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smoochhyuka · 6 months

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Munch!Kai tasting heaven for the first time

He could not believe you would doubt yourself so much, especially since all he thinks about at night are your soft thighs wrapped around his head.

○o。content warnings! nsfw, soft dom!Hyuka, perv!hyuka, fem!reader, cunnilingus, breastplay, mention of asphyxiation at the end, he is head over heels for you, a little angsty at the start but nothing too heavy and it gets resolved quickly (mention of dieting, calories, weight loss and body image issues), implied to be chubby (you can read as plus-size or in a 'not-fitting-kbs' way), tummy lover hyuka, kinda long build-up this is purely self indulgent ToT

It has been raining the whole day and has only gotten worse throughout the evening. Since you live at the very top of your apartment complex, the thick droplets can not only be heard from the windows but also from the ceiling, creating a calming brown noise effect which you are using to your advantage. Today was a free day for you and your boyfriend was able to wrap up practice a lot earlier than expected and paying you a surprise visit. You lit up all the candles you own, used the coziest pillows and blankets to cuddle up in and cranked up the heating. You decided to put on a cute pair of very short shorts in your favorite color, fluffy white socks and a thin white tank top without a bra, in hopes that Kai would at least react to your uncharacteristically revealing outfit. To your disappointment, he did not even glance down at your body.

Kai asked to be your boyfriend just after a couple of dates. Due to his busy schedule, meeting each other turned out to be difficult, causing you to mostly meet in the evening or at night, most of the time having sleepovers at your place. They are innocent, too innocent to your liking. You watch a movie, sit together and play games or just lie in bed and talk about anything. It is wonderful, of course, you have not met a man as attentive, caring, earnest and passionate as him. You know he loves you, he has told you accidentally and honestly a little prematurely on your first month anniversary date and has not stopped declaring his sincere feelings for you ever since, but you are a worried if your boyfriend is sexually interested in you. He breaks every kiss that turns hot, never allows his hands to wander below your hips or make any suggestive comments. You are unsure what the cause might be, and you are debating on whether you should ask, since it ultimately could just be too soon for him and you do not want to risk scaring him away by coming off too strong. But the mind does not always work rationally, you are searching the fault on you. Do you need to dress more sexy, since you both are usually in your lounge wear when you see each other? Are you not cute enough, because of your blunt sense of humor? Are you... not thin enough to his liking?

A bowl of popcorn and a pack of his favorite gummies are between you, which kind of stops you from cuddling up to him too much. Kai put on a random anime that he said you must see, snacking on the gummies. You try your best to hide your frustration, concentrating on the episode and trying to memorize the names of the characters. You do not notice him picking up a few pieces of popcorn until they are right in your face, "Ahhhh", Kai hums at you, gesturing you to eat said snack. You turn your head away, still not really looking at him, "thank you, but it doesn't fit into my calories, I had dinner already.", you reply. His playful smile falters, his brows furrow. Since you did not look away from the laptop, he pauses the anime, "What do you mean, 'calories'?". You look at him with big eyes, "I decided to go on a diet.", you state matter-of-fact. He is visibly upset, an angry pout on his face, confusion and worry in his eyes. Why would you go on a diet, do you not know how beautiful you are? He knows how easily it can spiral out of control, it hurts him to think that you would find a diet necessary. "Why would you?", he asks rather harshly, having a hard time hiding his disapproval. You are rather taken aback, since you did not think he would react this way. You figured he would not really react at all. It is not only common for idols to diet regularly but also for normal citizens to pick up that habit, you were absolutely not prepared to see him this agitated. As you are unsure on what to rebuttal, Kai speaks up again, "Of course you are free to do what you want, but I want you to know that I disagree. I want you to be happy and healthy, eating good food." There is a lot more he would want to say to you, but ultimately he thinks it is not his place to tell you what to do, especially not so early in the relationship, "You should also know that you are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen.", he whispers before turning the anime back on, not without stealing a glance at your sweet body, which you took notice of. For a while, you sit quietly next to one another, no one really paying attention to the screen, but being lost in their own thoughts. Kais quiet confession got your heart racing, he does compliment you more than enough, but they are never as intense as this one. Usually, he calls you cute or pretty between grins and giggles, he would shyly look away, sometimes poke your stomach to distract you from said comment. This time, he not only looked you in the eyes with a firm expression, even if it was just for a split second, you could see lust in his face after he dared to finally take a closer look at the outline of your nipples in the slightly see-through top, your small belly button, your lush thighs that you pressed together for a more comfortable position. You decide, it is time to adress your concerns.

"I thought you might prefer it if I lost a few kilos", you admit, the episode still running, your boyfriends body tensing up, "Kai, do you think I am sexy?" Even though you are an outspoken person, asking him this is quite embarrassing. Having said that out loud, you feel like a fool. He pauses, his hand hovering over the space button for a while, before leaning fully back and looking you in the eyes again with that intense stare. His eyes fall lower, you grow a little insecure under his gaze, trying to pull down you shorts a little, adjusting the straps of your top, making your tits jiggle deliciously. He hisses quietly upon seeing that, you almost did not notice. The tension thickens, "I...", your boyfriend starts, pausing again to think, "That is a very unexpected question, at least from my perspective." You furrow your brows, tilting your head to the side. You have a habit of blowing a little air in you cheeks and pouting when you do that, seeing that confused and innocent expression in addition to those little clothes that do not leave a lot to the imagination gets Kais brain all fuzzy. "I think about you every night.", he admits, "It has been so difficult not to initiate anything." He was able to surprise you again this evening, your mind goes blank. Have you actually been this wrong? Kai carefully takes the snacks and the laptop and puts them on the floor, he scoots over to you and wraps a long arm around your shoulders, whispering into your ear, "Don't tell me you put this on to seduce me. I have been trying so hard to be a gentleman for you." His voice sends shivers down your spine, you close your eyes, savoring the sensation of his hot breath in your ear. "Tell me, baby, is there something you want us to do tonight?" He is circling your shoulder with his index finger. With his long, slender index finger. You knew your boyfriend was more than the cute and innocent maknae fans know him as, you most definitely have seen his performances, but for him to have a dominant side like this is something you hoped for, but not necessarily required him to have. "Or do you just want to lay back and let me handle it? I probably should make it up to you, for making you worry like this.", he places a few hesitant kisses below your ear, you just now notice the small tremble in his hands, "You completely misunderstood, though." His voice exuding confidence, his body language telling a different story. His eyes are closed shut, he is practically hiding his blush in your neck. You have not really said anything, making his heart pound hard in his chest. He thought about this moment a lot, everytime being more erotic, more experimental, dirtier. He realizes your first time is not going to be a two hour long session of you both trying out your naughtiest fantasies, instead, it is going to be a lot more emotional than his wet dreams allowed. He is feeling a form of performance pressure that did not even cross his mind accidentally.

"A moment ago...", you whisper, pulling him out of his head, "you said you think about me every night. What is it that you think about?" You open your eyes, big eyes searching for his. He looks up timidly, you smile at his pink cheeks.

Bondage, toys, sensory play, wax play, shower sex, kitchen sex, lingerie, anal... what did he not think about? There is only one reoccurring theme in his wild imagination about you.

