A Typical Family (masterlist)

a typical family (masterlist)

satoru shows up unexpectedly after six months of silence, two little kids trailing behind him. chaos ensues.

any additional posts tagged under #a typical family

second year.

small talk

admissions

third year.

premature death

year zero. [START HERE]

one in the morning

year one.

three things

eavesdropping

did you miss me?

reassurance

year two.

sick

a bit loud

bad day

he stole my valentine

stay

close up magic (coming soon)

year three.

moving in

new pups

midnight happenings

emotions

fighting

year four.

the brunch

slip-up

cuddle time

hey

keeping secrets

kitchen scene

year five.

a walk

stress baking

it's not my fault

midnight happenings (2)

worth

jealousy

remembering

year six.

are you stupid?

beyond…

Sex Ed is very important!

the sex ed guide your parents didn't give you

how to put a condom on

where to get free birth control

the hymen debunked 

cleaning your vibrators 

how to avoid pressures

signs you may be pregnant

safe guide to anal sex

all about dental dams

disabled sexual resources

what is hiv?

feminist porn

female ejaculation

fisting 101

communication during sex

setting sexual boundaries

bdsm vs abuse

lube during sex

the clitoris

sex education games

understanding gender

what to do if your nudes were leaked

intersex

sexual consent

all about masturbation

tips for your first time

absolutely lost it over this fic by @neuro-psyche so. have this comic o(- (

go read it rn if u also love some Good identity reveal fic!!!!

The First Queen

Aegon II Targaryen x niece!Reader

Important notice: in this series reader has features of Ser Harwin, including Brown hair and tone of skin.

Previous chapter

First Chapter

Just like her mother, young Y/N was given the nickname, the Sunshine of the Castle. The girl was already 2 years old, by this time Princess Rhaenyra had another son, Luceris, Luke for his loved ones. The little prince also has dark curls, which are unusual for a Targaryen. Ser Laenor's three children do not look like him in appearance, it is too early to talk about the similarity of character, but despite all the gossip within the walls of the Red Castle, he spends all his time with all the children. Jayce teaches how to hold a sword and parry blows, walks with Y/N in the garden and helps catch butterflies, which are then carried to Helaena and the three of them look at them, and together with Luke watches the dragon egg, which is in the cradle.

Dragons. As one of the last houses to survive the Doom of Valyria, dragons became a family trait within House Targaryen, along with platinum hair and violet eyes. With the help of dragons, they captured Westeros, protected the dynasty, conquered new lands and connections, and conquered the skies. They say that the Targaryens are closer to gods than to people. But sometimes even the gods do terrible things, it all depends on the dragon riders.

Jace's egg has already hatched and a new resident, Vermax, has appeared in the Dragonpit. The dragon keepers say that even at his young age, Vermax avoids the cold in every possible way and tries to be close to other, older dragons. For example, Sunfyre.

The golden dragon belongs to Aegon and is similar in character to its rider. A nosy and nimble dragon cannot stay in one place for more than a day. The catacombs of the Dragon's Lair seem to be suffocating him, so his mood changes dramatically when the dragon is brought out to the prince. While the small dragon always approaches its owner with joy and excitement in its eyes. Dragon keepers would swear they've seen Aegon hugged his arms around a dragon's neck a couple of times.

  And his sister, young Helaena, during walks with her father in the dragon’s lair, shows a special interest in the Dreamfyre. The dragon also reacts calmly to her presence and even allowed herself to be touched.

The situation was different for peers, Aemond and Y/N. Their eggs did not hatch and the children were too young to understand what was happening. Some say that the year of their birth was cursed, others say that it is a punishment for the fact that the origin of Rhaenyra's children is called into question, but then what does Aemond have to do with it. The boy inherited all of his father's Valyrian features, Platinum hair and purple eyes.

Everyone thought. No, hoped that the eggs would hatch over time, but two years is already quite a long time. The firstborn of King Viserys 1 has already spoken to her father that if Syrax lays the clutch, then she is ready to give her daughter a new egg, she is even ready to give Aemond one, as a sign of goodwill for his mother.

Once old friends, now they meet only on certain occasions. The queen and princess, who once communicated warmly and cordially, now greet each other with cold glances and the proper courtesies that the royal court expects from them.

The relationship finally deteriorated when Lord Otto Hightower, the queen's father, was removed from his position as Hand. From that moment on, Alicent did not believe a single word of her former friend. There were a lot of lies, they flowed through the Red Castle like streams, flowing down the steps, parapets and entrevolts into the ears, penetrating into the common sense and hearts of all the inhabitants of the castle.

