#YEAH.YEAH I KNOW. I KNOW

[bizlybebo]

mark winters fan does not have healthy relationship with father, fork found in kitchen

[skkfujoshi]

You’re on your own kid,you always have been

Akutagawa knew it was a bad idea when he first thought of it.It was 3 in the morning and the odds of Chuuya having been awake were next to none.

But…It was the morning after Dazai’s funeral and he just needed to see that Chuuya was better.Or if he wasn’t,at least Akutagawa could apologize for not being able to save Dazai.

Maybe part of him just wanted to make sure Chuuya was there and not somehow…

He shook his head and pushed the door open,letting in the dim light of the hallway.He saw Chuuya stir slightly,surprisingly clean of the blood,bleary gaze turning towards the light.

“ ‘Zai?Is that you?”he mumbled

Akutagawa swallowed,leaning against the doorway until Chuuya’s senses came back to him.He wouldn’t dash his hopes himself when he didn’t have to.

Chuuya blinked a couple times and after a minute or two his eyes lit with recognition and face flushed with shame as he looked away.

“Oh,Rūyu,it’s just you.”he mumbled “Yeah…Just me.” “What time is it?Is it morning-“ “Sort of…It’s 3 AM.” Chuuya laughed dryly.

“Still an insomniac I see.” “Tough habit to break…I figured since I had nothing better to do I could at least check up on you.”Akutagawa said,sitting on the edge of the bed

It was an effort to ignore the empty side of it,but he tried his best.

“I’ve had a few funerals in my time…I’ll live.You?” Chuuya asked Akutagawa opened his mouth a couple times,but his throat felt dry and clammy.Around attempt ten,he managed to spit it out.

“I know people die.All of us…It’s the way we are but…Him being killed by some thugs it’s…not right.Dazai is-“

Akutagawa hissed,realizing his mistake.

“He was too smart for something like that.Too prepared.The more I think about it the less sense it seems to make…”he muttered “And it’s just not…” “Fair?” “I guess.If you have to call it anything.” Rūynosuke heard the bed squeak as Chuuya sat up and wrapped his arms around him.

“People rarely go out on their own terms.” “He could’ve if I had…If I even tried-“ “You’re 16-“ “And at 16 you two were the most infamous duo in the mafia!It’s no excuse!” “We won every big fight by the skin of our teeth.Trust me,you don’t want that.” “You still won though,didn’t you?”

Chuuya pulled him closer,tucking Akutagawa’s head under his chin,a light kiss against his hair.

“If you tried,you probably would’ve died too.This way at least I still have you.”

As if that was anything.

Akutagawa buried his face in the crook of his mentor’s neck.

“He’s really gone,isn’t he?” “…Yeah.Yeah,he is.”Chuuya breathed out

And then Akutagawa cried.Cried hard until he passed out.

When he woke up he was laying on Dazai’s side of the bed,covered in a blanket listening to Chuuya sob.He went back to pretending to sleep pretty quickly after that.

|- - - - - -|

“He left you for this.”Akutagawa could almost hear the furniture mocking him in a child like voice

An overly thin futon,a too small closet,crowded kitchenette and a moldy bathroom.Akutagawa looked at the weretiger’s half open kitchen cabinet filled with discounted bags of frozen foods.

It didn’t even pay well.

So what was this all about?Some futile attempt at change?At fixing his crimes?

But when did Dazai change his mind on the value of life?Why?And how could have Akutagawa missed it?He was there in the days leading up to Dazai’s disappearance!If anyone should’ve-

“Here.”the weretiger said putting down a cup of black coffee

Akutagawa blinked.Right,priorities.He cleared his throat and adjusted his coat,taking a sip.

Predictably,it was terrible.Akutagawa kept that to himself as the weretiger plopped himself down on the opposite pillow.

“So…” “I’m not here for entertaining chit chat.Your questions.Go.” “….Do you know anyone who Dazai hates enough to kill?” “Bold of you to assume he’d have to hate someone to kill them.” Akutagawa said casually,taking another sip

He looked back up and saw the weretiger gawk at him,disbelieving.

“Did he-“ “Kill people while he was in the mafia?Of course.” “…” “You thought he kept his hands clean all those years?” “I…It just never crossed my mind…Anyhow,you have an idea?” “He use to hate our previous boss,but he’s been dead for years.Kaiji,perhaps but-“ “Who?”

The weretiger blinked,with Akutagawa groaning.

“The lemon guy.” “Oh.” “Doubt it,though.Dazai saw him a nuisance.Not worth it.” “…Ok…Anyone else?”

Akutagawa hummed,ignoring the obvious answer that was coming to the forefront as he crossed his arms.

“Depends.Do the rest of your colleagues know?”

The weretiger looked away with a grimace. “Apparently.They’ve been trying to convince Dazai out of it for a bit and didn’t even-“. “How long have they been trying to talk him out of it?”

He took one glance at the other’s indignant and scrunched expression,before shrugging.

“I’m here to give answers,not to sympathize.” “Right…I don’t know.Could be a week or two,or-“. “You fancy yourself a detective.Deduce.”

-

Despite imitating Akutagawa under his breath,Atsushi tried it,stroking his chin in deep thought.

Apparently this was about an ex of Dazai’s,or someone who was akin to one.So likelihood is that only Kunikida,Yosano and Ranpo knew about it,considering that every time Atsushi asked about Dazai’s love life,Kunikida would change the topic with almost superhuman speed.

Also it was recent.And the most recent time the four of them hung out together was…

Atsushi nodded to himself and locked eyes with Akutagawa again.

“Probably since the night Dazai and your boss went to fight Lovecraft.”

Impossibly,Akutagawa went even paler.

“Are you sure?” “Like ninety percent.Why?” “Because that would mean Dazai tried to kill my boss.” “What?That doesn’t make any sense.If Dazai tried to do that,the mafia and agency wouldn’t be-“ “Allied still?True.Unless Dazai made someone else do it.”Akutagawa muttered,almost to himself

“So he had a mole?”Atsushi guessed

Akutagawa nodded.It was barely an incline of the head,Atsushi’s rival out of it for whatever reason.Not entirely,his eyes hadn’t gone wide,lips not pressed too tightly,but the discomfort was obvious in the way his hand came to clutch at the lapel of his coat.

He seemed stiff more than anything.

“How did Dazai even get to know your boss well enough to hate him that much?Wasn’t he the son of the previous one?” “What do you mean?” “I mean wouldn’t he have been too low ranking to spend much time with him?”

Let alone date him,Atsushi thought but kept to himself.

Then,Akutagawa did something Atsushi thought him incapable of.He smiled.

It was small and somewhat smug,but still,it left Atsushi speechless,kind of in the same way that a skeptic would be speechless seeing a ghost.

“You really know nothing do you?” “That’s why you’re here,isn’t it?” “…In the mafia,we don’t rank by blood.We rank by strength,by competence.Chuuya did make it to executive,but Dazai got there first.He was a genius,just as brilliant of a strategist at 15 as he is now.Chuuya on the other hand…”

-

Akutagawa ran his hand trough his hair,considering his next words.He didn’t particularly care for what the weretiger would think of Chuuya and he doubted Chuuya would care either,but he still didn’t want to give the wrong impression.

At the same time,physical strength was his forte,even if it did make Chuuya sound like an uncouth brute.

“He was a lot more like your lot than ours…”. “What’s that supposed to mean?”the weretiger bit “He was soft.But he learned to know better.”Akutagawa retorted sharply

Sharp and tense silence filled the room,the two glaring at one another.Akutagawa wondered if the weretiger would tell him to leave in spite of his curiosity and concern.Honestly,he was half tempted to call it quits himself,Kyouka’s puppy dog eyes be damned.

“…I see.Guess my next question is,why Chuuya?” “What?” “Why Chuuya of all people?” Akutagawa gaped at him in disbelief.He wasn’t seriously…

“That’s like asking what makes the sky blue!Or where the sun rises!What boulder have you been sleeping beneath all this time!?”

The detective grimaced.

“Sorry.The ‘History of the criminal underworld’ wasn’t exactly taught in my orphanage.” “Do you posses no investigative capacity?Are you truly so incurious as to not even try to look yourself?” “Where!?Two weeks ago I didn’t even know Dazai was in the mafia!Even if I had,there’s apparently no employment record of him anywhere!And If I asked him,we both know he’d just lie!”the weretiger exclaimed exasperated

Silence took hold of them again and Akutagawa thought back on how he had found the weretiger that afternoon,face buried in his hands,swearing muffled by his palms.At first he thought it was nothing more than childish self pity,but looking upon his rival’s frustrated expression now he allowed himself to reconsider.

It was self pity yes,but it was rooted in a fair complaint.Lack of trust,of faith.Not just from Dazai,but from all of his seniors.If he was,in fact,part of the Agency,why wasn’t he told the details?

Did he not deserve to know?Did they think him too weak to handle it?

Akutagawa,begrudgingly,had to admit to commiserating. Only to himself though.He refused to sympathize with the weretiger out loud and will endeavor to avoid such a thing until he dies.

“…Back when Dazai was in the mafia,him and Chuuya were…partners.”he said at last,relenting

-

“They were a soul split across two bodies.I use to think there was no poorer match in the world.And yet…” “And yet?” “When I saw them fight,it all clicked.”Akutagawa began”They’d exchange a look.A quick thing,always a few seconds and then…They’d be in complete sync.It was as if they were dancing but only they could hear the music and know the steps.”

There was a slight breathlessness to Akutagawa’s voice as he spoke of it,complimented by a small,absent minded smile at the end.

This one was far less smug and more distant than the last.If Atsushi had to call it anything,he’d describe it as nostalgic.Warm and affectionate too,maybe,if he didn’t feel like those words being associated with Akutagawa wasn’t downright heretical.

The concept seemed absurd.Could anyone understand someone like that?He tossed Akutagawa a glance.

…He supposed it wasn’t impossible.After all,the two of them understood one another perfectly on the Moby Dick and Akutagawa vocally despised him. “They cared.Even if they denied it.”came Akutagawa’s voice probing him out of his thoughts,the paler man’s smile dropping “…Then Dazai faked his own death.They met again,two years later.In that time Chuuya got fired,lost his father and became boss.All within a month…” “What are you saying?”

Akutagawa exhaled deeply,lips pressing tightly and teeth visibly coming to grit against one another beneath the skin as he said:“Grief doesn’t leave you like it finds you.”

Akutagawa’s gaze fell to his lap.

“Dazai might believe it changed Chuuya into someone he despises.” “…Your previous boss?” Atsushi’s rival nodded that stiff nod once more.

“Is he right?” “No.Dazai’s wrong.Not that he’ll ever admit it.”Akutagawa said firmly,muscles of his face coming into an insulted grimace

Atsushi sat silent at that.He had heard Akutagawa get heated before,of course but never defensive.Let alone defensive and contradictory of something Dazai said.

That combined with his reverent and almost excited tone when recounting Chuuya’s and Dazai’s partnership…It made him wonder…Could it be?

“Are you worried that Dazai will go trough with it?” “Why would I be?” “Because they both mentored you.”Atsushi said,throwing his theory out into the wild

Akutagawa blinked a few times,before scoffing.

“Seems the title of detective isn’t just for show after all…Not worried as much as disappointed.”

They were quiet again,Atsushi feeling a small pang of guilt for being right.He remembered his own feelings from earlier when he found out about Dazai’s plan.The sense of displacement that contradiction caused.

It wasn’t intentional on Dazai’s part in either situation.He had never claimed he wasn’t a murderer or that he wasn’t trying to kill Chuuya…But the fact that each of them had to find out…

Atsushi leaned forward,reaching for his rival’s shoulder. “Akutagawa…I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”

Akutagawa looked up at him,surveying Atsushi like a cat evaluating a piece of meat.

He opened his mouth but before he could speak,they both heard a phone buzz.

Abruptly Akutagawa stood up,taking his phone out.After a quick glance at the screen,he sped up,making a beeline for the door.

“Tell Kyoka to give you my number if you have any further questions.I have to go.” “Akutagawa,wait-“ “I don’t need your pity,weretiger.” “I’m not,I just…Thank you.For the answers”Atsushi said hurriedly

Akutagawa paused at the door,tossing a glance over his shoulder.

“You’re welcome.”

First overall AU info post

Previous fic part <— Next fic part —>

[starythewriter]

VINNIE HACKER X READER

HOOKING UP.

PART 3.

fluff, READER HAS SELF DOUBT, NIGHTMARES. FaceTime with vinnie!

(Here’s the 3rd part since y’all got me to 45 notes tysm ily all)

You woke with a start, breathing heavily and clutching your chest tightly as sweat trickled down your face.The dream was horrible. It was a nightmare. Nothing could be worse than being in the real world, right? No matter how nice Vinnie’s bed felt, you couldn’t relax. Not now, not ever. You were afraid to fall asleep, because it wasn’t a safe space anymore. You were trapped in another person’s nightmares, unable to wake up from them until you had died – unless someone found you first.It didn’t bother you as much as it used to. Now, if you heard someone walking past your bedroom door or if somebody called your name in the middle of the night, you got scared and would curl up into a ball under your covers. You tried to forget, sometimes. You tried to pretend nothing happened. But the worst parts still haunted you and kept you awake most nights. You’d wake up in the middle of the night in a panic, covered in sweat, shaking and crying silently. You’d sit up in bed for several minutes without knowing where you were or what was going on around you. The dreams were getting worse and you were starting to lose hope. You were starting to wonder if you’d ever get out of here alive.You wondered if you’d ever see Vinnie again.You wondered if you’d ever see anyone again.You wondered if you’d ever see your family again.You wondered if you’d ever see your boyfriend again.

You lay there motionlessly for who knows how long, tears streaming down your cheeks. Your phone buzzed next to you on your bedside table, but you ignored it, still staring blankly at the wall in front of you. Then your phone started ringing again, louder this time. You rolled over and fumbled around to pick it up, not bothering to look at whose number was calling you in the dead of the night.“Hello?” You answered quietly, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “Yeah.Yeah I am, sorry, I guess I was just resting. What’s wrong?”

There was some heavy breathing over the line and then a small laugh, “I’m fine. I just didn’t want to call if it was important. So are you okay?”

Well, you hadn’t actually been sleeping well lately and probably should have expected this question any time soon.“Um, yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine tomorrow morning. Why wouldn’t I be okay?” You hoped you sounded normal enough to convince him. He laughed nervously this time.

