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mypoisonedvine · 2 months

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𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 | angus tully x reader (series finale)

read 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 and 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 first!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | angus has been waiting to see you again, but the more feelings get involved, the more complicated your affair becomes.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 7k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (18+ only!!), mega angst but also fluff too, infidelity, boring old people parties, reader is still emotionally constipated and angus still has a breeding kink, but that's honestly it it's just a bunch of emotions so strap in folks!

Angus was pretty sure he broke some kind of record, with how quickly he ran back to his room after talking to you on the payphone.

He was sure that was exactly what you were picturing him doing— he’d made it pretty clear what he’d do once you hung up, and you’d made it pretty difficult to do anything else with the way you were talking. You’d been winding him up on purpose, of course; so yes, you could easily imagine him making a mad dash to his room and slamming the door— if you really ever thought about him outside of those phone calls.

That was the thing Angus couldn’t figure out about you. Well, there were probably a lot of other things than that, but it was the quandary he spent the most time pondering: does she think about me?

Whenever he mustered the courage to ask you something to that effect, you would either change the subject or give a half-answer. Something about how you had a dream about him the other night or how your parents asked about him— never what he was really asking.

But, frankly, at that moment as he shut his dorm room door and jumped into bed, whether or not you thought about him much was not as pertinent an issue. Right then, all he could think about was getting his hand around his raging boner; his mind was just playing everything you’d said to him over the phone on repeat.

I’m touching myself right now, you’d whispered in a sultry voice, I’m so wet, Angus— fuck, I’m so wet…

He’d never had to work so hard to keep a straight face on the phone before… he figured if anyone was really looking, they’d notice how red he was turning or how he kept shifting uncomfortably. And he told you just as much, which of course only encouraged you. Don’t want them to know, huh? you’d taunted. Don’t want the other boys to find out you’re listening to me get off?

And no, he didn’t— you were such a precious thing, the boys here didn’t even deserve to imagine you— but when you offered to stop if it was too distracting, he only found himself shakily begging for more.

As he quickly opened his khaki pants and gripping his cock, he hissed through his teeth; his ego could barely take all you’d said about that cock, about how thick and ‘perfect’ (you used that exact word, perfect, and he thought he might float) it was, about how you wished you could come around it right then instead of your fingers.

“It’s all yours,” he mumbled to himself, under his breath, not even really noticing he was saying it aloud. “You want it, baby? It’s all fucking yours.”

He groaned as he stroked himself, the precum that had been leaking from his tip for a while making everything even easier. Shutting his eyes tight, he pictured you, like he always did: all of you, everything, anything he could remember.

You ever think about me? you’d asked him over the phone— and he’d blurted out his always before he even realized you meant while he was getting off. It was still true, but more specific than necessary. He craved to hear you say it: I think about you too. But he didn’t ask, and you just went back to moaning while you rubbed your clit— which, apparently, was already swollen and throbbing— and, well, he wasn’t strong enough to interrupt that.

“Fuck,” he grunted, deep in the back of his throat, finally letting his pace pick up until his hand was a blur: after all that anticipation and all that waiting, there was no use trying to hold back now. It wasn’t like you were here to worry about him coming too fast, even though you’d still maintained you found it endearing when it happened.

He repeated your voice in his head, the moment that had made him worry he would blow his load in his trousers before he could even get off the phone and back to his room: I’m gonna come for you, you’d warned him in the most beautiful moaning voice, Angus— I want you so bad, oh god— I’m gonna come for you, fuck…

His lip caught between his teeth, his hips rocked up into his own palm. “Yes, fuck, baby,” he panted, “I— fuck!”

He tried to conjure in his mind how it had felt to come inside you, but he knew even his vivid imagination could never really capture the feeling; nothing could even come close. Still, remembering it and letting himself indulge in his strangest fantasies for just a moment sent him over the edge. His face flushed suddenly as he came in long, heavy pulses, the back of his free hand falling over his open mouth yet doing little to suppress his moans.

It was intense— it was certainly better than his orgasms usually were when brought on by himself— but it only satisfied him for a moment. The moment he was finished, with a deep breath in and his hips relaxing back down onto the mattress, he wanted more— he wanted you.

His heavy eyes glanced to the side, trying to remember what it felt like to lie next to you. He’d never felt lonely after jerking off before he met you; now getting off seemed to bring a new wave of heartbreak each time.

When he shook off the thought and looked down at himself, he frowned as he realized he’d ruined his own shirt doing that— not that he could fully bring himself to regret it.

No, his regrets only really began a few weeks later, when the nagging loneliness in the back of his mind finally got the better of him.

It was the middle of the night when he wrote it, after he woke up from a dream of you that he just couldn’t shake from his mind. After checking that his roommate was fast asleep, Angus carefully slipped out of bed and tip-toed to the desk, and pulling out a box of cards and envelopes from one of the drawers. (He thought he’d never use them when his mom sent them with him at the beginning of the year, but a lot had changed since then.)

Something about the ungodly hour made him more honest— or maybe just more shameless. He wrote a frantic ramble, everything he’d wanted to say to you that he’d never had the courage to blurt out over the phone; all the feelings he’d felt since that incredible night in the backseat of your car, which he’d assumed would fade… which he’d tried to convince himself would fade.

Unfortunately, even the adrenaline of writing down the thoughts of you he’d been poring over for over a month wasn’t enough to overpower exhaustion: he awoke the next morning slumped over the desk, the pen still uncapped and fallen a few inches from his hand, the letter left folded open.

He awoke to the sound of someone’s door shutting down the hall, specifically; jumping and blinking quickly, he looked at the window— it was morning, though still quite early— and then at his roommate who was, thank god, still asleep.

Angus looked back at the letter in front of him, only making out a few words in his brief glance, before his cheeks began to heat up and he quickly folded it shut. As more footsteps moved through the hall, the boy in the bed nearby stirred and grumbled to himself, and Angus quickly snatched up the letter and shoved it in his book bag before he was caught red-handed.

Ironically, that little commotion was what actually got the other boy’s attention. “What are you doing at the desk?” he asked groggily, rubbing one of his eyes with the back of his palm.

“Oh, I, uh— I had to do some late night cramming,” Angus explained nervously, “that big Geography test coming up and all…”

The half-awake boy seemed to notice for a moment that the story didn’t really make sense, on account of the empty desk, but he simply shrugged and tossed his blanket aside to get up as well.

For the rest of the day, Angus couldn’t think straight— and not just because of his mediocre rest and achy back from the absolutely terrible sleep posture he’d had. He couldn’t stop thinking about the letter, even if he honestly couldn’t remember for certain everything he’d said… he couldn’t stop wondering if he should send it to you. He almost didn’t want to read it again first— he wanted you to read it in its most authentic state, he wanted to mail it before he chickened out just like he had when you said you two could just stay casual. Even if it made his heart race and his palms especially clammy, Angus decided in the middle of that goddamned Geography test that he was going to mail that letter tonight after dinner: he was finally just going to man up and tell you.

Of course, something went horribly wrong along the way: he made a fatal mistake. Looking back on it, he couldn’t tell for certain if his mistake was falling for you in the first place, or writing the infamous letter, or shoulder-checking Kountze without holding on tight enough to his bag.

The argument that happened beforehand was petty and forgettable, even if it gathered a small crowd of Kountze’s friends, but it ended with Angus trying to walk away a tad… aggressively, and with Kountze grabbing him by the strap of his bag which not only knocked Angus off-balance but spilled the contents onto the floor of the dorm’s shared room.

Everyone saw the books and papers hit the ground; everyone saw the off-white cardstock land right on top. Angus reached for the letter quickly, but Kountze beat him there, and held it back with a snicker.

“Well, well,” Kountze tutted proudly, “what’s this?”

“H-hey, don’t read that,” Angus warned, hoping the seriousness of his tone would somehow affect the other boy— but, obviously, it did not. Kountze started to open it and Angus instantly made a dive for it, only to be stopped by three other students who apparently were curious as well about the letter. “Don’t fucking read that!” Angus demanded.

“Oh god, it’s to a girl!” he realized. “Do you have a girlfriend, Tully?”

“I swear to god, Kountze, if you fucking read that—”

“I miss you,” Kountze began to read aloud as Angus thrashed around to try to stop him, “I miss you so much I don’t even know what to say.”

The boys holding Angus back were enraptured as Kountze read the letter; “Do you guys pay this much attention in class?” he mocked them, though they were ignoring him completely as they waited for the other boy to keep reading.

“I feel like I can’t breathe without you— aw, Tully, you’re a poet,” Kountze mocked with a smile. Angus’ heart raced as he remembered what part of the letter came next. “Not a day goes by where I don’t think about you and your smile— Jesus, this is some really sappy shit— or what it’s like talking with you for hours, or how it feels—”

He stopped, and Angus froze, and after a moment the group of boys started demanding the conclusion. “What— what does it say?!” “Read it, Kountze!”

“How it feels to be inside you,” Kountze continued with wide eyes, staring at Angus’ bright red face as the other boys began to react loudly.

Angus renewed his struggle against the kids holding him back, but even though he was taller than them, he was severely outnumbered. “Stop— that’s personal!” Angus demanded to no avail.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to go back to my hand after having you,” Kountze continued with a laugh. “From what I hear from your roommate, Tully, your hand is treating you just fine.”

“Shut up,” Angus hissed, but his words had lost their bite as his humiliation grew.

“I should’ve told you before I left—” he started, but finally Angus found some new strength within himself to shake off the boys holding him back: he dove at Kountze and took him down, scrambling to snatch the card away. He was going to be satisfied with just that, but of course Kountze still had to open his mouth, even when Angus had him pinned. “Jesus, Tully,” he scoffed, “how ugly is this chick that you got her to sleep with you?”

Angus brought a fist swiftly down to Kountze’s nose, who groaned in pain and held his face as Angus got up and ran away. The other boys let him pass, thankfully, and Angus wasted no time getting to his room and slamming the door behind him.

Defiantly wiping a tear from his cheek, Angus took a quick look at the letter— wrinkled, stained and scuffed from the fight with Kountze— and crumpled it up, tossing it into his wastebasket before throwing himself onto his bed and hiding his head under the pillow.

He was stupid to even write it, let alone consider sending it; it was no use, you obviously didn’t feel the same way about him that he did about you. You were the one who said it should just be what it was— a fling. But Angus felt like he’d been flung directly into hell, the way it tore into his chest to imagine you didn’t really want him.

Even if he never read the letter again that day, he remembered how it ended— and it was the part he couldn’t get out of his mind even when he wanted more than anything to forget it all.

Is this what love feels like?

It reminded you a lot of that dinner over Christmas break, except somehow, it seemed like he was staring at you even more. Shouldn’t he have gotten that out of his system a bit by now?

But then again, maybe you should’ve been more used to it, since it had been over an hour of picking away at this quail dinner, and he’d barely taken his eyes off of you. Something about him looked different; it was basically impossible that he could’ve visibly aged in just a couple months, and yet he seemed like he was carrying just a bit more age on those thin shoulders. Maybe it was just the slight five-o-clock shadow over his jaw— but, no, there was a different look in his eyes, too—

Realizing you were, in fact, staring back at him, you quickly snapped your gaze back down to your plate.

You’d been wanting a chance to talk to him before this dinner, to hopefully prevent exactly this issue, but once the dinner ended you found yourself avoiding him. Of course you weren’t ready to talk to him— of course you had a million thoughts in your head and half of them didn’t even make sense.

For once, you actually tried to talk to all of your parents’ snooty friends, repeating the same answers over and over about how you were going to graduate school in the fall and how you were looking forward to your family’s Paris trip in the summer and all that jazz. It was worth it to keep Angus off your back for a moment, even if you could still feel his eyes boring into said back from time to time.

Midway through a mind-numbingly boring conversation (if something so one-sided could be called a conversation) with the Gordons about renovations they’d done on their summer house, you glanced around the room over your shoulder and noticed that Angus was apparently absent. His parents were still there, sitting on a couch— that is, his mom and stepdad— so he couldn’t be far, but out of view he was far enough. Figuring he’d gone to the kitchen or the restroom, you figured it was the perfect time to disappear into the downstairs bedroom and, hopefully, hide out for the rest of the party. Excusing yourself quickly, you made a polite dash for the other end of the room.

And yet, somehow, he appeared out of thin air; as you turned down the hallway, only a dim lamp on an antique credenza lighting your way, you heard Angus’ hushed voice behind you. He laid his hand on your shoulder, and the moment you turned to face him, he was on you— his weight pressed you into the wall and you felt trapped in a way that was annoyingly pleasant.

“God, I missed you,” he breathed, kissing you hard and sudden; you whimpered a little, nearly melting into it, before you pushed him back at his shoulders.

“A-Angus, wait,” you sighed. “You, um… you didn’t call for a while.”

“Oh,” he mumbled, “um, I’m sorry— I just got busy with midterms and stuff— but I really wanted to!”

He moved like he was about to kiss you again, but you kept your hand on his chest to keep him away. “I wanted to tell you…” you trailed off.

“Tell me what?”

“You remember Brian Stevenson?”

“Oh— um, yeah, I guess so,” Angus frowned a little, clearly confused by what seemed like a non sequitur. “I used to go over to his house when I was little, although it was just to play with his little brother, but… yeah, I remember him.”

“I’ve been sorta, y’know… going with him,” you explained, hesitantly meeting Angus’ gaze just in time to see the most terrible sadness cover his face.

“O-oh,” he choked out, quickly stepping back from you and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah…” you mumbled, twisting your loafer-clad foot on the carpet nervously. “It’s just, you know, he asked me out a couple weeks ago, and ever since then—”

“So is he, like, your boyfriend?” Angus pressed. You nodded. He looked away. “Right— that’s… cool. That’s cool.”

You bit your lip slightly, hating that he wouldn’t look at you all of a sudden. “Angus, it’s just that, you know, we said—”

“Right,” he interrupted sharply. “Right, I remember what we said— what you said, that we weren’t— you know. That it wasn’t anything.”

“I didn’t say that—” you tried to correct him.

“You said you were mine,” he added suddenly, making your eyes widen. “Did you even mean that?”

“I— Angus, come on,” you laughed nervously. “That’s… that’s just something people say…”

He scoffed, and looked to the side as he pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek; contempt looked sort of good on him, you thought, except that it was directed at you. He was trying to hide it, but his eyes were watering.

“I’m sorry,” you began but he cut you off right away.

“No, don’t do that,” he shook his head quickly, crossing his arms and staring down at the floor. “Don’t lie to me anymore.”

“No— I really am,” you tried to assure.

“Hey, it’s fine,” he insisted sharply. “It’s— you know, it is what it is. It was just one of those things.”

“If it’s fine, then look at me,” you pleaded. He didn’t. And for a long moment, the two of you stood there, still and silent.

“It’s fine,” he repeated softly, turning on his heel.

“Angus, wait,” you hissed, not wanting to raise your voice with all the guests not too far away— of course, it was fruitless, and he briskly blended back in with the crowd.

Sighing, you dropped your head into your hands. That wasn’t how you ever wanted this to go, you never wanted to hurt him; honestly, you’d assumed he’d be irritated, but not… sad. Not devastated. Of course he would prefer to be getting laid, but you figured he wouldn’t have too much trouble finding some other girl to screw around with— sometimes, you’d wondered if he already had.

It was supposed to be easy, it was supposed to be casual, it was supposed to be fun. You couldn’t think of anything you’d ever done, or anything you’d ever felt, that was less fun than this.

It made a strange sort of sense that the next time you saw him was at another party. Of course, this party was entirely different from the last one: for one, it was hosted by your boyfriend, and there sure as hell wasn’t any quail. There was a lot more alcohol, though.

You were hanging off to the side, not feeling quite up for mixing in with the crowd as they danced to the record Brian had put on. Even if they spared you from the same boring questions that your parents’ friends bombarded you with, they were uninteresting in their own way as every conversation seemed to come back to politics or pot.

Brian startled you a bit by coming up beside you, resting his hand on the small of your back. “Hey,” he greeted, and you smiled up at him. Your eyes lingered on his face— he looked… grown up. It was probably just because he had a beard; he certainly didn’t always act grown up, but overall, Brian was perfectly acceptable. He’d asked you out, he’d actually had the bravery for that, so that was a great head start.