  Therefore, when the queen caustically noted that for some strange reason the Baratheon genes outplayed the strong genes of the Targaryens, Velaryons and even the Arryns three times, this only created another reason for new whispers in the dark corners of the castle.

Now the royal family will have to meet again and put on fake smiles for everyone around them. For the second time in a year, the king announced a royal hunt. Two moons ago they were dedicated to Prince Aemond, second son of King Viserys. The boy turned two years old and his curiosity about everything around him began to awaken. Especially to his father's model of ancient Valyria, he often walked around him, and Viserys sometimes helped him, lifting him into his arms and showing the figures closer. The prince especially liked miniatures of dragons, which he only had in toy format and could never emit real fire.

Today, the royal hunt was dedicated to the second anniversary of Princess Y/N, the king’s granddaughter from his beloved daughter. The girl was wearing a light blue dress. It reached to the ground, and there was a rectangular cutout under the neck to make the princess feel comfortable under the summer sun. The sleeves barely reached the elbows and their bottoms were framed by flowers made of silver fabric. The skirt of the dress was also inlaid with silver threads and small stones.

Despite the obvious colors of House Velaryon in the costume of the young heiress, the head was still adorned with now long brown hair, like the other offspring of Princess Rhaenyra. The hair shimmered brightly under the sun's rays and made it a warmer shade than it originally was.

In the clearing in the middle of the Royal Forest, tents were already erected, and the servants were urgently making final preparations. The united coat of arms of House Targaryen and Velaryon fluttered in the wind, and the standards fit tightly into the ground. The clearing gradually filled with guests, lords and ladies from different parts of Westeros. Any event in the royal family means the possibility of potential alliances, which is why many noble families were present today, despite other plans and assignments.

But all this did not worry the young Targaryen heirs. Three royal carriages were almost approaching the scene of the event. The first was the King and Queen's carriage. Alicent sat inside, heavily pregnant. The maesters said that in one moon the queen would give birth to another child for the king of the seven kingdoms.

On her lap sat the princess of Helaena. The girl played with her long platinum hair, some of which was braided. Her light green dress shone from the rays coming through the window.

Sitting on Viserys' lap was his second son, Aemond. The two-year-old prince was looking at pictures in a book about his ancestors, about Aegon and his two conquering sisters. He especially looked at the illustrations of dragons.

To their right sat Aegon, the prince was talking about something with his father, when the latter handed him a goblet of wine.

“Viserys,” Alicent shouted. "He is only six years old," the queen was unhappy with her son's affinity for wine.

“He is already six years old,” the king commented good-naturedly and with a smile. “Even more so, it’s diluted,” after these words, Viserys shook his head approvingly towards Aegon, mentally giving permission to try the drink. The prince took a sip and broke into a smile.

Suddenly the carriage hit a stone and the remaining wine from the goblet spilled onto Aemond’s book, covering Vhagar’s drawing with a dark red stain. Two-year-old Aemond was clearly unhappy with this and hit his brother with his small fist. The carriage suddenly filled with noise in an attempt to calm the dragon's offspring.

But this was not heard in the next cart. Princess Rhaenyra was stationed there with her husband Ser Laenor and two children, Jacaerys and Y/N. It was decided to leave the newborn Luke in the castle under the supervision of maesters and midwives. The little girl tried to fall asleep, burying herself in her father's side, while Jace, on the contrary, tried to start a conversation. For a three year old he was very active. And now he was trying to teach his sister to pronounce his full name.

“Come on, tell Jacaerys,” the prince had been trying for ten minutes.

“Jace,” the girl said and laughed, seeing her brother’s dejected face. Rhaenyra also grinned and turned to the first child, "Don't worry, she will say your full name someday, right now it's still hard for her, she's only two years old."

“I hope it will be easier with Luke,” Jace said and frowned. Y/N carefully approached him and carefully hugged her brother.

“Jace,” she said and smiled. Jacaerys was no longer dissatisfied and smiled, “Well, at least I’m her favorite relative.” Everyone grinned.

“Favourite relative,” Y/N said carefully and in syllables and hugged her brother tighter.

  The third carriage carried the rulers of Driftmark, Corlys Velaryon and Rhaenys Targaryen. They were discussing Laena, who had recently given birth. She gave birth to Damon's two daughters, Bail and Reyna. The babies were not even a year old. They now live in Pentos and due to the danger of travel for the girls, they were unable to come to King's Landing. Although before pregnancy, they visited Westeros and Leina became quite close friends with Rhaenyra. Eyewitnesses say that they often saw three dragons flying together. Caraxes, Vhagar and Syrax.

