#do all netflix shows have episodes that are almost an hour long like damn bro a whole ass movie times 16

[dude-iloveu]

[1kook]

hulu & woohoo

summary: But there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Jersey Shore boner. warnings: slight feelings of insecurity, smut; fingering, cunnilingus, cum eating, squirting, handjobs, unprotected, riding, slight praise kink misc: if you’re not a Jersey shore fan honestly GET OUT, mentions of capitalism😡, more kind/understanding kook, basically a “what are we?” fic but silly, irresponsible emailing habits, its so dumb just read wc: 6.3k

[ this is a sequel to netflix & chill !! ]

started off silly then I was like 😳what if we sprinkled in a dilemma™️😳 anyway here’s the kook i imagined for this fic <3

Contrary to popular belief, Jungkook does in fact have his own paid subscription to Netflix. He doesn’t ride on his family account anymore, nor does he swindle his friends into sharing their passwords ‘just once.’ Just like everything else about his mature persona, Jungkook is adamant on paying those ten and something dollars for the streaming platform.

However, his fall into capitalism doesn’t end there.

Among other things, Jungkook also pays for Hulu, Amazon Prime, Disney Plus, HBO, as well as a couple indie stuff you’ve never heard of in all your years. He’s a bigger nerd than you originally thought, with an incessant need to watch every single piece of media available.

Frankly, you don’t see the need to own so many different streaming services, especially not when pirating websites exist and you could so easily watch Jersey Shore for free, if you’re not too concerned with infecting your laptop with every software virus known to humankind. Luckily for you, your app developer boo with his—admittedly tiny—knowledge in computers can iron out those issues for you.

It’s moments like these, Jungkook fiddling with the internal system settings of your laptop to the best of his abilities, that you find yourself grateful for having met Jungkook, and even if it’s been a little over two months now and he still hasn’t popped the question (“Will you be my girlfriend?”), you’d still kiss him silly.

He sighs for the umpteenth time, rubbing his eyes as he stares at the same system warning on the screen. “Babe, just pay the six bucks for Hulu and you can watch all the Jersey Shore episodes you want,” he says, leaning back in his chair as he stares at you from across the dining table.

You scoff, almost scandalized by his suggestion. “You think I have the resources to hand over six bucks every month?” You abandon your homework in front of you, the one you had so dutifully been working on before your computer was flooded with about a thousand Hot Moms in YOUR Area! notifications before abruptly shutting down. “Buddy, that's lunch at Starbucks.”

Jungkook clicks around a few more times, round glasses sliding down his nose which he will occasionally scrunch up to save from falling. “First of all, lunch at Starbucks sounds sad,” he retorts, and you kick his shin from beneath the table. He doesn’t even flinch, the damn muscle bunny, instead leveling you with an unimpressed glare. “Second of all, I told you I’d give you my passwords but you said—“

“No!” You exclaim.

Call it what you want, but that rose-tinted image of Jungkook being a saint in this world, too sweet and naive for his own good, never faded. Your brain saw it that night of your first date and ran with it, never mind the fact he was quite the devious scoundrel, gentlemanly perception be damned the way he’d tug at your skirts and your hair in public like you were on the playground, always teasing, always playing with you, so discreetly no one would ever see it coming from him, of all people. Your brain saw all that too, the little childish streak he’d get sometimes, but your heart stomped it out, wrapped up in the image of Jungkook being your golden boy, and you couldn’t possibly take advantage of such an angel’s kindness to mooch off his streaming services.

From across the table, Jungkook gives you a pointed look, as if he knows you’re trapped in that brain of yours again. Unlike you, Jungkook was easily able to pick apart your true personality, and the way the devil on your shoulder spoke more often than not. He knew you were prone to outrageous schemes and evil villain monologues, and he still kept you around. Let you linger around his home in his big shirts and eat his healthy breakfasts with him. Jungkook liked you, as silly and mean as you were, and he was very obvious about it.

“The password—“

“Is none of my business,” you halt him with a tone of finality in your voice, gesturing for him to slide the beat up laptop back over. Jungkook sighs, runs a hand over his face like you’ve worn him out, but relents.

Taking it with a triumphant grin, you settle back into your seat, nudge his foot with yours beneath the table. Jungkook nudges you back, the adorable fuzzy socks he was wearing making you giggle, a sound that finally brings a smile to his face. “Y’know…” he says, “if you’re gonna be the Disney villain you claim to be, you might as well just take all my passwords.”

Rolling your eyes, you focus your attention back on copying some notes for class, falling back into the rhythm of glancing at the screen and back at your notebook. “You’re cute,” you mindlessly hum, taking great pleasure in the rosy hue that rises to his cheeks, one he tries to hide by coughing into his elbow. You set your pencil down, watch him squirm under your gaze like he always does, blushy and shy like he hadn’t had you twisted like a pretzel beneath him an hour ago. “Don’t worry about it,” you tell him, reaching over to place your hand over his, where it’s idly tapping over some textbook he’s got out. Immediately, he turns it over, squeezes your palm in his. “I don’t mind getting thirty two viruses an hour.”

The reluctant worry in his gaze remains, sweet puppy eyes flickering over you as if trying to catch a hint of a lie. He was so adorable, you could kiss him silly. Finally, Jungkook gives in, though he does so with a lot of effort; letting you fool around on pirating websites truly was the bane of his existence. “Just bring it to me if it breaks down again, okay?” He settles, and you nod.

To your surprise, he brings your hand up and presses a kiss to the back of your knuckles, holds your gaze like he absolutely adores you.

He was so handsome, so caring, and so blatantly not yours.

—

“Not heading to your boyfriend's house today?” Doyeon asks the second she steps into your shared dorm, fighting with the boots on her feet. In the last two months of knowing Jungkook (everybody say thank you, Kim Namjoon), it’s become rare to see you home for more than two nights in a row. Jungkook was irresistible in more ways than you could count. If you weren’t falling into bed with him, you were smothering his cute face on the couch, or hovering behind him in the kitchen.

“Not my boyfriend,” you deny, huffy, and she knows how you feel about the subject, which is why she only prods more.

“Wow,” Doyeon drawls, glancing over your shoulder where you’ve got Jersey Shore playing on one half of the screen, an essay document on the other. “The man you see every other night, who looks and fucks like a god, who buys you a shit ton of presents, and treats you like you’re his world… is not your boyfriend?”

On screen, the toxic couple of the century is engaged in another screaming match, the reality tv show quickly spiraling as dramatic music takes over the speakers.

You scratch the back of your head. “Yeah. Well.”

Doyeon almost combusts at your response, flinging herself onto her twin bed in disgust. “He is a fool, a court jester if you will,” she seethes. “You're the hottest babe in a fifteen mile radius chasing after him and he still hasn’t asked you?”

Deciding you can’t comfortably watch the toxicity on screen with Doyeon talking so loudly, you slam down on the spacebar to pause the show. The fickity website, set out to ruin you since you first discovered it a few weeks ago, crashes. It takes your half-assed essay with it as the whole computer suddenly blacks out. You sigh.

“And on top of that,” she’s still going, “you’re hot and evil. Like bro. Come on.”

“Yes, I’m sure every man dreams of getting with an evil seductress,” you sarcastically reply, reaching for your phone to text Jungkook for help, when you suddenly remember why exactly you’re not with him right now. He’d gone to Busan to visit his family this weekend, a quick trip, he’d told you with his tongue down your throat. You shiver at the memory.

You still really want to watch Jersey Shore, though. Almost desperately. It’d been a long time since you watched it, and you honestly forgot the pivotal role that and a bunch of other reality shows had played in shaping you into the conniving woman you were today.

Doyeon seems about done with her tirade against Jeon Jungkook, dramatically storming into the en-suite bathroom you share with your neighbors.

Tapping your phone against your lip, you carefully consider your options. You could just boot your laptop back up, pray for the best and move on. But the 240p episodes were doing a number on your eyes, and for a moment you considered handing over those six bucks to pay for a Hulu membership.

It’s short-lived, and eventually you settle on calling Jungkook.

He answers on the fourth ring, and wherever he is is insanely loud. There’s voices shouting, lots of bustling, until eventually a door closes and Jungkook’s silky voice oozes through the speaker. “Baby? What’s up?”

“Hi,” you respond, feel something disgustingly sweet settle in your chest. “Is this a bad time?” You ask tentatively.

Jungkook laughs, low and raspy. “No,” he tells you, and you hear the smile in his voice. “Never a bad time for you.”

You could lunge through the screen right now, rain kisses down on his face until he’s giggling, telling you it’s too much. The feeling in your chest tightens, and you almost blurt out something embarrassingly cheesy, but a voice in the background calls for him, and Jungkook’s voice responds, “In a sec, mom. I’m talking to a friend right now.”

The glass roof shatters.

Even though you’d just told Doyeon you two weren’t a thing, despite all the coupley things you did, something about Jungkook telling his mom you’re just a friend isn't right. You frown, listen as his mother, a voice just as delicate as his, asks him to grab something from inside. With each second that ticks by, the discomfort you feel grows tenfold, until you’re barely holding yourself together.

Eventually, Jungkook returns. “So what’s up?” He asks again, and you remember what you initially called for. Putting on your big girl pants, you brush your uncalled for insecurities to the side, making sure he can’t detect anything in your tone.

“Your Hulu password. Can I have it?” You say, realize how robotical your voice sounds and belatedly throw in a, “please.”