You tried to shake the thought out of your mind, looking away from him; it wasn’t a head start because this wasn’t a race. Who, after all, would he be racing against?

For some reason, your eyes turned to the front door— and you bit your lip as you saw Angus coming inside, slipping off his coat and looking around the room (for you, presumably). He looked even more haggard than before: a little pale, eyes sunken and dark, and he definitely hadn’t shaved since you saw him.

Brian looked to find where you were staring, and frowned slightly. “Who’s that?” he asked.

“Oh, um— Angus Tully, his parents are friends with mine, I used to babysit him when he was a kid.”

You knew that wasn’t really what he was asking, so you weren’t surprised when he got to the point more directly: “What’s he doing here?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, hoping Brian wouldn’t somehow figure out that your heart was racing.

Brian’s hand moved up to your shoulder and gave it a squeeze, just as Angus noticed you and hurriedly shoved his way through the crowd to come face-to-face with you.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” he asked, his voice raspy and hurried as he took a quick glance at Brian in his peripheral.

“Um— sure,” you agreed awkwardly, not sure which answer would be less suspicious. Of course, when you glanced at Brian, he just looked mildly annoyed— bored, even. You realized in that moment that you didn’t need to worry about him suspecting you and Angus of anything, because he barely registered Angus’ existence: he certainly wouldn’t acknowledge him as some kind of sexual threat.

“Privately,” Angus added— and that actually got Brian’s attention, though he seemed more aware of your discomfort than anything.

“Anything you wanna say to her, you can say in front of me,” Brian assured firmly, and Angus swallowed anxiously— it was obvious from the bob of his Adam’s apple.

“Actually, uh, somebody was looking for you out front,” Angus told him. “Something about a keg getting delivered to the wrong house?”

“Shit,” Brian hissed, dropping his hand from your shoulder and looking towards the door again. “Fucking idiots…”

Having made quick work of Brian, Angus put his attention back on you. “Let’s go outside,” he suggested.

“W-we can just talk here,” you tried to say, but he was already grabbing your wrist and guiding you out; why did your heart still skip when he touched you?

Once he’d taken you through the kitchen and out to the back porch— where you could still hear the music and chatter, but it was much quieter— you spoke.

“Angus, I really am sorry about— you know— but you can’t just—” you started.

“It’s not over yet,” he insisted, surprising you with his intensity; you leaned back against the wooden railing, and he stood just a little too close with those dark brown eyes piercing through you.

“If you tell me you’re happy with Brian, I’ll leave you alone,” Angus decided, puffing up his chest a bit.

“I’m happy with Brian,” you said sternly.

A brief moment passed. “Okay, I lied,” Angus admitted.

“Jesus,” you hissed.

“But only because I don’t believe you!” he explained. “We were so good together.”

“Yeah, we were,” you admitted, “but… it’s over now.”

“No— it’s not. It can’t be!” he insisted with a whine, and you scoffed as you shook your head.

“Angus, you’re being childish,” you scolded.

“Oh, don’t say that,” he grimaced. “Don’t hold that against me— I’m not stupid, you know.”

“Of course you’re not— but you’re not thinking clearly.”

“Damn right I’m not!” he spat. “You’re all I could think about, for months! Months, I couldn’t fucking get you out of my head! And not just the, you know, the dirty stuff— everything. Every moment I spent with you, every dumb thing we talked about for hours, every time you laughed at one of my shitty jokes—”

“Angus, please,” you breathed, glancing down; you could only take so much of this, and you worried he was figuring that out.

“Does he make you laugh?” Angus pressed, stepping a bit closer to you. “Does he make you feel special? Does he make you come?”

“Yes,” you said sharply, “he’s great, okay? I’m happy— so please just stop fucking this up for me.”

“Okay, fine,” he conceded, “you’re happy, I believe you. But… but what about me, y’know? He doesn’t need you like I do.”

Your face warmed up and you crossed your arms tighter, staring down at the ground.

“Of course he likes you— who wouldn’t? But he couldn’t even imagine how I feel about you— how long I’ve been thinking about you. I mean, I’ve wanted you since I was a kid! You’re my dream girl!”

“That’s— that has nothing to do with me,” you tried to explain. “That’s a fantasy!”

“But it’s real, baby,” he sighed, bringing his hands up to gently hold your arms at either side. “It’s so real, you know it is.”

You didn’t even have the heart to deny it— or to tell him not to call you that. You knew if you looked up at him, you wouldn’t be able to fight him anymore; he must’ve known that, too, because he delicately lifted your chin until you met his gaze.

And then he kissed you: tender, sweet, and shameless. He didn’t care if anyone saw, if anyone knew— even Brian. You, on the other hand, still cared enough to try to stop him; but even you couldn’t resist a kiss like this, and you found your hands pulling him closer as quickly as they’d tried to push him away.

He took you home, without another word about what this meant or where you stood with each other. You snuck him into your room and he climbed into bed with you and he touched you like he’d been waiting a lot longer than just a few months for this moment. Frankly, you were beginning to realize that you’d been waiting a lot longer for this, too.

Before, Angus had always been talkative during sex— sometimes annoyingly so. But this time, he didn’t say a damn thing; neither of you did. And yet, somehow, just by the way he looked at you, just by the way he held you, just by the way he moved inside you... you felt like you heard more than you ever had.

You sat next to each other on the bench, staring forward into the dark treeline ahead— there was still a layer of frost around their roots, and a new snow had begun to fall even if it wasn’t cold enough for it to stick on the pavement. You tried not to look at him too long, in case it made this any harder, but you did appreciate that he seemed a bit more put together than he had the last time you went a few days without seeing him. He was clean-shaven, too… is it wrong that you kinda missed the stubble?

“Thanks for, you know… giving me a couple days to think about it,” you mumbled, and he nodded.

“I thought you might have somewhere better to be on a Friday night,” he said— trying to lighten the mood a bit, you could tell; trying to make you comfortable.

“Well, even if I did, I think this needs to be done,” you explained, and he pressed his lips together a bit.

He waited patiently, though, for you to break the silence and explain yourself, even if he didn’t seem too surprised when you did it.

“It was a mistake,” you decided. “It was great, but it was a mistake— and I’d really appreciate if we could just… let it go. And if you didn’t tell Brian.”

“Okay,” he nodded slowly. “I wasn’t gonna tell him. But I still think you should dump him.”

“Well, that’s my decision,” you reminded him, crossing your arms.

“I know,” he breathed.

You could already tell, just by the way the next silence began, that he was going to interrupt it with something stupid… you just never expected how stupid.

“The thing is— I love you,” he blurted out suddenly, turning to look at you again as your eyes widened. “I fucking love you.”

“Angus, I— you can’t—!” you choked out, but he continued before you could try to think of a response.

“I know I do— don’t say I don’t know what that is, or that I’m too young or something stupid like that,” he pleaded. “I know how I feel, okay? When you miss somebody this much, when you think about somebody this much— what else could love be, but that?”

You sighed, looking away, and he moved closer to you on the bench. Even if you knew it was preposterous that someone else would be in the park at the end of the street at this time of night, you still fought the urge to look over your shoulder.

“Don’t tell me I’m crazy,” he breathed. “You love me too, don’t you? I mean— I thought you basically forgot I existed, but last night… that sort of thing doesn’t just happen, does it? It’s not… it’s not usually like that.”

“No, it’s not,” you admitted, “that was different.”

He perked up, smiling wide when you looked at him again. “Just say it,” he begged, “say you love me too— ‘cause I know you do.”

“I— Angus, it’s more complicated than that,” you explained. “We’re still— there’s Brian, for one thing… we can’t really go on like this, you know that.”

“I know— I don’t want to keep doing this. I want to really be together,” he replied. You tried to turn your body away from his slightly, but he grabbed your hands and held them tight until you looked at him again. “I’m almost done with high school— I’ll go to college where you’re going for grad school!”

You shook your head. “No, you can’t do that.”

“Just think about it: us, together— we could actually go on real dates, and go to college parties together, and, like, study out at the library— or, you know, whatever you college kids do,” he fantasized. You smiled, but shook your head again.

“We… we can’t do that,” you denied.

He frowned, and turned away from you, staring darkly at the ground. “I knew it,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “You’re embarrassed— you’re ashamed of me.”

“What?!” you blurted out. “Angus, no—”

“It’s okay,” he said in a terribly unconvincing way, crossing his arms. “I don’t blame you: I’m just some dumb kid from your hometown. You want a guy your age— not some random freshman… you want something better.”

“That’s bullshit,” you replied instantly, “you can do so much better.”

“C’mon, I’ll never do better than you,” he insisted.

Even though he’d misunderstood you, your heart still swelled a bit at the compliment. “I meant for college, Angus,” you explained, and he deflated a little. “You can do a lot better than a state school.”

“Well, I, um… I don’t know if I can,” he admitted nervously. “My grades are kinda… inconsistent. And I went to so many different high schools—”

“Who gives a shit?” you scoffed. “You’re fucking smart— way smarter than anybody else here. You act like an idiot sometimes, but you’re eighteen, it kinda comes with the territory.”

He frowned, but couldn’t exactly deny it.

“You deserve to go somewhere amazing,” you told him. “You need to go somewhere amazing— and do something amazing.”

For a long moment, he just stared out into the dark; until, suddenly, he whipped his head back around at you with a quizzical look on his face. “Wait— is that what this is all about?”

“What?”

“Do you not want to be with me because you think you’d, like, hold me back or something?” he accused.

You blinked quickly; something about the way he said be with me caught you off-guard— like it was a term much more mature than you had expected from him. Instead of answering directly, you just stammered. “Well, y-you’re young, and—”

He cut you off quickly with a laugh. “Oh my god! You think I give a shit about that?”

“No,” you shot back, “but you should. You realize how fucking dumb it would be to change your whole life for the first person you ever slept with?”

“When you put it like that, it sounds dumb,” he admitted, looking down at his feet swinging over the edge. “But what if it’s somebody that, you know, you think you really have a shot with? What if it’s somebody that you feel like you can’t live without? Somebody that makes you finally get all those songs you hear on the radio—”

“It only feels like this to you because you’ve never felt anything else,” you explained gently. “It’s your first love. It fades.”

“But I don’t want it to,” he said instantly, looking at you with the most heartbreaking eyes you’d ever seen. “God, I don’t want it to.”

You looked up at him as his hand brushed over your face, and felt tears welling before you could fight them off; he kissed you, in a way that you thought he might have never really kissed you before. In a way nobody had kissed you before, in fact. It wasn’t very long, but it felt like it might as well have gone on forever.

When he broke away, he kept his eyes shut, and he pressed his forehead to yours as his thumb stroked your cheek. “Tell me it doesn’t have to end,” he breathed, “please. Tell me it’s not going to end.”

“It has to,” you whispered back, watching his shoulders sink and bringing your hand up to clutch at his chest. “It has to end, someday.”

You took a shaky breath, watching a tear fall from his jaw onto your arm, feeling everything you’d held back finally breaking through as your grip on shirt tightened and your lip began to quiver.

“But it doesn’t have to be tonight,” you sighed.

Gasping with relief and joy simultaneously, he kissed you again, and pulled you closer at your waist, and wrapped you up in his arms tightly.

There was, of course, this nagging voice at the back of your mind— that maybe it didn’t have to end. And god, you wanted to silence that thought permanently if you could, because it had never done you any good. That hope had only ever led to pain before. But, without it, nothing would ever really have a chance: if you weren’t willing to risk the heartache, you’d never let yourself love Angus the way that he deserved and the way that you knew, deep down, you already did.

So, as he kissed you that way you thought people only kissed in movies, and whispered to you those words you thought people only said because they were poets and dreamers, you realized that maybe it didn’t have to end someday. Maybe he would spend the next several years of your lives convincing you that you didn’t need to protect yourself from your own feelings. Maybe he would actually have the patience to break down walls he never built, to fix wounds he didn’t leave. Maybe he was ready to give you something to believe in, something worth taking risks for while you were still young and reckless. Maybe he, like the oncoming equinox, would melt your ice so new life could grow.

Or, maybe, this feeling he had really would fade once he gained a little more life experience; maybe you would make too many mistakes for him to forgive. Maybe you would always be friends, or maybe you would have too much history to be able to see each other again. Maybe you would grow apart— maybe you would have to brace yourself for that, to sit next to him on a cold dorm room mattress as you both realized it just wasn’t working anymore.

The most important thing that you realized in that moment— that eternal moment in his arms, in the dark, in the last snow of Spring— was that it didn’t matter. It didn’t have to be forever to be perfect; it didn’t have to be the ending to be beautiful. He loved you. Even if you were still trying to figure out why, he loved you; and that was true, and real, and special. His love couldn’t fix you, but it made you feel fixable, and you hadn’t seen yourself that way in a long time— you could only dream that you might see yourself the way he saw you.

When you pulled back from the kiss for a moment, you smiled wide— you laughed, actually— and sniffled as he wiped your tears away. “I love you,” you told him, and even though he kissed you again, you didn’t stop saying it. You wanted to keep it on your lips until it didn’t scare you anymore; you wanted to keep your heart open, even if it made you vulnerable, maybe because it made you vulnerable. After all, you couldn’t ever be sure it wouldn’t come back to bite you… if you could, it wouldn’t mean anything.

Even though all you said to him was I love you, each one meant something a bit different. I trust you. I’m not sure I’m ready, but I’m going to try. I’m sorry. I’m so glad I met you. I’ll never forget you. Please don’t let me go.

Somehow, you felt like he heard each one. Each time he told you that he loved you, though, you heard the same thing: I won’t let you go, ever.

Easter Mass was relatively pleasant, if a little too long. You did notice Angus sitting with his family, across the aisle and a few rows back, but you only gave him a quick wave before the service started and managed to resist glancing back at him after that.

The best part of Easter was always afterwards, though: you stood at the furthest end of the lawn, in front of the ivy-covered exterior wall of the chapel, as children ran around snatching up colorful eggs to collect for their baskets. Even if it was totally stupid, and irrelevant to the actual message of the holiday that the priest had just spent the whole service hammering in, you got a kick out of the fancy clothes and tiny dress shoes, the squeals of delight, the candy and toys in bright pastels. You were just thankful the weather had warmed up in the nick of time for all the festivities— indoor egg hunts never have quite the same effect.

Angus sauntered up beside you, sipping on a styrofoam cup of complimentary coffee, and you didn’t even look at each other, but you both smiled.

“They’re cute,” he stated after a little while.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

“Do you wanna have a kid?” he asked, and you gave him a hesitant glance only to find him looking right back at you— his expression was friendly, but neutral enough that you couldn’t read if he meant having a kid with him or just, you know, in general.

Deciding it must be the second one, you let out a soft, nervous laugh. “Uh, I dunno… maybe someday,” you offered, as non-committal as possible.

“How about right now?” he challenged, lowering his voice slightly, but not enough to stop you from glancing around to make sure nobody heard.

“Angus, fucking Christ,” you coughed. “Don’t joke about that.”

“I’m not,” he shrugged. “I mean, maybe I’m not being literal, but that doesn’t mean I’m not being serious.”

“Well… we can’t,” you mumbled, looking out at the lawn again, hoping not to stand out too much. “Not here.”

“I know, I know,” he agreed, and the two of you fell back into a silence— an oddly comfortable one, even. You crossed your arms as you watched the kids run around and he kept sipping on his coffee. After a few moments, though, you spoke again.

“Meet you in the Sunday school room in the West wing in five minutes?”

“Yup,” he said, already turning to leave. You smiled slightly to yourself, glancing down at your white shoes planted in the grass. Even on such a delicately-manicured lawn, wildflowers were already springing up— little periwinkle diamonds scattered here and there.

When what felt like a reasonable amount of time passed, you made your careful and casual exit from the egg hunt to slip back inside. Once you were away from the crowds and on your way to meet Angus, you couldn’t stop yourself from running… and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling, either.