Now, when the clatter of the hooves of the royal horses can be heard from the clearing, the musicians line up holding the fanfare high. Golden chimneys shine and shimmer under the rays of the sun, and the coats of arms of the Targaryen and Velaryon houses hang proudly in a row. The sounds of music spread throughout all the tents, the invited guests head to the meeting place of the main persons of this holiday.

The carriages drove into the clearing and, to the deafening claps of the guests, the Royal Family went outside. The fanfare blew so loudly that six-year-old Aegon covered his ears in displeasure and there was some disgust on his face. But it soon disappeared, when he saw Rhaenyra’s only daughter, his niece.

It was unusual, but something attracted him to her. From the moment of her birth, Aegon made sure to spend time with her. He looked at her in the cradle and gave her small toys from his own collection. Hell, he even let her slobber all over him just to see her smile. And now, when the holiday was in full swing, he wanted to see her. But his mother distracted him.

The birthday girl of this celebration sat in her mother's arms as she spoke with the chief of the city guard, Harwin Strong.

“Princess, I also have a small gift for you,” Harwin said with a smile. He handed a small toy into the girl's hands. It was a white wooden horse whose mane was decorated with green, red and blue colors. Those colors that decorated the coat of arms of the House of Strong. The girl examined the gift and then poked it in Harwin’s chest, where that very coat of arms was and smiled.

“You have a bright child growing up, a rare combination of intelligence and beauty,” Harwin chuckled. Princess Rhaenyra also smiled and lightly patted the baby's head. Y/N and she really was smart, she often saw Ser Harwin and how he spoke to her mother. Therefore, the next phrase plunged the two adults into a slight stupor.

“Favorite relative,” Y/N squealed happily and stretched out her arms in an attempt to hug Harvin. Rhaenyra looked around sharply, trying to figure out if anyone had heard this phrase. Harvin was a little embarrassed, but in his heart he was pleased, although he understood that all this was wrong.

“No, Y/N, you can’t say that,” Rhaenyra said. The baby frowned and did not understand the reason. When she said this to Jace, her mother was pleased, but now she scolds her. Harwin asked her to cheer up the baby.

“How does the horse gallop?”

“Clunk clunk,” the girl imitated, picking up the toy, and then laughed with Harwin. After that, Rhaenyra smiled guiltily and went to the royal tent.

“I would like a niece like this,” said Laris, who suddenly appeared.

There was fun in the royal tent. Wine flowed in streams, and bards entertained the high-ranking guests. Y/N sat on the carpets next to other children and looked at the toy. The color red reminded her of her mother, grandfather and all the Targaryens. Blue was similar to the color of her father and relatives from Driftmark. And Green, who did green remind her of? His. Aegon.

The prince appeared in her field of vision and the girl smiled at him, stood up and hugged him. Aegon chuckled and sat down next to her.

“You,” Y/N exclaimed and first pointed to the green line on the horse, and then to his green tunic.

“Yes, Green,” said Aegon

“Gween,” Y/N repeated incorrectly.

“Gween,” the prince assured with a grin and thought for a couple of seconds. Suddenly an idea popped into his head and he tried to implement it. "Do you know my name?"

The girl thought and blinked her eyes a couple of times in confusion. Y/N frowned and shook her head in denial.

“I am Aegon. Can you repeat that? Ae-Gon,” the prince pronounced his name syllable by syllable and looked at her expectantly. After a couple of attempts the girl exclaimed

“Aegon,” Y/N started laughing and Aegon smiled from ear to ear. Jace, who was sitting next to him at the time, frowned and became indignant.

“Why can you say his name, but not mine,” the prince exclaimed displeasedly.

“It’s obvious, nephew, I’m her favorite relative,” Aegon said and Y/N smiled

“Aegon, Beloved Relative,” said the princess and buried herself in Aegon’s chest, hugging him with her small arms. The prince blushed.

“At least I still have Luke,” Jace muttered dissatisfied and continued to play.

Preview of a book I’m writing called Wanderlust. Premiss is a bunch of misfit kids live life by hitching rides on trains, one day they take the wrong train and end up on a train to another world.

This is a draft of a scene much later of one of the main characters (Evan) and her backstory before she met the other main characters (Sebastian, aka the kids she’s supposed to ‘take care of’)

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Koshechka moved with purpose through the labyrinthine corridors of the underground fighting ring. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, blood, and the unmistakable musk of raw, primal aggression. She was here on business, her sharp mind and sharper tongue making her invaluable to Don white, the imposing crime boss who ran this brutal underworld empire. Aka her boss and best client.