"I think about eating you out.", he answers bashfully, laughing awkwardly because of his bad habit to smile away his anxiety. Hearing him say that is sending a jolt right to your core, sinful images flash in front of your inner eyes. Your heart rate increases, unsure on how it could even beat any faster. Your boyfriend picks up on your rising body temperature, your glossy eyes and your breathing picking up. "I-", you stutter, "Please." You have lost your words. Your big and strong boyfriend has you in a tight grip and just admitted that he wants to eat you out in a way that is sexy and still uniquely cute to him, mentally you slip away, you brain is blank, you can only feel your skin tingling at every spot you are touching him. He leans forward and kisses you softly, his pink velvety lips feel like small pillows. Without breaking the kiss, he sits in front of you and presses you down into the pillows, a little bit more forceful than intended. His dick has been slightly erect since the moment he saw you this evening, but by now it has grown to his full size. You take notice of the bulge, reaching out, but Kai catches your hand and pins it above your head. He grins at you, "I am going to take off your top, is that okay?" You nod, profusely. He giggles at your eagerness, even when he is hovering above you, he manages to be sweet. His warm hands find your belly, he holds you by your waist and massages you with his thumbs. You whine, growing hot and bothered by his pace, making his cock twitch, he groans and leans forward to place some more kisses on your tummy. You squirm everytime his lips get lower to your heat, everytime you do he nibbles at the spot. He kisses a wet trail up your body, until he has reached the hem of your shirt. Fingers slipping underneath it and pulling it above your head, exposing your chest and your hardened nipples. For a brief moment Kai gets shy, seeing you this exposed is a sight that he has been dreaming so long of. His hands trail slowly back down to your mounds to cup them gently, but not without running them over your face and stopping just for a moment to caress your lips.

"You are so beautiful", he whispers, you tilt your head to the side to escape his gaze, slightly embarrassed. "I love you.", Kai starts grinning after your proclamation, leaning forward again but this time to catch your right bud between his lips, applying pressure to the other one with his thumb. You sigh at the feeling, the slight tingle that creeps through your entire body. Making sure not to apply too much of his body weight onto you, he delicately sucks and licks on your chest, only experimentally biting you a few times with his front teeth, which you seem to enjoy. He could listen to you small sighs, heavy breathing and occasional whines forever, but you both have other plans for this rainy evening.

Wet and passionate are the kisses that trail down to the hem of your shorts, his breathing heightening after every peck. His hands follow suit, as he is know toying with them, his fingers trembling slightly just like a moment ago. Trying to ease his nervosity, you lay one of your smaller hands on top of his, looking into his eyes. After one last, deep breath, he pulls down your shorts and underwear, exposing you fully to him. His cheeks turn into a sweet, deep red. "It is a little unfair", you start teasing him, breaking eye contact yet again, "that I am the only one naked right now." Kai laughs awkwardly as a response, short-circuiting, mumbling a small 'sorry' before shakily pulling his own tank above his head, exposing his flushed chest. The sight of your boyfriend, covered in blush, kneeling between your naked legs is a sight that you will not able to forget for quite some time. Despite his clear apprehensiveness, Kai is moving his position a lot further down the bed, making sure his head is right above your glistening pussy when he leans back down. The smell of your heat is hitting him before he can even realize how close he is to you, he would not necessarily know how to describe it, just that it is intensely erotic. You pull your knees closer to you chest, effectively spreading your lips further open and allowing him to now see your two holes.

Not knowing what to do with his arms, he uses the left one to support himself, and the other one to grabs you by your hip. He opts to start with a small peck next to your cunt, earning him another whine, before wetting his lips with his tongue and placing a kiss rather centrally on the sensitive nerves. His nose brushes your clit, "Kai.", you breath heavily. Now curious about you taste, he sticks out his tongue to trail upwards, just barely missing the sensitive bundle of nerves, which placement he did take notice of. Now circling it, applying a little bit more pressure, you start moaning for him. His head starts to feel dizzy, your smell, taste and voice occupying his senses. Trying to swallow more of your juices he starts sucking on your clit, getting you to cry out and press your thighs together around his head, restricting his breathing slightly. Kai could have never imagined how tranquilizing this whole experience could have been. Not being able to move his head a lot, he goes back to licking between your folds, slurping off the never-ending flow of juice that you produce. Your boyfriend is eager to find what works the best for you, trying out different patterns with his tongue and sucking on different nerves, taking note of every little noise that you make for him. He carefully sticks his tongue into your hole, and just through imagining his cock entering the textured and gummy walls, he can not help himself but to use his left hand to pull out his angry red dick and sloppily pumping it. You are too focused on the overwhelming pleasure you feel to notice, holding tightly onto the stuffed animal Kai has gave you on your first date. "I am so so close.", you exclaim, sounding slurred. "Come on my face baby.", he quickly rebuttals, barely lifting his mouth from your pussy to say it. Since you seemed to like it when he sucks on your clit, he does it again and you cry out loudly. It does not take long for that tight knot in your core to burst, you come violently, pressing down even harder on his head, cutting off most of his air, leaving him to only breath in your smell. That sensation getting him to cum just a few moments after you, while you still twitch, squirm and rub against his tongue trying to get down from the high. His thick, opaque cum covering your bedsheets and his hand, slow pumps to get out the last droplets. Both of your heartbeats start to normalize, you release your boyfriend from the headlock and let your legs hang. The sudden hit of air overwhelming him, but after a few breaths he is able to sit up straight, scoot forward again and plop down next to you.

You immediately turn over to him and swing your legs around his hips, rather harshly coming in contact with his --to your surprise-- flaccid and naked dick. He shrieks, you sit up in concern and cup his cheeks. "Sorry!", you blurt out, without necessarily understanding what just happened. His furrowed brows relax again, his pained expression turning into amusement. "It is just so sensitive after coming, that's all.", he tells you honestly, "I couldn't help myself". You start smirking, "I guess that answers my question from earlier.", you say, after seeing his hand that is still glistening from the white coat. He follows your eyes and immediately rolls out of bed, "I get that cleaned up and then we fall asleep cuddling." You just nod, watching him in awe, pulling up his pants back over his butt and disappearing in your bathroom.

#sorry for the goofy ass ending but i couldnt help myself #everyone needs a kai to fuck away your insecurities #hueningkai hard hours #hueningkai hard thoughts #txt smut #hueningkai x reader #smoochwrites

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fitographia · 3 months

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if you’ve seen me do these countless times it’s cause they work 😉🐾

also @womensbest is having a BOGO sale this week ! lots of supplements & activewear pieces will be buy one get one free so it's the perfect time to stock up 🫡 starts today at 12pm EST and you can stack my code on top for an extra discount | PLAMENOVA 💸

my go-to ankle mobility drills

great for warm ups, active rest days and bodyweight sessions

- calf raises from a kneeling lunge (the further forward you go into an increased dorsiflexion, the more challenging these are. you can also add a kb or db on top of your working leg to make more challenging)

- ankle rocks from a kneeling lunge (the further forward you rock the more challenging it is, just make sure to keep your heel on the ground)

- kneeling lunge dorsiflexion hold (find the closest angle possible between your shin and your foot and hold while maintaining your heel on the ground, i recommend doing these barefoot or in your socks)

- calf raises (great mobility exercise especially when you try to go as high as possible in a controlled manner)

- alternating marches (one of my favorite dynamic stretches that works on dorsiflexion, plantarflexion as well as calf flexibility)

- point to flex (a lifetime ago when i used to coach recreational gymnastics we used to do similar drills to warm up but we would also point the toes, you basically alternate between pointing your foot away and towards the body)

- ankle rolls (you can do these assisted with your hand as I am or bodyweight, and they can be forward, backward or a mix of both)

©️Credit ig @vickyplamenova

#Beautiful #fit #woman #fashion #gym #fitnessmotivation #fitness #FindYourBalance #sportgirl #lifestyle #motivationmonday #happy #fitnessaddict #selfie #home #love #workout #work #workinprogress #fitnessgirl #summer #sunset #sun #squats #gymrat #legday #leg #legs #strong #fitnessmodel

#fitness #gym #workout #fitnessmotivation #fit #fitnessgirl #fitnessmodel #squats #fitnessaddict #beautiful

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 1 year

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North To The Future [Chapter 9: A Long December]

The year is 1999. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

A/N: While “A Long December” was originally released by Counting Crows in 1996 (and is thus compliant with the 90s theme), the version I listen to most is Girlhouse’s cover from 2022. So maybe check that out. It is a bop!

Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, discussions of sex, a tiny bit of sexual content, Christmas with Momtini and Dadtini, Kimmie making a realization, Aegon making a drink, Appletini making plans, Trent making some killer pool shots, the Ice Fisher getting into the holiday spirit, please enjoy this nice little respite before the events of Chapter 10. :)

Word count: 6.9k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @elsolario @ladylannisterxo @doingfondue @tclegane @quartzs-posts @liathelioness @aemcndtargaryen @thelittleswanao3 @burningcoffeetimetravel @hinata7346 @poohxlove @borikenlove @myspotofcraziness @travelingmypassion @graykageyama @skythighs @lauraneedstochill @darlingimafangirl @charenlie @thewew @eddies-bat-tattoos @minttea07 @joliettes @trifoliumviridi @bornbetter @flowerpotmage @thewitch-lives @courtenbae @tempt-ress @padfooteyes @teenagecriminalmastermind @chelsey01 @anditsmywholeheart

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

You descend the staircase gingery, sheepishly. Your socks slip on the hardwood steps like tires on black ice. You’re trying to avoid your parents, but you can’t wait any longer to eat breakfast or you’ll be late for work. They’re bustling around in the kitchen: cracking eggs, chitchatting, banging plates and pans, cooing over Sunfyre, listening to an R.E.M. album that spins on the record player.

When you walk in, your dad is standing by the stove wearing the apron you got him for his 50th birthday. Pizza Slut, it says. He grins and wiggles his eyebrows. “Hey, ladybug.”

“Oh no.”

“I heard you come home pretty late last night. And then you got right into the shower. Hmm.”

“Hmm!” your mom concurs joyfully.

Your dad nods to the pan he’s hovering over, wielding a spatula. “Salmon omelet?”

You sigh, defeated; and yet, you must admit, you love salmon omelets. “Yeah, sure.” You sit down at the table next to your mom. She’s drinking Earl Grey tea smokey with cream and reading a newspaper: Halle Barry is marrying a jazz musician, Puff Daddy’s Notorious.com is looking for a venture capitalist willing to invest $7.5 million in startup funding, a man was arrested in Times Square for threatening President Clinton, the Nasdaq composite index—fueled largely by the dot-com boom—could hit 5,000 by the end of 2000. You wonder what Aegon’s family is doing right now. Do outrageously wealthy people eat omelets and decorate Christmas trees? Do they hop from store to store in some glitzy metropolitan mall hunting for presents—KB Toys, the Disney Store, Hallmark, Bath and Body Works, Hot Topic, RadioShack, Claire’s, Wet Seal, Yankee Candle—before grabbing a late-afternoon snack at Cinnabon or Sbarro, maybe a smoothie from Orange Julius? Or do they just sit in their mansions under vast unsmiling portraits until they grow dusty and turn to stone: gargoyles, angels, lions bearing their fangs? Are they still human at all?

“How’s Trent doing?” your mom asks. “Still trying to get into the Forest Service?”

“As far as I know. But that’s not who I was with last night.”

Your dad sets an omelet down in front of you, along with a glass of orange juice and one of the same Flintstones multivitamins you’ve been taking since you were in preschool. Jesse used to give me those, you think randomly, recalling the reminders he penned in his clandestine journals. When he was around. When he was sober. Your parents exchange a wary glance. “Oh?” your dad ventures in a squeak, trying to sound casual.

You could lie, but you don’t. Juneau is too small for lies. People know each other too well, they bump elbows in grocery stores and bars and parking lots; they make overly-familiar small talk and inadvertently spill secrets. The last thing you need is someone teasing Trent good-naturedly about your supposed night of passion. He might be dumb, but if he ever gets all the pieces in his titan hands he’ll eventually figure out how they click together. “I was, uh, actually, uh…visiting Aegon.”

They watch you, faces frozen in forced, benign smiles. You pet the top of Sunfyre’s shaggy head with your left hand and stab a fork into the salmon omelet with your right. “Well, that’s great!” your dad manages. “He’s a nice boy, that Aegon. So Greek. And plenty sexy, as we’ve previously established.”

“Is he feeling better?” your mom asks politely, slurping her tea.

“Oh yeah. Much better.” It comes out way too enthusiastic, and hot blood floods into your face. Your parents chuckle…and yet their eyes are troubled, distant, though perhaps in different directions. “Just so you know, things aren’t really working out with Trent. I’m trying to let it fizzle so there isn’t any drama that makes things awkward or creates any…uh…bad blood, I guess. So if you see him around, definitely don’t mention Aegon.”

Your dad does a mock salute. “Got it, General Ladybug.”

“What are Aegon’s plans for Christmas?” your mom inquires. Your dad turns to her, but doesn’t say anything. “It must be difficult for him, being so far from home. Especially around the holidays. I would hate for him to be alone.”

Probably drinking himself into unconsciousness while watching Jingle All The Way and Die Hard. “I don’t know, that’s a good question. I should ask him.”

“He can spend Christmas here with us, if he’d like.” Your mom finishes her tea, sets the cup down on the table, fiddles with it. “We’ll have more than enough food. And we could find a few things to wrap for him so he has presents to open.”

“Now if that’s not holiday spirit, I don’t know what is!” your dad says happily; and if he’s bluffing, he’s good at not showing it. He kisses your mom on the cheek, resting his study hands on her shoulders. She smiles up at him.

You wolf down the last few bites of your salmon omelet, chew your vitamin, knock back orange juice like a shot. “Alright, I should get going, or I won’t be back in time to open the vet clinic at 9.”

“I can always hold down the fort for a few hours,” your dad offers.

“No, that’s okay. I appreciate it, but I don’t want to bother you.” I don’t want to disappoint you. I don’t want to let you down. “You’ve earned retirement. Enjoy all the Judge Judy and Buffy The Vampire Slayer you can handle.” You pet Sunfyre and tug playfully on his ears. His tail wags at warp speed. “Are you ready to go home to your favorite person now? Are you excited?”

Your dad lumbers off into the kitchen. “Here, bring Aegon some breakfast too…” He piles a salmon omelet, a mountain of hash browns, and toast slathered with butter and strawberry jelly into a Tupperware container. You take it and glance out the window that faces the driveway.

“Oh, great. Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“The cow moose is out there licking the road salt off my Jeep. Can you get rid of her?”

“Again?! Okay, I’m on it.” He grabs some pots out of the cabinet and heads outside. You can hear him beating the pots together and shouting: “Goodbye, moose! You live in the woods, not the driveway! Goodbye! Au revoir! Adios, mooseachos!”

At the kitchen table, your mom laughs. She’s still tinkering anxiously with her cup. “Only in Alaska.”

“You’re really alright with Aegon coming over for Christmas?”

“Of course. I’d prefer it, actually. I’d rather know he’s safe. Not alone, not in trouble.”

“Even though he might end up passed out under the tree?”

She smiles: faint, tired, melancholic. “I’ve seen worse.”

When you let yourself into Aegon’s apartment, he’s dressed for work and self-medicating with a rum and Coke mixed in a cereal bowl; it’s the only dish he has that’s currently clean. Sunfyre bolts to him, barking wildly and jumping up to prop his paws on Aegon’s chest as you slide the Tupperware onto the kitchen counter.

“Hey, buddy!” Aegon cries, ecstatic. “I missed you! Yes I did! Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?!”

“Where are you going?” you ask, scrutinizing him.

“Fishing,” he says simply, like this should be obvious.

“I don’t think you should be going back to work this soon. You just got out of the hospital.”

He shrugs. “I need the money.”

“I can give you money.”

“You definitely could, but I don’t want your money, I want my money. Besides, Trent won’t be able to protect my job forever. If I can’t work, Rusty will find someone else who can.”

“Trent,” you echo morosely, staring at nothing in particular.

Aegon downs the rest of his rum and Coke, then puts his bowl in the sink. He walks over to you, his oceanic eyes cautious, his lock of white-blond hair resting on his cheek. “What did he do to you? At dinner, I mean. Before you called me.”