Jungkook laughs, loud and boyish. The sound almost makes you melt, makes you fall for him even more. The niggling doubt in the back of your head still rings, but it’s temporarily washed away by the man on the phone. “Finally giving in?” He chuckles, doesn’t give you time to respond. “Sure, babe. I’ll text you the login stuff.” You hum, twirl your pencil idly as Jungkook announces he has to go, something about his family waiting on him. You bid him adieu, send him a halfhearted kiss over the phone, and only hope he feels half as content as you do when he does the same for you.

You don’t want to be dramatic about it. In your heart of hearts, you know Jungkook is just more reserved when it comes to dating. He wants to be one hundred percent sure your heart is in the same game as his, tied to the same rules, and putting in the same effort. But there’s a seed of insecurity that plants itself in the back of your head, tells you the reason Jungkook hasn’t asked you out is simply because you’re not good enough.

Jungkook was as rich as they come—not in money, but in personality. (Well, with the way he was advancing through his career, you get the sense he’ll be rich rich in the next few years too.) He had a huge heart, so caring and supportive of those around him, and an even bigger moral compass—hence the ridiculous amounts of streaming services he paid for—and you strongly believed no one was worthy of standing beside someone as wonderful as him.

Sadly, that meant you too.

Jungkook was your dream lover, and with every passing day, you were beginning to think you weren’t his. It had been two months since your first date, and realistically speaking, you know it’s not weird for people to casually date for such a time. It hadn’t been that long, truthfully, but the way you and Jungkook had clicked made it seem so.

He treated you like a queen, pleased your heart and body like no other. None of what Doyeon said earlier was a fib—he picked you up from school in that classy Benz, let you stay the night and sleep in his clothes, ate you out in the morning like you were his breakfast. You acted like you were in a relationship, but what exactly were the two of you?

Were Jungkook’s feelings even at the same level as yours?

Some days, you couldn’t fathom the idea of being so far away from him, texting him incessantly to feel a semblance of his presence. There was always a metaphorical elephant sitting on your chest, the weight of your unlabeled relationship, your insecurities, waiting for him to finally cut you off, decide you’re not what he wants. You wonder sometimes if he sees you out of convenience, but you always remind yourself Jungkook was too emotional and soft to drag someone around like that. (Or was he?)

Realizing how deep you’ve fallen into your spiraling pit of uncertainty, you shake yourself of those thoughts, mindlessly typing in the Hulu login credentials Jungkook texts you.

—

You’re in the student center when Jungkook comes home, laptop and books spread out over a circle table to stop anyone else from coming up to you. You’ve got your headphones in, the background sounds of late 2000’s club music from a Jersey Shore episode drifting through your ears.

A hand suddenly grabs onto your shoulder, and you send nearly half the table’s contents onto the floor when you screech, leg blindly kicking the table. “Woah, woah,” Jungkook calms, pulling out an earbud for you, and the sight of his face makes you relax again, before you’re striking his chest.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” you warn, shooting daggers at him as he pulls a chair close to you, plopping down beside you. Jungkook laughs, kisses your temple.

“You doing okay, beautiful?” He inquires, and your heartbeat, which had only just begun to settle from your fright, lurches at the hooded gaze he sends you.

You nod, unconsciously lean closer to him. Jungkook smiles, cheeks pulled tight when you plant a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Glad to hear it,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to keep you close.

You never thought you’d be one of those people. Y’know, the couple shoving PDA down everyone’s throats in a very crowded place. But you can’t help it with Jungkook, gaze honed in on the mole beneath his lip as he recounts his trip to his family’s place. His hair is fluffy again, parted a little to the side to show his forehead. He’s got that big dark hoodie on, the one you love. Your love-addled brain thinks, I could give you a family, but you quickly shut that thought down.

There was no need to think as much for a man who wasn’t even your boyfriend.

Before you can spiral, there’s a set of fingers brushing over your neck, almost casually. You return your attention to Jungkook, watch him leisurely gaze over the bustling students around you. “Missed you,” he says quietly, like he doesn’t want anyone to hear. Hell, if your eyes hadn’t been trained on his face, you don’t think you would’ve.

Finally, he glances back at you. He says nothing, his eyes dipping down to your mouth. He leans forward, presses a smooch to your lips, only to smile at you afterward. “Come over?”

The difference between you and Jungkook is that you were very obviously, outwardly evil. You were not embarrassed to admit you were scheming, or that you had ulterior motives behind doing something. You used what you had to your advantage, mastered all types of expressions to get what you wanted.

Jungkook, on the other hand, was a subtle schemer. In fact, he was so goddamn subtle, you doubt he even knew he was a schemer.

But he definitely was one, and your experiences with him were enough to convince you so. There were times he’d stare at you longingly, like a puppy, until you’d do something for him. Times he’d use his demure face to lure you into going to the hardware store for him, into watching some boring documentary with him. Times, like now, where his voice was a little too smooth and low to be considered his normal pitch, clouded gaze sweeping over your features until you understood what he meant by come over.

Numbly, you nod, watch the quirk of his lips as he kisses you once more before gathering your things for you.

The car ride passes by in a flash, Jungkook’s hand on your knee, your head in the clouds. You imagine how easy it would be to just lean over right here, tug him out of his sweats and get that super suck 5000 on him. But Jungkook’s shy, the devil on your shoulder croons, he’d like it better in the backseat, where no one can see.

Your bag hasn’t even touched the floor yet when he pushes you against the door of his house, shoes and coats half off as he envelopes your lips with his.

His hands are warm, cupping your neck to guide you through the kiss, blindly pulling you down the hall. You feel him falter by the stairs, torn between just throwing you on the couch and ravishing you there or making the trip upstairs to the comfort of his bed. You reach up, run your fingers through his hair. “Wherever you want, baby,” you reassure him, and become consumed with glee when his hands grab into the backs of your thighs, hitch you into his arms as he rushes the two of you up the stairs.

The bed is as fluffy as you remember it, and you bounce up towards the pillows after he drops you on the end. He tugs his shirt over his head, chocolate strands coming out a mess afterwards, before crawling up your body. Jungkook’s hands are incessant, grabbing onto every inch of you he possibly can. He kisses up your tummy, pushing your shirt up as he goes, hikes it over the swell of your breasts to gently fondle them in his palms.

When he’s just about suffocated himself between them, he pops back out, catches your gaze with a twinkle in his. “Hi,” you squeak, and Jungkook grins, leaning up to kiss you.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he returns, let’s your tongue slide into his mouth, sucks on the appendage teasingly. You whimper, and Jungkook releases. “You miss me?” He asks, and if you hadn’t been well-versed in the art of Jungkook’s sexy talk, you wouldn’t have noticed the tingle of nervousness that curls around the question.

You placate him, “always.”

It’s all Jungkook needs as he wiggles you out of your clothes, shucks them off somewhere to the side. His hands trail over your body, massage your breasts and pinch the nipples. You sigh, melt into the sheets as he runs his palms over you. He rolls you over, pulls your hips up and carefully pushes your face into the mattress, pushing your hair to the side to peck your neck when he leans over.

“So soft for me, sweetheart,” he purrs, hands slithering around your waist, down your abdomen until the tip of his pointer finger is idly swirling over your clit.

You whine, clutch the comforter beneath you at the touch. “Oh, fuck,” you groan, push your hips back against him. He’s still got his sweats on, and you want desperately to turn around and rip them off of him, feel the press of his cock against your ass.

As if sensing your urgency, Jungkook calms you with kisses trailing over your spine, hot breath fanning over your neck. His fingers slow, just barely grazing over your clit. “Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” He asks, and you struggle to choke out a response when he presses his finger down against you.

“No,” you eventually gasp, jolt when his hand reaches down, glides through the swollen folds of your cunt.

As if content with your response, Jungkook lets his fingers caress you for a few beats, laps against the side of your neck as you whimper, beg him to continue. When he does, it’s with no ounce of his usual gentle attitude, two fingers shoving forcefully past the tight clench of your pussy lips, deep into your cunt. You shudder, gasping into the sheets.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises, flutters a kiss right below your ear. Your neurons are working overtime, unsure of what to do as he explores your cunt, fingers dragging against your walls. You want to close your eyes, bask in his touches, but every brush of his fingers has them rolling back, fluttering open. “This pussy is mine, isn’t it?”

His fingers curl, briefly brushing over your soft spot. But it’s enough to make you cry out, pant against the sheets. “Yours,” you choke, push back against him like he’ll do it again.

A thumb circles your clit, and the tight feeling in your belly snaps, has you crying out his name as your first orgasm in a few days washes over you. “Jungkook,” you whimper, nearly sob when his hands pull away, letting you flop down onto the mattress in a boneless heap. Your thighs feel sticky, and you watch blearily as Jungkook hovers behind you.

“So quickly?” He chuckles, turning you back over. He spreads your legs, exposing your pussy to the cool air of the room, and you shiver. A lone finger drags over your cunt, collecting the glossy substance on the tip, before Jungkook is sucking it into his mouth.

He had an affinity for this kind of stuff, you’ve learned. Like he genuinely thought your cum was the most delicious thing in the entire world. That being said, you’re not surprised when he ducks down, pushes your legs to your chest as he begins devouring your pussy.

“Slow down,” you gasp, hand curling in his hair as he spares you not, sensitivity be damned. He was gonna lick you clean. He groans, tongue shoved into your cunt, cute nose brushing against your clit. “Kook,” you warn, though it’s more of a shuddered cry. “I-I’ll come again.”

He pulls off with a wet smack, licks over his tongue as he narrows you with a daring glare. Gone was your sweet Jungkook, replaced with this cum-eating heathen who only purrs, “in my mouth” at your warning.