Today, she was doing the accounting for the latest series of fights, a task that required her to ensure the books balanced and the odds were rigged just enough to keep the gamblers coming back for more. Her bubble gum pink hair stood out in the dimly lit, smoke-filled arena, and her freckled face betrayed no emotion as she calculated the night's profits. The roaring of the crowd, the clash of flesh and bone, all faded into the background as she focused on her work.

The fighters, burly men and women covered in tattoos and scars, moved like shadows in the dim light, their grunts and cries echoing through the cavernous space. Evangeline's tan skin glowed under the flickering lights, and her full hourglass figure drew appreciative glances from the patrons and fighters alike. But she paid them no mind; her eyes were fixed on the numbers, her mind a fortress of concentration, not like any one of those meaty men could afford her.

It was in the midst of this controlled chaos that her Boss, Don, as he was known to most, approached her. His tall, burly frame cast a long shadow over her, and his presence commanded immediate attention. The snake tattoo coiled around his neck seemed almost alive in the low light, its eyes glinting with the same cold calculation that Tobias himself possessed.

“Nice work, Koshechka,” he said, his voice a deep rumble that cut through the din. “Here’s your—”

“Not to deny extra cash, just picturing you sending someone to bust my windows, but this seems like a lot more than my cut,” she interrupted, not even looking up from her ledger.

“Heh, you’re funny, kitty. But nah, I got some rat I need you to scare off. He’s been scamming my casinos,” Tobias replied, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“Sounds like a problem, but I ain’t pest control. Why not get one of your new pets to do it?” she shot back, finally meeting his gaze.

“Aww, kitty, you know you’re my favorite girl,” Tobias said with a smirk.

“Keep it in your pants, Don. You know my hours,” she retorted, rolling her eyes.

“Mhm, can’t wait till Monday,” he murmured, his tone suggestive.

“Whatever—just answer, you nasty bit—”

“Retract those claws, Koshechka. I just mean you’re far more efficient, and I don’t need him dead, just incapacitated. He’s on the young side, so I’mma give him a warning. Feeling good after these wins,” he explained, his expression turning serious.

“Fine, but I’mma need more than this. I’m assuming you don’t have a clue where he could be? You at least have a picture?” she asked, her tone now businesslike.

“Here’s a file my men put together for you. Including pay. This is half upfront, and you will be paid the rest later. I’ll leave the rest to you,” Tobias said, handing her a thick envelope.

“Huh, leave me to do all the dirty work, really nitty-gritty stuff,” she said, licking her lips.

“Sorry, doll. Besides, I know you like it when things are hard,” he purred, his eyes burning with a flickering flame.

“Oh, mr white sir, you know me so well.” She responded, “How come I don’t have a dock on time?” She moved her seat closer to the coffee table which separated them. He mimicked her movements equally as slowly, palms on the surface of the oak.

“You catch on quick, my pretty kitty. I know you won’t take long; the kid’s not exactly quick on his feet,” Tobias said, a hint of a challenge in his voice.

“You sure it’s not 'cause you’re sweet on me?” she teased, elbows now on the table and face cradled in her palms, even closer than before.

“I can’t completely reject that premise,” he leaned his weight on the dead wood again, mirroring her movements, his face wearing a sultry grin.

“Mmh, maybe you don’t have to wait for Monday,” she whispered, faces inches apart.

“Gasp, is my lustful little kitten willing to make an exception for wittle old me?” he teased back, his voice a low growl.

“Just maybe. If you want—”

“Yes! I mean—” he shouted eagerly, frightening her back into her seat. “Wait, I’m sorry, I—”

She giggled, her voice ringing across the room. Her sweet sounds turned his face red, and he turned bashfully.

“Aww, is someone a little eager?” she looked up at him, eyes trailing down his body, landing on the tent between his legs.

“Huh—” he followed her gaze and fell back into his chair, crossing his legs in embarrassment. “Shut up,” his face expression still cold as ice but body burning in anticipation. “It’s just you never seem so—happy? I guess participating and you initiating is really like I—fuck, just,” he covered his face in shame, finally showing his age.

“Aww, sweetheart.” She started undressing. She doesn’t feel sexual attraction or love at all, which made her job easier. She only felt any attachment or attraction toward someone when she got to know them. But when she did, she felt so strongly it hurt her, so she avoided making any friends. “I—I have some kind of feeling for you which makes me want you deeply… I don’t know how to express this, and it’s scary, but for some strange reason, I trust you. So I—” she walked around the table, leaning forward, stroking his face. Her hands moved down his neck, torso, and landed on his belt. She sat her naked body on his lap, body trembling. “Please take care of me, Tobi.”

