured herself, trying to avoid any attempt at making eye contact. Although she was a little embarrassed by the warmth in her cheeks, she let him continue. "There's really no need. It's just a bleeding, it'll close up again," Nia mumbled while he adhered plasters to her skin. His fingers left her face, and she looked back in the mirror. "I understand your feelings towards Jigsaw," Nia heard him say, which caused her to turn to face him again. The doctor didn't look at her; instead, he put her stuff back in her bag and washed the water over the basin to remove the blood drips. He discarded the rags in the trash can. "Having to saw off my own foot was more than just a challenge. He put me through hell." Nia nodded slowly. Now that he mentioned it, her eyes wandered to look at the cane the man was carrying close to him. He continued speaking, "But then again, I survived because he wanted me to."

"It definitely isn't the same with you."

Their gazes met in the mirror.

"What is it that you want to tell me, doctor?"

He smiled at the nickname she gave him before leaning against the sink, shifting his gaze from her reflection to her actual face. "Jigsaw wants people to cherish life again, so he gives his victims a second choice to achieve that. Seeing that you did not get a second choice but more of a death wish makes it hard to believe that it was actually Jigsaw."

Nia felt her heart sink at that very moment.

His little theorizing didn't line up with what she had convinced herself to believe. Or was it what she was convinced to believe? Nia didn't know it herself, and the thought made her shake her head. All she knew was what her wounds and the remaining memories allowed to reveal to her. But never did she try to theorize. "So, you're saying that Jigsaw has nothing to do with..." Her voice fell silent as she was unable to continue her sentence. Nia's eyes shut for a moment, trying to compose herself. The man hesitated until speaking again, "Well, not that he particularly has nothing to do with it, but who knows? Maybe Jigsaw was only an inspiration."

The disbelief in her expression was evident to him. And this caused him to close his mouth again. Nia remained silent, still in thought, and she stared around. She placed her hand on her bag, ready to grab it and storm out of the bathroom. But she didn't dare take a step towards the exit. Instead, she turned back to the man, facing him without actually looking at him. "Would you..."

"...bring me home?"

"Sure," he responded after a nod.

...

Nia muttered another thank you before opening her small mailbox to take out the stuffed stacks of letters. It took her a stronger push to close the mailbox door, keeping the letters in her arms. The lights flickered as Nia took her first step on the stairs, which caused her to blink up at the ceiling. Her gaze switched when she heard the man who had walked her home call her name. "Yeah?" Despite the distance between them, her soft voice still reached his ears. When he opened his mouth again, he was still standing by the exit, not having taken another step in her direction. "Don't worry so much, alright?" he assured her.

"Even though you may not believe it, it will get better. You will get better." Nia shrugged, snorting, "Sure." Yet she didn't take another step. "Thanks again for accompanying me home. I..." However, she quickly silenced herself as she remembered what the man had just told her. So she instead brought a smile to her lips, waving a small goodbye before walking up the rest of the steps. That's when she heard the exit door close. And when she got to her front door, she went through the various papers. Nothing particularly caught her eye. Nothing except this little card that didn't appear to be wrapped in any kind of envelope. As if it had just been thrown in. As Nia leaned in to read the little words inscribed on the card, her eyebrows wrinkled before she flipped it over a few more times again.

"Are there choices?"

...

"What do they mean by 'choices', Lawrence? This is getting absurd." Nia folded her arms back together after shoving the card towards his plate. She received a puzzled glance from the man seated across from her before he picked up the paper. He seemed to be merely thinking for a while. Meanwhile, her eyes scanned the restaurant they were at, fiddeling with her necklace. She made nervous attempts to avoid looking suspicious. His mouth began to form words when his gaze slowly returned to her. His expression seemed to remain the same. "This..." He waved the card a little. "Where did you get this?" he asked. "From my mailbox. The day you brought me home, remember?" she replied. "I don't know when this got there. No envelope, nothing. They know where I live." Nia leaned forward to keep their conversation as private as possible. "Lawrence," she whispered his name. "I'm sca..." Her voice broke, only leaving a desperate expression on her face. Lawrence, the man she was talking to, changed his expression. "You're safe," he assured her right away as he placed his hand on hers. Nia pursed her lips, not knowing what to believe. "This won't happen again. I promise." Nia's eyes wandered around the room again before she whispered to him once more, "How can you be so sure?" She continued, "They know where I live. I don't even know how I got kidnapped in the first place and now... Fuck, if it'll happen again, I-"

"-Nia." There was a pause in which Lawrence simply looked into her brown eyes. "I promise. I'll be there." The way Lawrence spoke those words, no matter how ridiculous it may seem, they made Nia feel some sort of surety. It made her nod and exhale this pressure she was feeling deep inside. "Alright. Okay." Her gaze turned away from him as she went on, "I just... I don't know what they would mean by that." Nia rested a palm on her forehead and used the table as support for her elbow. "What choices do I have? I mean, they, whoever it was, wanted me dead." Lawrence shook his head. "There weren't any choices given," he muttered almost to himself. "Exactly!" Nia's voice got a little louder than she intended to. She huffed, "And I still survived. Fuck knows why."