#angus tully x reader #angus tully smut

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terezis · 7 months

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ok here's the hot goss from the nycc taz gn panel

i don't actually know whether or not it was recorded/ if they're going to put it online so here is my summary. also if i miss anything and u were there pls feel free to chime in. spoilers obviously!!!

got eight new preview pages (four two-page spreads), not the pages on the macmillan website!!!

ok i will tell u about those pages but the main thing discussed at the panel was how they went about adapting this arc into gn form. the actual time spent in wonderland has been trimmed a lot bc they had to think about what was actually important to the narrative as they are building to story and song.

basically in planning out the suffering game they also really had to decide what the rest of the series would look like, bc whatever they include now is seeding the stuff that's going to happen later.

cam is not in this book. it was implied there's less wheel spins. rowan/ash/sterling get much less screen time

almost half of this book is lunar interlude stuff (pre and post suffering game, INCLUDING REUNION TOUR!!! no word on where it ends but they made it clear that a LOT of thought went into what to include and where to end it, and what that would mean for the next book)

ok so about those preview pages

first one was post-taakitz date with kravitz sensing a lich and the umbra staff shooting at him <3 <3 <3

i thought they were going to show us the preview pages that were on macmillan so when i saw kravitz i was so shook

second spread was magnus visiting the voidfish, which now happens right before they leave for wonderland; the whole beginning of tsg from magnus trying to talk to pringles to him kidnapping those guards to the chimera fight was cut LOL bc it never really got… addressed again in the podcast

angus comes to get him for the mission but magnus has been going Through It (outright stated, they were like. he found out he's a red robe. he would probably not be handling it well. he has eyebags now. LOL) and snaps at angus when angus presses him on what's wrong.

more angus content, he will be investigating what's going on at the bureau more (his scene w magnus ties into this)

same for lucretia! more content/ stuff for her to do

third spread was merle w his kids getting saved by the red robe, is at a carnival instead of a random street this time LOL

last one was the boys arriving just outside of wonderland

wonderland looks fuckign cool

what else… oh confirmed like eighty panels of bare ass naked magnus after he gets his body back. so i think we really are getting the full reunion tour this book???

ALSO NAKED BARRY COVERED IN SLIME. WHEN HE GETS OUT OF THE POD. CONFIRMED. CANON. LOL

omg ALSO!!! ben (editor) said he campaigned REALLY HARD to have the umbra staff break during the suffering game, freeing lup early, bc he really wanted more time with her, but griffin campaigned really hard NOT to do this, and in doing so his arguments solved a lot of other problems they had been having at the time LOL

travis is the fans' champion when the others get too edit-happy. he's the one who has a good idea of what moments are important to the readers so he's like hey… too far. don't cut that. and then they don't

justin leaves great notes and when they couldn't figure stuff out ben would often say "no it's fine justin will solve this." and he ALWAYS DID

this was news to justin

??? i think that's all the main points honestly i'm v picky about adaptations but overall i feel like these are good changes that make sense when translating the podcast to gn

that said i do hope taako still gets a washing machine dropped on him <3 do this for me carey <3

#taz #taz balance #taz gn #taz gn spoilers #the suffering game #sorry it's long it was just SO juicy #didn't even mention them talkign about all the like technical art stuff carey also talked about color/panel composition to convey #info and mood

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meowmeowriley · 11 days

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WAIT but to see real bunny ghost boxing….. would we not need another bunny??? I nominate either Konig (bc big boy bunnies are amazing) or Farah (she strikes the fear of god into me like a wild hare). I was going to say Rudy, but he has too-perfect cow eyes to be anything elseeeee

Hare shifter Farah is now Canon here. I fucking love it. And once Ghost lets his secret out, Farah gets to admit that she knew all along. Takes one to know one. They're not the same, but similar enough. They do box. Both shifted and not, and it's a sight to behold. In both forms Ghost towers over Farah, but she's quick, she's tough, and Ghost loves the challenge.

Now... Cow Rudy... I have a confession. I grew up on a cattle farm and cows are extremely near and dear to my heart, I fucking love them. So I had to sit and think for a minute. I couldn't make him my beloved Angus, I will die on this hill, Angus cattle are the best. Fight me. BUT, this isn't about my preferences, and nobody wants to hear me go on for hours about what cattle breed is best, you just wanna know what Rudy is.

Corriente. A gorgeous Corriente bull, in a half shift he'll proudly display his upturned horns. Most Corriente are black, but can be nearly any color. Rudy is no exception to this, being fully glossy black, but don't be mistaken, he's absolutely stunning. Now this breed is not generally used for meat. No, they're use is in Rodeo and Roping. Rudy comes from a long line of rodeo bulls. Where do you think he and Ale met? Way back when Ale was a junior bull rider. And when Ale left the ring behind to join the army, Rudy's family was aghast by his decision to follow.

P.S. if you're looking for rabbit König, @konigs-bitch-ass-wife is writing a series of Rabbit Hybrid König, and I believe he's also a flemish giant.

#ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #call of duty #cod mw2 #modern warfare #fanfic #simon ghost riley #rabbit shifter ghost #trans!ghost #shifter au #hare!farah #cow!rudy #cow shifter rudy #alejandro vargas #hare shifter farah #fanfic wip #mooties ♡#writing mutuals

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anyarose011 · 2 days

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Emotional Motion Sickness {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: When it's only you, your father, Mary, and Angus left behind at Barton for Christmas, you and the boy (who you were an asshole to, but in all fairness, he was one to you too) decide to get to know each other; whilst sneaking around the school.

Part 3 of ?? (Part 1 , Part 2)

Warnings: Teddy Kountze (but not for long), swearing, underage drinking, mentions of past harassment, mention of pornography, and extremely long monologues that I think would be great audition material because I'm delusional :) .

Come get y'all juice (this shit was so much longer than I expected). This may be part 3 in the series, but this is part 1 of songs that are Agnus Tully/Reader coded. And also part 2 of you guys not being able to escape being an awkward teenager just because this is fanfiction. Enjoy!

Word Count: 7.1k

youtube

You didn’t talk to anyone the day after you told Angus Tully he didn’t have any friends (well…of course you talked to your father and Mary, but the boys? No; not even the freshmen).

It was warranted; you punched Teddy in the face, you ignored Jason, and Ye-Joon and Alex were probably afraid of you at that point. Angus had the biggest excuse of them all of course, and while you actually felt bad (to your own surprise), you couldn’t bring yourself to actually approach and apologize at the time. Call it pride, call it cowardice, but you suddenly felt so ashamed you couldn’t even speak to him.

So, save for the talks you had with Mary in preparing meals, the nighttime check-ins with your father, you kept your nose stuck in a book. You ignored Teddy’s glare (while also checking over your shoulder every time you passed by him), only gave slight nods to the younger boys, and Jason didn’t even bother talking to you about what he said the day before. Angus, apparently despite not talking to each other, had perhaps the most civilized of silent discussions with you. You would only make eye contact with each other…but somehow, just somehow, there was a bit of understanding between the two of you.

You also had given him your spare toothpaste along with his payment of chocolates and cigarettes for waking you up because you noticed that he was running low. He gave you this…look. Not one of disgust, but he was confused beyond belief, and you swore he was in his own little world as you talked about your reasoning and all he did was stare at you.

Weirdo.

The day after that, making it the sixth day of being stuck at the school, you were sitting on a stool in the kitchen, reading to Mary as she prepped for lunch. “‘Reader, I married him. A quiet wedding we had: he and I, the parson and clerk, were alone present. When we got back from church, I went into the kitchen of the manor-house, where Mary was cooking the dinner and John cleaning the knives, and I said— ‘Mary, have you ever been in love before?’”

You paused, looking up from your book and watching as the Mary in front of you was doing what the Mary in the book was doing; cleaning the knives. She glanced back at you upon your quietness, giving you the eye.

“And? What did she say?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I’m waiting for her to answer.”

Scoffing, she turned away. “You’re not that funny you know.”

“Yet you’re hiding your smile.”

“Am not.”

“Well have you?”

“Have what?”

“Been in love?”

She huffed. “I’m too sober for that conversation.”

“There’s some wine in the chapel-.”

Mary turned, pointing a knife at you. “-Don’t you dare.”

“What?! It’s not consecrated!”

“Still, you’re a baby, you can’t drink that stuff.”

“I’m going to technically graduate in a few months.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Sighing overdramatically, you leaned against the wall. “Can you just give me a yes or no?”

She turned and headed back to the counter she was at, looking at you. “Yes, I’ve been in love before.”

“When you were young?”

“Am I not young now?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes.” She began to chop vegetables.

“Was it scary?”

“Kind of.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “It happened later for me than most of my friends, so that’s probably why.”

Before you could ask another complex question, a humming noise caught your ear. You thought you were going insane at first until it had also apparently got Mary’s. After taking one glance at each other, you both followed the sound, and it led you to the nearest window.

Outside, in the sky, a yellow helicopter flew above you.

The next thing you knew, as you and Mary were rushing to the library to ask your father ‘What in God’s name is going on?’, you ran into everyone in the middle of the main hall, including a man you had never seen before.

Apparently, Jason’s father cracked and decided to come pick his son up for Christmas at the ski lodge. He also offered to take the rest of The Boys Left Behind. So, there you were after Mary left, deciding to stand outside with the rest of them as Jason, his dad, and your father sat in the administrative office, calling up everyone and their mother (quite literally).

“So, Hunham,” Teddy asked, his voice so grating you would rather claw your brain out with a fork than have to listen to him. “what’re you gonna do when all of us go skiing? Take some pictures?”

You shook your head, not letting it get under your skin. “No, I’ll probably spend time with Elise.”

“Elise?” The boys questioned.

“Yeah, we met in middle school.”

“Is she anything like you or is she pretty?” Teddy prodded.

Angus rolled his eyes. “I don’t think she’d really want to hang around a cesspool like you.”

Holy shit…he was actually standing up for you? Even after you told him he didn’t have any friends? Perhaps men hadn’t failed you completely (your most famous last words of this entire winter break…maybe not for the most part, but still).

You snorted, crossing your arms while still holding Jane Eyre. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before I let you meet her, Kountze.”

Before he could even attempt a comeback, your father came out through the door, and turned to the boys. “Well, good news gentlemen. I was able to reach Dr. Woodrup and your parents;” He glanced at Angus for a second. “Most of them, anyway. I recommend all of you go pack, have a merry Christmas.”

The rest of the boys, including Jason who exited with his dad, raced past one another; all except Angus. You could see how he tried to hide his growing disappointment and went to the first stage of grief; denial.

“Could you try them again?” He asked your father.

Paul Hunham took a deep breath. “Alright.” He turned to Jason’s father, both men uttering a ‘Merry Christmas’, before yours went back into the office. Leaving you outside with Angus.

He leaned against the wall, folding his arms. Well…this was your chance to try and be nice to him again.

“If they don’t pick up, just tell him to keep calling.” You suggested.

Angus looked at you, shrugging. “Yeah, that was my plan already.”

“I always annoy him until I get what I want. Usually works for me.”

“So why aren’t you in Copenhagen?”

“…You.” There was a silence between the both of you, and to your surprise, you had to bite your tongue not because of anger, but to stop yourself from laughing. You gave him a nod. “I hope you get to go skiing; even if Kountze will be there.”

Not giving him time to respond, you walked right past him to your room in the infirmary. In your mind, best case scenario, everyone would go skiing and you and your dad would somehow make it to Copenhagen; middle case scenario, everyone would go skiing but you’d be left in Barton with Mary and your dad; worst case scenario, you were stuck with Angus…at Barton, over Christmas break.

While he was the one that irked you the least out of the boys your age, you weren’t really in the mood to be with him until the middle of January.

It was as you were sitting on the edge of your bed, reading the rest of Jane Eyre, when someone knocked on your door. Glancing up, you saw Alex. Smiling, you asked.

“You ready to go?”

He nodded, then walked into the room, holding out your mittens. “Sorry I forgot to give them back.”

You took them, standing and smiling. “No, you’re alright. If I’m honest, I would’ve let you keep them while you were here.”

“Are you and Angus going to be okay?”

Giving him a look, you chuckled. “Well, if there’s a god, then hopefully that means he’ll go with you guys.”

At that moment, both of your eyes were drawn to the doorway when you heard heavy footsteps and watched as Angus Tully stormed past.

“Okay, guess there isn’t.” You grumbled, then went back to sweet. “Don’t worry though, we’ll be civil with each other.”

“I think you should be friends.”

Well…that was unexpected. Still, you snickered. “Alex, are you saying neither of us have friends already? And I thought you were nice.”

“No just,” he sighed. “I heard Ye-Joon crying a few nights go, Angus told him friends are overrated, and Ye-Joon told me that Angus had been kicked out of a lot of schools…I don’t know.”

You nodded, completely understanding. “I’ll be nicer to him; I promise you that. Now go have a great Christmas.”

He grinned from ear to ear, unexpectedly hugging you. After freezing for just a moment, you hugged him back before pulling away. You bid each other goodbye, and he went running back to his room to pack. A few seconds later, it was Jason who was in your room.

“Hey.” He greeted.

“Hello.”

He stood there stiffly, almost as if he was nervous for the first time in his life. “Um…I just wanted to say sorry.”

This intrigued you. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Jason fiddled with the bag in his hand. “I didn’t mean to upset you; Teddy was an asshole, end of story.”

You gave him a smile. “Thank you.”

The silence between you was different; not one of comfort, but not exactly discomforting either. Though, it was becoming that the more time dragged on.

“You know,” he grinned, and you couldn’t tell if it was genuine or a joke. “if we hurry, I could probably sneak you on?”

You merely kept your face the same; a pitiful, upturned mouth. “Merry Christmas, Jason.”

He nodded, taking the hint, wishing you a ‘Merry Christmas’ back, and left. Not exactly the best apology to receive, but you were more than happy you got one. Also happy that he didn’t call you names for refusing his advances; bare minimum, but welcome to the early 1970s.

Teddy followed soon after him, and he stopped in your doorway, turning his head to you. He only managed to take a breath to speak before you beat him to it.

“I hope you fall of the fucking ski lift, snap your fucking neck, and never recover.”

He only smiled. “I hope your business goes well. Tell Daniel I said ‘hi’.”

And that was the last time you saw him that Christmas break. He did indeed fall off a ski lift and snap his neck.

He didn’t actually, but you wished he did. When he walked past you, Ye-Joon was next, and you both just uttered a quick ‘Merry Christmas’, before he left. Knowing that Tully was still in the room, you decided it was best to avoid him, and went back to your father.

“No luck?” You asked him.

He shook his head. “No luck.”

Sighing, you glanced down at the floor. Great…it was official; you were still stuck with at least one boy who would for sure not have his brain developed until he was thirty at the youngest (or so you thought).

“Do you want to see the helicopter take off?” Your father asked.

You nodded, not knowing what else to do. So, that was how you found yourself, your father, and Angus (who surprisingly crawled out of the room to also watch it take off), in the snowy quad, watching as the ‘Boys Left Behind’ became the ‘Boys Who Are Now in a Damn Helicopter Going Skiing’. You thought the last title had a better sound to it.

Your father sighs from beside you, turning to look at you in the middle, and Angus to your right. “Well, let’s make the best of it.”

He went in soon after that, leaving you and Angus alone together. You wanted to say something, you probably should’ve. Yet, in all honesty, you had nothing to say, and you knew that if you forced yourself to come up with something, it would’ve been bad.

So that’s why you didn’t even look at him when you left. That’s why you avoided him for the rest of the day, luckily being able to spend most of it with Elise and doing nothing but making Christmas cookies with her and miss Crane (even though she’d already made more than enough to give to the teachers. They were…fine when your dad gave you one), and muting channels from the TV and voicing over them.

You and Elise had done that since you were kids…which actually wasn’t that long ago when you were still doing it.

When you got back, you helped Mary with dinner, than all ate in silence; save for your father trying to make conversation about your day since you were truly the only one out of all of you to have an interesting day.

That’s when the four of you found yourself in the teacher’s lounge; you reading Little Women, your father and Mary watching The Newlywed Game, and Angus reading Popular Mechanics in a chair far away from you.

As you were disappearing into your second read of the book, it was Mary who brought you out of it.

“Your daughter asked me an invasive question today.”

You looked up in alarm at the accusation. Paul Hunham sighed, taking his pipe out of his mouth. “And what, pray tell, was it this time?”

“Asked if I’d ever been in love.”

Your father said your name warningly. Of course, you defended with. “We were reading Jane Eyre! If I was reading this,” you held up your book. “I would’ve asked if she ever rejected a man before. I already know the answer, but still.”

“You know the answer?” Mary laughed.

“You probably had to beat them off of you back in the day, you were so pretty.”