You take his left hand and turn it over, studying the lines on his palm: past, present, future, all in a language you can’t read. You hesitate; you can’t decide what to tell Aegon. You aren’t sure what you want him to know.

“He didn’t hurt you, right? Or try to touch you in a way you didn’t want him to?”

“He kissed me. I pushed him off. That’s all.”

Aegon watches you, eyes severe and glinting. “That’s not all.”

“I tried to break up with him at the restaurant,” you confess. “First he acted like he didn’t understand. Then he got upset, offended. We agreed to slow down, but I’m not sure what he thinks that means. Maybe he’s planning a summer engagement instead of a spring one, I have no idea.”

“You made him angry.” Aegon’s voice is flat, entirely flat, like he’s battling to keep it that way. “I thought we agreed not to make him angry.”

“Well I didn’t do it on purpose, Aegon.”

“No no no, my bad, let me clarify, I’m not mad at you. I just don’t understand why you would be so direct about it. I’ve broken up with a lot of people without actually breaking up with them. You ignore, you deflect, you do the bare minimum, you are intentionally unappealing in every way…and then eventually they move on. That’s the way to go. That’s how you avoid confrontations.”

“I don’t want this thing with Trent to die a slow death.” Oh, perhaps a poor choice of words. “I don’t want to be with him, to even keep up the facade of being with him. I want to be with you. I want to be with you in every way, everywhere, all the time.”

Aegon smiles. He twists his fingers into your hair and touches his forehead to yours and then kisses you, softly and unhurriedly. As he pulls away, he gently bites your lower lip; his fingertips ghost across the front of your throat like a necklace, like a chain. You moan into him, unable to help it. “I won’t go to work if you don’t either,” Aegon murmurs.

“I, an eternally upstanding citizen, definitely have to go to work.”

“Man, fuck capitalism,” he says, and you laugh together.

Something occurs to you. “You didn’t wait for Kimmie to move on. You broke up with her.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Why?”

“Because I had another candidate in mind for the extremely prestigious position of being my Juneau girl.”

You tuck his hair behind his ear and kiss him again: heat, rum, memories from the night before. Lust stirs up in your blood like ancient silt in seawater. “Please be careful at work.”

“I will, Appletini. I will. Don’t worry. You’re always worrying about things that haven’t happened yet. There’s no point in that.”

“I think I’m just someone who’s doomed to worry a lot in general.”

He grins. “Yes. But I’m your favorite thing to worry about.” He lays his palm against your right cheek and kisses your left: quickly, lightly, like it’s routine, like he’ll be doing it every day for the rest of his life. “Have fun at the vet clinic. Saving all those furry little lives.”

“I’ll see you at Ursa Minor tonight?”

He winks. “I’ll be the one with the electric guitar.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You get stuck late at the clinic spaying Mr. Mark Morehouse’s Flemish Giant rabbit. By the time you rush through the front door of Ursa Minor—bells jangling, a gust of cold wind at your heels, patrons glancing over with vague interest—the band is already performing. Aegon is wearing his cuffed jeans, black combat boots, and, in a radical departure from his usual color scheme, a royal blue turtleneck sweater. He’s braided a section of his hair on the left side of his head and woven a single, small, blue-dyed rose into it. He gives you a subtle nod when he sees you come in, a sly half-smile. He’s singing a punk rock, up-tempo version of Counting Crow’s A Long December.

“I can’t remember the last thing that you said as you were leaving, now the days go by so fast…”

“Heyyy, bitch!” Heather greets you, raising her Sex On The Beach. Joyce and Kimmie are swaying together, brandishing lighters in the air: Joyce smirking and reluctant, Kimmie—a born groupie—shamelessly exuberant. You swing by the bar to get a Bacardi Breezer (blueberry, very good, one of the better flavors) and stand beside Heather. You gaze at Aegon as he strums his battered guitar, and the parallel strikes you for the first time. Aegon too is layered with imperfections: scars, marks, ink, demons with gnashing fangs and needlelike fingers that dangle past their knees. And yet what he gives to the world is so beautiful. And yet he is so goddamn miraculous.

“I can’t remember all the times I tried to tell my myself to hold on to these moments as they pass…”

It takes you a long time to notice that Kimmie is watching you. Something clicks like a dislocated joint popped back into its socket; and that’s the way it’s always been with Kimmie, since she was a child, since she was a five-year-old chasing boys around the playground at recess. The hints pile up—a lot of hints, sometimes years of hints—until eventually there’s an avalanche of realization that hits and drags her under like a rogue wave. She sucks in a breath and her doelike eyes shoot wide open. You try to pretend you didn’t see anything, but that’s not Kimmie’s style. She pushes her way through the audience and grabs your wrist, hauling you away from the crowd. Heather observes this, slurping down her Sex On The Beach, trying to ascertain if you need reinforcements.

“What—?!”

“I didn’t know,” Kimmie says, like it’s an apology. Her eyes are pained and fearful, a deer bathed in headlights.

“You didn’t know what?”

“That you’re in love with him.” Her voice is reedy and trembling. She’s petrified, you realize. She’s afraid that I’ll never be able to be her friend again. Not a true friend, not a pure one. “I swear to God, I didn’t know. I even asked you first. I never would have hooked up with him if I had known, never, never. I’m so sorry. I’m so so so sorry. It didn’t mean anything, it wasn’t like we had real feelings for each other—”

“Kimmie, Kimmie, it’s fine,” you soothe, rubbing her shoulder. She’s wearing a ridiculously fluffy hot pink sweater; it’s like petting a neon sheep. “I’m the one who wasn’t upfront with you. I didn’t think Aegon and I had a chance, so I was purposefully trying to avoid him, to avoid any feelings I had for him. It didn’t work out that way, but…yeah. Anyway. I don’t blame you for anything.”

“Oh my god, so you’re together? Like, together?” Kimmie blinks at you, shocked but not scandalized. You’re not sure it’s possible to scandalize Kimmie.

“We don’t really want everyone to know about it.”

“Oh, because of Trent?”

Now it’s your turn to be shocked. Maybe some of those genius professor genetics made it down the Plinko board after all. “Exactly.”

“Jesus Christ, he’d probably snap Aegon in half if he knew. Like a freaking KitKat bar.”

“That’s a mental image I didn’t need.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Kimmie swears, empowered by this rare, consequential responsibility.

“I really, really appreciate your discretion.”

“You and Aegon, wow…” She mulls it over, baffled. “So you’re pretty kinky too? I wouldn’t have guessed that. You should have told me! We could have gone shopping together!”

Shopping with Kimmie for fuzzy handcuffs and riding crops and, who knows, probably like vibrating butt plugs or something. I don’t think I’m emotionally prepared for that. I will most likely never be emotionally prepared for that. “Boundaries, Kimmie. Honestly, I haven’t seen that side of him. At least not in my albeit limited experience.”

“Huh,” Kimmie says brightly. “I guess he’s in love with you too.” And then she trots off to rejoin the crowd. Boat #27 has concluded their performance and is accepting cheers of acclaim and complimentary drinks from their adoring fans. Joyce hugs Rob, climbing onto her tiptoes and giggling. Joyce!? Giggling!?!? You grab another Bacardi Breezer before heading over, raspberry this time.

“Hey, babe!” Trent booms when he sees you.

Oh god. Oh no. You shrink away when he throws an arm across your shoulders. Aegon watches this as he approaches, sipping a rum and Coke, eyes like blue embers.

“Right,” Trent groans, like it’s some grave inconvenience, like it’s some passing fad he has to endure. “I remember now. We’re taking things slow.”

The clique assembles by the pool table like battle-ready Power Rangers: you, Trent, Joyce, Rob, Heather, Kimmie, Aegon. “Someone should play!” you say, truly a master of redirection.

Trent flips his hair. “Obviously I’m down.” He looks at you expectantly. You ignore him, drinking your Bacardi Breezer and then pretending to drink it once it’s empty.

“Oh, you are going down.” Heather cracks her knuckles and grins, then picks up a cue stick.