"I feel like I'm keeping secrets from myself." She picked up her fork, only to set it back down. Her appetite was long gone. And it didn't help staring at her food, falling into thought again. It was unclear to her why they had decided to have this conversation in a fine restaurant like this. Neither did she know why she picked out her favourite dress for this. "Hey, don't try to put so much pressure on yourself now. You've already endured enough." Lawrence's stern look somehow caused Nia to smirk. She somehow agreed.

"You know, either way, it's nice to finally talk to someone." The smirk stayed on her lips as she added, "It's been some time." He, on the other hand, looked a little surprised at first, but then quickly felt relief at the quick change in atmosphere. He smirked as well.

"Yes, I can't help but agree."

Quietly giggling, Nia heard him join in.

"I just hope you're right about me being safe."

...

In the end, Nia's memories summarized the entirety of her relationship with Lawrence. They remembered him as someone special. Someone who appeared ordinary to others but not to her. Because to her, he was everything for her. There were so many moments with him—so many that she longed to relive them again. There were so many words he said with such kindness that Nia initially believed she didn't deserve. And maybe it was like that. Whatever the case, Nia's memories of him always ended with their final conversation.

...

"No, you're right. I need to find some kind of new beginning in my life." Lawrence glanced up from his cup of coffee without lifting his head. He had his eyebrow raised as Nia kept speaking, "Like breaking glass. Trying to let go of the past, y'know?" Nia laughed at herself for her poor choice of metaphor. "Nevermind." The flush warming up her cheeks was obvious to notice. But Lawrence knew what she was trying to imply, nodding before asking, "A new beginning, you say?" with enough comprehension in his voice. "And what would you consider your start to be like?" Nia didn't expect him to ask a question like that; he could tell by her face. "Well, you see..." She exhaled. "I have no idea." And Nia giggled again, seeming unsure whether to tell him or not. "Anything to pull myself out of this mess I feel like I'm living in. No yoga or anything silly like that," she tried, but she couldn't think of anything. Instead, she continued to stir her tea, waiting for some genius idea to finally form. So she spoke again, "Maybe I'll finally decide on a new job? I've been to a few different places now. I got enough experience, I guess."

"What do you say?" Lawrence stopped sipping, listening carefully.

"Maybe even switching states, too? Saying my final goodbyes to this shithole New Jersey is? I heard San Francisco is nice." Nia kept on wondering, murmuring to herself, "Expensive but nice..." The way she talked about her dreams made it seem as if that's all they were —simple dreams. It sounded meaningless, no more than a joke for her to even consider, based on the way Lawrence could hear it in her voice. He let out a soft sigh. "Oh, Nia, you're doing it again." She seemed a little surprised by his words. "What?" Lawrence put his coffee back on the table. "This." His hand gestured to her face. "You talk as if you don't trust yourself."

"What do you mean, I..."

"Nia, I know you'll do it," he said. Nia shut her mouth. "You're doing good. Better even. But if you keep on wondering and never dare to take the first step, those dreams will eat you up. Nia, it's okay."

"I know you'll do it."

She didn't know what else to do but thank him. And he told her, "Not for this," with a smile so warm.

She never would have imagined kissing it like she did.

#saw #jigsaw #saw movies #saw fanfic #dr lawrence gordon #cary elwes #bobby dagen #x reader #can you even call it an x reader #original character #for a friend #fanfic

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theflirtmeister · 8 months ago

Note

Any saw pairing with omegaverse! Your Adam getting hunted one was so real

ao3 link

Adam wakes up drowning, trapped underneath the covers and his own sweat. He kicks out wildly, trying to catch his breath, and suddenly there are two pairs of hands on him, soothing him. Alphas, Adam can smell them, and he whines at the back of his throat and leaks slick over his thighs.

“Baby,” Alison says, brushing his hair from his face. “Adam, sweetheart.”

Adam sobs out at the tenderness, and tries to push himself upright. He shouldn’t be in heat, the calculations are all wrong, but he can’t fight his own biology. He wants to present, wants to go on his hands and knees and spread himself from the two alphas in the bed. He’s so stupid, why the fuck did he agree to sleeping over?

“Adam,” Lawrence says, and his voice is so calm that Adam wants to shake him. Why doesn’t he understand, why doesn’t he pin Adam down by the neck and mount him? “Can you hear me?”

“Please.” Adam moans, and the covers are stripped from his body, revealing him pink and sheen with sweat.

“I thought-” Alison says to Lawrence.

“I know,” Lawrence replies grimly. “Let me see if next door can take Diana.”

Diana. Adam whimpers, because she can’t see him in this state, desperate and stupid. He tries to sit upright again, and his cunt throbs hot between his legs, and all he can do is rub himself against the sheets like the slut he is. He can hear Lawrence moving around the bedroom, grunting as he tugs on his prosthetic, and Adam bites the pillow.

Alison’s hand is on the small of his back, and then dips into the waistband of Adam’s boxers, peeling them down his thighs. The cold air is a shock, and Adam thrusts back, which makes Alison hum at the sight of him.

“I know darling,” She says. “I know it’s awful.”