“No reason. I just wanted to check on you. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know you should get some sleep. Do you want to hang up? Or shall I come over?”You paused momentarily, trying to decide whether or not you wanted to hang up. Finally you decided against it. It was better if you talked, rather than sitting there in silence.

“Um, yeah, I guess so. If you’re willing to come over, I mean. You don’t even have to. Sorry, I’m such a pussy.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Vinnie chuckled lightly, “I’ll come over soon. I just have to change out of these clothes,” There was a slight pause before he added, “But that’s okay. I like seeing you naked,” And with that last statement, he hung up.

TAGLIST FORM

[greaterspawnislands]

Have you heard the song ‘I’ve been searching for you’ from centaurworld?? Absolutely MASSIVE q!phil and rose vibes,, kinda??

(Sorry for throwing this at you but the autism has taken hold and I needed to throw this idea at someone)

@crepusculum-rattus centaurworld and hardcore lore song connections hey hey look over here!!

sorry anon i just wanted to make sure this got to the person who i know will appreciate it the most that being said ohhh this is such a lovely song holy shit yeah.yeah this has the vibes right down to the memory struggles andd feels like im dreaming and. yeah. ouhhhh

[sophieswundergarten]

Does anybody remember the weird and excessively long post I made in the middle of the night earlier this week about S. Q. being psychic? Well I just did, so here's round two:

Once he shows up at the Benedict household it becomes highly apparent that he's psychic. The kid himself isn't aware of it, since he didn't talk to that many people at the Institute, so there's a little confusion at first by how strangely he's acting. At least, until Constance walks over and is like "Reynie, why didn't you tell anyone he's psychic? That seems like it would have been an important detail to mention.", at which point there's dead silence. S. Q. is certain that he's not psychic, and says so emphatically, until Mr. Benedict points out that he's been automatically covering his ears since Constance made her announcement, despite no one having said a word.

He sheepishly lowers his hands, at which point Constance grabs his arm and pulls him upstairs to her room (Which, while being close to the adults', is her private space, and she know's everyone will stay away while they decide what to do). She tugs a weighted blanket off her bed and shoves it at him, waiting until he's settled before asking questions.

Constance: "So, you can hear people's thoughts."

S. Q.: "Kind of? I guess. I haven't been around a lot of people before, so it hasn't been as obvious."

Constance: "But you can sense it now?"

S. Q.: "Yeah. I can still kind of hear everyone from downstairs, but it's not that bad, now." [He winces before looking curiously at her] "Yours aren't as loud, though."

Constance shrugs: "That is because I am dampening them. Can you not do that?"

S. Q.: "No, I can't really do anything. I didn't know that this was a thing until just now."

Constance: "Right. Well," [She closes her eyes, tilting her head slightly in concentration] "How is that? Better?"

S. Q., quietly surprised: "Yeah.Yeah, actually." [He looks toward the door] "How did you do that? I can barely hear them anymore."

Constance: "It is something I was experimenting with on the island, with the Emergency messages and everything. I won't be able to do it very much, though, so we'll have to find another method."

S. Q., nodding: "Okay. Thank you. You don't need to do it, though. I'll be able to figure it out on my own."

Constance, staring at him with disdain: "Right, and you're going to be figuring it out like you did downstairs? You'll go through life with your hands over your ears?"

S. Q., making a face: "Good point. Um, what do you do when things get too loud?"

So Constance stays with him for a while, sharing various tactics to quiet his mind (Using physical sensations to ground, reading with someone, and journaling among them). After a bit, Rhonda is elected to go and check on the two of them. S. Q. is doing a lot better, and so he agrees to come back down and talk to Mr. Benedict about everything. The other kids have been asked to go wait in the backyard for a bit, but Constance stubbornly stays with S. Q. It is decided that, since he obviously needs someone to help him, he's going to be staying with them for a while. He can live in one of the rooms that's further from the center of the house, and Constance and Mr. Benedict (as the only people remotely close to an authority on the subject) will work with him on how to control the constant influx/outflow of thoughts. S. Q., luckily, had grabbed one of Curtain's notebooks before leaving, so they have that to go off of. And, with a little bit of time, he gets better.

It goes much smoother because when words aren't helping Constance is able to simply shove the concept into S. Q.'s brain. (This doesn't make her sick because a) She isn't changing his thoughts, just adding information, and b) S. Q. is aware and open to it; he wants her to do it) The best bit is that, after a few weeks of working at it, S. Q. is comfortable being around the rest of the family most of the time. But he and Constance don't stop having entire silent conversations, so they'll be in a room full of people and suddenly someone notices that Constance has been really quiet, only to find her apparently engaged in a staring contest with S. Q. It's great.

[quaranmine]

quara i think that video you linked in your author notes rewired part of my brain. thank you for the recommendation but also wtf

YEAH.YEAH. i clicked on it like hahah i'm writing firewatch au and yearning for the wilderness, this seems awfully pointed and then BAM. changed my brain chemistry. like okay then sir i didn't really expect you to do that with this little video essay but here we are!

the first time around listening to it it really got me when he mentioned people at transistory periods of their lives (hi) and also described himself as a cat....since cats isolate themselves, and when sick or injured, have a tendency to go wander off so they die alone. and he was like, i do that too, not to die, but when he has problems. and i was like NOOOOOO IM A CAT TOO and then he says "this is why you go into the woods to use them for your own good, which is not why the trees are there." augh

i dont even know how to talk about the end it just needs to be dissected in an english class or something. guys watch this for your homework today:

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

HSHDKDJFJSDDJFK SORRYYYYYYY im. so fucking glad u are liking it so far though omg.. yeah.yeah the OH GOD. ITS ABOUT FUCKED UP SIBLINGS???? moment is... augh. bouncing around the room at unheard of speeds abt it!!! anyway giving u a hot mug of cinnamon hot cocoa catkiss.gif. also. any thoughts u have so far? 👀👀

DUUUUDE . ok. i have so many thoughts. ok

its about fucked up siblings!!!!!!!!!!!! thats so upsetting to me i love sibling relationships in media i have not even seen current grownup knives but i desperately want them to talk to each other even tho that is. probably not going 2 happen. (also can i just say. the fact that his name is fucking Knives AND he became like the evil twin is so funny to me. go off king. name urself after weapons and kill ppl.) SPEAKING OF WHICH. the fact that they have exact opposite philosophies about death and theyre twins. clenches fist. mirror image of each other two sides of the same coin and other poetic bullshit etc etc etc.

i have a FEELING. the fuckin uhhh. blue hair yugioh lookin bitch (legosto? i cant remember his name. the one that can talk in vashs head) is connected to knives somehow but i dont know exactly how. vash acts like he knows him from somewhere. either hes connected to knives or hes connected to july city . god i want to know more about july city. "ill take care of him" BABYGIRL SHE DIDNT MEAN IT LIKE THAT. SHE MEANT LITERALLY TAKE CARE OF HIM. BC YOURE BROTHERS. AUGH

[brimbrimbrimbrim]

The Bear and The Baker: Chapter Four - CHILL (NSFW)

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five

Summary: She’s relatable and willing to help him figure out how to stop spiraling down a dark hole of anxiety, but she’s pretty and sweet and knows what to say and do… and Carmy just can’t help himself.

Tags: friends to lovers, UST, RST, pining, wet dreams, masturbation, lots of food talk, reader used to be a pastry chef, mental health, panic attacks, anxiety, meditation, oral sex, cunnilingus, premature ejaculation, handjob, desk sex, first times, virginity, mild dom/sub undertones, kitchen sex, love confessions, blowjobs

Words: 4k

TW: panic attacks

He's chopping peppers when his attention shifts again, and this time, when his skin opens under the edge, it's not the knife being dull that's the problem. Carmy's head is fucked, and it shows. It's been two weeks to the day, and one hand is covered in a nitrile glove for all the damn bandages around his knuckles… and now he's cut down to the nail bed, shredded black elastic with red flowing off the end.

Motherfucker! 

Blood squirts out the wound before the sting hits him, but he's already in a fuckin' frenzy. No one's dared speak to him unless necessary since two-thirty. He stops, the knife still in his fist… the offending pepper having rolled between the stove burner and cutting block with a dent in its red skin. The cut's deep—the one on his hand—but it's nothing some super glue won't fix, yet he just stares at it, pooling crimson with streaky halos against the wet plastic cutting board. 

The pain throbs, becoming just another place where his pulse is pounding unhappily. Every thick, sad plunk settles between his throat and sternum. It's maddening, this silence and pain and themother fucking heartache.

'Behind!' 

Carmy hears it like he's underwater. 

'I need three chickens and four beefs; two with peppers, two without!'

The rest of the kitchen chaos drops octave after octave as he pushes his thumb into the tip of his bleeding finger, sucking down a groan. Pain shoots through his finger and forearm; it makes his forearm jerk, reminding him of how those same muscles had flexed when he had her spread open on his kitchen counter—had her quivering thigh in this hand—when he had his mouth on her… and now it's all fucked. 

Carmy watches and remembers…

She's got sauce on her cheek, and he’s feeling too light everywhere to think about it, so he leans in and kisses it, licks it off her. The giggle that puffs against his face only further unloads the heavy weights dragging him down, like cutting the ropes off an air balloon. Her fingers slide into the collar of his shirt, up his neck, and into the curls against his nape. She turns his mouth to hers for a deep kiss that takes Carmy's breath away.

When it comes back—all his air—he pecks her lips again, then her chin and throat, tasting her neck, and whispers, "I love you."

He's still smiling against her skin when he realizes she's gone stiff in his arms… that cold needle bursting his fucking balloon with a heavy dose of 'what the fuck did I just say?'

And then she's standing and thanking him for the meal with a stutter worse than his, trying to gather her things as fast as humanly possible while he's trailing behind her like some kicked puppy knowing it fucked up, wanting more than anything to fix it.

Why'd he have to open his stupid fucking mouth? 

The first girl that touches his dick, and he's lovesick… spilling his guts with basil and blueberry and pussy on his tongue, talking with all this misplaced confidence that ended in the most awkward, unpleasant end to one of the best nights of his life. 

How'd he fuck up so bad?

"Chef?"

Carmy blinks and looks up from the pool of blood, glancing at Marcus with several butter bricks cradled against his chest. "Yo, Chef. You know you’re bleeding, right?”

"Yeah.Yeah . I know," Carmy mutters beneath his breath, snapping a rag out of his apron to wrap it around his weeping finger. "Can-can you,uh , get Gary to clean this up for me?" He gestures to the cutting board, already backing away from the mess, feeling sick with muddled emotions.

"Course, yeah. Sure thing, Chef," Marcus says, worried.

Carmy nods, sniffing up the pain that's coming back and his own embarrassment, walking off the line like a beaten dog into the alley instead of the emergency sink to wash the cut clean. The burn from Marcus' confusion and concern still tickles the back of his head, but Carmy needs a moment alone. Good thing they all pick up on that cause after a few minutes of clotted, outside air, he's still by himself, clutching his sliced finger until he can't feel it anymore. 

"Stupid…fucking… " he curses, lips thin and screwed up, sliding down to the milk crate with his back against the brick wall, "Fucking idiot."

As soon as his ass hits the hard plastic, his mind starts repeatingthat night. Loops of it, all with little added details that further sour his self-esteem. The way she leaned away when he tried to rest his palm on her elbow in the doorway on her way out—that thin-lipped smile of reassurance that was so fucking fake—her verbal regret for letting her hormones get the best of her—the subtle inflection in everything that told Carmy she didn't wanna see him again. 

When the bleeding stops, and it's just dried blood and torn nitrile, Carmy throws the stained rag over his shoulder and grabs his pack of smokes out of his back pocket. The nicotine barely chills him out; if anything, it just makes his knee bounce faster—makes him itchy and on the verge of-

The back door bangs open, sending a violent throng of shock into his chest. His heart skips a beat, resetting that rapid tempo it was speeding towards. Carmy looks up to see Tina leaning out the doorway with big, dark eyes and a full, sympathetic smile. 

"Hey,Jeff ." Her eyes tear down his disheveled state, smile screwing up in sad amusement. "Customer just dropped off a pie for you or some shit. Richie put it in the office, an' he's lookin' real full of it."

Customer? Pie? Her?! Fuck…

"Wait, did you say Cousin?!"

"Mmhm."

"Fuck -" Carmy shoots up to his feet, knees locked an' aching from the day, but his heart's in his stomach wondering what the fuck Richie could have said to her—might have disclosed or did… or…Jesus Christ…

"Did he say anything to her?" Carmy tries to come across chill, but his cigarette trembles as he takes a hit, cheeks already splotching with anxiety. 

Tina arches a brow, still amused. "I dunno, but my guess?Yeah . Yeah, he did.”

Carmy curses again and throws his cigarette down to stomp it out. 

“You know,” Tina continues, “for someone who's been bitching about his ass all day, he's lookin' mighty smug now. Do you think stitches really take that long to heal, or is he jus’ bein' a bitch?"

"I gotta take care of this goddamn mess. Excuse me."

Carmy goes to slide past her into the kitchen only for her hand to close around his elbow. He stops, looks down, and arches a brow. "Chef?"

"Look," she begins, starting off uncharacteristically soft, "I dunno what you been doin’ or who you been doin' it to, but you better fix whatever you fucked up. Cause our game was really fucking strong when you weren’t being a sad little shit all damn day…" 

Carmy wets his lower lip and looks away, finding a rubber stain on the tile inside the kitchen fascinating… or trying to.

"… but these past couple of weeks?" Tina jerks him enough his eyes drift back to her as she shakes her head, pinning him with an expression of severity. "Just… get your head outta your ass, alright? You're a better chef when you're happy."

He swallows, mouth opening and closing once or twice before he clears his throat and nods. "Heard, Chef."

Inside the kitchen, it becomes abundantly clear that everyone knows abouther and the pie. Syd’s chewing on her lip at her station, trying not to smile. Tina stands behind him, chuckling. A conversation between Gary and Marcus comes to a sudden hush as Ebra clears his throat… and Richie—that fucker—grabs the doorframe to the front, swings forward, and saunters into the kitchen, loudly clapping his hands with an obnoxious fuckin' grin.

"Thismotherfucker!" Richie stands up tall as Carmy comes to a stop by the expo station. Cousin points down at him with a canary grin, looking around the kitchen for an audience. "Yo! Yo,thisfuckin' guy.You should haveseenthis chick! Guys-"

"Don't say anotherfucking word, Cousin,” Carmy grits out, veins in his forehead twitching. He squeezes his sliced finger so tight his pulse races in it.