“Were?”

“Fine wine, miss Lamb.” You hung upside down, tossing your feet over the back of the couch. “You age like fine wine.”

“Stop that.” She scoffed lovingly, then asked your father, almost as if it was a joke. “What about you?”

You looked at him. “Oh, I sure hope he’s been in love.”

“Well,” he said your name. “you know, it was purely for economic reasons at first, but then-.” The pillow you threw at him caused him to chuckle before continuing. “Yes, Josephine March, I was greatly enamored by your mother.”

“What was your favorite thing about her?”

“Everything.”

“Oh, come off it.” You rolled your eyes.

“Well then, if you’re going to be like that, then it’s her laugh.”

You sat up. “That’s such a basic fucking-!”

“-Hey!” Both him and Mary started.

In the corner of your eye, you swore you saw Angus smile for just a second. Your father continued. “I’ll tell you why her laugh was my favorite; it’s because she barely did.”

When you thought of it…she really only laughed around you. Were you that funny or did she just love you that much? Either way, you were more than happy about it. Your father continued.

“She announced in front of an entire class that she would more than likely laugh while being stuck in a brazen bull, then listening to my jokes. That was the first thing she said to me, and it’s still one of my favorite memories.”

Mary chimed in. “Not your wedding day?”

You and her shared a knowing look, trying not to burst out in laughter as your father just smoked his pipe, nodding. No time to unpack that.

“But you know, there’s more to falling in love than just with people.” He started soon to clear the air. “Imagine it, like a monk: forgoing sensual pleasures for the achievement of spiritual goals.”

“Spiritual goals, you?” Mary questioned. “What spiritual goals are we talking about? You go to church?”

“Only when required.”

“Exactly.” She mumbled. “Me having to save your daughter’s soul every Sunday since she was a kid.”

You only went because she’d take you and Curtis out to lunch every Sunday.

“When’s the last time you even left campus?” Mary asked him.

He almost looked offended. “I go into town all the time.”

“Oh!”

“For groceries, and errands, and various appointments.”

“Jane Bennett over here can’t drive and she gets out more than you.”

“Okay yes,” he sighed. “I don’t leave campus often. I don’t really feel the need.”

Mary nodded. “Let me ask you something. If you could go anywhere on earth, where would you go?”

“Well, we were supposed to go to Copenhagen…” nearly left your lips, but then your eyes caught Angus again, and looked away soon when his sight met yours.

“Oh,” your father grinned. “Greece, Italy, Egypt, Peru, Carthage, Tunisia now, of course. In college I started a monograph on Carthage. I’d like to finish that someday. A monograph is like a book only shorter.”

“I know what a monograph is.” Mary answered tiredly.

“Why not just write a book?”

That was the first thing you heard Angus say after hours of silence.

Your father shook his head. “I’m not sure I have an entire book in me.”

“You can’t even dream a whole dream, can you?” Mary asked.

If it were any other day, you would’ve laughed. But for some reason (that reason being you staring at Angus Tully), you didn’t. Still, once the two of you made eye-contact, you shot your gaze back to the TV, and then down to your book for the rest of the night.

What a strange person (he probably thought the same as you).

Your father agreed to let you sleep in the free room of the infirmary on account of the fact Teddy and Jason were gone. He made the joke too that you could “Finally sleep” as if you already hadn’t been sneaking out to get sleep. Still, even though you could no longer hear his snores, you found yourself more awake than ever that night.

When you were a child, you used to go on nightly excursions. Those being where you’d walk down the stairs of your old house and see everything in the dark; a familiar place becoming the unfamiliar and realizing just how taller everything was compared to you.

You cried the first time that you did it, and your mother rushed down to comfort you; your father, of course, slept like a rock. You still went on the little adventures though.

So…why not do it at Barton? Surely you were old enough you wouldn’t cry this time?

Tiptoeing through the halls and into your father’s room after throwing on your boots and jacket, you somehow managed to grab the keys and flashlight without him hearing you. Then you saw the bottle of whiskey by his bed; checks out.

As you were exiting through the hall, you passed by Angus’ room. You stopped in the doorway, contemplating. Would he be more pissed at you for waking him up, or for leaving him out? Well…only one way to find you.

In the same way you did on the first night, you shook him awake. He flinched a little when he saw you but wasn’t completely frazzled. “What?” He groaned, more so out of exhaustion than annoyance.

All you did was hold up the ring of keys to him.

That got him to sit up, and you managed to smile, tilting your head back to the door. It still astounds you to this down just how quickly you both could communicate without having to say a single word. He got on his coat and shoes, and the pair of you were soon off, traversing down the halls. Your first stop was the teacher’s lounge.

“I just want to check on Mary.” You explained.

“Why?”

“Because she checks up on us.”

And he didn’t argue; poor, tall child was just happy to have some freedom for the first time in almost a week. So, you both just quickly peered into the teacher’s lounge, and sure enough, she was sleeping on the couch with the TV on. You both tiptoed out of there and into the darkened hallway.

“Turn on the light.” He whispered to you.

“I’m trying.” You felt around for the switch, and then heard a ‘bump!’ in front of you followed by cursing.

“Shit!” Your heart jumped. “What did you do?!”

“Just turn on the light!”

You did, and you saw him hunched over, cradling his left elbow. You made a face. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just maybe turn the flashlight on before going into a dark place?”

Oh, hell no, you weren’t taking that amount of sass. “Well maybe you should stop being so tall and stupid. Jesus wept, you make the ground shake every time you walk.”

He scoffed, though an etching of a smile played on his lips when he knocked on the wall beside you.

“What’re you doing?” You asked.

“She’s not going to wake up. It’s fine.”

“Still, I don’t wanna risk it.”

“Okay,” he shrugged his shoulders. “then could I have the light? Seeing that you can’t handle it?”

Oh, what a little shit. Rolling your eyes, you handed it to him, to which he immediately turned over his shoulder and started skipping down the hallway, making quite a lot of noise.

“Angus Tully, I swear to God!” You rushed after him.

He led you into the kitchen, but you led him to the freezer and the large tub of vanilla ice cream the cooks only used for ‘Special Occasions’. You grabbed spoons off the counter and ate from the tub for a few good minutes without saying a word to each other.

When you were finished, he asked. “Where else were you thinking of going?”

“I’m not sure.” You then glanced over to one of the ‘Staff Only’ doors. “I got an idea.”

After using the keys to unlock it, the door led down into a dimly lit tunnel. You went down first, the cold hitting your skin and you zipped your jacket up. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Angus still up at the top.

“Well come on, you’re the one with the light.”

That seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he was in, and he walked down the steps.

“How’d you know this was here?”

“That’s for me to know.”

And you just walked ahead of him.

He scoffed. “So, I don’t get to find out?”

“Nope.”

The tunnel was much longer than you initially thought it would be, but when you both got to the first door you’d seen, you were led into the sacristy of the chapel. Instantly, Agnus set down the flashlight and opened up the cabinet, taking out the chalice and jug of wine.

You snorted. “What a faithful altar boy you are.”

“Of course I am.” He responded, pouring the wine into the chalice and taking a huge gulp of it. “Want some?”

You tensed at first but responded quick enough. “Sure.”

He poured the wine into the chalice and took a small sip. It wasn’t as bad as when you first tried it; in fact, it was pretty good. You finished most of it after bringing it to your lips again.

“You’ve never had it before, haven’t you?” He grinned like the little shit he was (still is).

Shaking your head, you handed it back to him. “Just not in a while.”

You both got quickly bored in the sacristy after Angus had another drink of wine and went back through the door into the tunnel.

“Do you think someone died down here?” You questioned.

“If you’re trying to scare me, you’re doing a shitty job at it.” He answered.

“That sounds like something someone who’s terrified of ghosts would say.”

Sooner than you thought you would, and after a solid minute of you two going back and forth about the existence of ghosts, you found another door, which led you up into the auditorium. You’d only been there once for Curtis’ graduation the year prior, and you hadn’t step foot in there since then. Angus immediately went to the piano, sitting down at it and looking out to the sea of seats. You approached him leaning against the grand piano. He brought out a pack of the cigarettes you’d gotten him and a lighter.

“Mind if I have one?” You asked.

He nodded, placing a cigarette between his lips and then handing you one. He lit it for you, and you brought it up to your mouth. Somehow, you hadn’t coughed, and you were proud of yourself; you let your curiosity get the best of you, but it hadn’t killed you yet. Angus pressed a few keys on the piano, and you chuckled.

“You play?” You questioned.

“Not since I was ten. You know how?”

“Nope; all I know is Roman history and how to annoy men, apparently.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Can I ask you a question after you do?”

“Sure.”

“Go ahead.”

He takes a puff from his cigarette before asking. “Why the book names?”

Chuckling, you shook your head. “It’s just always been a thing my mom did; they all mean different things. Countess Natalya when I’m being overdramatic, Jo March for my dad, Jane Bennett for Mary, Emma Woodhouse when I’m being stubborn, things like that.”

“Should I call you something then?” He teased.

“I’d prefer just my name from you, thank you very much.” You played along back, walking around the piano and plopping yourself down on the wooden floor. He soon sank down to be at your level, finding it awkward to sit above you. “Okay, my question.”

He nodded. “Shoot.”

“Why did you and Teddy get into a fight at the beginning of break?”

Sighing, he rolled his eyes. “Asshole stole my family picture and I knew it but he kept denying it; might’ve said some shitty things to him, but it’s not like they weren’t true.”

“What’d you say?”

“That he was a sociopath, and his family didn’t want him around.”

You almost choked on your cigarette but laughed. “Damn, that’s brutal.”

“Smith had to pull us apart, it was apparently that bad.”

Scoffing, you said. “You and him had to hold Teddy back after I punched him.”

“Asshole.” He muttered.

“Asshole.” You repeated.

Silence passed by the both of you for the hundredth time that day, and that was when you spoke up.

“I’m sorry I’ve been a bit of a jerk these last few days.” He arched his brow, and you just went on. “To be honest, you have been too, but I’ve been a bigger one; especially today. I wanted to say something before but…I didn’t want to be more of a bitch than I already was.”

He shook his head. “You’re not; I was kind of a dick when I first met you.”

“Kind of?”

“Okay, a lot.” He admitted. “It was honestly stupid luck I got that question when you first showed up at Barton, and I got carried away with bragging.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” You repeated his words from a few days ago. “You’re actually the smartest out of all of them.”

“Really?”

“Not even close to me, but still.” You held out your hand. “Friends of some sort?”

He shook it. “Friends of some sort.”

You both pulled away, and after taking another drag of your cigarette you said. “I actually don’t know jack shit about you.”

“That a fact?”

“Yeah, and since we’re going to be stuck here for a while, I think that should change. How about this?” you scooted closer to him. “We ask each other questions. Simple at first, but more and more, we go a little deeper. How does that sound?”

He huffed. “Sounds like a regular conversation.”

“We get to refuse to answer one question.” You added. “Everything else after is free game. Sound more exciting?”

Angus nodded. “Alright, what’s your favorite color?”

“Pass.”

“Are you serious?”

“Fuck no.” You laughed, giving him your favorite color then asking him. “Favorite book?”

He responded much faster than you thought he would. “Catch-22.”

“Ah, a man of culture. Thank God, I thought I’d have to stop talking to you.”

Angus shook his head, chuckling. “If you could be an animal, what would you be?”

Ah…a bit of a stranger one, but you like that. You thought more on it, then gave him your answer. He nodded.

“Yeah, seems like you’d be one.”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” You answered in a dead pan, and broke character the second you saw his face fall. “Just messing with you. Favorite childhood memory?”

He paused at that but didn’t show any sign of discomfort. Hesitance, yes, but he was taking more time thinking about your (frankly bizarre) question. Then, he answered.

“My dad took me on a fishing trip when I was twelve. Just for the weekend out in the woods with a small cabin. Talked to me about what it meant to be a man, telling me what he was like as a kid…I don’t even like fishing.”

The short story, even though it wasn’t yours, brought a nostalgic smile to your face for a moment. “I tried fishing once; not really my thing either.”

“Mr. Hunham took you fishing?” The look on his face made you laugh.

“Oh god no.” You shook your head. “Curtis did.”

Angus blinked upon the name. “Mary’s kid?”

“You’ve already asked a question.”

“What?”

“I just asked you what your favorite memory was as a kid, you asked me if my dad took me fishing. It’s my question now. Technically, I can ask two in a row because you just asked me what I meant.” It was your turn to have the shit-eating grin.

“I…” He tried not to laugh, unable to believe it. “So, our friendship is basically transactional?”

“Huh?”

“You’re having us say that if one of us asks two questions in a row, even if one isn’t really about getting to know the other-.”

“-It was about getting to know me; you asked if my dad took me fishing.”

“That’s a transactional relationship, not really a conversation.”

“Are you trying to explain to me what a conversation is, Tully?” You furrowed your brow, stomping out your cigarette. “Do you really believe women are that stupid?”

He shrugged. “Maybe, considering how you just asked three questions in a row.”

Never in your life (at least recently) had something thrown you off balance so drastically. You counted on your fingers, jogging your memory, and yes, you indeed answered three questions: freeing him from yours. You both made eye contact, and with the same, unspoken language, you both laughed. It took you a bit longer to recover, to which you then asked.

“Okay, and you can ask me two questions, do you genuinely think women are stupid?”

Angus shook his head, his cigarette on its last leg. “Everyone’s stupid in their own special way.”

“How poetic of you.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me.”

“Shut up and ask me a stupid question because you’re so stupid.”

He threw the cigarette on the ground and stomped it out before turning to you. “Craziest thing that happened to you?”

Your face dropped for a moment at the question, before it soon morphed into a nervous smile. “It’s what made my dad start homeschooling me.”

Angus raised his brows. “If it’s not a fun memory than-.”

“-No it’s alright.”

“If anything,” you thought to yourself. “it’ll make me see who you really are.”

You set the scene. “You’ve been in eighth grade, right?”

“I though you said I could ask two questions-?”

“-For fuck’s sake, Tully.”

“Yes,” he grinned. “I’ve been in eighth grade, surprisingly.”

“Well, you probably remember how much we thought we were hot shit at that age, right?” You didn’t give him time to respond. “My friend Elise is Miss Crane’s niece, Miss Crane the secretary.”

“Yeah, I know who she is.”

“Elise only comes to live with her during winter and summer breaks. I met her when we were like twelve, and we were immediately inseparable. Summer of eighth grade going into high school, she takes this theatre summer camp hosted by some kids at Ridgeway.”

Angus scoffed. “That fucking shithole? My roommate had some of his friends over who went there; assholes.”

“Oh, that’s not the half of it.” You rolled your eyes. “So, one of the counsellors, I don’t know I think her name was like…Gloria, or something, really liked her, and invited her to a party she and the other theatre kids were having. She told Elise that she could bring anyone that she wanted. Elise thought that other campers were being invited, so she asked me because…okay shoot me, I liked theater growing up. Now Elise wasn’t going to Ridgeway for high school, but I was, so she thought it’d be great for me to meet the people. That’s what she told my dad and her aunt; that it was a part of the camp. God, we spent hours getting ready, I look at pictures that Miss Crane took of us, and we didn’t even look that good,”

You and Angus paused to relish your chuckling before continuing. “but what mattered was that we were excited. Miss Crane drove us to the house at seven, said she’d pick us up by ten, and then left. The only people there were us, Gloria, and two of the other counselors; one being her boyfriend, Bobby fucking Nolan. So, it was awkward for the first hour because, of course Gloria wasn’t supposed to invite two eighth graders, but it’s fine because she said ‘Elise is cool, so her friend’s probably cool’. I wanted us to call someone to take us home because there was a misunderstanding, hell, the counsellor that wasn’t Gloria’s boyfriend even offered to, but Elise said she wanted to stay. I wasn’t leaving her behind, so I stayed too. It actually got fun after that. It was more than obvious I was uncomfortable, so they asked me to pick a board game for us to play when waiting for other people, and I picked Clue. It went on for a while, and people started showing up, so it was really just me, Bobby fucking Nolan, and another random kid playing with us because the others, including Elise, left. Bobby said that I was purposefully hiding my cards because he assumed some things weren’t adding up. He did this the whole game, and he’d try to be teasing, but he always sounded like he was accusing me of murder. Which, okay, a part of the game but you know what I mean. I got fed up with it, so I told him a bit more aggressively that I wasn’t lying. This asshole reaches over and squeezes me here.”