He’s never spent any kind of heat with the Gordons, always used Scott, or fucked himself with his dildos. It’s so embarrassing to be seen like this, but Alison’s hand is cool on his skin, and when she slides two fingers into his cunt, Adam makes a stupid noise and cums on her hand.

“There we go,” Alison says soothingly. “There we go, first one is always the worst, isn’t it?”

Adam clenches around her, unable to breathe with his face mashed into the pillow. Alison is fucking her fingers in and out of him, and the slick is running down his thighs, his cunt practically drooling. He can feel his next orgasm in his belly, and he tries to dig his feet into the mattress for more purchase.

“Good omega,” Alison says, “Look at you, my pretty thing. You’re going to come again, aren’t you?”

“Uh huh,” Adam manages to say, and Alison pushes another finger inside.

“You could take my whole fist, couldn’t you?” She says, admiringly. “You want this so badly.”

The thought of that pushes Adam over the edge, and he comes, thighs shaking. He’s crying, and Alison drops her head to kiss the back of his neck, murmuring words of encouragement. She smells so good that Adam wants to lick her like a dog, lather her with his tongue.

“Adam,” Alison says lovingly, and the alpha praise makes Adam keen at the back of his throat. “How good you are. I’m so proud.”

Adam doesn’t know how many times he comes after that, the world going hot white and dizzy. All he can focus on is Alison’s big hand fucking him open, her fingers clever and quick, making him go boneless against the sheets. It’s not enough, he still needs a knot, but it’s making the pain go away.

The bedroom door quietly opens, and Adam can smell Lawrence, expensive aftershave and a faint tinge of blood. He wriggles on the bed, and Lawrence laughs under his breath, closing the door behind him.

“Diana?” Alison asks, sliding her hand out of Adam’s cunt.

“Upstairs,” Lawrence says. “Thrilled to be spending the day with Mrs Laverne.”

“M sorry,” Adam mumbles, and Lawrence comes to sit on the bed beside him.

“It’s not your fault.” He says, running his fingers through Adam’s sweaty curls, “Don’t you dare apologise.”

“Should have,” Adam lifts his head off the pillow. “Should have taken my pills.”

“You think I remember to take my heart medication every day?” Lawrence asks. “Nobody is judging you, Adam.”

Adam manages to roll over onto his back, blinking up at the two alphas looking at him. Both have equal expressions of concern on their faces, and Adam flushes, not knowing what to do with himself.

“Look at you,” Lawrence says reverently. “How many times has Alison made you come?”

“He doesn’t know,” Alison says, a little smug. “Sweet little omega.”

Adam squirms at the attention, and spreads his legs wide. Both of them laugh at him, but not unkindly, and Adam wants both their scent on him, wants them to bite and suck at him until he can’t even remember his own name.

“Please,” Adam says, dry-mouthed. “I need it.”

“Use your words,” Alison says, stroking his chest, squeezing his little tits. “You can say it.”

Adam can barely look Lawrence in the eye. “Your knot.”

“What about it?” Lawrence teases, even as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his pyjama pants. “What do you want?”

Adam takes a shaky breath. “I want you to knot me.” He says. “Both of you. Inside me.”

“Clever boy,” Lawrence says lovingly, and pulls down his pyjamas to reveal his cock, already popping at the base. “We’re going to make you feel so good.”

“We’re going to take such good care of you.” Alison promises, “Spread your legs, baby, that’s it.”

Adam couldn’t deny them even if he wanted to. He gets his legs up into the air, presenting his cunt to them both, and Lawrence growls under his breath, making another cycle of slick drool from between Adam’s thighs.

“Please.” He whispers, and spreads himself to be fucked.

#ANSWERED #chainshipping #does alison/adam/lawrence have a ship name yet

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one-annon · 1 month ago

Text

RUSTYNAILSHIPPING DRABBLE

i might make these into a little series..like a small thing leading up to the scott tibbs documentary... stacy is the lead singer for WOTG! shes an oc and you can find her on @wr4th-of-the-gods :)

scott sighs as he flips open his phone. he was lying out on the couch he once shared with his best buddy. his buddy who has been missing for months. by this point, scott was sure he was dead..but he didnt want it to be true. so like anyone in denial, he copes. usually with another rolled up joint or another swig of stolen shitty beer.

the phone rang. that dumb little ringtone he had set for adam. he waited. and waited. and waited. scott wouldnt admit the small part of him that hoped and prayed the boy would answer. he never admitted to his feelings toward adam. they were gross. they made him vulnerable. he cant be vulnerable. not when he had a front to uphold.

the call went to voicemail. its been doing that since adam had first gone missing. the only sign of where that stupid boy was had to be a fucking new report didnt it? he remembers trying not to cry as lark told him the news.