“Who’d have thought you’d be pulling strawberry shortcakes like a fuckin’ boss!” Richie laughs aloud, and leans in to tackle Carmy into a hug, but he dips beneath the sudden swing—for once thankful he’s short—and darts past Syd, straight towards his office. 

“Told you to shut the fuck up!” Carmy yells as he walks.

"How-how can?! Seriously?!" Richie boasts while hot on his heels. "This dude— guys —this fucker struck out with every chick he's ever gotten all goo-goo-eyed for an' now he's bringing in fuckin' tens! How are we not talkin' about-"

Carmy practically kicks the door in Richie’s face with his heel and slams his back against the painted wood, barely blocking out the guffawing as Richie bangs a victorious rhythm into the other side… but all Carmy can focus on is the smell of apple pie with molasses, cinnamon, and cardamom… ginger too… and that smooth buttery melody he's forever gonna equate toher .

Fuck, it’s smells good.

'Our little baby fuckin' scored. I'm tellin' you! This broad—guys! The fuckin' rack on her—Hey, don’t touch that, Fek!’ Another bang on the door.‘Cousin! Hey! Come on!'

Carmy drops his chin to his chest and purses his lips trying not to smile to himself. It's less about the jeering behind the door and more about what the pie means: she's been thinking about him. Not ideal—not like she waited for him, probably didn't wanna see him—but she still came by the restaurant and brought him a fucking pie,for fuck's sake.  

Before his nerves come back, he lets the aroma of warmth fuel the sudden impulse to text her. Even as the now-clotted cut stings across the keys on his phone, Carmy's right cheek dimples. The hustle of the dinner hour goes quiet amidst the chatter outside the office—of the rushing of blood in his ears—as he swipes his thumbs over the bright screen and bites his lower lip.

'It smells delicious. Thank you, Chef.’

And then, holding his breath,'Do you want to talk about it? Closing. 10:30?' and hits send with ablip that makes his breathing stutter and his heart thud eagerly. Now… now all he's gotta do is wait,eat that fucking pie, and survive the rest of the day.

'I'm here.' You send the text despite butterflies on the roof of your mouth. Shivering, you pull your numb fingers back into roomy sweater cuffs, stuffing your hands under your arms, elbows tight in the frosty Chicago night. 

It's ten-thirty, and you're standing there as cars pass by behind you—casting The Beef interior in high beams—your own shadow dancing over tables and clean, polished floors. For less than ten seconds, you stand shivering outside, wondering what the actual fuck you're doing out this late. And before twenty seconds are up, you glance away from your boots to see Carmy unlocking the door, looking nervous and wide-eyed despite his droopy lids.

The door swings open, releasing a font of warmth across your cheeks.

"Thanks for comin' by." 

Fuck, you missed his voice… that sleep-deprived drawl mixed with his accented husk. Icey, sapphire eyes cut over your shoulder, narrowing with frustration so intense, you look back, glimpsing the man you left the pie with earlier that day. Awkwardly, you wave, only for Carmy to curse quietly—livid.

The man raises both hands, mouth moving animatedly, but he’s already backing up to a dark-color sedan… too far away to hear him. 

“You get here okay?” Carmy asks with forced ease, pulling your focus away from Rick or Richie—your mind draws a blank—looking directly into softer blues, clearly worn down and sleepy, but eager.

"Yeah," you exhale on a wisp of chilly air, "I took a cab. And,uh , thanks for doing this here. I just… nothing against you or anything, but I don't really—I mean, thanks for not…umm , it’s fucking cold, huh?”

There's a long beat of silence where Carmy's face is expressionless, resting in apathy with a patina of exhaustion, and you feel inclined to explain yourself, "It's not that I didn’t wanna see you, Carmy. I'm just-"

"You don't have to explain yourself. It's cool.No hard feelings. Come on, I cranked the heat up.”

You nod silently, stepping through the open door supported by a bare arm. Your eyes drift to it, corded muscles and some off-blue veins punching up through blotchy, pale skin, all ruddy from the cold. You've seen more of him than just his arms, but for a long moment, you're transfixed by the tattoos, the muscles… silver scars from chopping and trimming…

Feeling wholly outside your element, you follow close behind him as he makes his way past the thoroughfare of countertop service and two-people tables shoved against the windows. The smell of diluted bleach and wet dish rags hits you as he moves through the doorway into the kitchen. Just like the front door, Carmy braces an arm and ushers you in, then a few feet further past a small cubby of lockers into an ajar door filled with darkness and a single yellow-burned lamp. 

His office…

You spot your empty pie tin on the metal desk, leaning on a stack of manilla folders. It's small—Carmy's office—but it's cozy and organized in a way that looks lived in, like ordered chaos, not unlike his apartment… if not a tad less spartan.

"Look, before you say anything, I just," Carmy cards his fingers through his dirty hair, smoothing haphazard curls of strawberry blond into a messing slick atop his head that unravels just as fast, "I just wanna say you were right. I shouldn't have said what I said. It wasn't cool, and I-"

"Carmy…" you say his name, heart beginning to thump noticeably in your neck. He’s already so fucking wrong, and you want nothing more than to explain yourself before he starts apologizing for nothing. Because he didnothing wrong.

"But it just came out, ya know? I wasn't-I wasn't thinking, and you've got every fuckin’ right to be freaked out- "

"Carmy."

But he keeps talking—stammering.

"You're just-you're amazing and-and chill where I'm not and before… When I was tweezing mint leaves and making plum gelée, I-I couldn’t breathe. I’d stop and want to set everything on fire. Just cooking and cooking and cooking until I was having panic attacks just making jelly sandwiches and throwing up every morning… then I started fucking up more and more even when I'd gotten a handle on things— not that I felt any better —but you just kinda… you madeeverything click like-like I'm not just insane. Like, I can breathe..”

You try to stop it, but your eyes burn regardless. Tears well over your lashes as Carmy struggles to lay his heart out, just open and gaping and alive.

“These past two weeks,” he continues, gentler now, staring right into your wet orbs, “and-and you've been gone, and my hands aren’t steady anymore, and then the pie… and it's good— it's great . I don't know what it means... but I know what Iwant it to mean.”

He stops after that, shoving four fingers in his hair again, sliding them up his brows to his crown, where he grips tight enough it lifts the worry lines in his forehead. He casts his eyes down to the floor between you both like it's some uncrossable moat and sighs.

"Sorry-sorry.I'm sorry …" He nods with each word, voice dropping softer and quieter until his third 'sorry' is nothing more than a rushed exhale. You wanna stretch through the distance and touch him—hold him because there's a wet sniffle to his breathing that makes your heart break and grow simultaneously. But none of this is going like you thought. Everything is moving so fast, even your own feelings, and that's just… it's not something you're used to after years of trying to slow down your thoughts—of trying to walk softly through every single day, so you don't break the eggshells of glass beneath your feet. 

Carmen… Carmy… He makes you wanna run again, but running feels so dangerous.

"You're-" you pause, giving Carmy a long look from his well-worn sneakers, black jeans, rumpled white shirt, trembling lips holding up his flaring nostrils, and wide, black blues. 

You take a deep breath and cross the moat. 

"You make my heart beat way too fucking fast, Carmy.”

His lips pinch with despair.

“It's…” You lay a palm over his chest, relishing the sharp intake of breath and rhythmic thudding beneath. “I didn't like it at first because I've gotten so used to it racing when I'm stressed or panicking—it makes me feel like I'm gonna die… but when you told me how you felt, my heart wouldn't slow down, and it freaked me out."

"… okay.” He leans against his desk with a wet blink, fist still wrapped in his greasy locks.

Quietly, you continue, "… but I was up the other night, just-I couldn't sleep, and I remembered you said I smelt like… apples…" 

You blush, thumbing the heat and trying not to smile at how he said it that last time, with total unabashed reverence between your thighs. "… and I found myself making that pie I dropped off. Whole time my heart was thudding in my throat, but it was nice. Iliked it. I forgot how good it could feel for it to do that."

"Me too," Carmy exhales, finally releasing his hair to drop both arms at his sides. 

"Yeah," you whisper, thumb rubbing the dip between his pectorals. Even though it's just you and Carmy here, everything feels naked; each word and touch, every breath and heartbeat. 

" Umm , did you like it?" You ask, changing the topic as your pulse cools down.

His brows crease together, lips pursed into a pucker of confusion so clueless that you almost laugh, almost smile… instead you close the distance with another step, inches from pressing yourself against him, settling on massaging little swirls into his heaving chest instead. You cock your head to the side and shift your attention from those lazy still puddles of blue to the baking tin filled with crumbs. 

Carmy follows your gaze, clearing his throat with a stutter, "The-the pie, right. Yeah… you used molasses instead of brown sugar and applesauce to thicken. Old school, and obviously, it was terrible."

You smile when he cracks one, attempting to joke, and though it’s lame and his face doesn’t sell it, you love it. 

"You're good at this, ya know."

He chokes out a sardonic laugh, rubbing at his stubble-rough jaw before holding his red cheek in his flower-inked hand. 

"I don’t believe you for a fuckin’ second.”

TheSense of Urgency (SOU) is stark against his pale skin. For the first time, you note the bandages around his fingers and thumb. The angry red dent in his third fingernail, slathered in super glue.

“No?” You giggle.

“No.Fuck no. This shit is over my head," he admits, eyes closed and lashes fluttering. You should notice the shift in his breathing as something worrisome—the thudding of his heart as a sign—but you don’t; instead, you lick your lips and tell him with raw emotion, "I think… I love you too, Carmy. But-"

"But what?"

"… but I'm not a virgin, and I thought I was in love with the first person that made me feel good too. I just-I just can't if that's what this is."

"No," Carmy says with zero hesitation, "The second time I walked you home? I-I’ve been like this since then, later that day."

You almost laugh, remembering how the rain had started coming down outside All Family just as you’d been mocking the weatherman.

… you both ignore the red cross light between idle mid-morning traffic as the spitting drops turn weighty and cold. Carmy shoulders off his jacket mid-jog beside you and mutters a loud 'here, here,' stopping you just long enough to lay his jacket over your head. 

You blush as his white shirt goes translucent in seconds. His muscles flexing beside you, jogging through the topiary threshold into your apartment complex. The parking garage cuts the rain until the sting of it is gone, leaving the both of you panting in the soaked cold… 

'Guess I should have listened to my weather app for once and brought a fucking umbrella,' you wheeze, licking raindrops off your lips as Carmy leans back, filling his lungs with air. 

Your eyes dance down his chest and stomach. The murky hue of hidden tattoos beneath drenched cotton catches your attention, but it's the thick frame of muscular definition that you follow… leading to an exposed strip of bare stomach, glossy with rain and trailing dirty blond hairs… like… like a happy trail…

You freeze, gripped by a sense of longing and affection as your fingers dig into his soaked jacket, still hanging off your crown and shoulders, keeping you warm and wet... 

Carmy fans out his shirt while you're still recovering from the pang between your legs. Then, as if by some strange happenstance, your eyes meet as the rain sleuths over the parking garage roof, creating an echo chamber of heavy breaths, and backtracked droplets. Then, when your heart starts beating again, and when Carmy swallows, something monumental changes.

"When we were drenched to the bone in the parking garage?" You murmur—a gentle coo—and slowly lift your finger to his raised wrist. The soft hairs on his forearm shift to finer baby hairs over his palm and freshly scrubbed skin. Old scars bump beneath your finger pads, and that ugly gash with the glue catches on your nail. Only when your thumb rubs across a bulging vein over his jutting tendons does Carmy open his eyes and stare deeply within you.

"Yeah. Yeah, it was what you said, ya know, in my jacket. About taking it to the dry cleaners 'cause it would smell like that perfume you had on." He admits, cupping your hand over his own and pressing all three under his chin tightly—so tight, you’re reminded of life rafts thrown to castaways at sea. So much warmth in his palms… so rough from the knives and scars yet soft and… possessive. "You,uh , you were just… kinda—you looked good in it. Safe an' happy. Justreally chill, and I smelt like you all day. I just… just wanted that… every fuckin' day, 'cause I couldn't smell you in it anymore after a while."

"So, can you smell me now?” You ask, attempting coy but failing with a crack of nerves. “Still apples?"

"And rain…" His lips twitch into a smirk for half a second, lower lip trembling.

"Makes me come up with pretty words for how you smell, ya know.”

Carmy puffs a shaky breath, trying so hard to look calm.

You mistake it for adorable nerves and press your body to his, asking, “Would it kill the mood if I asked to suck your cock right now—in your office chair? I kinda owe you, and I've been thinking about it every day since you put me on your kitchen counter."

" Jesus fucking Christ… " Carmy curses, looking like someone toasted his cheeks as he leans back, gripping the edge of his desk one-handed, his expression full of terror and lopsided. Overwhelmed, sorta and…oh… shit…

Suddenly, despite the warmth of her confession—the fact she wants to suck his dick right now—Carmy’s heart palpitates, and air evaporates in his lungs.

Not now… not now, fuck…

"Was that—was I too forward? Sorry, I just-you see; I had this dream last night that woke me up… it’s not the first time I’ve dreamt about it—getting you off, of course—and I-” 

Their eyes lock, and he starts to panic, just thinking about fucking things up again. One taste of her pussy, and he nearly ruined everything.What kinda fire is he gonna set if she goes down on him?! 

“ Hey… you okay, baby?"

Baby… fuck. Fuck! No-no, he is not fuckin’ okay…

“Car-Carmy?”

He doesn’t realize he’s shaking until her tone dips, growing concerned. His heart's racing like an adrenaline spike at lunch hour, but it's paired with a dizzy high of elation that confuses his body and brain, leaving him strung out as she steps closer, a weight settling over his chest. He gulps down air, but it's not enough. Suddenly, embarrassingly, he feeds the panic with more panic and clutches at his chest, struggling to breathe anything but his own shame.

"Carmy? Oh, shit… ” 

His vision starts to tunnel, and another wave of dread swells in his throat. Smooth, supple hands reach up to cup his cheeks, pulling his attention forward, into the present where he belongs and not up in his head where he can’t handle the idea that someone—anyone—but especially someone like her, loves him. 

“Carmy.Hey ," her words melt the lump in his throat, "... just keep breathing however you need to breathe, okay? Don't fight it… just let it happen, alright? It's not gonna hurt you. Whatever happens, you can handle it just fine… I know you can. I promise—I promise. It’ll be over soon." 

He nods into her palms, panting heavily as her warm hands slide down his neck, rubbing soothing circles over his collarbones and upper chest, pinching the muscles in his shoulders and raking nails up around his neck and across his scalp. Carmy shivers, heart hammering, but his attention quickly shifts to the tingle down his spine, where his shirt sticks with cold sweat. 