His eyes widened, mouth agape, brain not able to function. The seconds felt like hours. Her face glowed red.

“F-fine, that was stupid of me. Let's jus—” she began, shifting to get off his lap, but he grabbed her hips.

“No,” he breathed.

“The fuck you mean, no?”

He placed his lips on hers with a fiery passion, hand pulling her hips impossibly close. “I promise you, Evan, I’ll take care of you the rest of our lives.” He ground up into her, and her manicured hands worked at taking his belt off, pulling his pants down with his boxers, desperate to feel him.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you just proposed to me—” she murmured.

“What if I did?” he mumbled, throwing his shirt over his head. “What if I was? Do you wanna be a pretty wife? My wife?” He shook his pants off, bouncing her slightly on his thighs, making her tits bounce. As he watched them, he had this overwhelming urge to lick and suck her pretty pink nipples raw. “Mmm, look at these. Does just the thought of being my wife make you that horny?”

She looked away and nodded. He flicked them harshly, making her whimper.

“Fuck, that’s so hot.” Without a second thought, he attached his lips to the hard little nub.

“Mmm, Tobi, no, please, I wanna—” she let out a breathy moan, tracing the dark lines of the tattoo on his neck. Don mindlessly sucked and played with her tits, using both hands to stimulate her. He sloppily licked between her breasts, from her cleavage to her navel, tasting the salty beads of her sweat. He watched her round bosom spill into his palms.

“I love hearing such whiney sounds from your mouth.” He pulled her nipples, now soaked with saliva, harshly to hear her whine his name.

“Yes, I love it when you say my name. Now tell me what you want me to do now.” Evan’s thighs shook with anticipation, feeling sticky from her dripping arousal. She rubbed her stomach, coated with his precum.

“I want you inside me.”

“Whatever my pretty kitty wants.” He moved to grab a condom from his pants on the floor, but she grabbed the tip of his dick, making him shiver.

"Fuck!" he moaned loudly.

"I want you to fill me with your cum until I can taste it."

Tobias drooled at the thought of fucking her raw. "Shit, baby," he moaned, taking her hands off him. Evan, feeling like she had crossed a line, quickly retracted her hands to her chest in fear. Seeing her uncertainty, Tobias softened, pulling her close to his chest before standing up, cradling her as if she were precious. He carried her to the bedroom connected to his office, his lips never leaving her skin as he kissed her neck and face lovingly. Evan bathed in the attention he was giving her, a large smile spreading across her face as she felt his warmth and affection.

The dim light of the office bedroom cast soft shadows across Tobias's sharp features, highlighting the contrast between his albino skin and the dark tattoos that covered his body. "Damn kitty, it's real hard to walk with this raging boner," Tobias hissed, unintentionally breaking the romantic atmosphere.

"Way to kill the mood, Tobi," Evan said with a displeased look, though her legs remained tightly wrapped around his waist. She reached out to help him turn the doorknob, her touch gentle and reassuring.

Tobias chuckled, the deep sound reverberating through his chest as he carried her to the large, inviting queen-sized bed. The bed was a stark contrast to the harshness of his office-a soft sanctuary draped in luxurious, dark linens. "Brace yourself," he warned with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"For what-" Before she could finish, he spun around and threw himself onto the bed, holding her close. The sudden movement made her bounce slightly, a surprised squeak escaping her lips.

She glared at him, her eyes narrowing, but his smile was so infectious that she couldn't help but laugh at his playful antics. The tension between them melted away, replaced by a shared joy and anticipation. They lay there for a moment, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around them like a warm blanket, their laughter blending into the quiet hum of the room.

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As the morning sun began to filter through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the tangled mess of sheets, Evangeline found herself in a moment of quiet contemplation. Her gaze lingered tenderly on the man beside her, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm as steady as the beating of her own heart.

After hours of intimate entanglement, she marveled at the unexpected tenderness of their connection. It was a sensation she had long believed herself incapable of experiencing, yet here she was, entwined with a man whose very presence ignited a fire within her soul.

With a soft smile playing at the corners of her lips, Evangeline gently traced the contours of his face, her fingers dancing over the rough edges of his stubble. He lay there, blissfully unaware, his goofy smile and drool-laden slumber a stark contrast to the formidable reputation he commanded by day.