"adams gone missing. news is saying it was a jigsaw game.." lark had told him. "some guy made it out. lawrence gordon. yknow him?"

of course he knew fucking lawrence gordon. that was that freak adam told him he had to take pics of. that cheating son of a bitch. did he kill adam? maybe he was the fucker that put him in that damn room. he left adam to fucking die. he fucking killed adam!

since then, scotts felt a deep hatred for this stupid doctor guy. if he saw that blonde bastard, he'd learn the other reason scott wore rings.

he waited for that stupid beep. "hey adam." he choked out, hating how his voice cracked. "i uh..i miss you a lot man. i dont even know if you have your fuckin' phone..this is stupid." he paused. a long, depressing pause. "…please call me if you can."

he hung up, setting down the phone with a long drawn out sigh. what was he going to do? adam was gone and he was alone.

scott hated being alone. hes never felt truly alone since he met adam and now…now he feels like hes lost everything. his everything. he felt ike his life purpose was stripped away from him and he doesnt know what to do or how to feel.

he could hear his bandmates in the other room. they were supposed to be practicing for their next gig but scott couldnt bring himself to get up, let alone rock out. they said they understood how he felt but he knew they didnt. how could they understand?

the rocker sat up, his head in his hands. he wouldnt cry. he cant cry. not over adam. he heard a voice behind him, high pitched. he didnt register what was said and personally, he couldnt care less. fuck them.

the weight on the couch shifted as someone sat down. a gentle hand was on his shoulder. he knew who it was - stacy. the girl of the group. he moved his arm sharply, forcing her away from his space. "fuck off!" he shouted, his words missing the bite they usually had.

"scott.." she whispered, "whats going on? youre not yourself." she didnt know who he fucking was! she didnt know shit!

scott stood from his seat, grabbing his phone and the keys to his truck. "shut the fuck up! god- you all are so-..so fucking annoying! all i want is a moment of peace in this fucking house!" he opened the front door, slamming it shut behind himself.

no one dared to go after him, even if he silently wished they would. fuck, what happened to him? one god damn person goes missing and suddenly hes a pathetic loser who doesnt know how to fucking take care of himself or his stupid pussy feelings.

his truck shifted under his weight as he climbed in, gripping the wheel with such force that his knuckles whitened under his grip. he stayed still for a long moment, catching the breath he didnt know he was holding.

"FUCK!" he screamed into the night air, banging his forehead against the top of his steering wheel. he groaned immediately after, his hand pressed to his forehead as pulled away from the wheel. what the hell was he thinking?

in all truth, he wasnt thinking. he couldnt think of anything else besides that stupid photographer. it's been that was for so long. scott doesnt know why hes so fucking desperate for adam to come back. it's like no one fucking cared. his best friend since the age of 5 was missing and no one cared but himself.

he would think adam's brothers would give some sort of shit but he's heard nothing. blinking away the tears in his eyes, scott pulled the truck door shut, staring out the window and into the night sky. he furrowed his brows, thinking hard about his next move.

what was this jigsaw guy even about? why did he choose adam of all people? hell, scott wouldve been a better player than him! at least he had the balls to complete some challenge. he could cut off his own foot if he needed to.

he looked at his phone, picking it up again. it was stupid but it was his coping. who the fuck had any right to judge him about his coping? he was scott tibbs! he knew what he fuckin needed. he dialed adams number again.

and he waited. and waited. and waited.

'youve reached adam faulkner, im not able to come to the phone right now…'

scotts fingers tightened around his phone at that stupid voice.

'uh..yeah. you know what to do.'

he waited for the beep, his eyes burning with the effort to not cry. scott covered his mouth with his hand, staring out the windshield.

"i miss you." was all he said at first, his voice cracking.

"i miss you more than youd ever know, ads. im-.." scott paused. he shouldnt be saying this. what if the others get hold of his phone? whatever. fuck them. "im nothing without you. i get that now. i- i cant sleep, cant play, cant think without you. please come home."

i love you is how he wanted to end it, but he wouldnt let anyone know that. not even adam himself. if he was even alive anymore.

credit to @djarrex for the silly little dividers <3

#game over! ➸ saw writes #keeping our eyes close to whats going on on the screen ➸ angst writes #quit actin like a bitch and makin up excuses ➸ hurt with no comfort #hey hey hey hey! hey stoopid! ➸ annon writes #so much for the golden future i cant even start ➸ annons drabbles #the scott tibbs documentary #scott tibbs #adam faulkner stanheight #adam stanheight #rustynailshipping #angst

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hoffstrap-yuri · 10 months ago

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A list of my fics for the Saw fandom. Split by characters

Lawrence (Laura) Gordon:

An Act of Mercy: ao3- Laura Gordon x Fem Reader- 18+

She woke up without a memory of where she'd been. She had no reason to trust the doctor before her, but she was familiar somehow.

Needle and Chain (Lawrence Gordon/Amanda Young):

Not What I Needed: ao3- Laura Gordon x Amanda Young- T for Teen

Laura has devoted her work to save life whenever possible. When she reaches out to Amanda, she might save something even more precious to her.

Not What I Could Have: ao3- Laura Gordon x Amanda Young- T for Teen

Her first instinct as a doctor was to feel for a pulse even though she knew it was in vain. She ripped off a piece of her shirt and shoved it into the wound. It would do nothing for Amanda but she didn't want to see her love covered in so much blood.