She smiles, forced but warm in the golden-lamp light, and tells him he's safe and it's gonna go away soon and… to just ride it out…

Let it rip , Carmy thinks… and something about that—Michael's words—and her own comforting reassurance, mixed with the stroke of her thumbs beneath his ears… he finally gets in a long, slow breath, and almost instantly, the pounding of his heart starts to ebb…

… it mellows and softens. Her lips plant kisses across his jaw with a terrified chuckle, nose nuzzling the salty perspiration cooling over his skin, chilling his heart out even more… somehow.

"… see, I told you it'd pass.Fuck ."

Carmy puffs out relief like it’s a knife in his lungs, still lightheaded. He wraps his arms around her, drawing her close enough to mold into her. The itch of her loose-knit sweater against her arms sends a pleasurable ripple of goosebumps down his limbs.

"I-did you…" he takes a shaky breath and buries his long nose in the fragrant tumble of hair at her cheek, squeezing her tighter until he can feel her heart pulsing against his own, "... did you mean it. What you said about-about loving me? Cause I…Jesus fucking Christ . I want that so fuckin’ bad.”

“Well,” he can hear the smile in her voice as her fingers pluck and twirl the hair on the back of his neck, “if you’re gonna take it that well, I might have to lie to you from now on.Seriously , how are you feeling? You okay now, Carmy?”

“Yeah, I,umm… I’m okay,” he sniffs, arms crossed behind her, grabbing her shoulder and lower back in two fists, trying to melt himself into her like a stable emulsion of buerre monté. Hot. Versatile. Spoil free. 

Carmy drags his chin down her neck and drops his forehead into her shoulder, exhaling against her, only to choke up the second she draws him even closer… 

… his dick’s hard, and she knows it, swaying her stomach against his. He moans, grinding forward as he hands drop down to her lower back, then brazenly scoop up her backside, finger in her soft cheeks, and angles her even closer. 

“Fuck… so, was that ano to sampling somecrème de Carmen ?”

“ Jesus ,” Carmy laughs, cheek dimpling against her shoulder, genuinely amused and lighthearted for the first time since they’d eaten Michael’s sauce on his sofa, “No, no-I mean… Yes,please . You can sample whatever you want.”

“Really? Right here? Your office,” she teases, slipping her fingers down his chest to shove several fingers between skin and black denim. Carmy swallows, thrusting against her a couple more times before picking his head up in time to feel her lips skim his nose, cupid’s bow, and then his slack mouth. It’s electric—a bunsen burn caramelized with a swipe of her tongue. 

He’d never let anyone do this in the restaurant, even though Richie’s probably gotten laid a couple times in here… but as hypocritical as it is, the thought of getting off in here sends a thrill down Carmy’s spine—a high that’s clear of anxiety like the palpitations of before.

All his milestones happened in a kitchen—a restaurant—for the most part, so why should this be any different?

Carmy's lips are swollen n' wet from her kisses when he stumbles backward, being gently shoved down into his chair. Metal hinges squeak loudly in the small office, but it's the rustle of her knitted sweater that echoes in his ears. He blinks, catching a glint in her eye from the sole light source; that single, aged desk lamp flooding everything within its reach in hard shadows, but it gives him the perfect view of what he hasn't seen beneath her baggy tops…

Her breasts swell against a simple black bra, heaving with every breath, making his sliced-up fists grip the armrests until his fingers are pulsing. Carmy's seen tits before, most recently at the bachelor party they'd hosted for Cicero's buddy, but it'd been through window panes or peripherals while breaking up that fucking fight… right now, it couldn't be more different—it's for him and no one else.

“You’re-you really want to-“

Her naked sides press between his knees, forcing his thighs open. 

She smiles when she says, "Is it really that surprising?" and balls up her sweater, reaching up to fluff it behind his neck, immediately filling his senses with that crisp, fall perfume and the subtle warmth of her body heat smoothing the tension in his neck. Carmy swallows, leans back, and stares up at the ceiling in bewilderment, throat bobbing with a nervous gulp. His cock's been rock hard since the second or third kiss—since she'd grinded him against his desk with her tongue skimming his inner lip… fingers unbuckling his belt.

Now Carmy is taking in ragged breaths through his nose as her fingers pull down his zipper and tug just enough for his erection to press up against his boxer briefs. 

"I guess the question is," she pauses to snap the waistband at his hip, "doyou want to?"

"Yeah-yeah, but… haven't gotten better since the last time. Not gonna last long, and it,uh , it's been a long day," he admits, hoping she understands his meaning without having to explain it's been avery long, sweaty day serving Syd's perfected braised beef ribs.

"Longhard day, huh?" She giggles, and he can't help but let out a mindless chuckle, sorta still reeling over what's about to happen: his first-ever blowjob.

Unconsciously, he's been preparing for this moment. 

While they've been avoiding one another, Carmy's hormones have not, and he's been coming home every night this week, meditating—or trying to—laying there on the sofa with his phone slurring out gongs and chimes, doing his best to ignore the steely pulse of his dick. And every night, he's found himself edging off several times until he can't contain it anymore, cumming in thick, steamy ropes across his stomach with her name on his lips. But try as he might to last longer; even on his own, he can't. All that tension in his stomach—the simmering swell in his balls—it's about to boil over, and she hasn't even touched him yet.

Carmy hisses as she flicks his waistband again, waiting patiently with a hesitant smile, "Carmy?"

"Chef?" He says out of habit and a little bit of fantasy, "I mean…" because the idea of having her work at the restaurant, making pies and pastries alongside Marcus, hasn't left his mind since the moment he tasted her scones… 

She sucks in a breath—a laugh—and peels back the elastic cotton, exposing his bare, cherry-red cock to the open air. It's never been this engorged; flared at the cap and so swollen every heartbeat makes it twitch. A dewy drop of precum rises and spills over the curvy head, sliding around the bulbous veins curling down the left side. 

"I'm gonna-if you don't-"

She sweeps forward with her pink tongue and licks away the clear dollop from his slit.

" Fuck! "

Her slippery touch lingers, scooping beneath his frenulum and around the distended cap. 

"Jesus…fucking —b-baby. Wait-wait!"

She gives his dick a wet kiss and swirls her tongue again, pushing and sweeping over the weepy slit.Jesus Christ… fuck, he's gonna cum, and hedoesn't wanna… not yet. He wants it to last longer—wants to hover in this forever, but he'd take five minutes just for starters. 

In a moment of weakness, he whimpers her name and grabs a fistful of her hair. She hisses but quickly lays her hand over his palm before he can release her. Carmy mutters a weak apology, though, caught somewhere between wanting to shove his cock down her throat or pull her off so he can kiss his taste off her tongue. He's never sampled himself… but he figures anything would taste good from her lips… even his own cum.

"You can be a little rough, Carmy," she whispers, hot over his cock

“Really?”

“ Mhmm… ”

Drool slides down his shaft from her tasting tongue, flicking and circling around all those nerve clusters until he nearly chokes when her fist clenches around it, firm and tight, almost exactly how he does it himself. But it's too much all at once. Carmy can't help himself, so he pushes her head down—silky strands between his bandaged fingers—and suffers the overwhelming heat of her mouth with a pinched brow and clenched teeth. She sucks and squeezes her fist, and that's… that's how Carmy finds himself white-knuckling her hair and his armrest, thigh muscles tensing, toes curling, and cumming down her throat. 

“ Ffffuck… fuck—shit, you’re… Oh,fuck .” He hisses, and paints her insides with more violent spurts, moaning out heavy, wet breaths that echo back at him in the tiny office. 

"I didn't mean-" Carmy tries to apologize, then shivers as she sucks and pulls up, extending his orgasm from a hit to a drag…

Another string hits the back of her swirling tongue as his sack drags right against his body. 

" Fffuuuuck -fuck, yeah ."

She gulps, and Carmy hears it—feels it. Another pulse shoots through his cock, then another weak drizzle’s quickly slurped up and swallowed with a hum of contentment. His lashes flutter; his heart thuds happily as buckets of dopamine bastes his brain, making his lips curl up into a loose, lazy smile. 

Exceptional. Amazing. Pure… distilled and refined like clarified butter. He feels… so good…

Carmy shivers as her lips drag upward, sucking delicately before detaching from his softening cock. He releases the armrest and sweeps his sweaty curls off his forehead, feeling feverish and weak, like some overcooked slab of rump roast.

Against his cock, her words come out sticky-soft, “Was… was that okay, Carmy? I mean… I can taste howokay it was but I-"

Let it rip… don’t overthink it. Just do it.

Carmy scoops her up as she stumbles over her words, ignoring the drag of his wet, flaccid cock against her thigh and gathers her into his lap. His thumbs sweep around the balls of her shoulder, and leans down, kissing his flavor off her lips. She’s acerbic brine and… creamy, with a lingering note of nutty sugar. Layers coat Carmy’s tastebuds until her tongue presses to his. A flick here, a swipe there… teeth and lips, and a tilted suck against his tongue. His cock is hard again in minutes… and her fingers are wrapped tightly around it, stroking until Carmy is dizzy and gasping, asking her breathlessly, “Wanna fuck you… Can I fuck you?—on the desk—anywhere you want. Please?”

She whimpers, lips against his again, and nods, “... yes-yes, please.”

AO3 Link: HERE

[leverage-commentary]

Part Two of: Leverage Season 3, Episode 14, The Ho Ho Ho Job, Audio Commentary Transcript

Hi friends! So quick mod note here. The Google Doc for this transcript was 51 pages long, and when I tried to paste this over, Tumblr told be that there can only be 1000 'blocks' in a post? Which I'm assuming means lines/each person speaking here. So I am splitting it into two posts. I just posted part one of this episode transcript; here are the last 26 pages of the transcript.

John: That all of the Leverage fans have been waiting for.

Chris: With the beard of evil!

Aboud: Beard of evil.

John: With the beard of evil, Wil Wheaton, ever since Wil Wheaton grew the beard of evil.

Michael: Did he not have a beard on the- when he was on before?

John: He had a scruff of evil.

Chris: Yes.

John: Now he has a full beard of evil.

Aboud: We’re about to see him, aren't we?

Michael: Oh yeah, yeah.

John: Yeah we're about to see him back then, did he have the beard?

Michael: Call the flashback.

Aboud: There it is!

John: Yeah, yeah, he had the beard, it's more scruff, I think he has a fuller beard now. Now the freakout in the van. Boy was he a champ during this, cause we locked he and Aldis in those vans for like 12 hours.

[Laughter]

Marc: Yeah, couple days.

John: Couple days.

Michael: I feel like it should flashback to the DVD commentary for that episode.

John: Yeah.

[Laughter]

Aboud: Oh, there we go.

Michael: Lay that in.

Chris: There you go, it's perindelian [sp?].

[Laughter]

John: Yeah.Yeah and this is also- Wil does great snark. There's nobody who does the-

Aboud: Absolutely.

John: The brutal mocking quite like he does. And he’ll talk about this actually, that once he gave up trying to be a nice guy in his acting and embraced his inner asshole-

Chris: Yeah.

John: His career took off.

Marc: Yeah, he just picks apart the whole team here.

John: Yeah, it's great. And it's fun.

Aboud: One by one.

John: One by one. And it's a lot of fun because the team is very hyper competent, so it's pretty tough to pick apart- to find a villain that's worthy of them, you know?

Chris: Right.

Aboud: And there are a few villains in the Leverage universe that, you know, shit talk.

John: Yes.

Aboud: That's not generally who we- we don't have people that are as colorful in a kind of obnoxious way as Chaos.

John: Yeah, Sterling yanks their chain, but does it more through omission, yeah.

Marc: Oh and this is the best part when he imitates Eliot.

Michael: Yeah, yeah.

[Laughter]

John: The Eliot imitation, oh that's great.

Aboud: “Y’all”.

John: And Wil doing Christain is actually a lot of fun.

Michael: Yeah.

John: No, what it's tricky because for this one, you had to create a perfect Christmas heist plot, get away with it, to a great degree, and then come up with a totally different perfect heist plot.

Chris: Cause it was all mislead.

John: Yeah.

Marc: And he's even drinking Hardison's soda.

John: I know.

Aboud: Gosh this guy.

Marc: Really?

John: Really and he's taken his proxy penis.

[Laughter]

Aboud: Proxy penis.

John: It's really- and fried Lucille. Oh that's just- why can't he have nice things?

[Laughter]

Michael: That's what Tim should've said. ‘This is why we can't have nice things!’

[Laughter]

Chris: Where were you at 2 in the morning when they were shooting?

John: Let's go back and we loop that now, ‘Why we can’t have nice things.’

Chris: Loop it in.

Michael: Like there's a bomb going on in the back of that car.

[Laughter]

Chris: Yeah I know, I thought it was just flames.

Aboud: That's a great effect, a great practical effect of the smoke being emitted, and I believe it was an LED panel that was just pulsing.

Chris: Sparking.

Aboud: And that's how we got the sparks.

John: We don't usually let Aldis play pissed off either. He's kind of-

Aboud: He can do it, though!

John: It's kinda nice seeing that flavor Wil brings that out in him and he's like, you know. It's nice- a lot of people kind of, you know, take Christain’s character off, but when you- we were talking about this the other day on another commentary, Aldis, to a great degree, is the emotional barometer of the show.

Aboud: Right.

John: So whatever Hardison is feeling tends to be what the audience is feeling, you know.

Aboud: And he can do pissed, he can do badass.

John: Yeah.

Aboud: Very well.

John: Yeah the survivalist episode he was very good in, very physical.

Marc: Our 360 shot.

John: Nice 360.

Chris: Yeah.

Aboud: Sort of a signature of this show.

John: It is, ever since the accursed pilot.

[Laughter]

Chris: Now for the-

John: Though we did this handheld, right?

Chris: Now for the geeks, is it handheld? Is this steadicam?

Marc: Steadicam.

Chris: This is not on the track.

John: This is not on the track- I put a $10,000 bounty on the circular track one year, like, if that were to disappear it would-

Chris: Now Yakamoto building, who was Yakamoto and how did he- why did they name this- 

Michael: It's sort of off of-

Marc: Yakitome.

John: Yakitome Plaza from Die Hard!

Michael: This has to be the badass building that's impossible to break into.

Chris: I was wondering what role did he have in the founding fathers of America?

Michael: Edgar Yakamoto?

Aboud: Oh no this is a holdover from- I've got a whole backstory for this.

Michael: Tell us!

Chris: Tell us about Edgar Yakamoto!