You scream when the second orgasm hits you, pushing his face against your cunt as his tongue continues, lapping at your folds and your hole as a gush of wetness spurts out of you. For a second, your vision pales, soundless cries caught in your throat as you come all over his face. When you touch down on earth again, your body feels featherlight.

Jungkook is watching you from between your thighs, his face, hair, and chest glistening.  “Oh fuck,” he gasps, shit-eating grin slowly consuming his features. “Did you just.”

You groan, cover your face with your palms as Jungkook settles over you, beaming excitedly at your newest ability. “No,” you whine, pushing him away from where he’s basically glued to your cheek. “That’s so weird.”

He laughs, cute and airy. “Fuck, sweetheart, you squirted all over me,” he sighs, cuddles against you, and you wrap your arms around him only to hide your face in his shoulder, also glistening with your pleasure. He shifts closer, and the hard press of his cock rubs along the inside of your thigh.

“Can we take a break?” You murmur quietly, hesitantly. “I can’t feel my legs.” Jungkook nods, presses a kiss to your temple as he gets off the bed, tossing his t-shirt over to you. He stumbles towards the en-suite, comes back with a dry face and chest; his hair is still damp. He tugs the sheets out from under you, cuddles close. He’s got the two of you wrapped up in no time, your head cradled against his shoulder as he reaches out blindly for the tablet he keeps on the side of his bed, the Hulu app already open.

“Any requests?” He hums, scrolling through the multitude of movies and shows. You wiggle closer, stop his finger when he returns to the home page, and Jersey Shore is the first thing to appear. “You’re kidding.”

“It’s a good show!” You defend, click on it before he can argue. You press closer, throw a leg over his waist where you can feel his still rock hard member hiding beneath his sweats. Poor guy, you think, he must be suffering. But you have to rest for a moment if you wanna ride the shit out of him and knock him breathless like you’d planned.

Jungkook doesn’t comment on the erection he’s sporting, instead choosing to criticize everything wrong with Jersey Shore. You’re not surprised. He’s an avid film nerd, obsessed with ‘real’ storylines, not whatever reality tv shows were.

You’ve seen this episode about a hundred times, so you don’t really mind that he completely ruins it for you with his nitpicking. It’s cute, listening to him ramble about television integrity while you listen to the subtle thudding of his heart beneath your ear.

He’s on his fifth slandering of DJ Pauly D when you decide you’ve had enough, muscles in your legs feeling rejuvenated as you wiggle into his lap, toss the tablet off to the side as you straddle him. “That show makes you hard?” You tease, let your sensitive folds settle over the bulge in his pants.

Jungkook combusts, cheeks flushing at your jab. “No,” he huffs, “my pretty girlfriend’s boobs pressed up against me does.”

You short circuit.

“Huh?” You blurt dumbly. Jungkook rolls his eyes, too concerned with guiding your hips over his crotch to realize you’re having a complete meltdown in your head. An airy moan leaves his mouth, head lolling back against the pillows, when he moves you just right, grinds against you perfectly. But there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Jersey Shore boner. “Kook,” you say, cup his face in your palms to force him to look you in the eye.

Jungkook huffs, pointedly looking down at where you sit on him, “babe, gonna need you to—“

“What did you say?” You interrogate, press your foreheads together until he has no choice but to look at you.

Annoyed with your act, he groans. “Babe, your hips,” he urges, almost desperately.

“No,” you retort, “not until you say it again.”

“Say what again?” He cries, lips twitching in irritation, and you’re about two seconds from behind shoved into the mattress, pounded into from behind like he’d done the last time you teased him a little too much.

“That I’m your girlfriend!” You exclaim, heart hammering in your ears.

Jungkook seems to finally halt at that. “Oh,” he responds, leaning back to scan over your expression. “You are?” He says, unsure of what point you’re trying to make.

Your brain fizzes at the news. “Since when?” You cry, suddenly feeling dumb for all the time you spent moping over this perfect boy you thought didn’t want you. “You never asked!”

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed stare, reaches over for the iPad you tossed to the side, some dramatic fight scene on a boardwalk taking place on screen. You wanna scream. Why is he so concerned with Jersey Shore now of all times?

Before you can rain down your displeasure on him, he’s turning it around and showing you a bookmarked email.

It’s from you, apparently, sent a few weeks back at exactly two in the morning. You glance at the date received. It’s from Doyeon’s half birthday, when the two of you had drunk yourselves silly on wine. The title is some mix of dashes and exclamation points, but that’s irrelevant when the contents of the email come to view, some stupid slur of beeee myyy boyfrienderdd????? ;))((;;; that has your jaw dropping in mortification.

You glance back at Jungkook, who seems just as confused as you. “What the hell?” You shriek, snatch the tablet from his hand to see that not only was it a single email, but a thread of emails all asking the same question—there’s even a three stanza sonnet detailing your love for the mole on the side of his neck. You could die. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?! I was so drunk— how could you even take me seriously?”

Jungkook shrugs, almost amused now as he watches you scroll through the twenty emails you sent him. “The next day you told me you really liked me over lunch, so I didn’t mind. Besides,  drunk words are sober thoughts, y’know.”

You stare in disbelief. “You told your mom I was your friend,” you whisper.

The blood rises to his cheeks quickly. “Babe,” he sputters. “I’m not exactly introducing her to every girl I date after three weeks.”

It makes sense, and you hate how much it does so. Pursing your lips, you look away, focus on the bedside table and hope he doesn’t see the tears that threaten to spew out of your eyes. He does, he always does. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He hums, sits up to pull you into his arms. One hand brushes over the back of your head, gently. Softly. “Did that upset you?”

You shake your head no, can’t help the ugly Kim Kardashian sob that rips itself from your throat. “I thought you didn’t like me,” you sniffle, covering your face with the iPad when he tries to duck closer and get a look at you. “Because it’s been two months.”

Jungkook shushes you, hugs you close to his chest as you cry like a baby over some apparently unjustifiable doubts. “That big brain of yours,” he sighs, kisses the frown of your head. “Too busy being evil to be logical.” You whine in protest, and Jungkook chuckles, carefully laying back with you clinging to his chest.

He lets you cry it out, palms rubbing over your back, listens to the annoying Jersey Shore opening song playing when the episode ends. When you’re done, you sit up, try to pretend your eyes aren’t swollen and puffy. Jungkook smiles. “All good?”

You might love him.

“I’m gonna ride you,” you announce, and he chokes in surprise, and before he can try to convince you it’s okay, you’re wrestling his sweats and boxers off, taking his half hard cock into your hand. Jungkook flounders, tries to calm you down, but you’re on a mission, working your hand over him until he’s fattening in your hold, melting into the pillows.

“Baby,” he grunts, rolling his hips into your palm. You lean over, pucker your lips and let a thick drop of saliva fall onto the tip of his cock. It trickles over your fingers, makes it easier to run your hands over him. Jungkook groans, reaches down to cup his hand over yours, urging you to squeeze tighter.

When he’s finally as hard as you want him, tip engorged and angry, you sit up, place your palms on his chest as you scoot over him. Jungkook watches you with dark eyes, skin flushed as you line him up. His hands reach for your hips to steady you, tiny gasps falling from his lips at the first prod against your folds. You’re wet from watching him squirm beneath you, from feeling the heavy weight of his cock in your hand, and you hope he feels how much he excites you.

“That’s it,” he croons as you slowly sink down on him, whimpers catching in your throat from the stretch. “That’s my girl.”

Jungkook is purposeful with his words, smiles at you when the muscles in your thighs jolt at the term. When you’re seated to the hilt, folds brushing against his pelvis, Jungkook ruts experimentally. “Fuck,” he chokes breathlessly.

You let your body adjust, spine tingling with every subtle shift from the man beneath you, still so sensitive from your two orgasms from before. Jungkook waits, even though you know all he wants to do right now is fuck up into you like a madman.

When you’re relaxed enough, you begin to move, pushing yourself on your knees slowly, hissing at the drag of his cock against your folds. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, fingernails scratching against where you’ve got them on his chest still. Jungkook grips your hips tightly, and you unconsciously reach for his forearms to steady yourself instead.

“There you go,” he purrs as you slowly pick up the pace, cock sliding inside of you rougher, faster. You know it’s mostly him, muscles in his arms flexing as he moves you up and down, but you don’t care—it feels so good, the upward curve of his cock brushing against your soft spot with each drop of your hips.

He holds you down on one thrust, grinds you over his cock until your clit is rubbing against him roughly, and you cry out his name. You want to kiss him, so very badly, but your position makes it hard. Besides, the sweat beginning to pool in the deep of his collarbones hinted at his oncoming orgasm.

Still, you can’t help the way your eyes instinctively go to trace over his mouth, pouty lips pushed out even more in exertion, teeth grinding together every time your pussy swallows him anew. “Kook,” you mewl, hips bucking forward.

He hums, plants his feet firmly on the mattress as he begins fucking into you. “What is it?” He grunts, pistons into your dripping cunt as you whimper, pleasure crawling up and down your spine. “My pretty girl needs something?”

You wail, nod your head as he continues fucking, ramming his cock into your quivering hole, precum dripping over him. “Yours,” you gasp, mind stuck on what he’d said earlier. “‘M all yours,” you sob, body finally giving out, and you barely catch yourself from falling into him with a palm pressed flatly against his chest.