Chainshipping (Lawrence Gordon/Adam Faulkner Stanheight)

A Glimmer of Hope: ao3- Laura Gordon x Eve Faulkner-Stanheight- M for Mature Content

Laura had thought about all the filthy things she could do to Eve after they were free, and now they were. It's time for her imagination to do a little more than just imagine.

A Brownie a Day, Keeps the Doctor Glued: ao3- Laura Gordon x Eve Faulkner-Stanheight- 18+

Eve had a penchant for eating when she was bored. Most of the times she didn't have her vice of choice at the ready, but that was different now that she was with Laura Gordon. The doctor didn't seem to mind the side effects of Eve's eating habits catching up to her waistline.

Coffinshipping (Peter Strahm/Mark Hoffman)

For Sickness and in Health (Insurance): ao3- Peter Strahm x Mark Hoffman- 18+

Agent Strahm was by the book when it came to solving cases. Being honest about his marital status was a different story entirely.

To Have and To Hold: ao3- Peter Strahm x Mark Hoffman [Sequel to For Sickness and in Health] -18+

Like a game of cat and mouse, Hoffman and Strahm continue their little ruse from DC. Just in New York this time.

Primadonna Girl: ao3- Peter Strahm x Mark Hoffman- 18+ for explicit mature content

“I haven’t said ‘I love you’ in almost twelve hours.” “What makes you say that now?” “Just… thinking about how I want to say I love you.” “I love you too.” Mark leaned in and kissed Strahm’s cheek. Strahm took his foot off the brake and looked into Hoffman’s eyes. “Pete?” “Let’s get married.” “Peter, are you crazy?” Hoffman laughed.

Bad Idea, Right?: ao3- Peter Strahm x Mark Hoffman- 18+ for explicit mature content

Peter Strahm goes over to Det. Hoffman's house to get more information about the Jigsaw case. Should be simple enough, right?

In My Head, In My Heart: ao3- Petra Strahm x Maureen Hoffman- 18+ for explicit mature content

Petra Strahm had come to terms with the fact that she was a lesbian after Husband #2, but never did she think she'd swing so hard for a pregnant woman.

Motherhood: ao3- Petra Strahm x Maureen Hoffman- +18 for explicit mature content

Maureen and Petra were adjusting to life as new mothers, but Petra can't help feel like she's not a piece of the puzzle

A Sweet Surprise: ao3- Petra Strahm x Maureen Hoffman- E for Everyone

Lindsey excitedly told her partner, Petra, about a new bakery. They go to investigate. Simple as that.

Shall We Dance?: ao3- Peter Strahm x Mark Hoffman- 18+ for Explicit Mature Content

Strahm needed a breather. Perez was so kind as to pay for her co-worker's dance class. Never in a million years would he imagine that Hoffman would be there too.

Passing Through: ao3- Peter Strahm x Mark Hoffman- M for Mature Audiences

“Sir… I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you to turn around, and drop your pants.” Hoffman didn't think this situation could get any worse. (Saw AU for the Mule 2014)

Cat for Tat: ao3- Peter Strahm x Mark Hoffman- +18 for explicit mature content

Peter was not sure how he could prove to his roommate that a cat could understand the innate human instinct to bother, him, Peter Strahm.

Lost in Time, Like Tears in Rain: ao3- Petra Strahm x Maureen Hoffman- 18+ for Explicit Mature Content

Indistinguishable. Her dirt brown hair looked like every other head in this sector. She turned a corner when it felt like an eye was on her back, seeing if the feeling follow. She only let her chest decompress when the nagging feeling of someone watching had gone. --- “You are flipping through a magazine. You suddenly come across a full page nude photo of a girl…” “Miss Strahm, is this question to test whether I am a Replicant, or a lesbian?” She almost laughed (Blade Runner AU)

Gasshipping (Laura Hunter/Amanda Young)

A Small Observation: ao3- Laura Hunter x Amanda Young- E for Everyone

A warm cup of coffee, a quiet rain, a person's life in her hands. Amanda was John's apprentice after all.

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exploding-goobery · 3 months ago

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What I want from Star Wars:

The canvas that original movie promised. A delightful culture cocktail mixing Flash Gordon, World War 2 serials, the Vietnam War, Lawrence of Arabia, and Kurosawa. This beautiful creation of George's imagination and history. Something so wonderfully nerdy and sincere in itself, pulling from everything its creator loved.

What I like about the High Republic is this feeling that yes, it is connected to that postmodern cocktail, but it is its own thing with its own influences - what I liked about the Acolyte was the wuxia references, Leslie Headland named Come Drink With Me as an influence and that and Crouching Tiger are very much felt. Sure, it's nowhere as good, but it's the same feeling I got when Rian Johnson talked about The Coen Brothers, To Catch A Theif and The Bridge On The River Kwai as influences: sure, one of these is a David Lean movie, but it gives things its own cinematic lens and language, painting on the canvas that is this galaxy.

I didn't love the Acolyte, but that, The Last Jedi and Andor are the things that have best got Star Wars as what I love it as: a postmodern canvas to paint any story on, your influences being placed within the same cultural history as before. Wuxia placed alongside Wings. Kurosawa and the Coens. The plight against real-life fasism mixed with a Micheal Mann movie that makes Andor. Hitchcock and Lean given the same value as the trashy old Flash Gordon serials in this overall pantheon of paints for this canvas. That means more than just using one paint, in my opinion.