Aboud: This is from that era in the 80’s when the Japanese were buying up Rockefeller Center and all the big, you know-

Chris: Oh ok.

Aboud: Landmarks, and the Yakatome Company-

Michael: Yakamoto.

Aboud: Yakamoto- yeah. Was running their high tech security apparatus out of this tower.

Chris: Oh great ok.

John: There's also a lot of little Christmas images in here, which is her ability to fly as an elf.

Aboud: Yes.

Chris: Oh, and also going down the chimney.

Aboud: Yes exactly.

Michael: Another fun thing to write was saying we’re gonna pull an Edward Albee and having Gina and Tim do a little Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf con.

Aboud: Yes.

[Laughter]

Aboud: Interpret that.

Chris: Which they'll be doing down at the Burt Reynolds dinner theater in a couple of months, if you're down in Jupiter, Florida folks.

[Laughter]

Aboud: That’s-

John: Now here’s-

Aboud: Delightful moment.

Chris: Ohh ohh.

John: Oh and shh shh shh!

Marc: Shhh.

All: Shhh.

[Laughter]

John: I would like to remind everyone he's not-

Chris: Is he saying sugarplums?

Michael: Sugar plums!

John: Sugar plums that's right he's sending him to dreams, he's sending him to Christmas sleep, dreams of sugar plums dancing in his head.

Aboud: Sugar plums.

John: The most menacing sugar plums ever.

[Laughter]

John: But for those of you who are worried about the security guard, you can go on YouTube and see people choked out all the time and they're fine, like, five seconds later.

Aboud: Oh yeah.

John: It really is, it's just he's cutting- he’s not cutting off oxygen he's really just, you know, cutting off the blood flow to the brain, making him go to sleep.

Aboud: I mean he was out for about three hours, but you can go on YouTube and see that people come back in five minutes.

Michael: Minor brain damage.

John: Christain didn't quite get the grip right, that guy really bounced back.

Aboud: It was close.

John: We let him sleep up around the set, just kept watch on him.

Marc: The scary thing is this is really the server room that controls all of the sanitation-

[Laughter]

Aboud: Oh yeah.

Marc: And plumbing of Portland.

John: That we’re in? With our giant cameras?

Chris: Is that true? Is that for real?

Marc: Giant cameras and hooking up our computers to it.

Chris: So if you just pulled one thing out, a whole city block wouldn't be able to flush their toilets.

Aboud: Gone.

Marc: A whole city block- it would be like Ancient Rome.

[Laughter]

Aboud: A sewage-

John: Really, it would degrade that quickly?

Aboud: A sewage storm.

John: A tidal wave of cholera.

Chris: By the way, anytime you upload a worm there is a skull and crossbones.

Michael: Oh yeah no, that comes with, you can't have a worm without that.

Aboud: You know, actually, that is normally a pet peeve of mine, false UI. I don't like computer UI in TV, like that does bug me. But I can buy it when you've got a Hardison or a Chaos-

Chris: Yes, yes, you're right.

Aboud: Because they have clearly, from the ground up, built their own system-

John: UI, yeah-

Aboud: They've built their own UI, so yeah why not.

Michael: That’s user interface for those-

John: Yeah, especially if they are working in Linux or something that's really customizable, a lot of guys really have that as a signature.

Aboud: I don't have a problem with that.

John: There you go, and also we’re kind of fighting twenty years of television computers.

Aboud: Right.

John: Where when we in the pilot, for example, the first half of season one we did a lot of stuff really realistic and it turns out to be visually not very interesting.

Aboud: Right, right.

Marc: This was a good graphic save that Derek did, cause we couldn't afford to shoot a building at night with all these vehicles outside the building.

Chris: Oh this is great.

John: Yeah.

Marc: So we said let's come up with a graphic.

John: I love that little leaving them hanging.

Aboud: Don't leave me hanging.

John: Don't leave me hanging.

Aboud: How great is Derek Frederickson, our graphics person.

Chris: Oh yeah.

Marc: Fantastic.

John: It's a crucial part of the storytelling of this show. 

Marc: Yeah.

John: And it's interesting- and you guys glommed onto it very quickly, but when writers start on the show, a big part of writers learning to write Leverage is learning that they don't have to write speeches- go to the screen.

Aboud: Yeah.

John: The screen is there, it's six feet across, you know, use it.

Aboud: The screen in many ways represents a sort of objective reality. You know, that's one thing for facts to be parceled out in dialogue.

Michael: [Snores]

[Laughter]

John: Oh god did you go to Harvard? That's a really Harvard-

Michael: Oh I'm sorry.

Aboud: Yeah.

Michael: We back?

John: Ordinarily you could-

Aboud: Sorkin writes our dialogue, Sorkin writes all our dialogue.

John: You could ordinarily think that Colton fell asleep because it was boring, but he really fell asleep because it wasn't about him.

[Laughter]

Michael: I just hadn’t spoken on the commentary track, so-

Chris: There you go, there the great-

John: Great Wil Wheaton gloat and grin. And now we're in a totally different episode! I love this. 

Marc: That's right.

John: We’re in a totally different plotline here.

Aboud: Some emotional stuff out of Nate and the team.

Marc: Yeah, Nate takes it on the chin.

Chris: Mea culpa. He's very mea culpa this season, we don't get that a lot out of him.

John: Well you know, this was one of the things we were building to this season, is because the way he behaved last year, he has to accept that he is a peer of them now.

Aboud: Right.

John: Yeah, now he can't just dictate, he is one of the team and he has to take his lumps.

Aboud: He's one of the thieves.

John: Yeah now we're about to cut from the lovely mall to a real- to the guts of the sanitation building. What was it like shooting in the sanitation building?

Michael: Smelly.

Marc: It smelled- it actually smelled a lot worse above ground, it was hard. I mean getting all the gear down there was tough.

Chris: Yeah.

Aboud: It was dystopian.

Marc: It looked beautiful!

[Laughter]

John: It was [laugh] Viggo Morrison with the shopping cart.

Marc: You can't build tunnels like this!

John: No, no you can't. It's really one of those places you have to shoot the location.

Marc: Yeah you just- we got a lot of production value out of it.

Chris: And then the fake fact I like that they had underground tunnels in Boston back in the day.

Aboud: That was inspired by the fact that downtown LA, combination of things: downtown LA does have an abandoned pedestrian infrastructure that was built in collaboration with Disney. They wanted to put Wedway people movers throughout LA and realized it's sunny here all the time, you never will need that!

[Laughter]

Aboud: And they wisely stopped the project. The other half of it is the steam tunnels of MIT.

John: Yes.

Chris: Oh okay.

Aboud: Which are notoriously fun to run around.

Marc: And here you go, you get Wil Wheaton in tights.

John: Yeah, I love the fact that he has anticipated- that he is gone and either bought or made this outfit to close the deal.

Michael: Well he had it.

Aboud: So unnecessary!

Michael: He owned it.

John: There’s no reason!

Chris: It is very much- no you wanna approach a Santa-

Michael: Chaos used to go to ren faires, he had that.

[Laughter]

John: Exactly. Will might've owned that costume.

Aboud: Yeah.

John: I'll ask him when I talk to him next time. And now we've got a cross going, we've got like our third heist in the entire show going at this point.

Michael: It's exhausting, frankly.

John: Also in Boston actually there was- there's apparently still a lot of leftover underground infrastructure from the Big Dig when they put in the tunnels to the Logan airport.

Aboud: Oh sure, absolutely.

Marc: This is a 360 around the work force table that we've never done before.

John: Is this one of those things you realize that you were about to do for the first time as you were preparing the shot?

Marc: Yeah.

John: Yeah, that's always a good thing.

Chris: But I like it. That's a nice way, you got Nate moving away.

Marc: I got him from one end of the table to the other end, and then an exit.

[Laughter]

Marc: Perfect!

John: Well it's hard, it’s one of the challenges is breaking up when we've got static shots is like: keep people moving.

Marc: And again to cover the five-hander.

John: When the writers strand you like that, with the big stinking load of pipe like that.

Michael: Huh what?

John: Nothing.

Aboud: Uh-oh.

Michael: Santa fight.

John: Santa fight coming up.

Aboud: No not yet, first the wall saw.

Marc: Looking at this, this is my favorite graphic, the wall- the graphic of the saw on the screen, when that shows up.

Chris: Now how many-

Aboud: He went to the trouble to make a graphic of a saw to chart the progress of the real saw.

Marc: And we see it! Yeah.

[Laughter]

Aboud: Here it goes.

[Laughter]

Chris: There it is! That's the saw.

John: You know what? That would not be hard to do, I can see why he would do that.

Marc: That's CG dust and debris there.

John: Really?

Marc: Yeah, cause our fake-

John: They wouldn't let us cut through the wall?

Marc: Our fake walls were not creating enough.

Aboud: It isn't creating enough masonry dust.

John: Our fake walls were too well made?

Aboud: Apparently.

Marc: This was actually the last scene of the episode that we shot.

John: And another great little cheat is bounce through the window and they're looking out at this big giant exterior that will never- we don't have to connect them with.

Aboud: Exactly.

Marc: Yes, big cheat.

John: But it's useful, I mean, we did this in the pilot, though, remember when we shot that we built a window that he was looking out at the opposite building with.

Marc: Yup.

Aboud: Flashback to our kid.

Michael: Oh ohhh.

Aboud: Putting two and two together.

Michael: Planting seed.

Aboud: It's under the north pole.

John: There you go. That's also a nice job you guys did, which was making sure everybody had a little hero moment, I mean besides the fight. One of the things we were trying to focus on this year- and you saw it a little bit at the end of season two, was that Eliot was a very unpleasant, dangerous human being, and as such, he has a strategic sense that comes into play into these situations. He's not just a hitter.

Aboud: Right.

John: Also nice respect the suit, there you go.

Michael: Mhh hm nice Dave Foley, this is-

Marc: His exit here is the best.

Michael: Yeah.

Aboud: Think Downey said this was his favorite line of the season.

Chris: It is my favorite line.

Marc: That little stutter.

John: No this is a-

Michael: The morphine line?

Aboud: That's later.

Chris: That's coming.

John: I can't believe you let me drive it later, because it just takes the stink off, I mean. That's a great group shot. I've never noticed that before. I don't know just cause we were jammed up when we were shooting this one.

Aboud: The way they break, how about that.

Chris: Very nice.

Aboud: Here we go.

John: Santa fight. I think we just chanted Santa fight in the writers room.

[Laughter]

Chris: [Mocking] Chaos.

Marc: [Mocking] Chaos!

[Laughter]

Aboud: Look at that stink.

John: And there's a nice moment here, actually, where he's gonna beat Chaos up because he wrecked Hardison's van.

Aboud: Yes.

John: One of those little moments of friendship.

Chris: Well didn't he sort of- Wil picked up on the van thing.

Marc: Oh yeah, he said-

Aboud: Oh Wil was-

Marc: Well I wrecked that van.

Aboud: I wrecked that van.

Michael: That's right.

John: They turned it into like he banged his girlfriend.

All: Yeah!

John: I'd forgotten that. And they did it on the set right?

Chris: Yeah.

Aboud: He wrote that line on the set.

John: Yeah [laughs] wrecked that van.

Chris: This is great.

Michael: Wrecked that van.

John: Great Santa fight. And tricky too, this is one of those writing versus set challenges cause the way this was written- the geography of taking the bags and stuff was much easier; then you get down into the tunnel and it's like, ‘Oh, this doesn't line up with our imagination back in Los Angeles at all.’

Aboud: We’re gonna have to figure that out.

Chris: You smartly gave him a slightly different hued Santa suit so you didn't get confused as to who was-

Michael: He actually just spilled red wine on it.

John: Unfortunately hammered. Is that digital steam?

Marc: That is digital steam.

Aboud: Both.

Marc: We had a little bit and then we just added it to create the wall.

Chris: That's great.

John: Yeah, it looks nice.

Michael: Looks great.

John: Mark Franco, our digital effects guy here, adding production value every single week.

Aboud: Definitely. 

John: I like the little braid in the Santa hair- would Santa have braids in his hair? i'm not-

Michael: Santa- some Santas have cornrows now.

Marc: He's Cherokee, part Cherokee.

John: Part Cherokee Santa? Alright. Fair enough, I did not know that

Aboud: I think that was actually a tie to secure it, but it's gotten loose in the fight.

Marc: Yeah.

John: It's interesting because all the December episodes are kind of our fable episodes, like the ones we've always wanted to do.

Chris: Yeah.

John: You know the steal a country, the Christmas episode. It's- they're a little gentler than the other ones.

Aboud: Sure.

John: You know.

Marc: This was the best stuff, filming scenes with children and stuntmen.

[Laughter]

Michael: When there were about 20 minutes had to go-

Marc: Without a fight!

John: Yeah, apparently there were all these laws about how many kids you can have-

Chris: Now where's the-

Michael: That's from Die Hard, right?

Chris: Where did that come from, did we buy that?

Michael: Looks like Die Hard.

Chris: We bought that, that was great.

Marc: That was a stock shot. Yes, you have ten minutes to film these kids or we’re all going to jail.

[Laughter]

John: Oh come on.

Aboud: Well stunt men and kids are enemies in the wild.

[Laughter]

John: That’s true.

Michael: Stunt men eat kids in the wild.

John: Well actually, that was a big deal - we had to have guys with those poles with loops on them right off camera to like grab the kids from the stuntmen.

Aboud: The wranglers.

John: That's right, Charlie Brewer popped one of these kids - just hit them right in the face.

Aboud: Oh totally, he had it coming.

John: The kid was obnoxious and missed his cue. This is- and we bring Christmas back. I like this is a good natured episode, I like this.

Marc: Yeah.

John: Even though Santa is brutally beating [laughs].

Aboud: I mean-

Chris: No, but then they are redeemed too, the evil Santas - they are moved by the children!

Michael: The kiss of a child!

[Laughter]

Michael: That'll do it.

Aboud: Their hearts are warmed.

Marc: That will do it every time.

John: Their hearts grow three sizes that day, that's nice.

[Laughter]

Aboud: And here we reveal that Eliot, on purpose, caused the steam wall as a ruse. Part of the clever plan of team Leverage.

John: They all look very happy here. And there you go, the undercover FBI.

Chris: Now did she flash a badge underneath the-?

Marc: Yeah, I think so.

Michael: I don't know what she flashed.

Aboud: It worked.

John: You know what, this is one of the things where it's like if a woman in an elf costume comes up and says she's an FBI agent, you're gonna believe her.

Marc: Course you are. Especially when she looks like that.