Scooting closer to Angus where your face was just a foot away from his, you pointed to the base of your neck where your clavicle is. “So I freak out of course, and he just started laughing, saying he found out that’s a ticklish spot for everyone. My stomach started feeling weird, and I…a year before that, my dad told me that if I ever started feeling sick out of nowhere, whether it was because of a person or situation, than I’d leave. Doesn’t matter what, I’d just go. So, I say I have to go to the bathroom, get Elise, she sees that I’m starting to freak out, and we try to find Gloria, her friend, or just anyone who’d want to take us home. Bobby finds us instead, he’s lit, and he won’t let us out of his sight. He was joking at first, and I’m fucking terrified at this point, so Elise has to tell him we’re going home. He’s getting pushy now, and it takes him calling her a ‘bitch’ for people to notice. So, thank God, some of the others pull him away to calm him down because he looked like he’d start swinging, and one of the girls took pity on us and drove us to Elise’s house because we were supposed to have a sleepover. I was crying at this point, so I begged Miss Crane to call Mary, not my dad, she picked me up, I told her everything, she brought me home, told my dad, and the next day I told him everything I told Mary. He said I did the right thing in leaving and was pissed at the school. So, he called them, got most of the kids there in trouble; all except Bobby fucking Nolan. Because Bobby Nolan’s mom was screwing the principal, and technically besides underage drinking and minor harassment, he didn’t do anything wrong in the school’s eyes; so, he just got a few days’ worth of detention, but even then, that was probably wiped from his records…He was a freshman going into sophomore year, so if I went to Ridgeway, I’d be stuck with him for three years…everything else checks out.”

The silence was deafening. Angus had a face you had never seen on him before. “I…shit, that’s fucked up.”

Just like with everything else you did when things became too serious (because it was only then you realized that you just told him something that was somewhat traumatic and not funny), you made it funny.

“Oh fuck, you asked me about the craziest thing that happened to me. Sorry, I forgot to say that I was like a little tipsy throughout all of that.”

“What?!”

No one ever said you landed the punchline all the time. Still, you tried.

“Now I know that sounds bad-.”

“-It is bad. You were like what, fourteen?”

“…Thirteen.”

“Oh my god.” He groaned.

“How old were you when you first drank?”

“Sixteen.”

“That’s like three years.”

“It’s about maturity.”

“Oh,” you snickered. “and you have a lot of that?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, maybe I do."

Rolling your eyes, you said. “Go ahead.”

“What?”

“Ask your other question. No, that one doesn’t count, I’m actually tired of the rules I set up.”

He was still, understandably, thrown off about all that you told him. Still, he went. “How’d you know about the tunnels?”

“Curtis Lamb. We were friends for a while, and he told me he and some other kids would explore them. Mary never found out somehow.”

“Why’d you stop being friends?”

You shrugged. “We didn’t, he just died. Did your mom and dad get a divorce or…?”

You were always a hardball when it came to being blunt.

Angus tensed. “Pass.”

“Okay.”

“Can I ask about the letter?”

Oh…oh…

Well…what a spot you put yourself in…

“Pass.” You said without hesitation. Had he said that to get back at you for asking a stupid question or did he actually want to know?

Still, he respected it. “Your turn.”

And you decided to be slightly less bold, but not back down completely. “Have you been kicked out of school before?”

To your surprise, he wasn’t angry when you asked. A bit smug even. “Oh, who told you?”

“Alex.”

“Figures. Yeah, three.”

“Why?”

“‘Unruly behavior, instigating fights, stealing school property.’” He rolled his eyes. “If I get kicked out of this one, it’s off to military school.”

You nodded. “So maybe don’t then.”

“Seems like a plan.”

“When did your mom marry your stepfather?”

“Just last summer; that’s why they’re taking their honeymoon now. She’d only been with him for six months.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” He shook his head. “Just lonely I guess.”

You furrowed your brow. “She had you.”

He didn’t say anything, he stopped looking at you too. Well, new tactic now.

“What you did was nice a few nights ago.” Like Pavlov’s dog, he looked up at you. “Helping Ye-Joon out.”

His eyes drifted. “It was nothing.”

“It was everything to him and it meant something to me. It meant that you’re not a complete asshole you try to be, and I don’t know why you try to be one, but you’re not.” You saw right through him, and you both knew it. Still, to save face a little while longer, you added. “I’m sorry too about saying you didn’t have friends.”

“It’s fine-.”

“-No, it’s not, because I felt like shit as soon as I said it, and it’s a shitty thing to say to anyone.”

He stared at you the same way he did when you gave him toothpaste, and it unnerved you even more. Had anyone ever apologized to him?

“Thanks.” Was his reply, and the two of you stopped asking questions. You both sat in the auditorium for perhaps a small moment’s silence when he said. “I uh…we should probably get back.”

You nodded, getting up. “Yeah, sounds good.”

The two of you tried to make it seem like you’d never been there and made your way back down into the tunnel. The walk seemed much longer than it had previously, the two of you not seeming to have anything to say until Angus went-.

“I threw out the skin mag.”

Well…the actual last thing you thought you would hear from him that night.

You stopped in your tracks. “Huh?”

He didn’t look at you as he confessed. “I stole Kountze’s cigarettes to trade for it and practically waved it in his face the first few days. I know it’s none of my business, but after he read the letter…I just felt bad about it.”

What on God’s green earth were you supposed to say? Apparently, after a few moments of stunned silence, you knew.

“…Thanks? On behalf of all women, I guess?” He nodded, still not looking at you, which only added to your anxiety. “We’re good, right? Still friends of some sort?”

“Yeah.” He finally met your eyes.

You nodded. “Nice.”

And you walked ahead of him as if trying to outrun the light. You both tiptoed through the halls, setting the keys and flashlight back in your father’s room in the infirmary, and went into your own separate rooms.

As you laid down to sleep, the strangeness of the whole evening played in your mind. You had been so vulnerable with him, and he hadn’t thrown it back and spat it in your face; he let you talk about it for so long.

He didn’t blame you for what happened.

You never told anyone about that besides the people involved…

But he didn’t do the same. Yes, your friendship (of some sort) didn’t have to be where each of you dumped a lot of baggage on each other…but you still felt odd doing so.

You felt something in your stomach the more you thought about the whole night; being alone together and exploring the school as if you were both main characters in a novel, telling secrets in the dark…

You didn’t feel sick though; at least, not like when a boy touched you for the first time.

#angus tully x reader #the holdovers #paul hunham #mary lamb #angus tully #Youtube

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mayfieldss · 1 month

Text

Five minutes - Angus Macgyver

Synopsis: In which you and Mac are supposed to be studying, but he has something else in mind.

Warnings: sexual innuendos, MIT!mac, uni au, Mac is such a whore I'm gagged, there's literally no plot it's literally just an aggressive make out session. idk what to tell y'all.

Mac liked to believe he was a focused guy. Yes, he fiddled with things in classes and lectures, and yes, he had made a few minor chemical bombs in high school to pass the time, but he was in university now. A highly educated and focused man. He just processed information faster when he had something in his hands. A paperclip, for example, or the springs from a pen.

Mac was a focused man, but he also liked to make his own decisions, and today, he wanted to focus on something other than the scribbled notes and equations on paper. He wanted to focus on what was in his grasp, shifting underneath his very focused hands.

Mac is currently standing in the science laboratory, with you—his beloved girlfriend—in front of him. You're supposed to be checking the PH levels of specific substances for a paper due in two days' time, but Mac's heart—and hands—just don't have the energy to care. What he does care about, however, is the way his fingers feel placed delicately on your hips. His touch is light as he stands behind you, watching you work with furrowed brows, but he can tell that each time the pads of his fingers brush under the hem of your shirt, he gains a little more of your attention.

"Your handwriting is terrible," Mac mumbles, lips pressed ever so purposefully against the space behind your ear. He knows the effect it has on you, and with his chest pressed against your back, he can feel it too. Your deep breath in and your sharp exhale makes him grin wide against the large expanse of exposed skin on your neck.

"My handwriting is perfectly readable, actually." You snip back, placing down your pen on the bench. Mac removes one hand from your body to point at the notes scribbled in front of you.

"Okay, what does that say?"

"Two minutes till absorption." Your breath hitches when Mac places a well timed kiss to your neck, and you can feel his teeth graze across the skin there when he smirks.

"Oh, does it now? Because to me that looks a lot like a five." His hands have snaked from your hips to your lower abdomen, and he's nothing if not determined to distract you from the work.

"Okay, so it may be a five, but—" before you can finish the sentence Mac has spun you around to face him. The smug smile that graces his lips sends a shiver down your spine in anticipation, but you don't let it show.

"Mac, we need to get this finished."

"I think we deserve a break."

"I don't." You push Mac back then, gently, but with enough force to get your point across. "If we get this done today we can have as many 'breaks' as we want tomorrow."

"Or we could have as many breaks as we want now, and do this tomorrow." Mac takes a few steps back before sitting down on one of the wheeled laboratory stools, sliding himself a small ways back and forth across the floor. He has a bit of fun with it for a while before he becomes bored again, eyes burning into you from behind. He can tell you aren't doing the work you claim to be attentive too. He knows you too well by now. Mac knows every expression, every tone of your voice, and of course, he knows your body.

"Babe," he speaks gently, with less mischief now. "c'mere for a second. Please."

He watches your figure pause, and he can tell you're thinking it over. He tries not to smile when you turn around, but every step you take toward him is like a point on his scoreboard.

"Just five minutes, Angus." you use his first name so he knows you mean it, but even as you seat yourself in his lap you know it hasn't registered in his brain. He's too focused on your arms around his neck, your legs straddling him, to care about anything else.

"Five minutes. I promise." He winks at you, and you don't buy the deal he's made, but you want it just as bad, and Mac knows it. He watches the seriousness in your eyes fade, and the smile crawl it's way onto your lips, before he moves in for the first kiss, short and sweet.

It doesn't stay that way for long.

There's very little conversation after that, just the shifting of bodies and the movement of hands. Mac can't deny that he doesn't want to stop at the five minute mark, and he doesn't think that he can. There's just one problem—The chair at which Mac chose to sit and its goddamned wheels. With every kiss, grind and gasp the chair slides, disrupting the melded movements of Mac's body with yours.

Mac was a focused man but some distractions were too hard to ignore. That's why after one particularly deep kiss, and one very sudden movement from the unsteady chair, Mac gives in.

"Fuck it, this isn't gonna work." His words come as pants, out of breath as he stands from the chair, picking you up with him. The way your legs wrap around his waist brings out a quiet groan from his throat as he supports you, a hand on your thigh. Your grip on his shoulders is tight, as if you're afraid he'll drop you, though you know he never would.

"What are you doing?"

Mac squeezes your thigh, his grin presenting itself once more. "Improvising."

After all, that was what he did best, but you'd never expected this kind of determination from him, at least not now, in broad daylight, in the MIT laboratory.

In seconds Mac is practically throwing you onto the workbench, sending your notes flying.

"Mac—" He cuts you off with a kiss, a desperate one that has you moaning into his mouth out of pure shock and pleasure. When your hands find their way back into his hair Mac is a goner. He's a sucker for it, and with one tug of his blonde locks he's at your mercy. He's gripping you tight in seconds, one hand expertly moving up the back of your shirt, and instantly, you lean forward into him, his fingers running up and down your spine. It sends shivers through you until you're practically attempting to climb the blonde, slipping off the bench in your craze.

Mac doesn't hesitate to pull you flush against him then, deepening the kiss as best he can before lifting you again, grip strong on your ass.

You pull away for a moment gasping for breath as he brings you back to sit on the workbench, his lips leaving harsh marks on your neck. The bites will bruise later, and prove to everyone that there is nothing Angus MacGyver won't do to get a taste of you.

"You okay?" His eyes are locked with yours, a strong hand resting softly of the side of your face, The pause is genuine and sweet, and when you nod in response, still out of breath, the smirk that marks him is one that could kill. He looks better than ever in this moment, like he was hand crafted just for you, and when he kisses you again, tongue fighting with yours, you think that just might be the case. He fits perfectly with you, and that just makes you want him more.

Mac doesn't think he can love anyone as much as he does you, and he's been just as desperate for your touch many times before. He can never get enough of you it seems, and with every second you spend running your hands over him, his chest, his shoulders, his neck, he gets closer to going insane.

Angus MacGyver is nothing if not a focused man, and now, he is focused completely and entirely on you. His hands smooth over the insides of your thighs as he guides you further back onto the bench. His mind is fuzzy with the need to please you, and you're happy to let him, but you're both soon startled by the crashing of glass nearby.

Mac has knocked a beaker off the bench, the thick glass done for as it lies in shards on the floor below you, but it doesn't take Mac long to move on. He sends the broken pieces a quick glance, though his attention, his thoughts, his heart, are too set on you for him to care.

His hands continue their motions prior to the accident, but before he can connect his lips with yours again, he notices your gaze on the shards. He moves a hand to your chin, guiding you to look at him, and as much as Mac wants to take you on the bench right then and there, he stops.

"Just forget about it." he gives you a gentle peck, the kiss causing a soft smile to form. He's proud of it, and the fact he was the one to give it to you, though you don't let him off that easy.

"We have to clean it up." You dare to run your hands through Mac's hair, and he can't help but shift closer to you. He can't hide the lust in his eyes, nor can you, but you are able to function properly, unlike Mac.

"Later" He mumbles, his hands sliding down to rest on your waist. They're warm, inviting, and your restraint almost breaks.

"They're gonna make us pay for it." You whisper, barely able to form a sentence when Mac's hands start roaming softly over your body.

"Not if they don't know it was us." Any time his hands meet bare skin you have to hold back an embarrassing sigh, though you're sure Mac wouldn't mind if you let it slip. He'd love it, and the both of you know that. In fact that's what he's trying to get from you in this very moment. It's the sound he's waiting for with the brightest fire of anticipation.

"And what if they figure it out?" you're trying to distract him, just as he is you. It's been far longer than five minutes like you'd promised.

"They can add it to my tab." Mac mumbles, lips finally meeting yours again. He takes the kiss slow this time, though there is just as much passion within it, and he can feel you give in under the squeezes of his fingers and tracing of his palms. He lies you back across the bench, and you can't help but chuckle as he pops the button on your pants.

Later, you'll regret the impulse decision to give in to Mac's charms, when you realize the cameras in the lab were still running long before and long after your visit. Lucky for you, Mac knows a thing or two about breaking and entering, you'll wipe the footage from the cameras, and maybe, just maybe, take the risk of playing around in the security room.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @candywh0r3 @caplanreadss @hiya-itsamber @s00buwu

MACGYVER TAGLIST: @ash5monster01

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!!

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barry-j-blupjeans · 10 months

Text

Angus was a good detective. The best detective, if he could say so himself. Good enough for the Goldcliff Militia, good enough for the Bureau of Balance. But there were still mysteries that completely eluded him. Sure, joining the Bureau had cleared some things up. But it also opened up so many more questions. Angus could— and has!— filled several notebooks up with things he wanted to figure out. But right, his most pressing concern was this.

"What do you— what do you mean he was just here?" Angus said, looking away from his notes at last.

The Director was sitting behind her desk, sunk deeply into her chair. She wore a look deep… something. Angus couldn't quite place his finger on it. But it didn't matter right now.

"He was just here," the Director said again, shrugging.

"Is he—he's not inoculated?"

"As far as I'm aware," the Director said, "and I am very aware of who is and isn't inoculated— he has not been."

"How can he live up here—?"

"Who's to say he's alive?" the Director asked.

"…fuck," Angus said. Okay, new page. He started scribbling stuff down. He'd have to look into undead beings more— ooh, maybe Mr. Taako could put him in contact with Mr. Kravitz, he had been wanting to ask a few things about his whole job and purpose and such. Back on topic, Angus, back on topic. Okay. The Bureau's library was probably his next best bet and if not, maybe the Militia's library, since he still had that passcode.

"If I may speak honestly," the Director said, leaning forward. She moved a few sheets of paper aside. "I don't give a fuck how he got up here because, quite frankly, I hate speaking to him. The less we interact, the better. Have you heard his voice? The man sounds like a violin that got beat into a pile of chopsticks. It's not—"

"So you just let him stay?" Angus interrupted, appalled.