This doesn't nessesarily mean wanting things to be preserved to maintain your idea of lore is bad - lore is very nerdy and sincere in of itself as a way of using the canvas. But if you're so upset about how the painting conflicts with other paintings, or what you wanted the painter to paint...maybe you just don't like painting.

#star wars #the acolyte #cinema #talking movies #occasionally it's a thing i do #mini rant

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apprenticestanheight · 11 months ago

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fic idea: first new years after the bathroom, Adam celebrating the holiday with Lawrence and thinking about how much his life has changed

Too Many Rock Bottoms- Adam Stanheight x Lawrence Gordon

Hiiiiiii nonnie!! I know that you sent this in either before or very very very close to christmas but I am SO SORRY for the wait time--I had meant to start it around christmas and get it queued for either yesterday, today or tomorrow because I knew myself and I knew that queueing it would help motivate me to edit, but then another passion project took hold for a bit and thus I got a delayed start with this one.

ALSO: this is technically the first new years after the bathroom--I had Adam go through a bit in the last half of 2004 because I was like 'okay yeah trauma but how does a romance develop in less than three months' so instead of being NYE into NYD 2004-2005, it'll be NYE into NYD 2005-2006, which I hope is all right with you!

If you're reading, though, I hope the wait turns out to have been worth it!

Fic type- this is fluffy!!

Warnings- this is very unedited, but there's also mentions of an infection from Adams wound being left for too long--it's nonspecific but there's mentions of it spreading to his heart and his lungs.

In the year since Adam woke up in the hospital post-escape, things have been quite the opposite of easy. Nightmares have become something of such a frequency that Adams body is capable of running on an hour of sleep so long as he stops at a gas station and buys a Redbull or two before he goes into work, and he can figure out when Lawrence has had a silent break down before he's woken up by just looking at him, tracing his face for signs of puffy cheeks or half-dried tear trails down his chin and neck.

He'd been trapped in the bathroom until very, very early October. Infection had taken hold of his shoulder and spread to his heart and his lungs and it was so severe that he had to be put into a coma to treat it.

He'd woken up three weeks after, on Halloween, and after an additional month spent in the recovery unit to make sure his shoulder wasn't paralyzed and that his heart and his lungs were working as they were meant to, he was released in very early December.

December of 2004, Lawrence walked into the hotel he was working as a receptionist at and just--just grinned like an idiot. He'd said that he'd heard where Adam worked from a friend of a friend (one of his fellow residents named Dr Lilith Whittaker was the girlfriend of Amara Saint Cloud, with whom Adam worked at the reception desk. Lilith had talked about how Amara was working with a guy who'd been said to have survived a trap and the road Lawrence walked lead back to Adam) and "let's grab dinner and catch up"'d his way back into Adams life.

A year on from that day and there are good days, bad days, and there are worse ones. Given, though, that Lawrences Christmas gift to him had been a series of kisses that left him delirious and the proclaiming of the fact that he'd booked the rest of the year off, he'd had a week of decent days to that point.

Their plans to ring in the new year hadn't amounted to much--Diana was spending that holiday with Alison as she'd spent both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with Lawrence, so they didn't have a kid to worry about--Adam had figured that Lawrence would do some of the physical therapy exercises he'd been told he had to try to do at least thrice a week, and he would probably go for a walk to take photos of some of the prettier areas of Jersey before he came home with a pizza and a bottle of champagne, but they'd not really discussed doing much of anything.

Adam was happy with not doing anything, though. He'd never really understood the appeal of going out and getting shit faced on NYE, even though Scott had gotten him a fake ID and used to drag him out to the bars in the heart of the city while they were teens and up until they were both 21.

It didn't seem worth all the effort it took just to get drunk, woozy and if you were lucky, get something so strong that it just knocked you right out. He'd stopped letting Scott drag him out to places willy nilly on NYE when he hit 22, and at twenty-seven and living with someone who he cared about so deeply it astounded him, he found that he was in no mood to get drunk at a bar or get hit on by someone who thought he was straight enough to be interested.

Still, though, as he wakes up and thrums through the motions, it's hard not to think of the last year and reminisce.

This time last year, he was four weeks out of hospital with chronic shoulder pain, had still been living in a roach infested apartment that had holes in the walls from bullets and termites alike, and could hardly afford to put food on the table.

Now, though? Lawrences place is no longer just Lawrences place, but it's theirs. Adam wakes up next to Lawrence everyday, goes to sleep next to him every night. It's Lawrence who coaxes him into the shower when the fear of water kicks up so bad that Adam has to fight panic attacks, Lawrence who kisses his shoulders and the back of his neck whenever something has tripped the trauma up and caused a bad reaction.

He's the one who calms Lawrence down whenever the phantom pains from his foot give Lawrence the jitters or a flashback, the one who makes him coffee when he wakes up from a nightmare or pulls him back into his arms while he reminds Lawrence that it's just a nightmare, it's not real, he'd had no choice but to leave Adam behind to survive and Adam had survived anyway so it balanced out.