Jungkook smirks, bucks into you brutally, like he wants you to fall into a boneless heap on top of him. “Yeah, you are,” he groans, as you finally give in, lips brushing against his ear when you flop down on him. “My pretty girl,” he huffs, and you nod, muscles pulled taut as your orgasm begins looming over you. “So cute and mean,” he rambles, lips pressed to your temple. His hips are beginning to lose their rhythm, thrusts growing stilted as he chases his high. “But you know what?” He murmurs, and you whimper. “I like her just like that.”

If his words don’t knock the air out of your lungs, your orgasm surely does. It makes you shudder, the way his hands run over your body, cock ruts into your heat, and you almost cry when the pleasure gets a hold of you. Your muscles tighten, and then loosen, melting into his chest. You’re trembling in his arms, like a leaf holding onto a branch for dear life, choked gasps of his name muffled against his neck.

Jungkook pistons into you, rounds the final corner in his race to orgasm, and eventually spurts his hot cum into you, coats your walls as another reminder that you’re his. He’s a silent orgasmer, sounds catching in his throat as his body twitches beneath you, silent even afterwards as he regains his senses.

A few moments later, you’re shifting out of his hold, pushing yourself onto your elbows to glance down at him. Jungkook’s eyes are shut, but, as if sensing you’re looking at him, he flutters them open, chocolate irises softening at the sight of you.

“Holy shit,” he groans, rolls you off of him carefully. His hand brushes over your thigh, like he’s contemplating licking you clean again, but you stop him with a pointed raise of your brows. “Fine. Pass me the tablet.”

You do, and it’s almost unnerving how easily the two of you slip back into comfort, Jungkook changing into some shorts and handing you your discarded panties, before climbing into bed to watch Jersey Shore. You’ve missed about an entire hour-long episode, so you end up rewinding until the point you last saw.

“You and your Netflix and chilling,” Jungkook snorts, head nestled against your breasts. You roll your eyes.

“This is Hulu,” you point out.

“Oh yeah,” he hums, snuggles closer. His body feels so nice and warm over yours, hands wrapped around you like a lifeline. You end up positioning the tablet off by your hip, supported by a pillow so the two of you can watch properly.

You’re still processing your new title, your new boyfriend, when he perks his head up suddenly, solemn gaze catching yours.

“Hulu and Woohoo,” he says, ever so seriously, and you understand why Doyeon thinks he’s a fool.

[ part three ; imax & climax ]

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S4 Ep 25: Oh Hai Mai

Heyyy we’re back. Thank for bearing with me, it’s been kind of chaos over here. Everything from a pandemic (we are very sloooowly reopening over here but I’ve been quarantined so long I can french braid my damn leg hair.) to important political protests, to getting an evacuation order because an arsonist burned down 90 acres in the heat of summer (luckily we’re all fine), to a vole that ate everything in my pandemic self-care garden so I lost my entire mind and waged war and dug so many holes and put out 17 mouse traps and set off so many critter bombs under the ground trying to kill the little bastard like it was Caddyshack (It’s still alive, ps, I lost that war). These last 3 months have been the longest decades of my life. The only month longer was the one where I’m pretty sure I had mono and it made me positive that my basement was haunted.

Man, bring back my haunted basement, Sorry if this comes through in my writing, I tried but, I can’t edit it out. You get FML-Rachel today.

Lets get back to a good, mindless distraction, lets turn on Yugioh.

BUT------->it just so happens that this episode of Yugioh has cop stuff in it, I’m just going to be blunt. We’re going into Valon’s backstory, he’s very much a victim of problems within the bizarre Yugioh legal system, and much like a Gotham supervillain, he is a symptom of the problem more than the cause.

I’m not going to ignore that, but in case you are overwhelmed about that right now, if you want to like...save this for later--I have another FMA recap coming out soon that I wrote in a simpler time before....the corona freakin ruined us all.

Last we left off, we were on the heels of Joey Wheeler, who decided to book it down the street because he wants to murder the hell out of Valon.

Youknow...Joey is one hell of a protagonist. He just does...so MANY antagonistic things.

Joey has decided that although the world is ending, and everyone left alive will be absorbed into the Great Leviathon’s big yummy tummy, which can only be prevented by three people, of which he is one of--he’s going to go sprint in completely the other direction.

We even managed to get Kaiba on board. We were ready. We were done, but then Joey had to lose his freakin mind because that’s just what Joey Wheeler does sometimes.

Normally heroes avoid the call to duty because of a severe lack of self confidence, but this is Joey, and he’s going to avoid the call to duty because of too much self confidence.

And so Joey and his Chaperone turn a corner and walk into this random orc who’s just casually living his best life and touring SF.

One of my worst fears walking through SF, tbh. Running into high school people. Not so much the orcs.

Yo, I wonder what the bushman was doing through all of this? So IRL, we have this guy who just...hides in a bush and jump-scares tourists. I can’t imagine what it must be like to be in a bush and then just...all these orcs show up and you’re all.

...oh no, now I’m the fool...

I just want to know if bushman made it, or if he’s in a paper card that’s just a picture of foliage.

(read more under the cut)

Anyway, Joey was already in the process of running, so they just turned around on this street of...so much parking.

Like y’all there is SO MUCH PARKING this episode. I was trying to pay attention to anything else, but like...do you see this!? It takes nearly half an hour usually to get a spot but this--this right here?

And the crazy thing is, recently my bro had to go pick up some old guy from a cruise that...got quarantined...and so bro had to go the Pier and like--this is what the city looked like. This is a pandemic, it’s just lots of parking, so I want to criticize Yugioh, and I normally would, but I can’t. I’ve seen the receipts. They called it. This is what the endtimes look like and it’s so much parking.

Also, they were too lazy to draw cars but damn, they called it.

So, left with no other option, Joey decides to...be Joey, and punches a huge orc covered in armor.

So Valon’s here, because apparently SF has just...no one left alive in it except for these few kids and that one Uber Eats driver. I imagine it’s a lot easier to find Joey if you just follow the only one screaming in Japanese in a Brooklyn accent at the top of his lungs.

And Valon decides that this one way street isn’t good enough, and that they must duel somewhere else.

I assumed it would be a tall structure, but considering Kaiba just blew up the tallest structures in the Financial District...I was like...what else is tall? And bear in mind, I’m a mess, so I was like...OMG I wish it were Macy’s!!!

Now I hear you saying that’s weird, and we shouldn’t have a very fancy Macy’s in 2020, and you’re correct. but we still have one, and the top floor is just...a massive Cheesecake factory, and I can’t think of anything more 00′s than a Yugioh duel on top of that specific Cheesecake Factory.

And I’ve never really thought before about where the best Yugioh duel would be, and it’s there. It’s at the high rise Cheesecake. Listen Yugioh, if you need an insider to choose locations for your Netflix remake of S4--call me.

So anyways, instead of doing the right thing and going to the Cheesecake Factory on top of Macy’s like any other self respecting 00′s teenager, Valon and Joey are going to drive through the most boring parts of town.

They had an opportunity to go chase eachother through any tourist attraction, Lombard street, Ghirardelli Square, the Palace of Fine Arts, China town, reuse some assets and drive through Japan town, that fountain that looks like Yoda--but no...they decided to drive through literal trash.

Just...a missed opportunity, and it should have been a Cheesecake Factory.

Also, I totally and fully acknowledge that a strange nostalgic affection for the Cheesecake Factory is a weird Millennial thing (much like our weird encyclopedic knowledge of Sailor Moon) but listen. You have your thing, too. You go do you, I’m gonna soak my sorrows in a bowl of Chinese chicken salad so wide, it’ll last me 3 days.

Anyways, Joey’s gonna steal that guy’s bike.

Yugioh just predicting the future in 2003. We actually have a HUGE problem right now with vehicle theft in the city to an almost comedic degree, which is partly why the parking situation has gotten so incredibly dire. It’s kind of incredible that this guy left his bike out because after about 1 day in the city you learn pretty fast that you need to be constantly checking on your street parked vehicle--I mean, that guy was just asking for it, honestly. If Joey hadn’t taken it, some other guy would have absolutely taken it, (even that orc would’ve taken it, the city has no consideration for cars.)

Sorry --one sec-- that was an earthquake just now. As I’m typing this. Just a little guy. Just a little treat for me...

...but still like...c’mon. I’m also getting this weird issue where Tumblr doesn’t save my drafts so like...this is like the 3rd time I’ve had to write this like...I just want to make a Yugioh post for my tiny funtime tv blog, Universe. Don’t @ me right now, Universe.

SO MUCH FREAKIN PARKING.

...is it the space between two piers? What is this? We don’t have rivers in SF, it is a peninsula covered in very steep hills. Like very VERY steep hills. All water just rolls into the ocean and there’s a couple of lake thingies but...no rivers that I know of (And like maybe this is a thing, and I just haven’t seen it? Learn something new every day.)

*loud, audible sigh* home. Where we belong. At the warehousssssssse.

Back at the RV base, Duke Devlin is still babysitting. Maybe this is to make up for the two seasons he spent trying to date a girl Rebecca’s age, that they felt like going out of their way to show that he has indeed no longer horny now. Got to hand it to them, that’s a lot of character development right there. Although at the same time, it has made Duke Devlin a very non-character.

But imagine how insanely complicated would it have been if Duke got involved in that bizarre love-square that is Yugi, Tea, and the Ghost that killed Yugi by accident.

PS that’s either a freeway onramp (which is too far South from where they were, I think) or it sure does look like old Embarcadero behind them. Youknow, that lifted street from the 80′s that fell down in Loma Prieta and was never rebuilt? I just freakin love that it’s still here in 2003. This bizarre Yugioh alternate California.