"What a dummy," she murmured affectionately, the endearment a testament to the complexity of their relationship. Despite his status as both a crime boss and her employer, he was, in this moment, nothing more than a vulnerable man lost in the depths of sleep.

Reflecting on the unspoken rules that governed their interactions, Evangeline couldn't help but marvel at the ways in which he had effortlessly dismantled her defenses. Each breach of protocol, from the absence of condoms to the forbidden kisses and post-coital cuddles, served as a poignant reminder of his ability to unravel the carefully constructed barriers around her heart.

And yet, for all her resistance, she found herself willingly surrendering to the warmth of his embrace, basking in the glow of his affection. He was more than just a client; he was a confidant, a companion, and, against all odds, the object of her deepest affections.

As she watched him twitch and smile in his slumber, a wave of tenderness washed over her, akin to the gentle caress of a summer breeze. In his vulnerability, she found solace, a rare moment of peace amidst the chaos of their clandestine world.

With a contented sigh, Evangeline nestled closer to him, her heart swelling with a love that defied all logic and reason. For in the quiet intimacy of their shared embrace, she had found a sanctuary—a place where the complexities of their lives melted away, leaving nothing but the simple purity of two souls intertwined in the sweet embrace of love.

As Tobias bolted awake, startled by the sudden jolt of laughter, Evangeline couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of his bleary-eyed confusion. With a gentle touch, she wiped away the drool that had escaped the corners of his mouth, her affectionate gesture met with a sheepish grin.

"What's so funny, honey?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Nothing, just you. You drool like a bulldog, you know," she teased, her laughter tinkling like wind chimes in the morning breeze.

"Sorry, baby. Tongue's too big for my mouth," he quipped, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Not that you ever complained," he added with a wink, his playful banter eliciting a giggle from Evangeline.

As they rose from the tangled sheets, their playful banter continued, punctuated by affectionate touches and shared laughter. The air was filled with the sweet scent of soap and steam as they made their way to the bathroom, hand in hand, eager to wash away the remnants of the night's passion.

Settling into the warmth of the large tub, Evangeline leaned back against Tobias's chest, his strong arms enveloping her in a comforting embrace. The water lapped gently at their skin, creating a soothing rhythm that matched the steady beat of their hearts.

"Did you mean it?" she whispered softly, her voice barely above a murmur.

"Mean what, kitty?" Tobias replied, his breath warm against her ear.

"About taking care of me," she clarified, her tone tinged with vulnerability.

"Yes," he replied without hesitation, his voice filled with sincerity. "My pretty kitty, it doesn't matter because I meant it. I want you to be happy, and I want you by my side, forever."

Evangeline felt tears welling in her eyes, emotions swirling within her like a tempestuous storm. Tobias leaned in close, his warmth enveloping her, his words a soothing balm to her wounded soul.

"Evan, if that's not what you want, then tell me, and I'll do whatever you-" he began, his voice faltering with concern.

"No, I want that. I want you," she interrupted, her voice trembling with raw emotion.

In that moment, as they sat entwined in the warmth of the bath, their souls laid bare before each other, Evangeline knew that she had found something worth fighting for.

And as Tobias held her close, his love surrounding her like a shield, she felt a flicker of hope ignite within her heart—a hope that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to build a future together, one bath at a time.

Koshechka moved with purpose through the labyrinthine corridors of the underground fighting ring. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, blood, and the unmistakable musk of raw, primal aggression. She was here on business, her sharp mind and sharper tongue making her invaluable to Don white, the imposing crime boss who ran this brutal underworld empire. Aka her boss and best client.

Today, she was doing the accounting for the latest series of fights, a task that required her to ensure the books balanced and the odds were rigged just enough to keep the gamblers coming back for more. Her bubble gum pink hair stood out in the dimly lit, smoke-filled arena, and her freckled face betrayed no emotion as she calculated the night's profits. The roaring of the crowd, the clash of flesh and bone, all faded into the background as she focused on her work.

The fighters, burly men and women covered in tattoos and scars, moved like shadows in the dim light, their grunts and cries echoing through the cavernous space. Evangeline's tan skin glowed under the flickering lights, and her full hourglass figure drew appreciative glances from the patrons and fighters alike. But she paid them no mind; her eyes were fixed on the numbers, her mind a fortress of concentration, not like any one of those meaty men could afford her.

It was in the midst of this controlled chaos that her Boss, Don, as he was known to most, approached her. His tall, burly frame cast a long shadow over her, and his presence commanded immediate attention. The snake tattoo coiled around his neck seemed almost alive in the low light, its eyes glinting with the same cold calculation that Tobias himself possessed.