“Battle royal!” Rob announces. Joyce sighs and pulls a fantasy novel out of her purse. Kimmie perches on the edge of the pool table: legs crossed, eyes roving, gold hoop earrings glittering under Christmas lights, seeking attention and drawing it to her like Saturn ensnares moons. A gaggle of bashful men appear out of nowhere to worship her. Dale’s stereo pipes out Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas Is You. Dale himself is wearing a red Santa hat and yawning boredly into the back of his hand.

“I need another drink,” you say, and head for the bar. Aegon follows you.

“You don’t want a Bacardi Breezer.”

“I don’t?”

“No. You don’t.” He flags Dale over once you’ve claimed your seats. “Hey Dale, did you get the stuff on the list I gave you?”

“Sure did.” Dale sets an array of items on the bar: apple juice, lemon juice, florescent green apple schnapps, vodka, a single Granny Smith apple, a paring knife, a shaker halfway filled with ice, a small plate covered with sugar, two chilled martini glasses. “You owe me, though. Especially for the schnapps. I had to order a case all the way from Seattle!”

“Add it to my tab.”

“Which you’ll pay when? In 2023?”

“I’ll pay, Dale!” Aegon insists.

Dale rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t seem genuinely annoyed. “Sure you will.” He yawns again and ambles away to take the orders of some locals sitting at the other end of the bar. The thuds of his boots are heavy and slow on the hardwood floor, the same one Aegon almost died on nine days ago.

“What are we doing?” you ask, but you’re already smiling. You have a pretty good guess.

“We’re making appletinis,” Aegon replies.

“You knew how to make appletinis this entire time and never said anything?”

“Oh no, I definitely did not,” he says. “I found the phone number of a friend I met back in San Francisco and figured she might know. She’s a bartender. So I gave her a call and asked very, very nicely and sure enough, she had a recipe.” He pauses, contemplative. “I told her I was in Chicago. Just in case.”

Just in case his ghost manages to track her down. “Have you seen this friend naked?”

“Does it matter?”

“No,” you say, and you find that you mean it. Aegon is here with you now, and that’s all you can ask for. Still, his commitment to relative honestly seems enduring.

“The answer is yes. But it wasn’t like it is with you.”

“Really, it doesn’t matter. I’m not mad or anything.”

“Yeah, you don’t look mad.”

You smile at each other, Christmas-light sparks in your eyes, alone in a crowded room. Well…alone except for Mariah Carey. “Anyway,” you prompt. “Am I getting a real-life appletini or what?”

“Let’s do this. Uh…” He furrows his brow, trying to remember. “Okay. I think I know how it goes.” He adds apple juice and lemon juice to the shaker. He doesn’t measure; he estimates, splashing in a little at a time until he’s content. He caps the container, gives it a few vigorous shakes, then opens it again. He pours in the schnapps and vodka, then shakes again. “Cut a few slices off the apple, vet lady. Nice and thin.”

You do, four transparent crescent-moon slivers. Aegon rubs lemon juice around the rim of each martini glass with his ring finger and then dunks them in the sugar until the rims are covered in fine white crystals like snow. He garnishes the martini glasses with the apple slices, gives the shaker one last whirl, then empties the contents into the glasses: half for you, half for him. He hands you your introductory appletini and toasts his glass against yours.

“On three?” Aegon asks, and you nod, beaming. You count together: one, two, three.

Your first taste isn’t a tentative sip. You take a full, brave swallow of the vivid green brew. It’s jarringly sour, sticky-sweet, crisp and refreshing like springtime. “Oh, I love it!” you trill.

“It’s…uh…” He takes another investigative slurp. “It’s definitely appley.”

“You hate it,” you say, laughing.

“I don’t hate it,” he counters. “I like what it’s doing to you.”

You close your eyes, the sights and sounds of Ursa Minor fading away. You’re somewhere sleek and vibrant and new; you’re in New York City, you’re in Los Angeles, you’re in Las Vegas, you’re in San Diego. When you open your eyes, Aegon is smiling. “Sorry. I was teleporting.”

“Do you want the rest of mine?”

“Yeah,” you admit guiltily, and he slides his appletini over to rest by yours. You drain them both. “I’m like Jack Dawson. I’m the king of the world.”

“You’re very, very cute when you’re tipsy, that’s what you are.”

“My parents think you should spend Christmas with us. I think you should too.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay. Don’t buy me anything fancy, though. I won’t be able to return the favor.”

“Sad impoverished homeless man gifts only. You have my word.”

“Hey!” Heather calls from the pool table. She’s waving her cue stick in the air. “I lost! I’m a loser! I got slaughtered by this jumbo-sized motherfucker! And you weren’t even here to witness it!”

“We should go over there,” you tell Aegon, and he steadies you when you wobble as you slide off the barstool. “Oh, god, I’m sorry.”

“It’s cool. Now I have an excuse to touch you.”

“Dale, can I get some Chex Mix or something?” He tosses you a little blue bag from behind the bar. You miss it completely. It sails over your head and smacks into the floor. Aegon cackles hysterically, but fetches the bag. He even opens it before he hands it to you. Then you set off together for the pool table.

“What’s wrong with you?” Heather asks when you arrive, her eyes narrow.

“I like appletinis. I really like appletinis.”

“It’s December 22nd, the commencement of Capricorn season, and you are celebrating this momentous event with an uncharacteristic display of recklessness and frivolity? Inauspicious!”

“What did I miss? Besides your humiliation.”

“Flintstones vitamins,” Rob says, rubbing blue chalk on a cue stick. He and Trent are playing pool now; Trent is showing Kimmie and several of her sycophants, including Matt and Gary, how he can make a shot with his hands behind his back. Aegon circles the pool table, his hands in his jeans pockets, watching Trent reticently. “Childish and stupid or totally acceptable for mid-twenties adults?”

“Totally acceptable,” you declare, munching on Chex Mix. “I just had one this morning.”

“That’s what I said!” Kimmie cries. “They’re delicious. I could eat a whole bottle of them. I used to lie to my mom when I was a kid and insist she hadn’t given one to me yet so I could get extra. My high score was five in a day.”

“That can’t be good for you,” Heather says. “Wait. Maybe it explains some things.”

“A lot of things,” Joyce quips, turning a page in her book.

Kimmie defers to you, the foremost medical authority present. “Vitamins can’t hurt people, right?”

“Well, that depends on the vitamin.”

“Some can,” Aegon says. “The fat-soluble ones, because your body can’t flush them out as easily or something. Too much Vitamin A can really fuck someone up. There are people who’ve died because they ate a polar bear liver, which has, like, millions of units of Vitamin A. So if you ever happen to eat a polar bear, skip the liver.”

“You can overdose on vitamins?” Kimmie asks him, puzzled. “Like, vitamins can kill you?”

“Oh yeah, lots of things can kill you if you take enough of them. Too much Vitamin A can cause seizures and comas, Vitamin D can give you a heart attack, Vitamin E can make you hemorrhage out of your eyeballs and stuff. And it causes strokes.”

“Oh snap!” Kimmie exclaims in horror, thinking that perhaps she barely escaped with her life. Heather is thoroughly amused.

You look at Aegon as he passes by you like a satellite whirling around the Earth, a blinking light in suffocating darkness. He’s right, but he shouldn’t be. He hasn’t studied medicine. He hasn’t studied much of anything. “How do you know all that?”

He replies curtly: “How do you think?” And then he resumes his orbit.

Rob attempts a shot and misses. “Ha!” Trent says, flipping his hair, and then starts lining up his own. As he leans over the pool table, he asks you: “So, where were you last night?”

Your mind, already hazy, goes useless. Cold sweat bubbles up out of your pores. “What? At home.”

“No you weren’t.” His eyes are on you like a wolf’s, like a beast’s. “I called the house. A couple times, actually. I felt weird about how we left things and wanted to apologize. But no one answered.”