"Garfield the Deals Warlock is not a force to be reckoned with, Angus," the Director said gravely. "Sometimes, the easiest way to solve a mystery is to stop thinking about it."

"Well, yeah," Angus said. "But he's— isn't it a security risk, ma'am? If he can get up here, then who's to say someone else couldn't? Someone like— like a Red Robe, or—"

"Angus," The Director said, looking him in the eye. "There are no Red Robes on the moon."

"That you know of," Angus said.

"That I know of," the Director allowed. "But I can one hundred percent assure you that Garfield is not a Red Robe."

"He has the magical ability—"

"He's as much of a Red Robe as you are, Angus," the Director said. "So unless you have something to share—"

"I was— it was a goof, Madam Director," Angus said. "I'm— I'm not a Red Robe." A pause. But could he be? If the Voidfish could erase the memories from his head about the relics, then maybe. But, no— no, Angus had been a baby. He couldn't make a weapon of mass destruction as a baby.

"Mine was also a goof," the Director said, cutting into his thoughts. Oh. Right. Okay. "Angus, I do very much enjoy chatting with you, but I do need you to get out of my office. I'm afraid to say that I have a spa appointment with Merle this afternoon and I need to mentally prepare myself. I think it would be wise for you to stop investigating Garfield and resume looking for another Relic."

"Of course," Angus said. "But if I happen to find anything about Garfield being a— maybe like a lich, or—"

"Can't be a lich," the Director said. "He'd just get blasted off the ding-dang moon."

"I'm— I'm sorry?" Angus asked.

"It really is time for you to go," the Director said, standing. A few of her bones popped and she grimaced. "I believe you left off with the, uhm, the Temporal Chalice, correct? That is— that's a pretty big one." She rounded the desk, doing a sweeping motion with her hands as if to say "shoo!". "I'm sure you can manage, though."

"Of course, I can," Angus said. "I'm the—"

"World's greatest detective," the Director said. "So you've said— and proven, too. Expect a hefty bonus around, uh— midsummer. Or thereabouts."

The Director showed Angus to the door.

"How big of a bonus?" Angus said, shutting his notebook.

"Well, it'll ruin the surprise if I tell you now," the Director said. "Have a good day, Detective McDonald."

"Have a good day, ma'am," Angus said. She shut the door behind him.

Angus love being a detective. That's part of why he was so good at it. But it seemed like every time he and Madam Director spoke, he ended up with more questions than answers. Maybe she was right. They had bigger problems than whatever Garfield the Deals warlock was. Or used to be, if that was anything. He should get back to finding the Chalice.

He paused, opening his notebook again.

It wouldn't hurt to look up more about liches, though. Just in case.

#angus mcdonald #lucretia #garfield the deals warlock #taz #taz balance #mine #ise cube writing #dont ask me what this is bc idk sdkfsdf

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ash5monster01 · 2 months

Text

It Should Be Wrong

Pairing: Angus MacGyver x FemReader

Warnings: 18+, descriptive smut, dirty talk, strong language, p in v, oral (f receiving), confrontation, awkwardness, use of y/n

(I actually blacked out with this one so please know it is heavily rated R)

Summary: You never really saw Mac in a romantic or attractive way until one night the both of you get a little too drunk and find yourselves in bed. The worst part, it was the best you ever had.

word count: 2.9k

Masterlist

You didn’t get it. Not at first. He was always just a friend and when girls looked his way you’d find yourself confused. Yeah he had a charming personality, honey dew skin, perfect blonde hair, and glowing blue eyes, but he was Mac. The same Mac you’d known for the entirety of your whole life. The boy that would blow spit balls in your hair and scare any guys you talked too off. So why was it you were in the position you are now with none other than Angus MacGyver himself?

“Holy fuck” your hazy voice fills the room around you. Hands tangled in that perfect blonde hair, Mac sat between your legs, and was giving you the best head of your life. You could still see the campfire glow out the windows of his room where the two of you had just been ‘drinking a few beers’.

Now he was eating you for all your worth, humming against your folds, and curling your toes. It was dirty, in every sense of the word. It’s not until his lips wrap around your clit do you find yourself tightening your thighs around his head. You would be concerned about suffocating him but the hum of delight he gives buzzes from your clit all the way up to your brain.

“I’m gonna cum Mac” you pant, almost embarrassed by how fucked out your voice is, especially towards him. You should be embarrassed it’s even him doing this to you. Yet hearing your words he only continues to eat you like a man starved and pushing you over the edge which has you trembling in seconds.

“Fucking delicious” he rasps and before you’ve even come down from your high he’s rolling you over with ease and propping your ass in the air. When did he get so strong? Before you even register what’s happening he’s slid into you at full force, pelvic bone pushing against your ass. “Damn baby, should’ve known you were tight”

“Shit, move, please” you beg and you don’t have to look to see the sly grin on the boys face as he pulls back and starts to pound into you. It’s filthy, dirty, and delicious. You should be concerned about no condom, but it’s Mac and you’re on the pill after all. The one guy you’ve known your whole life and trust entirely. You just never assumed you’d trust him in this situation.

“So fucking pretty” Mac murmurs, still pounding into you, your face smushing into the mattress. He lands a swift smack to your ass which has you muffling a yelp into the blankets in front of you. You know mascara is running down your face but your arousal was also running down your legs.

He was hitting all the right place and felt so good. Nothing separating either of you as you finally both did the one thing as best friends you claimed you’d never do. Suddenly his hand is wrapped in your hair and lifting you up to meet his thrusts. You go to whine but are stopped when his free hand reaches around and takes your breast into his hand.

“You like that baby? Me fucking you and holding these pretty tits?” he growls into your ear and in all the times you had pictured Mac in the bedroom you had never pictured him this intense and dirty.

“Yes Mac, wish you were sucking on them” and per your request he’s slipping out of you suddenly. You whine due to the loss of friction but he spins you back around and eases you onto the bed. His dick is red and angry, grazing across his abdomen and wet with your slick. You clench around nothing when he grabs himself at the base and realigns with your entrance. When did Mac get so fucking sexy?

“Such a dirty girl” he mutters with the shake of his head before he’s back inside of you. The moan you let out is pornagraphic and his own muffling haround your breast in seconds. The new angle from him bending down is delightful mixed with the sensation of his mouth taking time with each of your nipples. Now that you think about it, he hasn’t kissed you once since this all started.

“Kiss me Angus” you demand and Mac releases your nipple with a pop before giving you a slight smile. A glimpse of the gentle and kind man you usually know.

This isn’t how first kisses should go. Especially with one of your best friends in the entire world. This should’ve happened when you were fourteen and hiding out in the old treehouse. Not now when he was actually inside of you and you are both too drunk to consider the repercussions of this. Despite all of that Mac leans forward delicately and places his lips against your own. Your hands find your way in his hair again as you kiss him back, lips fitting together like puzzle pieces. Of all the things you expected it to be like it wasn’t this. It wasn’t only good but it was perfect, the best kiss you’ve ever had. Actually so far the best sex you’d ever had and even thought you thought it was wrong, all of it felt right.

“I’ve always wanted to do this” he admits before kissing you deeply again, now rocking his hips slowly with your own. It’s when his tongue slips around your own, you lock your legs around his waist and bring him deeper into you then he has been all night.

Who would’ve thought making out with your best friend could be this fun? When Mac’s hands reach to grope your tits he’s muffling your moan in his own mouth, bringing you both back to the very dirty reality that he was currently inside you raw. Pulling away from your mouth with a heavy pant he moves back into a position where he can thrust faster into you. It’s when he uses your breasts to steady himself and pounds faster into you, do you feel that coil begin to tighten.

“Shit Mac, I’m gonna cum” you gasp, hands steadying yourself on his shoulders as his body pounds yours into the mattress. He uses this response to pick up pace and before you can even register it your orgasm comes lightening fast, squeezing around his cock tightly.

“Fuck baby, got a death grip on me” he says with a stutter to his hips before spilling his load inside of you. Your mind feels fuzzy at the blissful feeling of his cum warming inside of you. You’re turned on all over again when he slowly slides out and watches as you drip his cum out of you.

“Mac” you whine, unsure what you’re asking for but he knows what you want when he takes his still hard cock and uses it to shove that very cum back inside you.

“Gonna have to take all of it baby” he tells you, knowing how overstimulated and sensitive you are. You gasp when his thumb presses lightly against your swollen clit and his dick twitches inside of you from his own orgasm.

When he pulls back out you can’t help but wince at the feeling and his naked form is slowly laying beside you and wrapping his arms around you. You grin when he presses a soft kiss into your neck, because that was the best sex you ever had and it was with Mac. The same guy you should’ve never counted out. Now you were jealous of all those girls he had crushes on growing up because you were too stupid to know exactly what you were missing out on.

The sound of your phone ringing in the morning is piercing when it reaches your head. You can’t help but groan as you fumble in a search for it. You can hardly open your eyes because of how bright the room is, you must’ve forgotten to close the blinds. Finally finding the phone you click answer and hold it up to your ear.

“Hello” you mutter, tired and in no mood to be awake right now.

“Y/N, where’s Mac?” Riley’s familiar voice fills your ears and suddenly your eyes are snapping open because why did you have Mac’s phone? That’s when it hits you. Bozer was with his girlfriend last night, you came to hang out with Mac, and he fucked you. He fucked you hard and good.

“Shit” you say out loud, glancing to your side to find you are in fact in Mac’s bed and he is completely naked beside you.

“Y/N, what’s going on? You weren’t answering your phone and now you’re answering his?” Riley questions and you sigh.

“Nothing, I just fell asleep here and my phone died. Mac is sleeping, what’s up?” you recollect yourself, not wanting to give way to what you and Mac exactly got up to last night.

“Matty needs you both, some new mission, and you’re both already late” she informs you and now you’re in full panic mode.

“Shit!” you say again before hanging up. You’re scrambling out of the bed in seconds, hunting for all your clothes now streamed across the floor of Mac’s room.

“Mac wake up!” you shout, throwing his phone back at him which lands on his stomach with a thud. He’s wincing and looking at you just as you slide your jeans up your legs with no underwear, considering you can’t find it. He blushes almost instantly at the nudity of your upper half which isn’t for long as you clip your bra into place.

“What the hell?” he groans, hands pressing against his head as he takes in his own hangover.

“We’re late for meeting Matty and apparently drank too much last night” you inform him, sliding your shirt over your head. That has him jumping into action as you move to his bathroom to see the disaster of yourself.

It’s bad. Your makeup is smudged under your eyes and hair strewned in places it didn’t belong. Gasping you do your best to wash your face and brush through it with the little things Mac has in here. Giving up and tying your hair on your head you rush back out to a now dressed Mac and ready to go. The worst part is when you realize you had rode with Mac here from the Phoenix last night so now you had to ride back together.

“Should we talk about it?” Mac says after a beat, fingers drumming on his knee as he drives you both in the maroon Jeep.

“Nothing to talk about” you mutter despite there being everything to talk about. It wasn’t just hookup sex or friend with benefits sex. This was dirty, filthy, breed you, you are mine sex. Actually the dirtiest sex you ever had in your life and never expected it to be with Mac of all people.

“Y/N, I can’t just go in there not having talked about this” he pleads, glancing over at you where you have refused to look at him since you got in the car. “You haven’t even looked at me and you’re acting weird. You’re my best friend, I don’t want things to change.

“But they did Mac. That wasn’t the kind of night you pretend didn’t happen. That was intense” you say, finally daring a glance at him where you see the pure desperation in his ocean blue eyes.

“Exactly which is why we should talk about it” he bargains and you sigh with the shake of your head.

“You said last night that you’ve always wanted to kiss me. Was that true or just the sex talking?” you finally cave and you don’t miss the way Mac’s hands grip the steering wheel. You’ve known each other your whole lives after all. You know all his tells.

“It was true. If you think at any point in my life I never had a crush on you, you’re crazy. Most girls didn’t talk to me and Bozer until high school. But you, you were always there” Mac says, eyes trained on the road but you also know he doesn’t want to look you in the eye when he admits this.

“When did you like me like that?” you ask and he lightly chuckles to himself.

“When we were thirteen. You came to my birthday party in a purple sundress and gave me an engineering book that you thought I might like. I kept telling myself I didn’t like you but when I smashed cake in your face and you laughed instead of cried, I fell in love while I picked the pieces of frosting out of your hair” he says and your stomach summersaults at the story he recalls from his own point of view. You remembered that birthday.

“Of course it was” you mutter and Mac furrows his eyebrows as he quickly glances at you.

“Why’s that?” he questions and you roll your eyes.

“Because that was the first time since I was ten I got over my crush on you, told myself it’ll never happen” and then Mac is laughing like you’ve just told him the funniest thing in the world.

“Who replaced me? Bozer?” he questions when his laughter quiets down and you roll your eyes.

“No, Brendan Fraser actually which I still find completely fair” you tell him and he laughs again, remembering how you made him watch Encino man for the entirety of that school year.

“So you’re telling me that we’ve been friends for our entire lives and somehow kept missing each other until now?” he questions and you shrug, thinking of all the times you ever felt romantically towards the boy beside you. There was the time you mentioned, once in high school when he dumped his prom date to take you when you didn’t get asked, and when he dropped out to join the army. You had been so scared of losing him you found all those old feelings coming back. Somehow after all these years your feelings both lined up and the result was last night. No wonder it was so intense.

“Apparently so blondie” you respond with a nickname you have used since childhood and Mac shakes his head as you flip the visor mirror down and fix your hair again.

Pulling into the Phoenix parking lot you pray that no one questions the way either of you look despite Mac looking much better than you at the moment. Your heart has doubled in speed by the time Mac reached his normal spot and goes to shift the car in park. Flipping the visor up, you’re reaching for the door on your quick escape, but Mac’s hand on your arm stops you.

“Wait” and then with the strength you didn’t discover until last night, he’s pulling you towards him and kissing you quickly. Once the immediate shocks goes away you lightly kiss him back, it not as filthy as the one you shared the night before but just as nice.

“What was that for?” you ask once he pulls away, eyes still closed as he lets the weight of your kiss sink in.

“I just wanted to make sure that what I felt last night was real” he says and now your heart is beating heavily for him. You had felt it too, in fact you’d never felt anything like it until last night.

“It was real Mac, all of it” you tell him and his eyes open, blinking into focus as he takes all of your features in.

“Can we not pretend this didn’t happen because there is no way I can go back to normal after this?” he asks and you sigh, eyes glancing over his own features as well and you realize that even if a relationship could jeopardize your friendship it was still him. The same boy you’ve loved a hundred different times and ways in your life, and if it was ever going to work with anybody it would be him.

“Fine, but you should know I don’t sleep with people on first dates” you say and he snorts, hands squeezing at your waist as he still keeps you pulled against the center console.

“Good to know but does it technically count as our first date? If you include Prom and that one party in college I’d say it is about our third” he says and you giggle and shake your head, cheeks warming over as you face the boy beside you.

“Our third date. I could possibly let third base slide but we’ll see” you tell him and he grins.

“I’ll take it” he says and you shake you head before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips and hopping out of the car.

“Last one in is a rotten egg!” you call out, rushing for the Phoenix doors and Mac jumps into action. Grabbing his keys and rushing out the car behind you. Yet he was going to let you win, just like he did when he was thirteen, and you’d race him into school.

At least this time he knows when he finishes the race he still gets to keep you.

Taglist: @mayfieldss @paigewinchester67 (I saw you liking my MacGyver posts today so here is a small treat)

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gotham-ruaidh · 4 months

Text

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 14B: Where Do We Go Now?

Soundtrack: “Sweet Child O’ Mine,” Guns N’ Roses, 1987 [click here to listen]

Now and then when I see her face She takes me away to that special place And if I stare too long, I'd probably break down and cry

- Guns N’ Roses, “Sweet Child O’ Mine” (1987)

Tucson || July 1988

It didn’t matter what Colum or the label or anyone else said – all recording studios looked the same on the inside.

Sure, there were always small differences. The really comfortable couches at Sound City in Los Angeles. Electric Lady in Manhattan still had the really cool paint scheme that Jimi Hendrix himself had designed. Muscle Shoals in Alabama oozed coolness.