“Nice work, Koshechka,” he said, his voice a deep rumble that cut through the din. “Here’s your—”

“Not to deny extra cash, just picturing you sending someone to bust my windows, but this seems like a lot more than my cut,” she interrupted, not even looking up from her ledger.

“Heh, you’re funny, kitty. But nah, I got some rat I need you to scare off. He’s been scamming my casinos,” Tobias replied, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“Sounds like a problem, but I ain’t pest control. Why not get one of your new pets to do it?” she shot back, finally meeting his gaze.

“Aww, kitty, you know you’re my favorite girl,” Tobias said with a smirk.

“Keep it in your pants, Don. You know my hours,” she retorted, rolling her eyes.

“Mhm, can’t wait till Monday,” he murmured, his tone suggestive.

“Whatever—just answer, you nasty bit—”

“Retract those claws, Koshechka. I just mean you’re far more efficient, and I don’t need him dead, just incapacitated. He’s on the young side, so I’mma give him a warning. Feeling good after these wins,” he explained, his expression turning serious.

“Fine, but I’mma need more than this. I’m assuming you don’t have a clue where he could be? You at least have a picture?” she asked, her tone now businesslike.

“Here’s a file my men put together for you. Including pay. This is half upfront, and you will be paid the rest later. I’ll leave the rest to you,” Tobias said, handing her a thick envelope.

“Huh, leave me to do all the dirty work, really nitty-gritty stuff,” she said, licking her lips.

“Sorry, doll. Besides, I know you like it when things are hard,” he purred, his eyes burning with a flickering flame.

“Oh, mr white sir, you know me so well.” She responded, “How come I don’t have a dock on time?” She moved her seat closer to the coffee table which separated them. He mimicked her movements equally as slowly, palms on the surface of the oak.

“You catch on quick, my pretty kitty. I know you won’t take long; the kid’s not exactly quick on his feet,” Tobias said, a hint of a challenge in his voice.

“You sure it’s not 'cause you’re sweet on me?” she teased, elbows now on the table and face cradled in her palms, even closer than before.

“I can’t completely reject that premise,” he leaned his weight on the dead wood again, mirroring her movements, his face wearing a sultry grin.

“Mmh, maybe you don’t have to wait for Monday,” she whispered, faces inches apart.

“Gasp, is my lustful little kitten willing to make an exception for wittle old me?” he teased back, his voice a low growl.

“Just maybe. If you want—”

“Yes! I mean—” he shouted eagerly, frightening her back into her seat. “Wait, I’m sorry, I—”

She giggled, her voice ringing across the room. Her sweet sounds turned his face red, and he turned bashfully.

“Aww, is someone a little eager?” she looked up at him, eyes trailing down his body, landing on the tent between his legs.

“Huh—” he followed her gaze and fell back into his chair, crossing his legs in embarrassment. “Shut up,” his face expression still cold as ice but body burning in anticipation. “It’s just you never seem so—happy? I guess participating and you initiating is really like I—fuck, just,” he covered his face in shame, finally showing his age.

“Aww, sweetheart.” She started undressing. She doesn’t feel sexual attraction or love at all, which made her job easier. She only felt any attachment or attraction toward someone when she got to know them. But when she did, she felt so strongly it hurt her, so she avoided making any friends. “I—I have some kind of feeling for you which makes me want you deeply… I don’t know how to express this, and it’s scary, but for some strange reason, I trust you. So I—” she walked around the table, leaning forward, stroking his face. Her hands moved down his neck, torso, and landed on his belt. She sat her naked body on his lap, body trembling. “Please take care of me, Tobi.”

His eyes widened, mouth agape, brain not able to function. The seconds felt like hours. Her face glowed red.

“F-fine, that was stupid of me. Let's jus—” she began, shifting to get off his lap, but he grabbed her hips.

“No,” he breathed.

“The fuck you mean, no?”

He placed his lips on hers with a fiery passion, hand pulling her hips impossibly close. “I promise you, Evan, I’ll take care of you the rest of our lives.” He ground up into her, and her manicured hands worked at taking his belt off, pulling his pants down with his boxers, desperate to feel him.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you just proposed to me—” she murmured.

“What if I did?” he mumbled, throwing his shirt over his head. “What if I was? Do you wanna be a pretty wife? My wife?” He shook his pants off, bouncing her slightly on his thighs, making her tits bounce. As he watched them, he had this overwhelming urge to lick and suck her pretty pink nipples raw. “Mmm, look at these. Does just the thought of being my wife make you that horny?”