Anyway, because this is alternate California, Seto set a massive fire and the entire city didn’t immediately go up in flames. Apparently they just kinda ran away from the explosion and damage before anyone noticed.

Probably because most people on Earth are dead anyway, so what more can these two actually do?

And so Yami ends up getting lectured by the wife.

And justifiably, the wife seems to have absolutely no confidence that Yami will be able to do a damn thing right.

Wifes all around this episode.

Speaking of,

At this point, Arthur Hawkins senses that Yami’s nearby, so he opens the door just to freakin dump some guilt on him.

...Rebecca seems to be a character that’s mostly there to recap the lore and also to dump on Yami. I don’t mind that. Yami needs to get dunked more often, and I’m saying that in S4, where the entire season’s tagline is “how many times can we dunk on Yami?”

So lets check on Yugi, how’s that kid doing? It’s been quite a number of episodes since we last saw him.

Yep, still hanging out in the Han Solo cosplay room.

And then, because I guess everyone is just hanging out in the same 4 blocks, Mai and Tristan have a heart-to-heart.

In the show, this conversation was Mai (who is now a serial killer) saying “Oh hey, Tristan, where’s Joey?” and Tristan saying “It’s ALL YOUR FAULT he wants to kill Valon--thanks a lot, Mai! GODS!” all indignant like.

Not how you would ordinarily talk to a serial killer, just saying. No one from the Yugi crew fears this woman...at all...and she has killed over 20 people in front of them and is trying very hard to kill Joey Wheeler all the time.

Like what would it actually take for them to fear this woman? They can’t, right?

Meanwhile, Valon is trying to explain to Joey that his obsession with Mai is in fact damaging any relationship they could have had.

So then when you’re like OK...this is actually very valid points on Valon’s part, and Joey really does need to step back and let people make their mistakes considering Joey was barely a part of her life to begin with. But then, Valon just turns a 180 and...it becomes a catty love triangle where only one person in the triangle even feels romantic emotions.

I just...so Valon is doing this fight because he thinks Mai is in love with Joey.

This whole time I was like “well maybe it’s more that Valon is trying to defend Mai’s right to make her own choices” but no...he just straight up thinks Mai is in love with Joey. And, in fighting Joey, Valon himself is ignoring Mai’s life choices

Just a whole lot of misunderstanding that would have been fixed with better ways than dueling with cards. At least that one guy in S2 who tried to marry Mai actually dueled HER instead of some random guy.

It just really feels like these boys are having a pissing contest and Mai was never let in on the deets that this was even happening.

Mai needs to hang out with older men. Set her up with Roland, this is ridiculous.

Back at the RV, which got very, very big in this shot, Seto has an odd convo with Mokuba about how they are probably not going to get Kaiba Corp back. And then no one really argued with him about that.

He’s taking it really well. Maybe because this isn’t even the first time or the second time or even really the third time Seto’s lost everything. Kid’s really freakin great at failure. At least this time Mokuba isn’t currently abducted, which is really good improvement for these two.

Outside the RV, Tristan has decided to...give up as well, just right here, in the middle of traffic. Then he gets Orc’d...these orcs are kind of like Slenderman, in that they kinda...show up...but then that’s all they do because the designers didn’t actually want to animate anything.

And then this happens.

God bless this story boarder for this random series of events presented in just this way.

Also here’s yet another example where Tea just has...no fear. She’s actually only out here because she was like “that’s it, we’re getting another driver” and was going to chew out Duke Devlin. The Orc being in the middle of the road was not the reason she walked out here.

Anyways, Yami killed it because everyone here can just throw cards forever, these things are not threatening.

The subplot of everyone refusing to drive with Duke Devlin after he busted his car in Death Valley is still ongoing, and it’s still low key hilarious that no one will outright say “Duke, your driving is just so bad” and instead, Duke just has to sit there and watch Joey STEAL A MOTORCYCLE just so he won’t have to drive shotgun with Duke Devlin.

Rebecca, our plot-dump device, then informs us that Valon has Special Rules.

Because Valon, if you’ve forgotten, has a card that allows him to physically punch his opponent in the face.

They should have invented that card a long time ago TBH.

SO, lets get into Valons tragic backstory. First off, go turn on your Les Mis Soundtrack, because this is some old school cop stuff.

So apparently Valon, as a child just...stayed in the system forever. We don’t know why yet, but lets just assume that it’s tragic and heavy handed. If he steals a loaf of bread and ends up in 12 Juvies (which is a line from the show and not an exaggeration--12 Juvies) then I will expect him to be singing by the end of this and I will be very disappointed if he does not.

Anyways, he was such an asshole, that he caught the attention of some very illegal rich bastard who was trying to turn prisoners into...card murders. (it was Dartz.) because apparently...Dartz also funds prisons and that is...that is some deep lore.

And so probably about the same time that Yugi was Dueling to the death on Pegasus’ Island, and about the same time that Marik was hanging out in the ocean next to Pegasus’ Island with a pair of binoculars, and about the same time that Noah was underneath Pegasus’ Island just watching Pegasus steal KaibaCorp, Dartz decided to make his OWN murder island--because I guess he got jealous.

Anyway, Valon won, and didn’t even need to set anyone on fire.

Those little green things there--those are all souls of prison inmates.

YUGIOH.

Millennials got DARK, OK? Freakin...we had a show for 9 year olds that went deep into the school-to-prison pipeline and didn’t even try to hide it under any layers of symbolism. Like Hunger Games at least had two people survive.

This was a show to sell PAPER CARDS.

+++++++++++THIS IS A RANT WHERE I WENT OFF ABOUT PRISON TALK IN KID’S SHOWS FEEL FREE TO SKIP++++++++++++++++++++

Now, there’s a lot of good conversation going on right now about errors in the modern justice system on not just a local scale, but on a global scale, especially regarding racial profiling and criminalization of poor, sick, and young, and we better keep pushing it. But it’s surprising when people pretend like this hasn’t been talked about for a long time. Because...we’ve been talking about it in kids and YA shows for a long time. This is not something that just popped up in 2020.

Like millennials didn’t invent this obsession with dark and gritty stories with uncomfortable themes. It’s been around for thousands of years, but back in the 90′s and 00′s, a lot of shows for YA and younger enjoyed talking about the problems with prisons and abuse of power with our justice systems--a lot. Batman, X-men, Death Note, so so many, hell, even the OC.

And like, don’t get me wrong, we still have these shows running around, but I’ve been there’s been a trend of stories (not saying names) where just...nothing bad happens. And, that’s kind of sad because...they CAN have small elements that are more progressive in them, but only brought forth with a very risk-free cotton candy fluffy coating to make the majority of the population happy.

I could go long about this, and I’m getting very cryptic. If a kid escapes to more colorful worlds where nothing bad ever happens, that’s OK--sometimes you need that, but when nothing bad ever happens surrounding certain experiences where bad things normally happen--the meaning of the story changes because it isn’t a real experience anymore.

Like I don’t want to tangent too much, and I just had to delete a lot of examples, but I know a lot of people want to write stories about misrepresented minorities and about real deal serious situations and are just so afraid of misrepresentation that they go in completely the wrong direction by not putting in anything uncomfortable at all. I think it’s important to look at the work and ask yourself is this about the minority the work should be about--or is this work about patting the majority of the population on the back and saying neat, we’ve achieved utopia without having to even do anything?

...anyway, obvi I’m ranting, but I feel like we’re taking a step backwards when it comes to the importance of kids programming and that we do need to talk to kids about prison again. This is a show about paper cards, and they don’t do a great job at talking about...the reality of prison, this was exaggerated with genre stereotypes, but at least they didn’t cover it with rainbows and unicorns, because this isn’t about how great Joey and the “normal” people are at saving Valon, this is about how society screwed Valon beyond repair, and I am 99% certain we will see this guy’s soul stuffed in a brick above Dartz’ snake fireplace.

Like, yeah he duels to the death on an island, but that’s imagery that is very close to real life prison issues. We don’t talk to kids a lot about how a lot of inmates get enlisted into the military during war times (and quite literally...duel to their death...on islands). We don’t talk about how we use inmates to betray eachother for a chance at maybe getting amnesty. We don’t talk about how a lot of the victims of this system are essentially children, and have been caught in a system of endless prison for what will probably be the rest of their lives. We don’t talk about how we’re systematically turning kids into criminals so much in kid’s shows of late...and Freakin Yugioh just did in a filler season. 

....................I think our standard for modern kids programming to talk about serious issues is way too low if Yugioh just threw this out there in a filler season, is all I’m saying.

++++++++++++++++++END OF PRISON RANT++++++++++++++++++++++

 So, Valon is free but...is he?

Not really, he’s just gone from one jailer to another, but at least this time he gets his own room. Don’t blame him for latching onto Dartz’ dream to end the world, because the world for him has been one behind bars. He doesn’t know it. Never been there.

It’s just interesting juxtaposed to Joey because Joey had some sort of Season Zero history with a gang and I haven’t watched that episode yet.

So that’s it for now, again, I’m very slooow lately. I slept for 3 hours today...and I don’t know why. But hey--we all got through three (four???) months of this...we just gotta go...one month at a time.

That and I accidentally did my taxes early so there’s that. See? Good things still happen.

Also, because I only slightly referenced the most incredible movie ever made on San Fransisco soil, I’ll just leave this here. The true hallmark of our city.