Things are just so different to how they used to be, and as Adam goes through his day, it's hard not thinking about it.

He thinks about it as he kisses Lawrence goodbye to take a photo walk, thinks about it again as he snaps a photo of a crow, which he knows Lawrence will, at a minimum, find amusing because the crow is wielding one of those white plastic forks you get when you order takeaway.

He reminisces on the first of many late-night phone calls as he grabs a book that Lawrence had mentioned wanting a couple days beforehand, the fact that what had started as a bickering match over which Christmas movie was better--the options being White Christmas and It's A Wonderful Life. Adam had won the debate and Lawrence had snickered when Adam made the point about the fact that Clarences angel thing could've been a hallucination and yeah, the acting was iffy but anything was better than something that featured Bing fucking Cosby--but had ended in Lawrence apologizing for shooting him and Adam shushing him by reminding him he had to do it.

On the walk back, he thinks of the first night he'd spent in Lawrences house, barely managing to make it through a shower because the trauma had kicked up nastily that day, putting on one of Lawrences t-shirts and being engulfed in the scent of his cologne. They'd not meant for Adam to stay the night but by the time they were realizing how late it was, it was almost midnight and Lawrence had offered to let him use the shower and lend him a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, which Adam would never have refused.

He remembers falling asleep with Lawrences heartbeat thrumming in his ear that night, the two of them lightly bickering as they dozed. He remembers wanting to fall asleep the same way every night for the rest of his life, scoffing at the idea because never did someone like him ever get that fuckin' lucky.

As he unlocks the door, the book he'd bought for Lawrence tucked under his arm, a smile has crossed his face.

He's had a year of ups, downs, and far too many rock bottoms to justify counting all of them, but it's been a better year than the last one was, and as he opens the door, steps into his and Lawrences place, he has to think all of it was worth it just to get to that point.

#adam stanheight #lawrence gordon #adam stanheight x lawrence gordon

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unboundwanderers · 2 years ago

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what are looney's thoughts on humanity as a whole? any strong feelings?

"Humanity!?" He shoots up, a loud RING of his guitar echoing throughout the entire console room as he walks around his junk-filled, brightly glowing, alien-like console room. He starts strumming out something, any song- he thinks it's by Bowie-- speaking of Bowie! "Imagine a whole planet filled with Artists, Musicians, Writers, Engineers, and scientists!! Poets!! Actors!! Presidents!! Explorers!!" He calls out, resting his foot on the console, standing on his other as he does a quick riff from any generic metal song he's practicing the guitar riff to. "Except I don't have to imagine it, I see it every day in Humanity." He moves to explain his reasoning. He rests against the console, excitedly punching a switch so that the TARDIS rockets off into an unknown time- laughing the whole time.

"All Humanity's done since its first step onto land is TO START growing. They have this inherent need to keep progressing, further and further and further-- until there's nothing left to see!" He shoots his arms outward and spins excitedly through the TARDIS, almost falling forward if not for catching himself on the console and twisting a diode forward. "Explorers like Adelaide Brook! Mark Whatney! James T Kirk and Jean Luc Picard!! Pioneers in space travel and Diplomatic relation--!!" The Tardis ROARS excitedly, The Doctor opened up the engines as he increases power to everything- the TARDIS keeping up with his excitement as he runs around the console excitedly.

"Humanity's greatest protectors- Jean Gunhildred, Sarah Jane Smith! Jo Grant! Eula Lawrence!" He does a fake salute, "And let's not forget Brigadier Sir Alistar Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart!" He salutes an old friend- even if he can't get around the whole military thing that he knows his friend has a strong love for. "When they're out exploring the universe, they leave their finest behind to protect the planet! And boy how those protectors shine among the rest!" He moves to bring the monitor in front of him softly, smiling brightly as he flicks an assortment of switches and knobs.

"You will do everything you can do to survive, you humans- you'll fight, fly, soar, and glide across the stars stretching positive influence across every race you touch." He dials specific coordinates into the TARDIS console, glowing brightly the entire time. "Sure- you have your low points- war, pollution, you get territorial sometimes but--" He snaps and points towards the console, "But through it all, you learn from your mistakes! And sure, things might look grim for humanity when the worst comes..." He rests along the console,

"But as long as there's someone to carry that torch, you'll always follow behind- and Humanity has never dropped that torch- their spirit is just that resilient!" He grins brightly... looking out and spreading his arms wide.

"Humanity..? They look like giants to me!!!"

#the next stop (in character~! ic)#upwards & onwards~! (the looney doctor~!)#//YOU WANTED THE PUPPY DOG ANSWER!! YOU GOT THE PUPPYDOG ANSWER!!#//ASK MEME #//what you thought he HATED THEM #//no #//HAVE YOUR 'HUMANITY IS GREAT' SPEECH #//Looney loves humanity

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adams-rockstar · 1 year ago

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Amanda’s Missing Piece: A Saw Fanfiction

Chapter 4: What’s To Come?

“FUCK!”