“Oh, sorry, I mean I was at home, but then I went to go bowling with my parents.”

“No you didn’t.” Trent’s cue stick hits the striped red ball, number 11, and sends it hurtling into a pocket. “I already asked Dale. He’s in the bowling league, and he said you weren’t there.”

Two lies. And I don’t have a third. You stand there helplessly, surrounded by Christmas lights and tinsel and pine trees, your thoughts churning slowly, slower, dragging to a full stop. The chatter around you dies down. Wide eyes dart between you and Trent. Joyce closes her book. Even Dale is peeking over from the bar. His face is crisscrossed with lines of disapproval, of fascination.

“Where were you, huh?” Trent takes a step closer. He’s huge. He’s so fucking huge. Aegon picks up the black 8 ball off the pool table; no one else notices but you.

“Trent,” Heather scolds her brother, stunned. “Take a chill pill—”

“Where were you?!” Trent demands.

You try to conjure up an excuse, any excuse. All you can think of is how badly you don’t want to end up at the bottom of an ice-covered lake. I can’t die, I haven’t done anything yet. I haven’t been anywhere yet. I haven’t seen San Diego.

Trent begins one final time, still clutching the cue stick, his voice deafening: “Where were—?!”

“She was with me!” Kimmie bursts out, and everyone spins towards her. “I, um, I was upset. Devastated, in fact. Because of, um. Boy problems.”

Heather titters nervously. “What else is new.”

“So I called and I was an absolute blubbering mess on the phone and she offered to come over and hang out. Watch Buffy with me. Do my nails and stuff. It’s really embarrassing.” She smiles at you, a soft glowing smile. “Thanks for trying to keep my secret.”

“No problem, Kimmie,” you reply shakily.

“Oh, babe!” Trent says, his face splitting into a smile, pressing a hand into the small of your back. He even flips his hair in that simpleminded, horselike way. He can’t be the Ice Fisher. He can’t be…right? You flinch when he touches you. On the periphery of your vision, you can see Aegon rolling the black 8 ball back onto the pool table. “That’s all?! You should have told me!”

“It really wasn’t my situation to share.”

“Damn, I’m sorry.” Trent seems to mean it. “I’m really sorry. That was a dick move, I don’t know what came over me.”

“Hulk smash?” Rob says, and there is laughter, quivering with fresh relief.

“I think I have to go,” you say, rubbing your forehead. “I’m really not feeling great.” And that part’s not even a lie. “I shouldn’t have mixed Bacardi Breezers and appletinis, I’m a total lightweight. And I have work in the morning. I’m supposed to vaccinate like ten of Mr. Campbell’s reindeer.”

“You want me to drive you home?” Trent offers.

No! Definitely not! “Thanks, but I couldn’t bear to interrupt your pool game. Especially when you’re winning.” You can tell Aegon is looking at you. You intentionally don’t acknowledge him. And now you realize that you’re a little trapped: you can’t say you’re driving yourself home because you’re not sober, and you can’t say that Aegon is walking you back to his apartment because then Trent might murder you both right here in the middle of Ursa Minor, blood splattering the deer heads mounted on the wall, femurs and vertebrae littering the pool table.

“I’ll do it!” Heather volunteers. “I’m super not-wasted at the moment.”

“Um, well…”

“Come on.” She’s already going to get your parka off the coatrack. “I can’t in good conscience let you vaccinate those reindeer without a full night’s sleep.” You trail after her, powerless to refuse.

Out in the night-draped parking lot, you haul yourself—with some difficulty—into Heather’s Chevy Suburban. And as she turns the key in the ignition and begins defrosting the windshield, you tell her: “When you leave the lot, make a left, not a right.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you’re not taking me home. You’re taking me to Aegon’s apartment.”

“I’m…?” She gapes at you as it sinks in like an anchor through dark surf. “Oh my god. Oh my god…?!”

“Affirmative.”

“Oh. My. GOD.” She puts the Suburban in drive and, as requested, makes a left onto Main Street.

Sunfyre is delighted to see you when you arrive. He leaps, barks, pirouettes in circles, accepts copious scratches and Milk-Bone treats. You collapse onto the threadbare couch, and he stretches out on the floor beside you, his quiet snoring soon the only sound in the apartment. Your eyes blur, flutter, close up shop. Maybe twenty minutes later, you hear a key rattling in the front door.

Aegon walks inside, his boots dripping with snow. He doesn’t seem surprised to see you. “You alright, Appletini?”

“Yeah, I’m kind of woozy but I mostly just wanted to leave.” You consider him, wondering how to ask him the question that won’t leave your mind. It claws at the arched walls of your skull like a trapped animal, leaving streaks of blood where its nails were torn away.

“I don’t want to talk about the vitamin thing,” he says.

“I don’t want to talk about Trent.”

“Deal.”

He throws off his parka and boots, turns on the X-Files, and crawls onto the couch with you. You fold into him and he holds you, not hungrily, not asking for a thing. You freefall into sleep with your head against his chest, his heartbeat a distant roar like thunder.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Ice Fisher has left Juneau a Christmas present: Stephanie Nolan, his fifth victim. She was twenty-five years old, an avid knitter, a Blockbuster employee, mother of several adopted Himalayan cats, one of three sisters born barely a year apart. At least her parents still have some children left, you think. At least the pressure to make their sacrifices worthwhile wasn’t all on her. Your dad sneaks a few minutes of news coverage while your mom is in the shower. They’re replaying the press conference that Chief of Police Eugene Baker gave late last night on Christmas Eve.

“We urge all Juneau residents to remain vigilant. This is the time of year for celebrations and get-togethers, and we don’t want to discourage that in any way, but no one—and I repeat, no one—should be outside alone, especially not after dark. Ms. Nolan left her place of employment to take a ten-minute smoke break, and that was all the opportunity the killer needed. He is still out there, he is still dangerous, and no one is immune from becoming a target. If you have any information relevant to this case, anything at all, please call our anonymous 24/7 hotline at…”

There are camera flashes, uneasy clamoring, flailing hands of reporters begging to be called on. Your dad crosses his arms over his broad chest, his face grim. A reporter asks Chief Baker: “I understand that the Juneau PD has brought in FBI profilers to help them identify possible suspects. Can you share any new theories with the public at this time?”

“Well, there are a couple likely possibilities. The Ice Fisher might be someone who is new to the area, someone who arrived this past summer or early autumn. Residents should therefore be extremely wary of newcomers. However, it might be the case that the killer isn’t new to the area at all, but rather suffered some sort of destabilizing event—loss of employment, for example, or the death of a loved one—that triggered their otherwise dormant violent impulses. The last theory I’m prepared to share today is that the criminal now known as the Ice Fisher might have been active long before this recent string of murders. Some serial killers have been known to…to test the waters, so to speak…with murders that can be camouflaged as accidental or natural deaths. That’s a possibility in this case, and we are combing back through the department archives to see if there are any answers there…”

“I should go pick up Aegon,” you say.

“Ladybug…” Your dad stalls, not wanting you to take it the wrong way. “I’m not saying that I think Aegon is the killer, because I don’t think he is. I know he’s not, actually. He doesn’t have much rage in him. He has a lot of other things, I believe, but not that. I’m just saying…you have to be careful. And he can’t keep an eye out for you if he’s passed out drunk somewhere. Do you get what I mean?”

“I understand, Dad. I’m careful. Really, I am. And I’m never running around town alone. If I’m not with Aegon, I’m with Heather or Kimmie or Joyce.”

“Or Trent,” he adds. He likes this idea; Trent might not be able to snap a murderer in two like a KitKat bar, but he could definitely crack a few ribs. Trent would be a great Mortal Kombat character. He could skewer foes with a cue stick, right through the eye socket. An icy shudder rocks down your spine.

“Or Trent.”

“Okay. Good.” He turns back to the tv, his eyes vacant, his voice low. “Just making sure.”