John: Yeah, exactly. And then she, you know, fights for the Christmas spirit, absolutely.

[Laughter]

Aboud: It's just-

John: Kindly FBI agents.

Chris: I think we need to-

Marc: There was a shot of Beth's sister in there as one of the mothers as well.

Michael: There we go, kiss! Awww!

All: Aww!

[Laughter]

Michael: I'm gonna give up my evil ways.

Chris: He loved it! Everybody!

John: Man, when I get out of jail in seven years I'm really gonna be changed.

[Laughter]

Michael: And here's the line!

John: “Can't believe you let me drive!”

[Laughter]

John: It's just so wrong!

Chris: Oh, that made me laugh.

John: Oh, and it really does take an actor like Dave Foley to land it, to kind of take the stink off it and- you know. This is it.

[Laughter]

Aboud: And then ho ho ho, you're right, that was ill advised.

John: And then.

Aboud: This guy just waiting, lying in wait for him.

John: Yeah. If Eliot-

Chris: And the backstory is he's an underprivileged kid, right?

Aboud: Exactly.

Michael: He's a latchkey child.

John: He’s a latchkey and now this is his last year for Santa.

Chris: Got a Rubbery Robby.

Michael: He's in juvie.

John: He's in really? What was he in juvie for?

Aboud: Caring too much.

[Laughter]

John: Really? I didn't know-

Aboud: Yeah.

John: -that was a crime.

Chris: There you go.

Marc: It's my third man shot of-

Chris: Yeah that's great.

John: That was really third man, that's nice. I wish we had the van going.

Aboud: The shadows. Put them up in a ferris wheel.

John: There you go. And man, you know what, we get a lot of mileage out of those FBI-

Marc: Jackets.

Aboud: Windbreakers.

Chris: Cafe press, we need to start.

[Laughter]

John: You know, I think they would probably have words with us if we started making FBI gear and selling it online.

Michael: Is that a problem?

John: That would probably be a problem.

Aboud: I think they'd have issues.

Michael: I like this bit.

John: The gloat.

Michael: Meaning of Christmas.

John: The meaning of Christmas gloat, just because Wil is so truculent.

[Laughter]

John: He's so hateful.

Michael: But he was right, the meaning of Christmas did not help them.

[Laughter]

Aboud: It barely applies!

Marc: Barely applies!

John: What I love is he's right, but that- I think that's kind of Chaos’s superpower, he is actually the only sane person in every episode he's in.

[Laughter]

John: Everyone else is living in Leverage-verse and he's kind of the cranky realist.

Aboud: He's the Frank Rhines.

John: He is, he’s the Frank Rhines of Leverage.

Chris: Oh here we go.

John: And this is a nice scene.

Chris: And this, now Marc, how long did this take?

Marc: This took a half a day.

Chris: Wow.

John: To shoot this whole sequence, the one scene.

Marc: Yup, this one scene.

Aboud: Lot of coverage.

Michael: I feel like there was stuff added that wasn't in the script. Like the- some of the Eliot with the sword and-

Marc: Yeah, I thought we'd do that. I added that just to give it just some action and plus, you know, Christain has a sword, why not?

Aboud: I don't think I added that much time though.

John: Yeah. I we originally had, like, killing ninjas-

Marc: Yeah, exactly.

John: Some ninjas arrive and he kills them, but that turned out to be too big.

Aboud: It's just the nature of having five people in that configuration, that's the trouble.

John: Well thank god for that corner of the bar. We found second year- we found that first episode second year and we were shooting all over the bar and were like how do we- ahhh this corner!

Michael: Oh, frame it around the portrait of JFK.

John: Rightfully so, by the way.

Michael: Yes.

Aboud: Yeah.

John: There you go.

Chris: Here we go.

Aboud: Watch this little bit he does. He pulls it ‘herh’!

Chris: Digital- that’s digital folks!

Marc: Digital glint!

All: Digital glint!

Marc: Course.

Michael: Now I forget, this was- we named it after the Kill Bill sword, which is not a real thing.

Aboud: Correct.

Michael: It was made up for Kill Bill, but this- I think now we're saying the Leverage universe exists within the Kill Bill universe.

Chris: No another great fake fact!

Aboud: From Kill Bill.

John: This establishes us in the Kill Bill universe.

Marc: Wait, this is my favorite part when he puts it back in.

Aboud: Here it goes!

Marc: Like Hardison’s gonna steal it.

John: And he's about to disappear off into the forest.

Aboud: Yeah.

John: No, it's great. Well it's kind of a will newton thing i'd like to see on the website now, people kinda connect the Leverage verse together with the Kill Bill-

Michael: They can write fanfiction. It's like Jackie Brown and-

John: Exactly. Because the Quentin Tarantino movies all exist in the same universe.

Michael: Yes.

John: There you go.

Aboud: And we should point out that when Mark Foley was going to- Dave Foley, excuse me, not Mark Foley.

Michael: Not congressional.

Aboud: Very different story. When Dave Foley’s going out of the country, he's going to San Lorenzo!

Michael: Ohh.

John: That's right.

Marc: Cause there's no extradition there.

John: Exactly, we established that you guys put San Lorenzo in there to establish that, that was very nice.

Aboud: Planted that seed.

Michael: Ope.

Chris: Oh that's great.

John: How did you do that?

Marc: We cut it, and glued it.

John: Nice. Just struck it. And I love the- she just likes money.

Michael: The smell of it, feel of it.

Chris: Just smelling it.

Marc: Gina was great in this scene, she played it really well.

John: Just sort of get me something shiny. This was great and this was tough. It was actually tough to see, yeah we had to digitally highlight that to get “your name here”. And people are wondering what she writes down. She does not write her full name down here.

Michael: We what was that- Falooza Pricklebottom or something? Is that her real name?

John: That is her real name, thanks for spoiling it for the audience.

Chris: People are gonna, you know, analyze the-

Aboud: The pen strokes.

Marc: Oh yeah, in the outtakes every time Tim would grab the napkin and go, “Steve?”

[Laughter]

Marc: Oh, and here's our snow.

John: Oh, yeah there you go.

All: Aww.

Michael: The innocent face of a child.

John: The lovely look on Beth's face, that's a hell of a read right there. Just busy-

Marc: Just walks right under the knife.

John: He's just thinking about killing, he’s really-. ‘I'm thinking about killing, you kids are thinking about Christmas.’ Now this is actually one of my favorite ending shots of all three years-

Michael: You can't see- they can't see, but you're crying.

John: I'm crying, I have tears running down my eyes.

Michael: Oh no that's Guinness.

John: That's Guinness [laughs] smeared all over me like I'm a small child.

Michael: Crying Guinness.

Marc: Digitally enhanced snow.

John: That smile back? That's killer.

Marc: Oh yeah.

John: That's killer right there.

Aboud: And he has to like-

Chris: He always has to-

Michael: Crane shot!

John: And then the crane. We paid for the crane, use the crane.

Marc: That's right, watch the flake land on her tongue!

All: Ohh great! [Laughter]

John: Digital?

Aboud: No, that was real!

John: That was a real one!

Marc: Enhanced!

John: And that was The Ho Ho Ho Job! That was a ton of fun. Thanks for watching and stay tuned.

Aboud: Merry Christmas!

Michael: Merry Christmas everybody!

John: And a happy new year!

[sunblazes]

wait mara has anyone told you tommyinnit is here on tumblr

yeah.Yeah. yep. yep. I know

[noirbriar]

FFXV AU: Starlight  

prompts: ( dance / galahd / stars )

-----

The joyful songs of the Galahdians resounds throughout, their happiness unbridled and laughter full. The boisterous crowd dance merrily as the bonfires illuminates the peaceful night. Even a far distance from the town, the voices of the island people still echo clear and bright. In the evergreen glades towards the forests, under the darkness with only the stars to guide their way, two figures run along the shadows like teenagers escaping their tribe without a care.

“Over here! Under this side!” Nyx laughs, a little high from all the alcohol as he pulls Cor along in his excitement. The Galahdian had been eager to show the older man something desperately since the festival was in full swing. A good enough time that the Representative and Marshal, two important figures will not be missed. Cor simply shakes his head with a tiny smile tugging at his lips, almost as drunk as his partner, without any annoyance at his husband’s insistence and enthusiasm.

“Are you going to tell us where we’re going at all?”

“Trust me!”

Since their move from Insomnia, the two retired commanders have been busy settling down and helping the reconstruction efforts with the community. It was only recently the main town had been rebuilt with the Isles finally welcoming her children home after years of war and grief. The joyful natives quickly putting together a festival celebrating the revival of Galahd.

Very soon, they will expect their son and the Lucian royals to arrive as well. All in show of good faith between Lucis and the Galahd. In particular diplomatic trip, their son will take on the ceremonial role as the Farseer instead of Crownsguard for the first and last time. In part out of gratitude for the people who have aided Etro in her cause and keeping her in faith.

Nyx tugs Cor through into a rocky undergrowth where the Galahdian smiles. Its still here. Admist the war and destruction, something had remained after all. He shifts aside and quietly lets his husband take in the sight before him. The younger man watches in anticipation as the Lucian’s eyes widen in awe. Just as he did as a child. This. This was the Galahd he had remembered from his memories.

“Come on down! Get closer.” Nyx urged, slowly sliding down over the slippery rocks. Occasionally turning over his shoulder to keep Cor in his sight. Cor follows with ease, as Nyx tugs off his boots, pants rolled up to his knees before carefully stepping into the river of stars.

On this hidden overlook, the ocean slumbers in the horizon while the town can be seen easily, its bonfires glowing bright like an endearing flame. Should one listen closely, you can still hear the songs even from this distance. Vast forests span across the land where Nyx knows exactly where Etro’s Shrine stands from here. With the misty mountains in a distance marking the Galahd canyons beyond. However, it was what is right before their eyes, that he had been eager for his husband to witness.

A part of the Galahd river that had meandered off, the currents flowing ever so gently still, resembling more of a translucent silk ribbon weaving through the land. A clear mirror reflecting the boundless sky filled with stars watching over Galahd and her people, all dancing around them in wonder. The water glowing in an ephemeral light as it illuminates the emerald forest that shelters this secret sanctuary in its little sphere, a realm of its own.

Nyx studied Cor as the older man had sober up and stares at the view surrounding him silently. The Lucian’s eyes filled with quiet wonder. This was definitely something you cannot find on the mainland or any place else. It has been years, after traveling across Eos and even having a glimpse of the Astral Plane, Nyx himself still finds the sight before him breathtaking.

“Well?” Nyx grins.”I told you before that I will show you Galahd, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.Yeah, you did.” Cor smiles softly, still entranced by the overwhelming sight.

It took them years, of endless fighting, death and loss, sacrifice and sorrow. But here it finally sinks in for these two men who fought for the future till the very end. They finally have peace at last. Right now, this is almost like a surreal dream that Nyx have always dreamt of.

“Nyx?”

“Yeah?”

Cor wades over the shallow water, almost careful not to disturb the tranquility. With his calloused hands gently reaching out to bring the Galahdian man’s forehead against his own. Nyx lets him, allowing the gentle touch fill his being as his heart dances with joy. He knows his husband is not one for plenty of physical displays of affection. Though when he does, the Lucian’s feelings are nothing but genuine and pure.

“Thank you, for showing me your home.”

“Idiot. Galahd is your home now too.”

In the quiet of the night and in his joy, Nyx pulls his partner in, guiding him into slow steps of a dance with the stars floating around them like an endless dream. Cor lets himself go and immerses in the moment, singing one of the many songs in galah he had learnt over the years living with Nyx.

Come tomorrow, once their son finally arrive at the shores of his homeland, their little family will be whole again. At long last, Nyx thinks the Galahdian in him that has been running forever, can finally be at peace.

[brelione]

Never (JJ Maybank X Reader)

Request:67 rudy or jj

Warnings:Smut,choking

JJ’s hand tightened on your wrist,making sure you wouldnt get lost in the crowds as he pulled you along.Once you reached the Chateau he didnt even try to hide his goal even with Pope asleep on the couch.He pulled you into his bedroom,pushing you up against the door.

 “You think its funny to go around flirting with tourons?”He asked.You tried not to smile as you stared up at him.His hand reached up,wrapping around your throat. “Do you think its funny?”He repeated.You gulped,rubbing your thighs together slightly to cause friction. “No,I think its hot though.”You answered,watching as a cocky smirk came across his face. 

“On your knees.”He told you,letting go of your throat and letting you kneel.You undid his belt buckled,unzipping his jeans and pulling them down.He pulled down his boxers,urging you to hurry up.Your fingers grazed his veins lightly,making him moan.His hands tugged at your hair hard,making you look up. “Dont tease me.”He spoke low,serious.

You bit your lip,being turned on by his tone.You kissed the tip,rubbing his shaft a few times before taking him in.He moaned loudly,leaning his arms against the door.You took him in slowly until he hit the back of your throat,the sensation making a moan rip through his throat.His hands went to the back of your head and you thought for a moment that he’d set a fast pace,something that scared you.

He didnt,pulling on your hair lightly and rubbing your scalp.You could feel him twitch in your mouth before he pulled you off of him,panting slightly. “You’re so good for me.”He whispered,his forehead leaning against the door.You smiled,standing up properly and pulling him down for a kiss.He could taste himself on your lips,not really caring as he pushed you against the mattress.He pulled off your crop top,leaving you in your bra.

He kissed down your neck,sucking dark marks.He unclipped your bra,biting his lip once he saw your boobs.His lips latched around your left nipple,sucking on it.He bit down softly before continuing his trail of kisses down your body.He tugged at your panties,looking up at you,silently asking if he could pull them off.You gave him a slight nod,the underwear being pulled off of you and tossed over the side of the bed.

He pressed a few kisses to your inner thighs,enjoying watching you as you squirmed. “What do you want?”He asked you.You gulped,looking up at him and prompting yourself up on your elbows,making eye contact. “I want you to eat me out and fuck me until I cant walk.”You answered,watching as he bit his lip,his eyes darkening to a deep indigo.He leaned down,his hands on your hips to hold you down as his tongue slid in and out of your folds,being fueled by your loud moans.He slid a finger into you,pumping it in and out quickly. “JJ.”You moaned,your head falling back.

He smirked,adding another finger. “Moan my name,princess.”He added another finger,pumping in and out of you at a hellish pace.He didnt have to tell you again,moaning his name over and over again like a prayer.You climaxed all over his fingers,a thin layer of sweat now coating your forehead,your skin hot.He licked his lips,smiling to himself.He had an insane amount of confidence in bed,knowing that no other man had ever seen you from the angles he could see you at.