Anyway you know the drill, here’s the link

[hayleysstark]

(PT 2 of 2). I also wanted to say that, unfortunately, my Netflix account is going to be cancelled soon, so I can't watch all of Merlin. Can you recommend any must-see episodes?

Ugh, for real? That sucks, Queenie, I’m sorry. (I mean, I get it, things like Netflix are luxuries, but luxuries are nice to have around, and it’s tough to lose one, and I’m sorry that you have to.) To tell the truth, I really,,,,, don’t know if separate episodes can really stand on their own? I mean, don’t get me wrong, a solid ninety percent of the episodes are great, and absolutely worth the watch, but they all feel ((at least to me. maybe I’m alone in this)) like just scattered pieces of a whole until you put them all together into the series. But I think I can rustle up a solid handful that’ll still give you a good feel for the show as a whole ((and help you decide whether you want to continue it when you can - this series really isn’t for everyone.))

1x13: Le Morte D’Arthur: The entirety of S1 is really Merlin at its absolute best--smooth, believable dialogue, excellent comedic timing, wonderful plot structure, characterizations that are just to die for--but let’s be honest, this one, the S1 finale, is the one that takes my breath away. Colin Morgan and Anthony Head are both superb in their respective roles as the titular character and the hotheaded, short-sighted King Uther, and this episode is where they both just shine. Bradley James (Arthur) doesn’t receive a whole lot of screentime in this one, unfortunately, but there’s no denying he’s the center of the episode, and the moments we do get to see him, he’s just as incredible as the other two. The scenery is gorgeous, the worldbuilding is fantastic, and the emotion, oh, the emotion. Colin Morgan delivers some of his absolute rawest lines in this one. He knows when to play up the rage, the grief, the terror, and--I don’t say this lightly, but it’s really nothing short of flawless. Also, I’m in love with the villain. Her name is Nimeuh. I’m going to marry her someday. I am in love with that woman. she’s beautiful.

2x01: The Curse of Cornelius Sigan: This one is nothing on Le Morte D’Arthur in terms of plot, dialogue, or emotion, but damn if it isn’t the funniest fucking episode in the entire series. It’s essentially just a fun romp. The villain is so Obviously Evil, and of course no one else in Camelot SEES that he’s evil except Merlin. And Merlin??????? a petty, jealous bitch?????? yes absolutely. oh my god this one is just hilarious you would not believe. 

2x08: The Sins of the Father: Finally, an episode where we get to see the true depth of Bradley James’ talent!! Really, his performance sells the entire episode in and of itself, but this one’s got plenty more to recommend it as well. Anthony Head returns as brilliant as ever, of course, and we get introduced to yet another incredible villain. Nowhere near as fleshed-out as Nimeuh, but this lady’s definitely got spunk, and she’s just fun to watch overall. Merlin’s warring loyalties are put into conflict yet again, Arthur gives his asshole father the call-out of the century, honestly, what more could you want? And we get to see a much softer side of Arthur as well, one that almost never reappears again - which is a real shame, by the way, considering how well Bradley James does strong emotions.

2x09: The Lady of the Lake: okay this one. this one does. it doesn’t. it doesn’t need to be on the list. it really doesn’t. but Merlin gets a ladylove and it’s absolutely BEAUTIFUL and everyone can shut their mouths. the girl he falls for?? 10/10. would die for her. she is beautiful and sweet and amazing and she dOES NOT DESERVE ALL THE PAIN SHE HAS SUFFERED I LOVE HER. I WOULD TAKE A BULLET FOR HER. 

2x13: The Last Dragonlord: ahhh here we go!! This one’s the one. This one’s where it’s at. This episode has absolutely everything I initially started watching Merlin for - knights, dragons, sword fights, branches of magic no other fantasy series has yet explored, and to top it all off, Colin Morgan AGAIN goes above and beyond in his performance. I am convinced there’s nothing this man can’t do anymore. i would fight and die for the last dragonlord. both the episode and the dragonlord himself. 

3x04: Gwaine: if you take nothing else away from this series, then for fuck’s sake, remember that Gwaine is, objectively speaking, beautiful. honestly. what a bastard. what a gorgeous, gorgeous bastard.

4x01 (and 4x02): The Darkest Hour: honestly incredible. i weep. the knights are such bros and look, Arthur has feelings, and hE’S GOT A SMARMY-ASS UNCLE NNNN I HATE WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK I HATE HIM HIS NAME IS LORD FUCKING AGRAVAINE AND I WILL HATE HIM UNTIL MY DYING DAY and Merlin gets whumped!! excellent, perfect, 10/10. three cheers for Merlin whump.

4x03: The Wicked Day: ohhhh gosh just a whole bundle of emotions here. Merlin is trying his best. Arthur deserves better. Gaius watches with a raise of his infamous eyebrow. Everything goes to hell. Merlin still tries his best. that’s it. that’s the whole show.

4x04: Aithusa: I SWEAR IM NOT GOING TO RECOMMEND EVERY SINGLE EPISODE OF S4 ((well maybe I am but that is because S4 is amazing and i am a GARBAGE HEAP.)) THERE ARE JUST. A LOT OF GOOD ONES. RIGHT AT THE BEGINNING. ghjhyghgb okay this one is just??? really good in general?? More dragons!! More knights being bros!!! And some serious character development on Merlin’s part like holy hell I don’t remember him having em that big in S3. this dude is getting what he wants and that is Just That.

4x06: Servant of Two Masters: okay let’s be real this one has a super intense start - in the first three minutes, Merlin is given a fatal wound, with a fucking MACE, no less - but honestly, at about the fifteen-minute mark, it just?? turns into comedy gold??? Merlin Emrys’ entire existence is a power move for forty straight minutes. he is Salty. he is Sassy. he is an absolute, stone-cold, unforgiving bitch. he takes no one’s shit. he will come for you and your family, and probably your hopes and dreams, too. he will stop at nothing. It’s somehow funnier when you stop and think about how genuinely sweet he usually is. this is just the most complete and comedic turnaround, and I love it.

4x12 (and 4x13): The Sword in the Stone: HERE’S where the myth and the series really start to collide. congratulations, only took 4 entire seasons. still kind of irritates me that the sword in the stone is Excalibur. what can you do. a lot of retellings condense. understandable but annoying as all hell. Arthur’s character arc comes to an admittedly unsatisfying end, but Tristan and Isolde make a cursory appearance, so that’s something I wasn’t expecting. Also, Merlin’s S4 character arc comes to an AMAZING head like wtf. we did not deserve that. Merlin Emrys is chaotic and vengeful. 

5x03: The Death Song of Uther Pendragon: listen,,,,,, listen,,,,,,, this one serves Literally No Purpose and Does Not Need to be on here. it doesn’t advance the plot. it doesn’t build toward anything whatsoever. it’s just really fucking hilarious. it’s Arthur and Merlin being bros. Uther is his usual bastard self. Gwen is beautiful and we do not deserve her. Sir Leon makes an appearance and is very confused. Sir Leon is extremely relatable.  

5x05: The Disir: Admittedly not my favorite, just??? not my favorite. But it really does take Merlin’s character in an absolutely stunning direction that still blows me away to this day, and it’s worth the watch just for that alone. Very dark episode though, very sad. Kind of has a “hopeless” vibe going tbh so. (May need to watch 1x08, The Beginning of the End, to get a bit of backstory for this one.)

5x08: The Hollow Queen: YOU WILL PRY THIS ONE FROM MY COLD DEAD FINGERS IT SERVES NO PURPOSE IT ADDS NOTHING TO THE PLOT BUT MERLIN GETS WHUMPED SO MUCH??? EMOTIONAL. PHYSICAL. IT’S ALL HERE. HE SUFFERS SO MUCH. IT’S GREAT. IT’S INCREDIBLE. maybe watch the two before it ((The Dark Tower and A Lesson in Vengeance)) before, though, because it’s kind of hard to understand unless you’ve got backstory lmao. 

5x10: The Kindness of Strangers: More Merlin whump on every side, but this one also gives us our first (and only) look into Merlin’s position in the magical community? We don’t get to see him interact with people like him a whole lot over the course of the series, and who he actually is, what he represents, to his kind as a whole, is often left very fuzzy. There’s just a lot of confusion surrounding it, and this episode goes a pretty long way toward clearing that up.

And of course the series finale should be on here, but ehh. not that great tbh. really dropped the ball if we’re being honest. SO. those are. all of them. not really going to give you a sense of the full scope of the series dfhffgfdfgb probably just going to confuse the hell out of you and give you a sudden, insatiable thirst for Merlin whump ((which I can sate w/ fic recs. do you want fic recs. I’ve got fic recs. so many authors love to torment this man.)

ANYWAY THOUGH. I hope this helped!!

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Partners in Grime (baon)

Summary:   Stretch has survived a lot over the years. Surviving Edge's vacation week should be a piece of cake.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Mentions of Depression

part of the ‘by any other name’

Read on AO3

-or-

Read More Here

~~*~~

Stretch wasn’t used to babysitting and that was a fact. Oh, he played games with the neighborhood kiddos, showed them experiments and occasionally planned events but he was pretty sure none of their parents had fooled themselves into thinking that anything he did could be called supervision.

He hoped so, anyway, or there was going to be some inevitable disappointment somewhere along the line.

Anyway, so yeah, babysitting. Not so much. He was used to having the house to himself for most of the day where he could sleep in or watch television or go to the lab—

(don’t think about that)

—or post on twitter while hanging out with the chickens. His days weren’t planned so much as they were loosely connected reoccurring events, and Stretch was fine with that.