But this studio, whose name he couldn’t and didn’t care to remember, nestled down a back street in Tuscon was…tired.

Almost as tired as Jamie.

The “quick three week tour” had stretched to eight weeks, with no end in sight. Theater shows had been upgraded to arenas. Playing to thousands and thousands of ecstatic fans. Pouring their hearts out night after night after night, and squeezing in radio promos and sound checks and business meetings during the day.

Fucking exhilarating.

Everybody wanted a piece of Print – their music, their story. Jamie still hadn’t granted too many interviews this tour, but the press ate up every word he said about sobriety and music and forgiveness. Insatiable for details about the woman he had met in rehab, and written all the new songs about, and refused to name publicly.

Print was making more money than they knew what to do with. The label had sprung for a private plane, and nobody in the band missed the rickety and smelly tour bus (except Claire, because it was still all so new to her, which Jamie added to the list of thousands of reasons why he loved her). Their hotel rooms were bigger. Catering in the dressing rooms was much nicer.

Fucking exhausting.

So many people wanted a piece of Jamie every day. Ian and Angus, to run through the new material that just kept pouring out of them. Colum, to talk ticket sales and adding second and third nights in each city. The suits from the label, who kept finding them in Dallas and Kansas City and Detroit, slapping Jamie’s back and pushing terrible ideas for duets with pop stars or contributing to a movie soundtrack or pleading to do the acoustic set in a special for MTV.

And on top of that, some dirtbag reporter from the National Enquirer had figured out who Claire was, somehow got a hold of her personnel file from the hospital, and tracked down her shitty ex-husband for an exclusive interview. Splashed her life all over the tabloids, complete with very grainy photographs of the she and Jamie together, holding hands, on a rare day off in Nashville when he took her to a few honky-tonks. The one saving grace was that thankfully, nobody at The Ridge had said a word about anything about her time there, or the time they shared together.

Claire took it all in stride. She always understood. Holding him in the bathtub of their suite in Denver as he shook from another panic attack. Smiling over a three AM hamburger at a diner in Topeka. Whimpering as he came off stage in Atlanta, sweaty and keyed up from singing about her, hoisting her in his arms for a long kiss against the lighting equipment at side stage, heart stuttering to see his eye makeup smudged against her cheeks.

The man he was on the last tour – unhappy, unfulfilled, so deep in an addition he didn’t care to acknowledge – would not recognize the man he’d become on this tour.

“In ’86, we played seventy eight dates. We had a number one record. I bought my house, and my motorcycle, and my car.” Quietly he sipped coffee in their suite in Seattle, watching the city wake up, running his thumb over Claire’s shoulder as she settled against him in front of the window.

“You had everything you had always dreamed of.”

He snorted. “I was a mess. All I could think about during every show was how to find a girl or a bottle or a baggie as quickly as possible. And the crew would always do that for me.”

The crew respected his – and Claire’s – request for no drugs or alcohol backstage this tour. What the techs and roadies and production crew did on their own time, in their own hotel rooms, with whoever they wanted to – Jamie didn’t care. But for everyone to help with, to respect, his sobriety was a gift. And he never stopped saying thank you.

“If only those reporters could see you now – Jamie Fraser swaggering off stage for an Evian.”

He smiled. “And to kiss this beautiful doctor who for some reason keeps following him around. Because he loves her, more than any man has ever loved any woman.”

He wanted to provide for her. To shelter and protect her. To never leave her side ever again.

She didn’t need him to do any of that, of course. They’d talked about it many times. But she wanted him to do that. And the fact that she chose him, kept choosing him…that was why they kept going. Kept each other sober. Kept holding each other up.

They’d agreed that this time on tour was for her to understand this part of him – and to help both of them decide how and where they would live once the tour was done.

Which is why the radio silence from Boston, four weeks after mailing the letter from Philadelphia asking, politely, just what the hell was going on…was so fucking crushing.

The stress of that – and the grind of touring – did make it just a bit more difficult every day.

Thankfully Colum had scheduled a week-long break at the end of the month. Angus was already planning a trip to Aruba with the two groupies, who truth be told had grown on the rest of the band. Ian was planning to spend the week with his wife, Jamie’s sister Jenny, and their kids.

And Jamie and Claire – well, they’d be getting married.

Only a few people knew, with good reason. Ian and Jenny, of course. Alec and Faith, in New York. Colum. Dougal MacKenzie and his wife Gillian, who had helped both Jamie and Claire so much at The Ridge. Uncle Lamb, who would officiate. And Claire’s friends Joe and Gail Abernathy, who had quite literally saved her life by getting her to The Ridge in the first place.

The service would be simple. Exactly what they wanted – what they needed.

And after that…well. They would truly be husband and wife.

But there was a lot to do – a lot to take care of – between now and then. Not the least of which was, wrapping up this recording session.

The time laying down acoustic tracks in Philadelphia last month was very well spent. They weren't so rusty. But the guys were eager to hear the songs in electric form. And since they were in Tucson, and Colum knew Bobby Higgins – who not only owned this studio, but who had also produced that really killer Ratt album in ’84…

“OK, Jamie.”

Jamie took a deep breath, and looked up through the glass at Bobby, hunched over the console in the control room.

“Ready for take two?”

Jamie looked left, to Angus – and right, to Ian.

“Yup.”

“OK – this is In My Veins, take two.”

Jamie grit his teeth.

Caught Claire’s eye in the control room.

She smiled.

He relaxed.

Angus counted in on his drumsticks, and then started the heavy beat like they’d discussed.

Four bars – and Jamie’s guitar and Ian’s bass joined in.

“That was really, really great, Jamie.”

Claire handed him a new bottle of water, cap already twisted off. He drank it in four deep gulps.

“I know you’re not shitting me. So thank you.”

Quickly she looked over her shoulder – Angus’ cheeks were being loudly kissed by the groupies, and Ian played around with his bass, and Colum and Bobby were deep in conversation in the control room.

“Where are you?”

She had pulled him away before, when the panic attacks were coming, and he knew she’d do it again right now if needed.

He wiped his mouth with the back of a sweaty hand. “About an eight out of ten.”

“Do you need a break?”

He met her eyes. “I need a meeting. Been thinking about my old friend Jack Daniels all day.”

“Did you see something?”

He sighed. “I’ve only played electric a handful of times since I got back from The Ridge.” He looked down at the gorgeous Stratocaster strapped across his chest, fist flexing. “I got this guitar because the black tone and white trim matched the label on the bottle. Stupid, I know. But it’s all I could think about today.”

“Not stupid. We’ll deal with it. You should call Alec. And I can find you a meeting.”

He leaned in, and kissed her forehead. “I love you. I’ll call him. And I need to sell this guitar.”

She nodded. “We’ll find a charity.”

He kissed her again. “I love you.”

She kissed him quickly, and returned to the control room.

Grateful that Jamie had turned away to talk to the guys, when Colum tapped her on the shoulder, and slid over an envelope postmarked Boston.

“Mail call. Do I want to know?”

She shook her head, folded the letter, and slid it into the back pocket of her jeans. “Is there a Yellow Pages I can borrow?”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #little bit better than i used to be

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21wanderer · 5 months

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MacGyver and son

This story is a fanfic of a show, I've never actually watched, apart from a very few scenes. Nevertheless I think, that viewed in the right context, it would be a very interesting plot twist.

Body a day - #19: Dad

“I still can’t believe he fell for it,” laughed ‘Sam’, whilst Murdoc began to take off all of MacGyver’s clothes.

“Tell me how you managed to achieve this, whatsyourname?” Murdoc asked his partner as he was stripping the former agent and sworn enemy.

“It’s Sam now, and you better not forget it, dad,” said his partner in the guise of a nice young man firmly, “Sean Angus Malloy, but everyone just call me Sam.”

“All right then, Sam... Tell me...”

“Oh, Old MacGyver was a real heartthrob, when he was young, not difficult to imagine with that face and that body, I managed to track down one Kate Malloy, who he had a loving relation with, she was an excellent source of information…”

“How did you get her tell you all this?” Murdoc asked now standing with the naked husk of MacGyver.

“It was easy, really,” Sam replied, “I told her, I was interviewing her for a book. She was apparently very fond of him, so she spent a long time telling me all sorts of stuff about him, and I also got her to tell me about herself. And with your help, I had all that I needed to successfully play his 'long-lost son'. And he believed every single word I told him, I even managed to get him to quit, just to spend time with me.” Sam laughed again at the last remark, then got up from his chair to help Murdoc with the MacGyver-suit.

“Heh, now you’ll certainly live up to your title as ‘master of disguise’, you couldn’t have asked for a better disguise,” Sam grinned.

“You are absolutely right,” gloated Murdoc, having stripped himself naked. He held the hollowed out skin of MacGyver up in front of him, “let’s get to it then.”

Stretching out MacGyver’s mouth ludicrously wide, Murdoc slid his legs one at a time into the warm and squishy skinsuit. Sam pushed the toes into place one by one, as Murdoc pulled MacGyver further up his body. MacGyver’s strong legs were now in place. Murdoc continued, pulling the skin up further, covering his torso, he forced down his arms down MacGyver’s mouth and guided his upper limbs into the empty husk's. He flexed his new hands. Murdoc caressed the rest of his new body, still with MacGyver’s hollow head hanging off his shoulders like a hood. Sam rubbed him on the back, helping him smooth out any creases or flaws.

“Now put on the face, dad” urged Sam, “Heh, all right,” grinned Murdoc and pulled MacGyver’s face over his own, he pushed the facial features into place and opened his eyes. “How do I look, son?”

“You look amazing, dad,” came the reply.

“Yes, this guy is fit,” the new MacGyver said, rubbing his hands across his bare chest and arms, "and pretty handsome too - now the way is open for us, Sam, nothing is going to stop us,” MacGyver laughed, replicated the voice of his enemy perfectly. He paused, looking pensive, then asked; “but if Sam isn’t the son of Malloy and MacGyver, then who is he?”

“I don’t know,” said Sam indifferently, “just some random pretty young man, that kinda looks like MacGyver, I don’t think there’s any relation between them. But hey, I’m not complaining, and the idiot believed me.” Sam’s boyish demeanour was incredibly convincing and effective at hiding the evil within, and he played the role of easygoing young man with an innocent smile and disarming laughter perfectly.

“I’m ready,” said the MacGyver imposter, having pulled on his victim’s t-shirt, jeans, socks and boots, “get the biker jackets and the rest of the gear, and let’s get going.”

“Sure thing, dad,” laughed Sam. Now they only had one final little role play to wrap up, then they’d be on their way. Murdoc had big plans for using MacGyver’s body, and Sam was the perfect partner. The two imposters went outside to get on their bikes.

youtube

‘MacGyver’ and ‘Sam’ arrived on their motorcycles, in their matching leather biker jackets. ‘Sam’ was quickly of the bike to greet MacGyver’s boss and best friend, Pete Thornton. “Hi Mr. Thornton.”

Mr. Thornton shook his hand, “Sam. What, are you guys all packed for your trip?”

“Just finished,” MacGyver replied. “Oh, MacCyver, the Phoenix Board asked me to give you this,” Thornton said pulling out an envelope from his inner pocket.

“Pete-” said MacGyver trying to cut him off. “It’s an offer of a new contract, and it’s very generous, and I think you oughta look at it.”

“We’ve been through this before,” MacGyver said impatiently, silently pleased with how easy he could deceive even MacGyver's closest friend. “Sam, and I got a little catching up to do,” he continued and padded Sam’s face, Sam laughed.

Accepting defeat, Thornton put the envelope back in his pocket. “Well I – I told them that you wouldn’t go for it,” he paused, “You know… I can’t even imagine what it’s going to be like without you around here.” That statement had the most delicious irony, thought MacGyver to himself, trying to look just a little sad. “Well, it was bound to happen – things change.”

“Not always,” replied Thornton, “good things don’t.” MacGyver and Sam both suppressed the urge to laugh. “Don’t you ever change, MacGyver” Thornton continued, clearly being moved by this ‘sad goodbye’, that both MacGyver and Sam played through. “Don’t you either,” replied MacGyver. Thornton opened his arms, and the imposter gave him a hug.

“Well, can I expect to drop in once in a while anyway?”

MacGyver placed a hand on Thornton’s shoulder, “Count on it, my friend.” “Sam,” Thornton said and stretched out his hand to the young man again, “take care of your old man, will ya?” “You can count on it,” Sam replied delightfully, shaking Thornton’s hand a final time.

'MacGyver and son' mounted their bikes. “So – where to?” asked Sam rhetorically as he grabbed his helmet. “Somewhere else,” replied MacGyver rehearsed. Sam sent him one of his boyish smiles, after which they both put on their helmets. They started their engines and headed off. That was the end of the old MacGyver and the beginning of a new.

#body a day #male body suit #male bodysuit #male body transformation #body theft #stolen identity #identity theft #body suit tf #impersonation #imposter #male skinsuit #male bodysuit tf

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breitzbachbea · 3 months

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I wonder now if people who know a lot more about that certain part of history my AU takes place in have been slagging me off in private, which is their good right, but I would also appreciate constructive slagging to my face, because the more I learn, the more interesting it gets.

#beablabbers #I just keep thinking about how I have a vague definition of class in my head but by far nothing specific #and I keep thinking about fucking. Angus. Who certainly does not really make sense in what he does #why can he read. what people would accept him into their circles bc discussing conceptual shit is for people with money.#Francesco I would have no doubt that man could have fucking fooled people into access #But Angus is not exactly. Socially intelligent. I mean he is too a degree but he is also an arsehole of a firebrand.#Angus is the kind of guy who would not get into a coffee house I think. But now I wanna learn more about coffee houses.

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withasideofshakespeare · 19 days

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Woah no way?? People (completely unprompted /s) want to hear my trans Shakespeare headcanons?? You bet I can do that.

I’ve done this once before:

But I have even more thoughts now!!

In no particular order:

Puck (A Midsummer Night’s Dream): Every single pronoun possible. He/she/they/it + all of the neopronouns and xenopronouns that exist currently or will ever exist. Fairy gender is always weird but Puck’s is extra weird.

Oberon (A Midsummer Night’s Dream): Fairy gender. Probably he/they/it?

Titania (A Midsummer Night’s Dream): More fairy gender. She/they/it?

Titania’s fairy attendants (Midsummer): Get a hat and fill it with various pronouns and draw them out at random for the fairies.

Benedick (Much Ado About Nothing): Could go either way, but I really like the idea of transfemme Benedick. Or he/him lesbian Benedick.

Beatrice (Much Ado About Nothing): The she/they to end all she/theys

Viola/Cesario (Twelfth Night): Could be trans in literally any direction. I made a post about this too at some point. My suggestion is all of the directions: they/she/he

Sebastian (Twelfth Night): He/him, transmasc. I also made a post about this at some point.

Feste (Twelfth Night): I saw a great she/her Feste last summer.

Orsino (Twelfth Night): Specifically the himbo variety of he/they

Margaret of Anjou (Henry VI trilogy and Richard III): If I ever play Margaret, I will use she/they pronouns.

Catesby (Richard III): Just played Catesby with she/her pronouns and it worked!

Richard II (Richard II): Tell me Richard isn’t the most they/he or he/they guy alive (or… dead).

Hal (1 Henry IV-Henry V): Saw Hal played with she/they pronouns last summer and it was great. Could also see he/they Hal. Very nonbinary vibe overall. I personally believe that going by Hal rather than Henry for two whole plays is their way of pulling the “going by the first letter of what my name used to be instead of picking a name from scratch” nonbinary trick. He probably pretends to be cis after his dad dies and he becomes king—one more element of Hal’s lifelong identity crisis.

Hotspur/Harry Percy Jr. (Richard II & 1 Henry IV): He/they in denial.

Kate Percy (1 & 2 Henry IV): She/they, not in denial. (Also Katespur should be bi4bi)

Ned Poins (1 & 2 Henry IV): Transmasc Ned Poins?? Maybe he doesn’t actually have a sister and Nell is just his deadname. Ned Poins’ failed scheme to flirt with Hal.

Romeo (Romeo & Juliet): he/they (t4t R&J!!!)

Juliet (Romeo & Juliet): she/they (t4t R&J!!!)

Mercutio (Romeo & Juliet): they/he(/it?). Vibes alone. Look at them. Just look.