Aegon is dressed in his Christmas best: dark jeans, black Converses, his hair loose and wavy, a festive red sweater with Gizmo from Gremlins on it. You’ve opted for a more traditional Rudolph turtleneck. Sunfyre has a large red bow tied to his collar. The three of you ride together back to your parents’ house, the radio playing Celine Dion’s O Holy Night, one of the back windows rolled halfway down for Sunfyre.

Dinner is a reindeer roast, rosemary apple stuffing, potato gratin, homemade macaroni and cheese, and creamed spinach; dessert is Christmas cookies eaten under the tree. You open presents as a parade of classics play on the tv: Frosty The Snowman, How The Grinch Stole Christmas, The Year Without A Santa Claus. Your parents give Aegon cold-weather clothing like hats and mittens, which he accepts with great appreciation. He gives them a bouquet of blue roses and three bottles of red wine, only one of which he drinks himself. You give Aegon a refrigerator magnet from Caribou Crossings, a grizzly bear with a salmon caught between its teeth, something to join the rest of his collection, something to help him remember Juneau once he’s gone. He gives you a handful of seashells from San Diego that he’s been carting around in his luggage for a year. Everyone gives Sunfyre Milk-Bones.

When Aegon takes the golden retriever out to the backyard, your dad goes with them. You can see them talking out there as snow falls and the sun sets and the horizon is inked with violet and gold, the wind whipping fiercely: Aegon’s hands moving in wild, dramatic gestures, your dad nodding along. They’re gone for so long you start to worry, your fingers trembling as you and your mom play chess with the new set you received for Christmas, not black and white but pet-themed: one side dogs, the other cats.

Your dad comes back inside first. He shuts the door and says to you, not accusatory but merely intrigued: “I didn’t know you were serious about wanting to travel, ladybug.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess so. One day. When I’m retired, I guess. Doesn’t everyone want to travel?”

“Huh. Aegon made it sound a bit more urgent than that.”

He watches you defeat your mom in chess, makes her some mollifying Earl Grey tea, and then offers to play Scrabble with her, a proposition she can never resist. When Aegon brings Sunfyre back inside—the sky fully dark now, the stars rising behind the veil of clouds—you lead him upstairs to your room. You sit on your bed together and flip through your travel magazines, scenes of Paris, Cairo, New York City, Rome, Tokyo, Cape Town, Buenos Aires, Beijing, Saint Petersburg, Sydney, Las Vegas, Cusco, Athens, Mexico City, Nairobi, California.

“It’s strange,” Aegon says. “Your parents like me, but they also kind of don’t like me. It’s as if they’re afraid of me. I can’t figure them out.”

You think of the cardboard box under your bed, the one full of Jesse’s journals. “My mom was married before. Vince is her second husband.”

Aegon looks over at you, attentive but not understanding. “Okay.”

“I was five years old when they got together. So Vince is my dad, but he’s not…like…he’s not biologically…well, you get what I’m saying.”

Aegon closes the magazine he’d been skimming, still looking at you.

“My mom’s first husband was named Jesse. And he was…from what I understand…he was a lot like you.” You tap your index finger against the crook of your own elbow so Aegon will understand. He was brilliant, but he was an addict. He was a blessing, he was a curse.

Aegon nods slowly. “I guess that explains a lot.”

“I probably should have told you sooner. But I’ve never really told anyone.”

“What happened to him?”

“He drowned in the channel. Maybe it was an accident, maybe suicide. Maybe it doesn’t matter which one. Maybe there isn’t much of a difference.”

“I’m so sorry,” Aegon says, his voice quiet and gentle.

“I don’t want the same thing to happen to you.”

“It won’t. I told you. I’m not that easy to kill.”

You wonder if Aegon has become a ghost to his family, if he haunts the Targaryens like Jesse haunts you, half-comforting, half-heartbreaking, if after six long silent years his shadow still lurks in corners and doorways. You wonder if a ghost is really so far from what you are. “I want to stop feeling like a potential person, to stop waiting for the life I’ve always dreamed of to drop out of the sky. I want to feel real.”

“You’re real to me.” He dusts his thumbprint across the curve of your cheekbone, flesh and blood that sing to each other. “Listen, we’ll go to San Diego together.”

“Don’t, Aegon.”

“No, I mean it,” he says. “Give me a month to save up, and we’ll go. We’ll take a long weekend and fly down there. It won’t be hot enough to swim, but it’ll be warmer than here. Sixties, sunny, sandy, waves and tacos. We’ll stay somewhere with a waterbed. Those can be a lot of fun.”

“Careful. I might not want to leave the hotel room. What a waste of a trip that would be.”

“I’ll just have to make sure you’re bored of me by then,” he purrs, grinning and mischievous, dragging you into his lap. He smooths your hair back from your face, gazing up at you as you straddle him. He kisses your lips, your jaw, your neck; his teeth skate across your skin without biting down, without leaving indigo bruises of ownership. Slowly, he turns solemn and hushed. Slowly, you begin to worry about him.

“What, Aegon?”

“You’re the best present I ever got. I hope you know that.”

You whisper through his windswept white-blond hair: “Then open me.”

He lays you down on the bed, unearths your needful bare skin and stifles his moans against your throat, unravels you like a blood-red ribbon from a box heavy with secrets.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii #aegon targaryen #aegon x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen ii x reader #aegon x y/n #aegon x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x reader

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roboticchibitan · 1 month

Text

Hohohohohohohoho

OK so @biotic-boshtet got me 10 bottles of acid dyes for my birthday (thank you, darling) and I realized all I needed to make an eye searing Lisa Frank esque neon rainbow yarn was just a good, bright orange. So I ordered myself some florescent orange Jacquard acid dye as well as brilliant blue (because I was curious about what color it was) and fire red (so I can make regular rainbow pride yarn). And this package is arriving today.

So I have thrown two skeins of yarn in a citric acid bath (me, once again putting my entire hand in an acid bath to submerge the yarn: guess I'll find out if I have any paper cuts!) to soak overnight and then tomorrow I will Run Wild with dyes 😈 Lisa Frank art tends to be neon with a lot of black, like the leopard or the tiger characters. I have black dye, but instead of making a black and neon rainbow yarn, I'm going to make a neon yarn and then take a black contrast skein and knit another pair of deathflake mittens with the flakes and skulls in black and the background in rainbow. I might look at colorwork socks as well but I have a very wide calf and a small foot. Will take pattern recommendations for that!

#v's fiber arts tag #knitting #dyeing #lisa frank yarn

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softsnzstuff · 1 year

Note

thinking about Wayne picking up a small cold at work and not thinking much of it cuz it only lasts a couple days until Eddie (in his true dramatic fashion) gets is 10 times worse (like total feverish sneezy mess) and he doesn’t want to bother Wayne but also all he wants is to be taken care of

First of all I Love this prompt! I’m so weak for the Munsons and this is such a them thing. Have some CanonVerse Munson action. ~KB

*****

Sunday

You could say Wayne Munson was old school. Growing up in the early 40’s, he was accustomed to a hard days’ work, even on the bad days.

In his lifetime, he’d had to work through snowstorms, heat waves, strained wrists, and so much more. So it comes as no surprise to Eddie that his uncle is still go go go when he wakes up one morning with a cold.

The 20 year old had been living with his uncle for the last 12 years. They sometimes joked that they knew each other better than they knew themselves.

One thing Eddie knew was that Wayne was always awake by noon. His uncle worked nights at the plant, would come home around 5am and sleep until twelve. He’d get up, have his coffee, and usually they’d work on fixing up parts of the car if Eddie wasn’t in school.

So when 12:30pm rolled around and Wayne was just starting to wake up, Eddie knew something was up. It was Sunday, so he was at home making himself some lunch. Apart from the sizzling of the grilled cheese in the pan, the only other noise came from the older man on the pullout.

“H’RUSSHew!”

Eddie looked over his shoulder, “Bless you!”