Having Edge here every day was ruining his carefully disarrayed schedule and he loved Edge, he loved him so much, and he’d love him even more if he’d sit down for five fucking minutes.

Stress, yeah, sure, Stretch was going to gather up his own stress and shove the whole messy wad of it up Ass-gore’s namesake. But Red had warned him if his bro didn’t chill the fuck out, Asgore was considering sending him on a longer vacation and Stretch was pretty sure that was a sanity massacre waiting to happen.

In the interest of saving them all, Stretch would do his duty to Monsterkind and help.

So far, that had consisted of letting Edge do whatever the fuck he wanted around the house. Just because Stretch didn’t see the purpose of attacking the grout with an old toothbrush didn’t mean it wasn’t an important task, (or so he guessed because he’d spent a lifetime not cleaning grout and he hadn’t dusted yet.)

And just because their neighbor’s smiles when he brought them yet another plate of cookies or muffins were getting a little tight didn’t mean there weren’t other people who would appreciate a treat and so what if Stretch was shortcutting two streets away to find them?

Problem was, cleaning and baking looked like they were losing their luster.

He’d give a half-hearted thought to taking Edge into town to go shopping or maybe a movie but subjecting innocent Humans to him didn’t seem like the best way to build good relations between Humans and Monsterkind.

That left sex as Stretch’s main form of entertainment, hey, may as well enjoy the forced confinement, right?

But after a few days even his libido was starting to make flimsy excuses to call it a night, and while Stretch was usually ready for any reason to desecrate the couch again, if they ever wanted anyone else to sit on it again, they were going to need to let it air out for a couple days. At least washing the sheets gave Edge something to do.

That afternoon he was sitting on the poor, abused sofa, still aching pleasantly in a few key areas from earlier when he realized Edge hadn’t followed him back downstairs. The shower had been turned off for a suspiciously long time and he’d believe Red and Sans were swapping condiment preferences along with spit before he’d believe Edge was laying back down for a nap.

It set off more than a few alarm bells. Time to investigate. For the safety of the City and everyone in it.

Who knew that Edge taking a vacation would give him Superman tendencies?

Shortcutting could be silent if he put enough effort into it. Last time he’d bothered was when he was grabbing all the kids during the ‘human invasion’, if that’s what they called a handful of dipshits, but he did it now. Otherwise Edge would hear him on the stairs.

When the void cleared, Stretch could see Edge was sitting on the bed facing away from the door, almost hunched over, a far cry from his usual perfect posture. Checking his phone from the looks of it, naughty naughty.

“what are you dooooooing?” Stretch asked, pleasantly.

Edge jumped and nearly dropped his phone, fumbling to catch it before it fell on the floor. The look on his face was like a damned neon sign, flashing his guilt for all to see.

“Nothing,” he said brusquely.

Oh, yeah, smooth, that’d fool a lie detector, for sure.

“uh huh,” Stretch leaned against the door jamb and crossed his arms over his chest. “nothing. so, my guess is either you’ve taken up watching porn on the sly or you were checking in on your work email. and we both know you’d show me the porn, i always like a good laugh.”

His silence spoke volumes. Edge didn’t like to lie and since he couldn’t Obi-Wan his way out with any ‘some other point of view’ bullshit, he was going with keeping his mouth shut.

Stretch shook his head sadly. His baby was letting him down on the sneak factor; he should’ve checked while he was still in the bathroom. “you know, i promised that i’d keep an eye on you this week. you wanna be responsible for making me break a promise?”

“I didn’t promise,” Edge muttered but he sighed and let Stretch take his hand, followed him back downstairs like the world’s saddest, boniest puppy, “This is ridiculous.”

“uh huh.”

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“you’re definitely fine, babe, always loved those jeans.”

“I’ve taken a couple of days, I’ve relaxed—“

“uh…yeah…about that. you might need a refresher on the whole ‘relaxing’ thing. i could google it for you.”

“And I’m ready to be back at work.”

“you and me both.”

“What was that?” Edge asked distractedly.

“sit.” And when he didn’t, Stretch pushed on his shoulders until Edge gave in and finally sat down heavily on the sofa. Sternly, Stretch told him, “stay there.”

When it looked like Edge was probably going to obey even if it was with all the grudging he could muster, Stretch went to the kitchen. Time to bring out the secret weapons.

He came back out with a heavily laden tray, covered in plates that held the sort of things that required toothpicks and stupid green garnishy things, and announced, “i have snacks. i have drinks. we are watching netflix.”

“Where did you get this?” Edge eyed everything suspiciously, like Stretch had taken up poisoning as a part-time job. “I know you didn’t make it.”

Well, if he had, then he would probably be well on his way to his first paycheck as an amateur poisoner. “i did not, my brother did, so it’s probably safe. you know you love his spinach puffs. now, eat and watch tv.”

“Must we?” Edge groaned. He flopped back against the cushions and honestly, this was fascinating from a scientific point of view. Edge on the verge of a tantrum was a state of being that Stretch hadn’t even known existed, much less that he’d be the one to discover it. He should write a paper. “I’ve seen enough television to last the rest of the year.”

“i hope not, i’m looking forward to the new season of ‘masterchef’. anyway, i think you’ll like this one.”

He picked up the controller and started the episode. Bright music began along with a man explaining, “It’s a never-ending battle to fight the clutter—"

Edge sat up and grabbed a spinach puff, stuffing it into his mouth and chewing with an impressive amount of grudgingness before slumping back to glare at the tv.

If Stretch survived this he was asking for a raise.

An hour later and Stretch was ready to mark this one as a win. Edge was riveted in a way even Gordon Ramsey rarely managed. Probably a good thing Stretch had already married him, or he might be on a plane with flowers in hand, ready to spark a little joy.

Stretch wasn’t quite as enamored; he was okay with the show, sure, the host was a sweetheart. It was just a hell of a lot more fun watching Edge. The way he quivered as the families tried to excuse their messiness, like he was resisting the urge to reach through the screen and shake them. His visible satisfaction when they showed they were on the right path and the episode ended with triumph and order.

It was fucking adorable.

He didn’t get to watch Edge like this very often. Usually if they were watching television, Stretch liked to live up to his namesake and stretch out, laying half on Edge and half off the sofa, soaking up the warmth from his blanket and his baby both.

It was moments like these that he was jarringly reminded that Edge really was younger than him, the same age as his little brother. With his crimson eye lights wide and focused on the screen, enchantingly absorbed, he looked his age in a way he rarely did.

He’d gone through so much in his life; some of it was visible on his bones, the crack in his socket was the most obvious but there were others, scars that had healed roughly without a gentle hand to press soothing magic into them. The other scars were buried a hell of a lot deeper and whether they were why he needed a break from work or they were the reason he drove himself so hard to begin with was anyone’s guess.

Stretch had his own theories.

But that combined with his unrelenting attitude made Edge seem older than he was. Didn’t help that it was hard to gauge ages with skeletons. Plenty of Monsters guessed that Stretch was the younger one.

He liked to think it was because he was young at heart, fuck you very much.

And then after everything he’d gone through, Edge went ahead and hitched his life to Stretch’s broke-ass wagon. Looking at Edge and thinking about the years he had yet to come sometimes made that bitter little voice that lived in the back of Stretch’s thoughts come to life, syrupy-thick, persuasive, and as foul as swamp water, asking him what the fuck he thought he was doing here, telling him he didn’t deserve this. Edge had earned better than having to spend his life dealing with Stretch’s brand of generic bullshittery.

Today more than usual it was easy to stuff that voice back. What kind of asshole would it make Stretch to try to make his choices for him? Stretch had a little too much experience with that and once you allowed it to start happening, it was fucking difficult to flick the switch back. Besides, if his taste in partners was questionable, at least his baby had a good soul.

He was selfish, knew it, but still. He wanted to be the one to spark joy in Edge

When the episode ended, Stretch didn’t even ask. He reached out automatically to push the button that skipped the intro on the next one. The spinach puffs were a distant memory but there were still the tapenade toast points to contend with.

A glance back at Edge made Stretch duck his head to hide a smile. Edge looked like his inner neat freak was getting a deep tissue massage. Now that, friends and neighbors, was relaxed.

“can i ask something?” Stretch said, idly, “how is it a clean bee like you can stand to be with me?”

Edge managed to tear his gaze away from the television long enough to look at him with genuine surprise and a little fond scorn, probably for the pun. It tore away the last bit of the illusion of youth and that left nothing but his own husband, who told him archly, “Marie says it herself. I love a mess.”

Okay, damn, affection and insult in one, and by the Angel, Stretch loved him so, so much. “i asked for that.”

“You did,” Edge agreed. But he caught hold of Stretch and pulled him in anyway, tucking him in comfortably against his side. He was soothingly warm and Stretch snuggled in happily, sighing as Edge pressed a kiss against his skull before whispering to him, “You bring me joy.”

Well, hey, mission accomplished. Now Stretch only had to keep it up for a few decades, no biggie.

But first, he needed to survive the week.

-finis-

Notes:

I can't help but feel that Edge would love 'Tidying Up With Marie Kondo'. His platonic soul mate. ^_^

[queertazsecretsanta]

A gift for @infernal-violinist, created by @jocelyncade!

Title: Chamomile 

Summary: Angus McDonald was hard at work last night during a stakeout, but unfortunately, fate doesn’t seem to want to let him get his paperwork done the next day.  Tag: Angus McDonald, Sick Fic, Taakitz as Ango’s Dads, Auntie Lup and Uncle Barry, Blupjeans, Taakitz

The rain buffeted heavily on the windshields around Angus, tucked betwixt the parked cars as he was.