He positioned himself,his tip at your entrance and one of his hands on your throat,not yet choking you.He gave you a minute to get yourself back together after your first orgasm,getting your breathing back to semi normal. “You ready for me?”He asked.You nodded, “always.”You whispered,biting your lip as he slid into you.He squeezed your throat lightly,giving you a minute to get used to the new sensations before he began to move.He set a fast,relentless pace.

He listened to every noise you made,making sure your moans were loud enough that Pope would be able to hear from the living room.His grip around your throat tightened but never too tight.He had learned the right amount of pressure after the first couple of times.He let out a few grunts,repeatedly hitting your g spot after hearing the pornographic moan you had let out the first time.

He hit a spot particularly deep within you,making him let out the loudest moan youd ever heard in your life.You bit your lip,thinking about what you were about to do.You flipped the two of you over so that you were on top,making his eyes go wide.This had only ever happened one other time,that time being when you were both high out of your minds.He watched as you started moving up and down his shaft,the way you bit your lip,your eyes rolling back in your head had him completely mesmerized.

His hands went to your hips,helping you as he closed his eyes,moans and profanities slipping out of his mouth. “You still mad at me?”You asked,raising an eyebrow.His eyes opened,biting the side of his cheek before his grip on your hips tightened,slamming you back into the mattress. “Yeah.Yeah,I am.”He answered,starting up his pace again.It didnt take long for him to climax,the white fluids dripping out of you.He didnt stop though,knowing better than to be selfish and make you use your fingers to pleasure yourself.His hand around your throat,the other on your hip as he slammed into you repeatedly.

Your vision went blank,seeing stars for a moment as a scream ripped through your throat.JJ licked his lips,watching as a mix of both your fluids leaked onto the bed,pulling out of you.You gulped,too worn out to even bother moving.He chuckled,kissing you gently. “Too hard?”He asked,trying to hide his concern.You grinned tiredly,grabbing his hand and putting it on your waist so he’d pull you into his chest. “Never.”You answered.

@nas-marie-loves-u @28cnn @sexytholland  @yuxsh06   @ifilwtmfc  @cherryobx @poguestarkey @n1ghtsh4d3-67  @poguestyleskye @judayyyw  @sunwardsss @meaganjm @outerbongs  @copper-boom  @httpstarkey 

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[skyfcx]

@madeimpact​ || From Here

     “I dunno, it could’ve been even earlier, honestly. That, at least, was the time where I started to actually process what in the heck was going on.”

     There’s a small puff of air blown upwards, tufts of hair shift from the face with the light gust. “Ugh, then you know how it is. It’s the worst. I’m not sure about you, but I need to go through my morning routine to get my brain working right. Can’t think straight when I couldn’t even get my shoes and gloves on straight, either.” Head rolls, body nigh experiencing phantom exhaustion from the lone act of remembering the situation.

     “Anyways, yeah. It was...”   eyes close to concentrate. “...Eight thirteen, and I’m snuggled up in my jammies when I feel a sort of rumble and some muffled noises. It wasn’t until I heard glass breaking that my body jumped out of bed. And, turns out, I was late to the fight,” he scoffed. Like, what?! Arms gesture out wide at that fact, just to truly drive it home. Eyes grow large, the words ‘incredulous’ written right on top of them.  

     “Yeah. Yeah. Sonic had been tossed through my house’s window by one of Eggman’s bot! Can you believe it? Hey, bless the guy’s heart, he was trying to keep the action outside so nothing woke me up, but Eggman really said ‘rise and shine, sleepyheads!’” Spoken in a terrible Eggman impression. 

     “Pah, and as if a fight before the sun was completely in the sky was bad enough, he had us chasing him all across Central City, too! At nine in the morning! Because me and Sonic had stole something from one of his facilities about a week and a half ago and apparently now he cares about an old data file just because we had it, and...” Mmph. The hand catches a head then collapsed from the memory alone, now held by a propped-up shoulder instead of a neck. Sights glance up to the angel as lips loosened a tense sigh.

     “That’s not even half of the story, but you said you had your own? Please tell me it wasn’t as chaotic as the day I had.”

[bloomyn]

hhShshusushWiu ur writing is gorgeous and beautiful I wish I could write like u 👿 could you write me a scenario of the pillars in a modern day au college or high school (it don’t matter g) with a foreign exchange student who is super nice and cute and innocent friendly etc and maybe them developing a crush on them 👉👈 then one day they invite them to do a tik tok dance with them and theN THEY JUST THROW IT BACK or body roll and the pillar is just LIKe o\\\o AhahHHAHA it’s a weird req but ty!

a/n: ahhh you’re too sweet omg !!! this request was so much fun to write LOL,,all i could think about was the pillars tryna catch it while you threw it back N E WAY,,hope you enjoy :)

when you had arrived in japan through your study abroad program you hadn’t expected to make too many friends. you were there to study, to get you’re degree and go back home. but, um, spoiler alert: nothing ever goes the way you planned.

walking through campus halls you went through your mental checklist

showered? check

finished your modern lit assignment? check

actually packed your lunch? che- oh 

you mentally rolled your eyes. you hadn’t exactly planned to spend money today but it was fine, as long as you didn’t get something to drink tomorrow morning. besides, you were meeting up with your friends later and they insisted on keeping you pretty well fed. you smiled at the thought of your friend group, loud? yes. loving? double yes. whatever that meant.

“[l/n] - chan!” someone shouted from behind you. turning your head you were met with three familiar faces. grinning you started walking towards the group.

“good morning kocho-san, rengoku-san, shinazu-’

the silver haired student flicked your forehead, “oi [l/n] - chan how many times have we told you to drop the honorifics you brat.”

you laughed, shooting him a smile, “ah sorry sanemi!”

the other two rolled their eyes at sanemis antics. “you’re too cute for your own good you know [l/n]?” shinobu said, hooking her arm through yours.

you sighed, “i never know what you mean by that you know.”

meanwhile behind you, rengoku was trying to laugh at his friends pathetic attempts at flirting.

“shut.up. before i rip your hair off.”

the other man only snickered, “i’m pretty sure abusing your crush’s forehead isn’t a top ten flirting tactic - OW!”

you and shinobu turned around to see sanemi trying to beat rengoku into the linoleum floors. hurriedly you ran to sanemis side, pulling at his arm. while shinobu laughed into her arm. realizing that it was you gripping his bicep (he’d have to process that later) sanemi released the other man (who by the way was perfectly fine).

“sanemi you really have to stop picking fights with everyone you know.” you chided, brushing his shoulders off. he turned away from your innocently pouting face, “yeah.yeah. i will.”

“funny how you say that everytime but never follow through.” a new voice popped up, breaking you two apart. 

obanai and mitsuri walked up, joining the group and you could feel the annoyance practically vibrating off of sanemis body. 

you rolled your eyes, “can i just go to class please?”

----

you groaned, taking your seat at the lunch table your friends had claimed.

“is everything alright [l/n].”

you peered up at gyomei’s figure, “modern lit was just a bit annoying.but i feel better now!.”

ah how cute the older student thought. 

soon enough the rest of your friends had made their way to the table and wrapped you in conversations and dumb jokes.

“oh [l/n] i forgot to show you!.” mitsuri hopped out of her seat and came up behind you, shoving her phone in your face. pressing play on the tiktok. you flushed red as the video continued, the two dancers on the screen comfortably rolling their bodies to the music.

“ah - i...”

the group broke out in laughter, even giyuu managed to crack a smile. 

“please will you try it [l/n]?” mitsuri chirped

“oh i don’t know--”

“if you’re worried about the partner thing i already roped sanemi into it since he beat me up earlier.” rengoku smirked, and it wasn’t like sanemi was going to say no to having you dance in front of him

you froze.

ah this was quite the predicament wasnt it? well, it wasn’t like you didnt have a few private drafts saved of the exact same dance anyway.

“sure, we can try.”

after a few minutes of learning the dance, sanemi reluctantly stood up. i mean, it wasn’t like you were actually going to, you know

the others gathered behind the phone. you pressed the self timer and ran to a blushing sanemi. and then the music started.

the first few moves were simple, nothing to extravagant, but the next move...

okay it wasn’t like you hadn’t practiced throwing it back in the privacy of your own dorm. and you definitely weren’t bad at it. 

so when you flawlessly rolled your body down and arched your back up, everyone froze. you only realized the effects of you actions when sanemi didn’t continue the dance and instead had opted to crouch down and bury his face in his hands.

“s-sanemi?”

obanai was the first to recover, laughing as you waved a hand in front of sanemis face. 

“ i think you broke him [l/n] “

“ i didnt mean too--”

“ WHERE? WHAT?” mitsuri shrieked, “AH L/N! WHERE DID YOU LEARN TO DO THAT!”

you laughed nervously. the rest of your friends had erupted into chatter asking you questions, when had you learned to do that? what else were you hiding behind that sweet exterior?

but sanemi still hadn’t gotten up.

you took his hands in yours, “sanemi are you okay.”

shyly, he nodded, gripping your hands even harder. 

----

“i still can’t believe he managed to ask you out after that.”

“HEY!”

you bit the inside of your lip and smiled, bringing yourself closer to sanemis body. he took your hand in his and kissed you knuckles.

“i thought it was cute.” you murmured against his chest. 

“stop being gross!” uzui said, flicking a fry toward the both of you. “its very cute that you found love but also gross!”

somehow you too had managed to work the whole long distance thing out and for the next couple weeks you were able to stay in japan, it was “for work” you had told your boss. 

you embraced the warmth of your friends and your lover, maybe you hadn’t expected this in the beginning but your glad your ‘study only party never’ plans had been foiled

...and that tiktok had managed to get you date with your future husband.

----

requests : open

[lemongogo]

hi i have no one to speak to abt them cutting out ALL OF DABIS PRESCENCE like why wouldnt they include seeing him fall w his siblings why would they just leave dabis approach out why yake out hawks gearing up to protect them against feral dabi why no miruko STOMPS WHY DID THEY LEAVE OUT DONT GO KICKIN THE BUCKET TODORKI ENJI LIKE IM RLY SCREAMING its foreshadowing IN the story so VITAL to the story and dabi studio bones i just wanna talk

hi !!!! ADBHJBFDSJBF I KNOW> I KNOW IM.. dabi. SIR.. 

i know the purpose of the filler eps is so that anime onlies can recap after such a long pause between seasons.,,but i cant help but think that if there was one extra episode , or even an additional 10 minutes Somewhere , that we could’ve included those scenes. 

like !!!!!!! a!!!!!!!!!!!!!! its such a small moment in the manga but this

tells such a big story in just 4 panels. im. bonk!!!! like. its them. the todosibs !!!! together !!! on one page !! fuyumi, natsuo, touya, and shoto !! they’re all watching the same thing unfold, but fuyumi , natsuo, and shoto are all facing the audience while dabi’s back is to us . and ! they all have these . anxious, worried faces and we don’t have the privilege of seeing touyas (just yet). poetic cinema !!!!!!!!! u love to see it !!!

i feel like even if we had ended on 

it would be enough to include the previous screenshot bc 1. we already know dabi was the one who recruited the high end, and 2. it would preface dabi’s involvement without actually spoiling his reveal

AAAA I JUST . I just think it would be so NEAT . the energy. . its all in the energy ., it wouldve been such a thrill to tease his “”fight” 

i guess a nice thing about them suspending it is that hopefully !!! it means they can take all the time they need to ensure it gets the proper attention. BC YEAH THE DONT GO KICKING THE BUCKET TODOROKI ENJI SCENE IS GONNA SEND ME THRU THE ROOF 

its such a vital part in his characterization that im so excited to see how they’ll handle it, esp given that the high end adaptation ws SO good. but YEAH.YEAH. the tension w hawks having to possibly fight against dabi while still securing his spot in the league . miruko coming thru and doing her thing,, thenhten fuckughing dont gookickigng the bcuuket lineee i cant get over how good that panel is . its so pretty. i love the foreshadowing , too . i cant imagine what it would be like as an anime only to end off @ that point  ,had they included it .

BFDLKGD IM >. i was so confident that we’d at least get that ^ scene too KFDKF i cant believe we didnt even get a shred of possibility in the post credits scene

we didnt get much dabi in s4 but ohhhhhhhhmy god. season 5. SEASON 5. sesoansn 5. s5...

[pippki-writes]

An Ill-Fitting Name: Snippet 10

NOTES:

Snippet 1; Snippets 2 & 3; Snippet 4; Snippet 5; Snippet 6; Snippet 7; Snippet 8; Snippet 9

Faoust belongs to @thebiggestnerd - she writes him, Isaiah and Detective Voros here are mine.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Isaiah has thought about texting Faoust many times. But no, he said he’d leave him alone. And besides, what the hell would he say? Where do you even begin?

Faoust thinks about texting Isaiah sometimes too, but like Isaiah, has no clue what to say either.

Both of them, sometimes, thinking about the other, phone in hand, pulling up their messages, beginning to type something, anything—but stopping short. Nothing is quite right. Delete the words that will never suffice, put the phone back down.

Serendipity finally strikes—both Isaiah and Faoust have their texts open at the same time, starting to type and then deleting something only to see the other one’s “...” typing dots show up.

Both stop, pause, to see what the other was going to type. A stalemate, as now neither is typing, dots frozen on the screen.

Isaiah waits to see if Faoust was going to say something. But shit. He knows Faoust saw him typing. He should just leave him alone. He puts the phone down for a second. No. Maybe he should say something. He picks the phone back up. He chews on his lip for a second, thinking.

Well it’s not like Isaiah has much else to do, is there? He feels...strangely nervous. Hell. He starts to type.

Isaiah: “sorry. I know you saw me typing. I wasn’t trying to bother you. Just. Thought about you. Should’ve kept it to myself, I know”

Whatever he’d originally been typing, of course, is not exactly any of that.

Faoust doesn't know what the fuck to say. He doesn't want to admit he'd been thinking about him too.

Faoust: "Interesting. Thanks."

Isaiah lays back on his bed, phone in one hand, nervously opening and closing his knife with the other. What do you say? What do you say when no words can convey the enormity of your own idiocy? That you only recognize looking back and so thoroughly disconnected from who you’d been? What a disaster. He’s surprised to note that he’s...feeling things, isn’t he? That’s a little new. Not sure what to do with that.

Isaiah: “almost could’ve gotten away with it if you hadn’t seen me typing. Oh well. I’ll...go back to leaving you alone”

Faoust: "To be fair, you saw me too. I don't know what to say to you"

Isaiah: “I was gonna be polite and not call you out on that. But yeah.”