Wayne groaned, the mattress squeaking as he sat up and cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

Eddie tried not to let the concern be heard in his voice as he spoke, “I’m making grilled cheese. You want one?”

The man shook his head as he headed towards the shared bathroom to brush his teeth. Eddie frowned slightly, plating his grilled cheese and turning off the burner.

He was leaned against the counter, eating his sandwich when his uncle emerged from the bathroom, looking slightly more awake. He was pouring his coffee when Eddie decided to address the elephant in the room.

“Feeling alright?”

Wayne sighed, of course Eddie could tell, “Feeling a bit under the weather, Ed.”

“I’ll live, son.” He added for good measure, chuckling at the panic on Eddie’s face. “Probably gonna rest before my shift tonight.”

Eddie didn’t think he should have to be at work, but he was glad his uncle was taking the day to rest instead of working on the car. “I uh rented a new movie the other day. Wanna watch together?”

“Sure, put it on.” Wayne smiled as he took the coffee and sat back down on the pullout in the living room.

Eddie was fiddling with the tv before he made himself comfortable on the couch.

***

Tuesday Night

Eddie’s alone at the trailer after Wayne leaves for his shift at the plant. He’d just performed a small gig at the Hideout and had just gotten home. The last few days were filled with his uncle resting or watching tv.

The 20 year old has been trying to keep things in order while Wayne was down - dishes, attempting laundry and other things like that. The living room was pretty messy now, so he took it upon himself to clean the clutter - picking up tissues and binning them, putting the medicine back on the shelf, making Wayne’s bed look nice.

By the time he’d finished, he was exhausted. He went to lie down on his bed and fell asleep.

***

Thursday Morning

The alarm came way too early. How was it only Thursday? The long haired man peeled himself out of bed and shivered slightly as the air hit him. He pulled on jeans, socks and his leather jacket before he went to brush his teeth and tame his hair.

Wayne knocked on the open door and poked his head in.

“What’re you doing awake?” Eddie asked.

“Just wanted to say thanks for being a help the last week. I took tonight off. Wanted to see if you want to work on the car after school?”

“Yeah sure!” Eddie smiled.

Wayne nodded and padded off to go back to sleep. Eddie’s nose was buzzing. He scrunched it up and rubbed at it to try and quell the tickle. Not wanting to wake up Wayne, he slipped on his shoes, grabbed his backpack and keys and hurried off to the van.

He sat in the drivers seat and allowed the tickle to bloom now that he was alone. His elbow hovered in front of his face as he squinted, nostrils flaring slightly.

“H’yisSSHuhew! T’CHiew! …hh - H’eKSHTT!”

He groaned as he pulled back, mess clinging to the crook of his leather jacket sleeve. He reached over to grab some tissues from the glove compartment, first wiping off his arm, then blowing his nose. He could feel the congestion settle and swore under his breath.

He definitely caught Wayne’s cold.

***

Thursday Afternoon

Today sucked. Eddie was already the “freak” of Hawkins High and hated drawing unwanted attention to himself. So of course his cold had decided that it would turn him into a sneezy, germy mess.

The first couple classes he could get away with asking to go to the bathroom to cough or blow his nose in private, but by the end half of the day, his nose was running so much, he couldn’t ask to go every couple of minutes.

He sank into his chair in the back of Ms.O’Donnell’s class, silently wiping his nose on his bandana every few minutes, sniffling. Robin had the desk next to him and kept glancing over at him and shooting him a glance of concern. He wanted to reassure her, but he was too busy fighting off the tickle buzzing in his left nostril.

He managed to fight it off for about 25 minutes, but towards the end of class it was too strong. He brought the bandana up to his nose and tried his best to be quiet.

“H’xxT! ii’xtch! X’T’chew!”

“Bless you.” Robin whispered.

He nodded and rolled his eyes, trying to blow his nose discreetly, blowing his cover when a thick gurgle came out instead. Fuck.

A few of the popular kids turned around and stared at him with a look of disgust, his cheeks crimson with embarrassment. Once the bell rang signaling school was over, he all but bolted from the classroom.

Robin grabbed her notebook and bag and jogged after him, walking towards the parking lot. “Are you okay Eddie?”

“Yeah Robin, I’b fucki’g peachy.” He coughed to himself before stopping and turning to her. “Sorry. That was m’bean. I have the whhh worst - Heh!”

He brought the crumpled, damp bandana back up to his face.

“H’ixxTCHU! N’Gshuh! … H’aKSHT’iew! Ughhhh I have the worst fucki’g cold.”

Robin bit her lip, not sure how to fix it. She dug around in her backpack and pulled out a travel pack of tissues.

“Well sneezing into the same wet bandana probably isn’t helping. You can take these. I usually hang onto them for Steve but I have loads at the house.”

Eddie pocketed the bandana and took the tissues from Robin, “Thanks Birdie.”

She nodded before turning towards her ride home, “Feel better!”

Eddie smiled before turning on his heels and muttering “I hope so…”

***

He’d all but spaced out on the drive home, mentally taking note on how shitty he felt. Headache? Yes. Sore throat? Yep. Sneezing his head off? 100%. He could not wait to get back to the trailer, shower and climb into be-

Shit.

As he pulled up to the trailer, Wayne smiled and waved. He was outside, hood of the car open and he was wiping his hands off on a dirty rag. Fuck he totally forgot they were going to work on the car today. That could take hours.

As he turned the van off, Eddie took a deep breath and put on his best ‘everything’s fine’ act, finally stepping out of the vehicle.

“Hey kid, how was school?”

Eddie’s brain quickly scanned for a response that didn’t involve M’s or N’s.

“It was uh… it was good. Snfff”

Wayne noted the boy’s posture. His usually full-of-energy nephew looked like he could about collapse, and his nose was tinged pink, as were his cheeks.

He knew immediately that Eddie was sick and that he would try to deny it so he could hang out with him. He quirked an eyebrow. Two could play this game. He’d been doing it for 12 years.

“Great! Why don’t you put your bag down and we can work on fixing up the engine?”

This was a test. Eddie seemed stumped for a minute, trying to come up with an excuse to go inside first because he had to sneeze again.

“Yeah, let m’be just uhh phhh put this hh away?”

“You can just set it on the porch for now. I got the car all set up for your magic touch.” Wayne clapped a hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie panicked, trying to turn to keep his uncle out of the spray zone. He brought the collar of his shirt up to his face just in time.

“Okay holdonIgotta.. H’eKSHTiew! T’shew! iigSHUh! … H’eSHiyue!”

Wayne sighed, “Bless you, Ed.”

“Sorry those uh SNF sn’duck up on m’be…” Eddie lied, wiping his nose on the back of his wrist and sniffling thickly.

“Mmhmm.” Wayne nodded sarcastically, not buying his nephews act for one second, “Eddie, go march you and that terrible cold of yours into bed.”

Eddie nodded and sniffled again against his wrist as he headed up the porch steps to the front door.

“And blow your nose!” Wayne called after him, as he closed the hood of the car.

“Yes sir! Ah’yeSHuhew! Ughhhhh”

***

After a nice shower and changing into pajamas and a sweatshirt, Eddie retreated to his bed, a box of tissues in clutch, one pressed to his nose.

Wayne popped in shortly after with a bowl of soup on a tray, “Brought you dinner! Don’t want you at school tomorrow, so just try and rest okay?”

Eddie nodded taking the tray.

“Didn’t mean for you to get sick too. Sorry kid.”

“It’s okay Wayne, this is’t the first time and it wo’t be the last.”

The two of them laughed, knowing Eddie was referencing the time two years ago that he gave Wayne bronchitis.

“Get some rest Eddie. Drink all that broth.”

The 20 year old nodded, setting aside his Hellfire binder so he could eat the soup. Being sick sucked but it definitely sucked less having Wayne to take care of him.

#s/tranger t/hings #e/ddie m/unson #w/ayne m/unson #the munsons #snzblr #snz kink #ask box #kb writes #contagion #coldfucker

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