The sound was almost deafening, but he could still make out the gruff voices of the two men mere meters from his hiding place.

“We’ll gather ‘t all up and meet 5 miles south of Refuge, got it?”

“Yes Boss.”

Their brows slick with water, Angus was confident he wouldn’t be spotted, between the frequent wiping, and blinking, and not looking for a small eleven year old boy behind a car.

He pulled out a notebook, shielding it the best he could from the inclement weather, and taking as many notes as he could. Shorthand - disguised as schoolwork, no one would look at a child’s math homework and expect it to be a code hiding the plans for these despicable men. 

Angus eyed the warehouse behind them. Could he make it inside? Surely they were hiding some choice evidence in there. Just maybe…

He waited. And waited, until a little past 2AM, for the guard to switch out. The new one, jumpy, angry at the pouring rain, didn’t think twice about scaring off what must have been a raccoon fight, and definitely not a well-placed minor illusion in the alleyway. Best to scare them away, right sir? Can’t have them be attracting any attention.

Angus creeped, quiet as a mouse, channeling every roguish tip Mrs. Carey had thought to teach him, as he approached the heavy door. 

“Damn…” He swore under his breath. Locked.

Looking around to ensure the guard wasn’t on his way, he quickly step up another illusion, this one louder and longer. A car crash would be perfect, just the sound of one - to cover up the sound of a quick cast of Knock.

The screeching of tires and crashing of metal and fibreglass echoed loudly over the comparably quiet CLACK of the spell, and the latch let him inside easily.

Shutting the door behind him, and reaching up to lock the door behind him, (if it was unlocked they’d become suspicious, after all) he quickly took cover behind some unfortunately damp crates. The roof, tattered and worn, was no protection from the elements, even inside. A light rainfall splattered atop his cap, and his clothes getting somehow even damper than before.

A short patrol passed him right after he hid, perfect timing. He studied their movements.

To be frank, Angus wasn’t sure what they were doing, just that they were moving very large trucks in and out and a warehouse that didn’t belong to them. But reports didn’t show an increase of drugs, or any kind of weapon or contraband in the area. Quite the opposite, actually. There was less on the streets than was to be expected, even with the increased levels of social services in the city. It was strange, to say the least. Though, who better to be on a strange case, than a strange little boy?

He watched the patrol pattern once more. They seemed to ignore the small boxes. Examining the one he hid behind right now, he could conclude that they seemed to be empty. 

What were they guarding??

A rustle from beside him startled him. A large crate, larger than himself was the only thing to his right. 

No..? Angus tiptoed over, shining a flashlight into the holes in the crate and-

A soft whispering into his Stone of Farspeech, quiet as he could possibly be without alerting the patrol.

Within minutes, he was on the tail side of a raid. 

No one expected fireballs from behind when the militia came at them from the front. 

No sooner than they had arrived, had they suppressed the gang of thugs. 

Angus pried the lid off his previously examined crate, reaching inside, and helping a tall dryad stand up from her crouched position.

Achoo!

“Gesundheit, kid.” Said a lilting voice by his bedside, holding out a tissue. 

“Thanks Auntie Lup.” Angus said gratefully, blowing his nose as hard as he could, leaving him dizzy, with spots in his vision. 

“Oogh.” He groaned, his head spinning. 

Lup placed the back of her hand against his forehead, frowning. 

“Still running a fever… At least it’s not as bad as last night, Taako was full on freakin’.”

Angus didn’t say anything to that. It was his fault he got sick, he didn’t take care of himself after his late night stakeout for the case.

Why should they be worried when he made this mistake himself. 

“It’s ok, I feel much better already, I’m sure this will pass soon enough.”

“At least you’re on Candlenights Vacation. Knowing you, you’d be freaking out for missing class, nerd.”

“I’m still missing my tutoring sessions.”

“You need a tutor?! I guess you aren’t such a giant nerd after all.”

Angus raised his eyebrow, giving her a pointed look.

“Obviously you’re the tutor, kid.” She laughed, ruffling his hair. “I’ll grab you some lunch. Any requests?”

“Something warm.”

“Vague as hell, Angus, thanks so much.” She winked, closing the door gently behind her.

Angus slumped back into his absolute mountain of pillows. A half dozen was far too many for a little boy, but at times like these, when he felt particularly ‘bleh’, he was grateful for the comfort. 

He felt much worse than he let on. There was no point in getting fussed over - after all, Auntie Lup, Uncle Barry and Kravitz were incredibly busy, and Taako… Taako does what he wants, so it was hard for Angus to gauge how ‘busy’ he was at any given moment. But he knew that Taako had better things to do than worry. Like Magic Day. Just because he was sick didn’t mean Magic Day had to be cancelled. 

Angus sunk even lower into the mess of pillows.

At the very least, he had done something good last night. It didn’t take a boy detective to imagine what kind of plants they wanted to make the dryad grow.

Eventually, the comfort of the feather-stuffed bedspread got the better of Angus, and he let his eyes flutter closed for a moment.

A slow rumbling echoed through the small of his back. The soft warmth of fur on the skin beneath his hiked up pajama shirt didn’t help rouse him from sleep, rather trying to keep him well and firmly under the veil of a good nap.

But even the little furball that is Charon, Taako and Kravitz’ Siberian baby of a cat, could keep him from eavesdropping.

“-it’s probably Pneumonia, if I’m readin’ him right.”

“Well shit. Was it the fuckin’ stakeout or what? There’s gotta be some fucking labor laws or something about a kid being out in the rain for that long.” Taako sounded worried, which Angus knew he was more often than he let on.

“Well it sure didn’t help, but nah he was already sick yesterday. Just exacerbated those symptoms. I’ll check him over once he’s awake to see if he’s viral or not.”

“Kay, cool. Anything I can do?”

“Fluids… Let him cough, manage the fever. Basic stuff. If he gets worse, call me.”

Taako said nothing in response to that. 

“Oh, and lots of rest. He’s got to relax. None of that detective shit, school can take a break. It’s not like it’s going anywhere for him.”

“Is magic ok?”

“Nah, he should keep all his energies up.”

“Damn. Alright, thanks Merle. I’ll wait here until he’s awake and give you a shout.”

Angus laid still, keeping his breathing as even as he could. It wasn’t too hard. Charon hadn’t moved and was still vibrating rhythmically.

“I know you’re up, Ango.”

Angus shifted slightly. “How could you tell, sir?”

“You snore.”

Angus grumbled softly, pushing Charon off his back. He sauntered over to the pillows and settled in there.

Angus sat up, adjusted his pajamas and squinted at Taako, unsure of where his glasses were. 

“You feeling ok?”

“Yes.”

“No bullshit, Agnes, you’re pretty fucked up.”

“I feel like crap.”

“There you go. You cold?”

“A bit. Did Auntie Lup make lunch yet?”

“Hoo boy, lunch was hours ago my man. You were out.”

“Oh. I could have sworn it was just a moment or two.”

“She did, but she made a ton of stew. We can heat it back up.”

“Is she really that worried about me?”

“Hm?” Taako seemed confused. 

“Auntie Lup over cooks when she’s worried about something. You do the same thing with baking, right?”

“I forgot you notice shit like that… Yeah kid, she is worried. I am too, but you already figured that out right? But you’ll be fine. You got a crack team of overbearing adults and Merle who sort of knows what he’s doing. You’ll be fine.” He repeated the last phrase quietly, not quite to convince just Angus of the fact.

“Yeah, I’ll be alright.” Angus stifled a cough.

“Let it out bro, don’t hide it.”

Angus nodded, standing up, and pulling a blanket around his shoulders.

“Can Merle check me out now? I want to know if I should take antibiotics or not.”

And they headed downstairs.

The stew was awesome, as per the norm, and warmed Angus up quite a bit.

He was slowly feeling, not better, but more comfortable.

Merle determined it was viral, which meant it wasn’t as severe. Angus felt relieved at that, he didn’t want this to impede him any more than it was going to already.

Taako grabbed a large blanket and wrapped it around Angus, leading him to the living room.

“You tired, kid?”

“Not really. Can we watch something?”

“That’s the plan.”

Angus was nestled into the corner of a couch, wrapped in the plush fabric, feeling warmer than ever.

Taako set up Fantasy Netflix and put on one of Angus’ favorite picks; the TV adaption of Caleb Cleveland, Kid Cop.

It didn’t hold up to the novels, but it was solid on it’s own. He liked having it on in the background while he did paperwork. Or, while he dozed off, only half paying attention to the screen, while several episodes played through.

A distant sound, like paper tearing, interrupted Angus’ hazy musings.

Auntie Lup, Uncle Barry and Kravitz, slightly scuffed from work came to join them in the living room.

A gentle hair ruffle from Auntie Lup was happily received, and Barry gave him a smile, letting him have his space. They sat down on the loveseat on the other side of the room, Barry leaning onto Lup’s shoulder and sighing peacefully. Kravitz, meanwhile, brought Angus and Taako drinks. Something fancy, with a garnish of spiralled orange peel for Taako, who exchanged a kiss for it, and tea for Angus, a soothing chamomile lightly sweetened with honey. He gratefully accepted it, sipping slowly, and softly blowing on the hot surface.

Surrounded by his family, Angus relented. He would be better soon. He may as well stop worrying about everything he was missing, and focus on where he was right now.

Warm. Safe. Happy.

And he remained those three things as he quietly fell asleep on the couch, not even waking while he was carried back up to his bedroom.