Isaiah: “I don’t know what to say either”

Isaiah: “feels like there’s something to be said, but I’m too stupid to figure it out”

Faoust: "I'm not stupid and I still don't know what to say. I guess emotionally we're stupid"

Isaiah: “could be. I’ve just been thinking a lot on everything. And ..wow”

Isaiah: “what a disaster”

Isaiah: “I was a piece of shit...but I sure did ruin a good thing”

Faoust: "Yeah.Yeah you did."

Isaiah: “sorry is pretty insufficient to cover it”

Faoust: "it's a start"

Isaiah: “I’m sorry. You were a friend and I didn’t know what to do with that”

Faoust: "apparently try to kill me? Fuck with my head?"

Faoust: "That's not entirely fair of me. I was going to kill you for fucking with my head. That's not exactly rational behavior"

Isaiah sits up on the bed. He has thought about this a lot, the rough shape of what he wants to say next. The words are never exact as he’s turned them in his mind, but he wants to try to tell them anyway.

Isaiah: “ok, do you want to know what Asmodai was thinking? About you, specifically? Would that help?”

Isaiah: “not to excuse anything of what I did, of course, but to understand maybe?”

Faoust: "O..kayyy?"

Asmodai would rather have died than admit any of this—but in a way, he did, didn’t he? Isaiah, on the other hand, feels almost eager to pry Asmodai’s thoughts and feelings open, to offer them up for Faoust to know.

Isaiah: “he loved spending time with you. He loved going and murdering the shit out of people together. He loved fucking with you more than any of the endless parade of hookup app fucks he summoned up. You had power over him—without you around, these things weren’t as enjoyable. And that fucked him up. He couldn’t deal with that. He wanted you to suffer, because he suffered enjoying things less off on his own. It’s all very fucked up. I don’t know what to say.”

Isaiah: “and now I just know the ghosts of all these feelings, and I don’t feel that shit. But. I was thinking about you. I don’t know”

Faoust: "well that's very frustrating, I'm sure you understand"

Isaiah: “yeah. Sorry”

Faoust: "and what about you? What do you feel?"

Isaiah licks his lips. This is what he was dancing around, hesitant to admit of himself.

Isaiah: “I don’t feel like killing you, or making you suffer for whatever fucked up reasons, or any of that bullshit. But. Even though I’m not him, and I don’t feel that shit......it’s weird.....I think I might miss you”

Faoust sighs and rubs his temples.

Faoust: "I think I might miss you too"

Isaiah is easily up to a dozen victims. All have been reported missing.

Detective Voros looks at a map with dots for every home address of a missing person for the past six months. Nope. She switches to a map with last known locations instead, but still, no pattern emerges. She pulls up a list of each missing person by name, and the last known contact for each missing person. Who last saw them (alive, she can’t help but add cynically). And for every missing person in nearly the past month, the last contact was an officer of some kind. From her own agency. She closes her laptop and stares out into the night.

What.

The.

Fuck.

The first thing Detective Voros checks on the next missing person report that comes in is whether the person had contact with the police that day. Sure enough, the police are not the last person this guy had contact with, but there’s a field contact for the missing young man as a witness in an assault perhaps an hour earlier.

She wishes she hadn’t noticed this. Noticing it means eventually she’ll be compelled to do something about it. What seems most likely is that she’s looking for a suspect in the department. And this many missing people is far too many for them to be kept alive. Not. Fucking. Good.

She clicks the pen in her hand. The pattern here really only started this month. Who would be so reckless? There’s maybe one or two missing persons reported that don’t fit—detritus, she can’t help thinking, the sort of people no one cares much when they go missing, druggie dropout types, but all the others. They fit. She’s briefly grateful for the high missing person rate of this town, because it means no one higher up has started pressing hard on this yet.

Detective Voros stops clicking her pen as realization of a potential lead dawns on her.

God, ugh. She’s so fucking stupid.

The victim who wouldn’t talk.

Who someone probably had tried to kill.

It couldn’t be coincidence, could it?

Maybe it could. Maybe it could.

In her patrol car, she groans in great annoyance. Even though she’s made detective, short staffing regularly keeps her on patrol. Luckily? Unluckily? Tonight is a patrol night. The weather is unusually warm, and the citizens are up to no good. Before she can put herself on a self initiated follow up, she’s dispatched to a call.

On the one hand, Isaiah has already killed someone today. On the other hand, the weather is perfect to go out looking for trouble. It would be almost criminal to stay in his motel room as nice as it is. He goes for a walk.

Faoust texts Isaiah finally.

Faoust:  "As much as it seems like a bad idea, I'll give you another shot"

Isaiah immediately texts back, because he is so far past the bullshit of playing games and hell, he hasn’t talked to anyone in ages really. He says nothing to his victims, these days.

Isaiah: “I defer to your judgment. Whatever you want to do, wherever you want to go, etc. was just out for a walk”

They meet for coffee. They catch up, though there isn’t much to tell of Isaiah’s life besides his return to killing. It’s so different from the theatricality of Asmodai, the way he murders now. Faoust wonders whether it would even work, them killing together again, as he has his sort of ritual compared to the quick, clean efficiency that Isaiah has now adopted. But Isaiah assures him, as much as Faoust once waited around for the deranged things he did as Asmodai, he wouldn’t mind waiting around for Faoust.

That covers the murder friends part, but what about the friends with benefits aspect of what they’d had before? Faoust tactfully asks about whether Isaiah is interested in that as well.

“I have been thinking about this too,” Isaiah says, picking lightly at the paper sleeve on his coffee cup. “Sex is for the living, and I’ve only just begun coming around on accepting that’s what I am. Living, I mean. And that I have to figure out what I want to do with...This fucked up life I’ve inherited from myself.” He stops and sighs. “There are a lot of mistakes Asmodai made that I’d like to avoid repeating. But fucking you was not one of those mistakes.”

Isaiah having killed so many people in the same town in such a short timespan is too reckless for the two of them to do any more of it that night. But spending some time reacquainting themselves with one another violently on top of the motel sheets? A perfect way for Faoust and Isaiah to spend the evening.

They don’t limit themselves to the sheets. There’s also the floor, the wall, the cheap plywood of the dresser. There is something almost feral about the two of them together.

“Do be rough with me, will you?” Isaiah says when they first got back to the motel room, hooking his fingers into the waistband of Faoust’s pants, pulling their hips together. “Think I’d like that.”

Faoust doesn’t think at all. His body moves on muscle memory, the familiar feeling of Asmo—no, Isaiah, he corrects himself at one point—beneath his hands. The same, and yet not the same. The same lips, crushed to his own. The same deliciously thick, fluffy hair to pull on. Isaiah is not as loud as Asmodai was, but there is a deep, deep satisfaction in his moans.

Isaiah was right.

He very much likes this.

Detective Voros manages to weasel the regular patrol officers into being the ones to take people down to the Magistrate’s Office. She merely dispenses her wisdom to the combatants—“THERE’S A FUCKING PANDEMIC ON, STOP FIGHTING INSIDE THE GODDAMN WAFFLE HOUSE”—and finally puts herself en route to a motel just outside of town for a follow up.

She pulls up in the parking lot and sits in her car for a moment, filling out one of the little contact cards, as it is her—hope? Expectation?—that the door will not be answered when she goes to knock.

Detective Voros nods at the card, gets out of the patrol car, and walks up to the room, hoping he might still be staying in the same room as before, if only so she doesn’t have to apologize to a stranger. She could check with the front desk but ugh, sounds like work. She sighs, and hates that she ever had two brain cells run into each other to have this thought of a lead to pursue, and knocks on the door firmly twice

“Mr. James?”

Faoust, just barely dressed and getting ready to leave, looks bewildered at Isaiah. Isaiah’s eyebrow goes up as he quietly scrambles out of bed, pulling on his shirt and pants. He makes a face as he debates whether to answer the door.

Detective Voros tucks the card into the doorframe as she speaks. “It's your favorite local law enforcement representative. I was hoping to talk to you for some leads on who it was that put you in the hospital. Think it might be connected to some other cases we’ve got, and, well, you’re our only hope Obi-Wan. Or however the fuck that quote goes.”

Isaiah sighs, sets his shoulders, and slowly goes over to the door, opening it a few feet and peering out. “Hm?”

The card flutters to the ground, and Detective Voros, who’d already started walking away, spins on her heels.

“Mr. James! The magical vanishing devil himself.” She looks at his incredibly messy hair.  “Hope I didn’t wake you. Forgot, do you go by Asmodai or Isaiah? Which do you prefer?”

Isaiah feigns a yawn. “I prefer someone who visits at a reasonable time.”

“Hey, I prefer when victims tell me shit they know right from the get go, but I guess neither of us got what we wanted here.”

Isaiah leans against the doorframe, holding the door with his arm as Faoust listens from behind the door. “Hm.”

“Ennnnntywaaay, I was hoping perhaps some quality healing time might’ve helped your memory vis-a-vis that assault, or shall I reckon it, probable attempted murder, that put you in the hospital? Anything at all you remember about the bastard or bastards that fucked you up?”

Isaiah shakes his head sadly. “‘Fraid not officer. Too much head trauma, that’s what the doctors seem to think. The whole night is simply a blank.”

This is far from true. Isaiah remembers with startling clarity every awful minute, every painful blow. It would be real fucking nice if he couldn’t remember, actually. He’s gotten used to the twinge of pain deep in his bones, and mostly accepts and ignores it.

“Well that’s a real fucking inconvenience, Mr. James. Because I don’t believe you, and I wasn’t kidding, you might be the only lead I’ve got in a much bigger case. I’m not gonna stand here and argue with you. But if you find yourself magically remembering something that might help—“ she snatches the card off the ground and hands it to him “—call me, would you?”

Isaiah takes the card, pretends to look at it, and tucks it in his pocket. “Of course officer. I do wish I could help.”

Detective Voros presses her lips together. “Do you. Do you really. Hm. Whatever.” She goes back to her patrol car and sits in the parking lot.

Isaiah shuts the door and takes the card back out of his pocket.

“Is she gonna be a problem?” Faoust asks.

Isaiah holds the card in one hand and brushes it against the fingers of the other thoughtfully. “Not sure. Maybe. She, well, rightly I suppose, thinks I know more about my assault than I’ve told them. And now seems to think it’s connected to something else? It was her radio I stole, by the way.”

“Looks like we might have found an officer to kill.”

Isaiah nods. “Might have to, yeah.”

“Or we could go a more direct route. She still out there?”

Isaiah peeks out the window. “There’s a patrol car in the parking lot, so I’ll say yeah.”

“This is either a great idea or a terrible one. At any rate, I'll see you later yeah?”

Isaiah quirks his eyebrow. “Yeah, I hope so.”

Faoust opens the door and heads directly over to the patrol car. He slams his hand on the roof of the car, leaning down to put himself at her level.

“Evening officer.”

Detective Voros, to her credit, doesn’t even flinch. “Oh it’s you, solid citizen. Fuck, what was your name? Not fuck. Hm.” She looks from him back toward Isaiah’s room, and back to Faoust. “Made up with your friend I see?”

“Never had an issue with him.”

“Of course. My mistake. I’ve been breaking up Waffle House brawls all night.”

“Ok here's the thing. Stop asking questions. We both can tell you don't want the answers. I will give you one free question, then you fuck off.”

“Unfortunately for every goddamn one of us, I’ve kind of been promoted to a position where asking questions is my damn job. But gee, your cooperation would be fantastic if you know something about the case I’m working on.”

“I'm telling you now. For your sake and mine. If it comes back to him?” Faoust jabs a thumb towards the motel room. “You don't want anything to do with it. You're a cop. You're good at not doing your job properly. Make it go away.

“But I'm a man of my word. You get one question I'll answer truthfully. Then you go away and don't come back.”

Detective Voros rubs the side of her head. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

After a pause, she rests her hands on her duty belt, and against better judgment speaks. “I think you know shit too. People have been going missing for a while. None of them ever get found. Your friend there is the first missing person in a year to be found. And now we’re back to more missing people again. A dozen at least in under a month. And I don’t think these are missing persons cases. I think this is one big goddamn string of homicide investigations that we’re too stupid to realize. What I haven’t decided is whether your friend is protecting someone else, or is he just scared of whoever’s doing this, I don’t fucking know. But I can’t just ignore shit this big, and I can hardly come up with one fucking question to ask you to make it worthwhile.”

Faoust shrugs. “Then you lose your chance at any knowledge. And when I say it's better for you to ignore this? I mean it.”

“How the fuck—wait no!! That’s not my question.” Detective Voros practically growls, eyes narrowed at Faoust, thinking. “....give me a second.”

“I got all night.”

Detective Voros didn’t make detective because she was smart, or good at interviewing people. She made detective because of dumb luck, because of shit she tried not to look too closely into, and perhaps very specifically because of these two assholes. Maybe somewhere in the world there is a smart detective who would know exactly what to ask to get exactly the answer she needs, even if she doesn’t know exactly what she needs. But Detective Voros doesn’t know a fucking thing about how to be a detective. She doesn’t know what to ask to help herself, to help this case, to help stop what she suspects is a lot of murder. She sighs.

“What is it that he knows but won’t tell me?”

Faoust tilts his head from side to side, thinking. “Mmm. Ah. I'm the one who beat the shit out of him.”

“You’re fucking joking! HAH! Wait, wait so my intuition was correct! HAH,” she laughs again triumphantly.

“Yeah, we had a big fight. He tried to kill me, I told him it wasn't going to happen with a baseball bat. Then I decided to let him live.”

Detective Voros looks at Faoust closely. “Be level with me, do I need to go check that he’s still alive in there now?”

Faoust laughs. “No, we made up. I just fucked him.”

Detective Voros nods, and gets the feeling he’s telling the truth. “Good. Didn’t feel like getting out of this car again.” She sighs and stares off, thinking to herself. “So ...the mysterious would-be murderer...probably—“ she spares a side glance at Faoust “—isn’t who I’m looking for as the culprit in my case.”

“Probably not.” Faoust pats the top of her car. “I meant what I said! For your own safety, leave it alone.” He stands up straight and starts walking towards home.

Detective Voros sighs such an aggravated sigh it can be clearly heard all the way across the parking lot. She drives back into town, and decides not to think on this more right now, and gets dispatched to another Waffle House brouhaha for her troubles as soon as she clears from her follow up.

Isaiah realizes, at some point, that Faoust is the first person he’s ever slept with who knows his actual name.

- NEXT SNIPPET -