It certainly didn't help that, while she could see well enough on the screen what was going on between the two of them, the quality of the feed was too shitty to catch everything that went on, so even had she been in the right state of mind to be properly focused, there was no telling where she had left the key or if there was even a half of a chance it might still be in the bathtub…….or if it had ended up plummeting down the drain, in Adam’s thrashing, as she had feared.

For her own state of mind, and for the sake of getting her through watching over this inevitably ill fated game, she had to assume it was the latter.

“Of COURSE it did, how could it NOT have?!”

She shook her head to herself, as if that might shake these thoughts off.

“My God, listen to yourself! Pull yourself together!” She tried to insist to herself.

She buried her face in her hands, as the two men continued to try and piece together what the hell was going on, on the screen in front of her.

By the time she managed to circle her focus better, back onto what was happening onscreen, Adam was already fumbling with the black plastic bag he’d found in the top of the toilet, and she tried to set more of her focus on that and the fact that he’d, admittedly, found that sooner than she’d anticipated and on the possibility that he might actually have a shot at getting out of here, and as far from the knowledge of how absolutely and completely screwed from the get-go Adam actually was as she could possibly keep her mind while still keeping her head enough in the game to make sure everything was going according to plan.

As the following hours went on to progress, all….that she could see, anyway, seemed to only be going progressively more smoothly…...well, except, to her opinion anyway, for the instances that Adam would say something that would remind her that perhaps it wasn’t exactly that terrible of an idea for them to be chained closely on opposite ends of the room from each other…...aside from what she would have to watch Adam put himself through to get out of said chain anyway...

Lawrence surely would’ve killed Adam right then, in any one of those moments, otherwise.

Ahead of schedule, as John would’ve seen it.

She tried not to think too much on that part of it though, and tried harder to redirect her attention to the very part of Adam that had caught her so fondly, in that first face to face meeting in the staircase.

“..What else aren’t you telling me?” Lawrence had asked Adam.

“..Well, um. Let’s see.” Adam scoffed, the sarcasm evident in his tone. “...on my sixth birthday, my best friend at the time, Scott Tibbs, stabbed me with a rusty nail. I didn’t tell you about that. I didn’t tell you that my last girlfriend who was a feminist, vegan, punk broke up with me cause she thought I was too angry….” Heavy emphasis was put on the “I”.

“Uh, I haven’t told you that one of my toenails is slightly- ” He looked down, but jumped at Lawrence’s shouting.

“JUST STOP IT!!”

She even managed to catch herself off guard, with the giggle she let slip at the remark.

As the moment faded and she continued to watch over the two, she let out a heavy sigh.

Why did HE, of all people, have to be the one behind that camera.

Why did HE have to be the one cursed with the misfortune of getting involved with Dr. Lawrence Gordon?

As she’d had it explained to her, Adam, for the most part, really had no other reason to be involved with this test.

And as she understood it, Lawrence had been the one who’d done the most wrong by John.

That wasn’t to say Adam was completely innocent, of course. Not in John’s eyes, anyways……..yet another thing that she and him seemed to differ on.

Even with her obvious newfound emotional attachment aside, she’d found it it difficult to bite her tongue when John had originally come to her about him, labeling him a voyeur, just because his way of putting food on the table of that shitty apartment was to take payment to lurk in the shadows and snap photos of his subjects from afar.

If you asked her, perhaps these subjects of his shouldn't have been cheating on their wives in the first place, if they had anything to say on how they were caught.

She digressed, though.

John always had his reasons and, the way she saw it, who was she to question his word, after all he’d done for her up to this point?

The bottom line of it all, and the most important aspect to her, was that Lawrence Gordon was the main focus of this game.

Most important because, despite how screwed she knew Adam was, perhaps it meant that he still had at least a smidge of a chance at regaining somewhat of an advantage over Lawrence.

….or maybe, that was just what she had convinced herself of, to get through all of this.

She brought her hands up over her face again, sighing as she snapped herself back out of her train of thought and brought her attention back to the monitor, just as Lawrence was at Adam’s throat again. This time, over his discovery of Adam’s involvement with him.

“...You know what, Adam? You’re not a victim of this game. You’re a part of it!” She watched Lawrence accuse.

Oh, how she wished that were true.

“Obviously this cop thinks you’re the one behind it all.” Adam retorted.

“I told you, he’s not a cop! He’s a BOTTOM FEEDER, just like you!” Lawrence spat back at him.

“What are you more pissed off about? The fact that I took some shots of you? Or the fact that I took some shots of you while you were cheating on your wife?”

Oooh, shit….

“I DID NOT CHEAT ON HER!!”

Even she jumped at that outburst.

“What do you care what I think anyway? I dont give a crap if you covered yourself in peanut butter and had a fifteen hooker gang bang!”

It was the snort that erupted from the laugh that cracked out of her that made her thankful that John’s angle in this was far out of earshot of her watch.

….Though, it was also that level of being caught off guard that would inevitably make what was to come only that much harder for her.

#fanfiction #adam faulkner stanheight #amanda young #slow burn #horror #romance #adam faulkner-stanheight lives #amanda young lives #bisexual adam #bisexual amanda

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