Nurse (Romeo & Juliet): she/her, transfemme!

Cassius (Julius Caesar): Would love to see a they/them Cassius

Hamlet (Hamlet): he/they. I’ve made multiple posts about this theory and I still love it.

Ophelia (Hamlet): she/they. As she should.

Laertes (Hamlet): she/him and NOT just because Laertes used she/her pronouns the first time I saw this play.

Rosencrantz (Hamlet): he/they/she. Vibes. Sometimes goes by Ros/Rose. Probably genderfluid.

Malcolm (Macbeth): they/he or they/them. Also vibes.

Lady Macbeth (Macbeth): stolen straight from my last post because this is still my HC: she/they; would insult you for “having pronouns in your bio” and then turn around and punch you in the face for using their pronouns incorrectly.

Angus (Macbeth): she/her, transfemme. (t4t Ross/Angus. I will die on this hill… Dunsinane Hill.)

Ross (Macbeth): he/him, transmasc

Caithness (Macbeth): she/they lesbian

Mark Antony (Julius Caesar and Antony & Cleopatra): I would not bat an eye at he/they Mark Antony

Edmund (King Lear): they/he, nonbinary, sexiest man (/gn) alive.

Edgar (King Lear): he/him. Transmasc Edgar is slowly becoming canon To Me.

Cordelia (King Lear): she/her, transfemme.

Goneril (King Lear): she/they. I would let them kill me.

Coriolanus (Coriolanus): transmasc OR transfemme Coriolanus is!!!! The butterfly/metamorphosis motif! Name changes during canon! Discomfort with scars/body! Lack of autonomy granted by society! This is THE transgender play. (Other than Twelfth Night)

Imogen (Cymbeline): Tell me she doesn’t want to be a she/they so bad.

Florizel (The Winter’s Tale): he/they(/she?). Literally just a vibe. I have a pet rock named Florizel.

Perdita (The Winter’s Tale): she/they. I also have a pet rock named Perdita.

Ariel (The Tempest): Similar to Puck, probably they/she/he? Even my conservative English prof consistently rotates between she/her and he/him for Ariel (possibly not intentionally? I’m not convinced he knows what her canon pronouns are.)

Ferdinand (The Tempest): she/they. PLEASE give me transfemme Ferdinand. PLEASE let Miranda realize she’s a lesbian during canon.

Miranda (The Tempest): she/they. Ariel taught them about the existence of she/they pronouns and she immediately started using them.

So in other words… every Shakespeare character should be trans, actually.

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butcherlarry · 6 months

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Weekly Fic Rec 40

It's been another ten fic rec lists, so you know what that means! A random list of recommendations of something not Superbat/Batfam/DC related. This time, it's meat related! Tbh, I don't know why I haven't done that before, lol.

Anyway, on to the fics!

Latchey by goldkirk - Batfam, complete. Tim joins the family early fic! He also runs a blog full of all his batfam photos (secretly, of course).

Fears Unfounded by OdosBucket - Superbat and Batfam, complete. Jason has some worries about Bruce's new partner, Clark.

Mission: seducing Superman by Speechless_since_1998 - Superbat, wip. Battinson figures the only way to stop Superman is to seduce him. Shenanigans ensue. Selina, Harley, and Ivy help.

The Price of Blame by AlexaAffect - Batfam, complete. Jason finds out that his siblings keep blaming their fuck ups on him to Bruce. He decides to start charging for his services. Shenanigans ensue.

painted blind by IHadHimOnTheRopes (CarterReid) - Superbat, wip. More of the soulmates fic, but from Clark's POV.

non-disclosure agreement by pomeloquat - Banebat, complete. A very good, very smutty fic from the BBWO collection. Also it's a pomeloquat fic, which are always a delight to read.

all that he can hold by shipyrds - Superbat, complete. Another lovely, smutty fic, with a focus on breathplay/choking. It also gets very Soft at the end, which I also enjoyed.

Borrowing a Bed by Anonymous - Superwonderbat, complete. A short fic where they all share a bed at the Kent house. Bruce is in the middle, of course.

Behind Closed Doors by Taxi_Cab_To_Slowtown - Pennywaynes, complete. Ace Thomas and his lovely spouses, Martha and Alfred :)

(Love) Triangles Have Multiple Centers by frozenpotions -Superbat, wip. More of the identity porn fic. Dick makes an appearance and he is a Delight.

Gently in the Night by Internedionality - Cloisbat, complete. Bruce isn't doing to well after Jason's death. Clark helps, then Lois. More Ace Bruce, because I'm a sucker for that.

The Heart Grows Fonder by Yippekia - Superbat, wip. Another lovely smutty fic from the BBWO collection. Clark goes off planet, but leaves some company behind to take care of Bruce :)

a sky of honey by TheResurrectionist - Superbat, wip. More of the omgaverse Superbat fic. Clark finally meets Jason.

nocturn by TheResurrectionist - Superbat, complete. Part of a room full of coral series. What Lex is doing in 'a sky of honey' when Bruce is going through his heat with Clark. He has a big sad, Bruce and Clark help.

Custody Exchange by SalParadiseLost - Bruharvey, complete. A creepy fic, just in time for the holiday! Jason is the child of Bruce and Harvey. Bruce is a monster, and so is Jason. Bruce and Harvey share custody.

Patchwork Pod by Ktkat9 - Superbat, wip. More of the mer Bruce fic! Also, Bruce is back!!

we shall be free; we shall find peace by mediant - Superbat (eventually), wip. More of Clark being a long time prisoner of Lex. Latest chapter was sad (not that that's a bad thing!), but Kon is a teen now!

And now for the meat recommendations! I grew up on a beef farm raising Angus, so most of these are going to be beef since I'm biased that way. But if you poke me, I could give you some recommendations of some other species too (except fish, not a lot of experience there).

Of steaks that come from the middle meats (ribeye, loin), I have a fondness of ribeye steak. BUT ONLY if it comes from the front of the ribeye roll. The reason why is because there is a cap muscle that wraps around the major loin muscle (longissimus dorsi) called the spinalis dorsi. It's so much more tender and flavorful than the actual ribeye muscle.

Below is an example of what I mean. It's that flat muscle wrapping around the oval shaped one:

Next is the Flat Iron steak! That muscle is called the infraspinatus, and is the second most tender muscle in the carcass! And also cheaper than the most tender muscle, the tenderloin (like, more than half the price per pound). It comes from the chuck, or shoulder of the beef carcass, and hangs out on top of the shoulder blade.

Below is a picture. Note, there is a thick piece of connective tissue that lays in the middle of the muscle. It has to be filleted out (sort of like fish), then you'll have two long strips of meat. This picture has the connective tissue out.

My finally recommendation is a more economic option, cube steak! It comes from the back leg, or round of the carcass. I tend to not like meat that comes from this primal because I always find it so dry and tough. Most of the time, my family just grinds it all for ground beef (adding fat trim so it's not so lean). But, we do request or make cube steak whenever we get one of our beef carcasses processed. Eye of round (this is the same muscle as your hamstring in your leg) is used, but top or bottom round can be used as well. Since those muscles are so tough, they are mechanically tenderized using a cuber, where you drop the meat through some blades a few times until it's tender. I like to bread mine in seasoned flour, brown them, and then drop in a crock pot with cream of mushroom soup or cream of chicken soup (sometimes both if it's a large batch). It cooks while I'm at work, and when I get home, I make some potatoes to go with my meat and gravy. I have fond memories eating this after a cold day of helping Dad with farm chores as a kid.

Below is an example:

Again, if you want any recommendations for other species, let me know! But to be honest, a lot of the cuts from a pork or lamb carcass is the same as a beef, it's just smaller with (maybe) a different name.

Happy reading (and eating)!

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noodyl-blasstal · 6 months

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King of the (bouncy) Castle

It's @taznovembercelebration day 17 and today I drew the prompt "soft"

Read below or on Ao3 if you prefer. Missed yesterday's? Find it here.

“Ko!” Lup yells from the hall.

“What?” He screams from his bedroom, because he’s still deciding on what to wear and if it’s that urgent she can come in.

“Do you know anyone else?”

“In general? Or?”

“Don’t be a dick. Do you know anyone who can come today?”

“Why?”

“Magnus had to drop out.”

“We can win without him.”

“A team is four people.”

“Ask Dav.”

“He’s racing today”

“Lucretia?”

“She just laughed until I hung up. It was a solid 3 minutes.”

“Merle?”

“I’m going to need you to work from the assumption that I have remembered our joint friends with whom we spend all our time”

“But seriously, Merle.”

“Taako, I have tried everyone we jointly know. He said he was going to be busy in the greenhouse, and then he said some other things. Would you like me to tell you what those other things are? Because I can. I can tell you exactly what he had planned for the onions because he told me because I had him on speaker phone and I got trapped in my shirt and he said a lot of words before I could hang up. They’re burned into my brain forever and cha’girl is happy to share that burden.”

“No! Lulu, don’t! I’ll cast silence.”

“I’ll counterspell it. Now start thinking of people.”

“Angus?”

“I also know Angus, and he’s a literal child.”

“He’s, what, 6 now?”

“He’s eleven, Taako, you baked him a cake in the shape of the number for his birthday two weeks ago.” There’s no need for Lup to slander him like this.

“Eleven! That’s basically an adult for humans, right?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Are you going to stop doing special magic boy lessons with him because he’s all grown up now?” Lup goes for the jugular. He doesn’t have to stand for this cruelty, for the implication that he actually likes spending time with the baby.

“What aboutttt… erm…” Taako changes the topic seamlessly and casts his mind furiously about for a name, any name, of a person Lup wouldn’t have already called. There’s one that popped up as soon as Lup asked and he’s trying his best to see round it but it keeps sidling into his eye line. He can’t though. It’d be a disaster. “Errrrr… Brian.”

“No. Absolutely anyone else.”

“What’s wrong with Brian?”

“He’s in a cult!”

“But apart from the cult stuff he’s lovely.”

“Taako! Do you want to win or not?”

Fine. Fine! Taako does very much want to win, especially after Lydia tripped him last year.

“Kravitz.” He says it fast, like he’s ripping off a plaster. Maybe Lup won’t put two and two together.

“The guy from work?”

“No?”

“Oh, you know another Kravitz, do you?”

“Yes?”

“Is any of that supposed to have convinced me?”

“Is it working?”

“No.”

“Fuck.”

“So… different Kravitz? How do you know Kravitz-Who’s-Not-From-Work? Why do you have a way of getting in touch with him?” Lup’s going to cling to this an unnecessary amount.

“Ooooh are we talking about Kravitz?” Barry, fucking Barry, asks. Wandering his ass right into their private conversation.

“This is a private conversation, Barold.” Yells Taako through the door of his room into the hall of their too-small shared apartment.

“Would you like me to put my noise cancelling headphones on?” Barry asks, earnestly, like he’d actually fucking do it if Taako said yes.

“Absolutely not, Barry, You live in this house and you have every right to be in this hallway.” Lup snaps. She’s still mad about last time Taako forgot to tell Barry he could take the headphones off. In his defence, he made him a cake about it. A jake, in fact, with edible press studs. Barry loved it! Plus, he was listening to one of his lectures, he was fine, happy as a clam!

“Fine.” Taako threw up his hands, no one could see him, but it felt important to do it anyway, you know, for the drama. He couldn’t argue with this, he didn’t have a choice, he may as well give in and call Kravitz, they’ve both worked together to twist his arm. “You’re making me do this though. It’s not because I want to. I’ve been compelled.”

“What?” Says Barry, perplexed. “I thought we were just talking about your crush.”

“His what?” Says Lup.

Taako springs forward and manages to flick the lock across the second before Lup tries the handle.

“You’re in love with death?” She tries the handle a few more times, as if it’ll jiggle the lock free.

“A man isn’t his job, Lup.” Taako shouts back. Denying everything.

“That wasn’t a no!”

“I have to ring him, because you’re making me. Or do you not want to win Bounce Off 2: Bounce in the City?”

There’s grumbling from the other side of the door followed by a muttered “c’mon Barold,” fakeout. Taako’s wise to it though, so he isn’t shocked by her ‘one last try’ of the door handle, or the second attempt that follows after she does fake footsteps away from the door.

“Fine! He’d better be down though and good.”

“He’s tall.” Says Barry, conversationally. He’d better not plan on telling Lup anything else.

“Good. We can use height.Is he strong?” Lup asks.

Kravitz is strong, Taako knows that for normal reasons, reasons like he can carry a lot of pastries when he orders them; and that time he helped Taako move the big table when someone spilled and he had to clean under it. Not reasons like all the time he spends staring at Kravitz’s forearms, and his thighs, and his everything else. Because he doesn’t do that. Taako would never.

“Fine. Don’t answer me.” Lup actually leaves this time, Taako pretends he can’t hear Barry telling her about Kravitz and his newfound love of coffee and baked goods.

Taako [10:23] Yo stud got a minute to chat?

It was only polite to text first, he doesn’t want to jumpscare Kravitz with a phone call, he isn’t a sadist. The three dots flashed up immediately. Thank fuck he’s awake at the crack of dawn.

Bones [10:24] Dear Taako, Of course, I’ve always got time for you. All best, Kravitz.

Taako has been trying hard not to find his ridiculous dork texts endearing. He’s failing. Badly. He ignores the squooshy feeling it gives him and hits the call button instead.

“Hello Taako, it’s lovely to hear from you!” Says Kravitz like he actually means it.

“Hey Krav, quiiiiiick q for ya. What’re you doing this morning?”

“I’m just practising.” Of course he is. Why wouldn’t Kravitz be sat straddling his giant instrument right now? Taako’s mature though, he won’t make a joke about it.

“Can’t keep your hands off your instrument, shameful!” Fuck.

“Well, someone has to keep it in tune.”

Gods, he wasn’t supposed to play along. Why did he keep flirting back? Was this whole thing actually plausible?

“Wanna spend some time with Taako instead?”

“I’d be very interested in that.” Kravitz says, buttery and glorious.

“How do you feel about inflatables?”

There’s a long pause.

“It’s not a sex thing.” Taako says, to make it less weird.

“I’m not sure that makes what you said less weird, Taako.”

“You know, like bouncy castles.”

“Okay.” Kravitz doesn’t sound particularly convinced.

“And my sister will be there.”

There’s another pause. “...And Barry?”

“Obviously.”

“Uh huh.”

Fuck, Taako’s losing him, and it’s suddenly incredibly important that Kravitz not only agree to this, but is also enthusiastic about it. “It’s a competition.” Says Taako.

“Oh?” Of course that piqued his interest, Kravitz loves competition. He tries to help harder than any other customer, tip better than anyone else, and he races people in the street.

“We lost last year, but we’ve been in training.”

“You’ve been in bouncy castle training?”

“Obstacle course training… and also trampolines.”

“Is that what the weird squeaking is when we’re on the phone sometimes?”

“What?”

“You know, the calls where you’re all breathy and there’s the squeaking noise.”

Taako didn’t realise Kravitz had picked up on that. “You didn’t think…?”

“Well now I know it’s not a sex thing.”

“You thought it was a sex thing and you stayed on the phone?”

“I don’t judge.”

“You didn’t wanna ask Taako what he was up to?”

“I know you’re a private person.”

“Not if you think Taako’s doing sex things on the phone without your consent. In fact, that’s the least private a person can be.”

“You make a compelling point.”

Taako doesn’t even begin to know what to do with that. “So… bouncing?”

“Where is it?”

“We can pick you up.”

“All three of you?”

“Barry said he’s sorry and he’ll stop asking about the ‘secret sauce.’”

“I just really don’t think it’s a respectful way to talk about embalming fluid.”

Taako thinks it’s a great way to refer to embalming fluid, but he also wants Kravitz to be happy. “He double pinky promised.”

“Oh, well if he double pinky promised.”

“Great! Pick you up in 20, wear something snazzy.”

Taako hangs up the phone before Kravitz can object or ask anything else. He has limited time and an outfit to re-plan.

#taznc #taz november celebration #Taakitz #Background Blupjeans #Taako #Kravitz #Lup #Barry Bluejeans #TAZ Balance #TAZ Spoilers #TAZ fic #Noodyl Writes #Mild references to sex #Are these getting more unhinged? No. We've been like this from the start

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