She looked away and nodded. He flicked them harshly, making her whimper.

“Fuck, that’s so hot.” Without a second thought, he attached his lips to the hard little nub.

“Mmm, Tobi, no, please, I wanna—” she let out a breathy moan, tracing the dark lines of the tattoo on his neck. Don mindlessly sucked and played with her tits, using both hands to stimulate her. He sloppily licked between her breasts, from her cleavage to her navel, tasting the salty beads of her sweat. He watched her round bosom spill into his palms.

“I love hearing such whiney sounds from your mouth.” He pulled her nipples, now soaked with saliva, harshly to hear her whine his name.

“Yes, I love it when you say my name. Now tell me what you want me to do now.” Evan’s thighs shook with anticipation, feeling sticky from her dripping arousal. She rubbed her stomach, coated with his precum.

“I want you inside me.”

“Whatever my pretty kitty wants.” He moved to grab a condom from his pants on the floor, but she grabbed the tip of his dick, making him shiver.

"Fuck!" he moaned loudly.

"I want you to fill me with your cum until I can taste it."

Tobias drooled at the thought of fucking her raw. "Shit, baby," he moaned, taking her hands off him. Evan, feeling like she had crossed a line, quickly retracted her hands to her chest in fear. Seeing her uncertainty, Tobias softened, pulling her close to his chest before standing up, cradling her as if she were precious. He carried her to the bedroom connected to his office, his lips never leaving her skin as he kissed her neck and face lovingly. Evan bathed in the attention he was giving her, a large smile spreading across her face as she felt his warmth and affection.

The dim light of the office bedroom cast soft shadows across Tobias's sharp features, highlighting the contrast between his albino skin and the dark tattoos that covered his body. "Damn kitty, it's real hard to walk with this raging boner," Tobias hissed, unintentionally breaking the romantic atmosphere.

"Way to kill the mood, Tobi," Evan said with a displeased look, though her legs remained tightly wrapped around his waist. She reached out to help him turn the doorknob, her touch gentle and reassuring.

Tobias chuckled, the deep sound reverberating through his chest as he carried her to the large, inviting queen-sized bed. The bed was a stark contrast to the harshness of his office-a soft sanctuary draped in luxurious, dark linens. "Brace yourself," he warned with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"For what-" Before she could finish, he spun around and threw himself onto the bed, holding her close. The sudden movement made her bounce slightly, a surprised squeak escaping her lips.

She glared at him, her eyes narrowing, but his smile was so infectious that she couldn't help but laugh at his playful antics. The tension between them melted away, replaced by a shared joy and anticipation. They lay there for a moment, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around them like a warm blanket, their laughter blending into the quiet hum of the room.

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As the morning sun began to filter through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the tangled mess of sheets, Evangeline found herself in a moment of quiet contemplation. Her gaze lingered tenderly on the man beside her, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm as steady as the beating of her own heart.

After hours of intimate entanglement, she marveled at the unexpected tenderness of their connection. It was a sensation she had long believed herself incapable of experiencing, yet here she was, entwined with a man whose very presence ignited a fire within her soul.

With a soft smile playing at the corners of her lips, Evangeline gently traced the contours of his face, her fingers dancing over the rough edges of his stubble. He lay there, blissfully unaware, his goofy smile and drool-laden slumber a stark contrast to the formidable reputation he commanded by day.

"What a dummy," she murmured affectionately, the endearment a testament to the complexity of their relationship. Despite his status as both a crime boss and her employer, he was, in this moment, nothing more than a vulnerable man lost in the depths of sleep.

Reflecting on the unspoken rules that governed their interactions, Evangeline couldn't help but marvel at the ways in which he had effortlessly dismantled her defenses. Each breach of protocol, from the absence of condoms to the forbidden kisses and post-coital cuddles, served as a poignant reminder of his ability to unravel the carefully constructed barriers around her heart.

And yet, for all her resistance, she found herself willingly surrendering to the warmth of his embrace, basking in the glow of his affection. He was more than just a client; he was a confidant, a companion, and, against all odds, the object of her deepest affections.

As she watched him twitch and smile in his slumber, a wave of tenderness washed over her, akin to the gentle caress of a summer breeze. In his vulnerability, she found solace, a rare moment of peace amidst the chaos of their clandestine world.

With a contented sigh, Evangeline nestled closer to him, her heart swelling with a love that defied all logic and reason. For in the quiet intimacy of their shared embrace, she had found a sanctuary—a place where the complexities of their lives melted away, leaving nothing but the simple purity of two souls intertwined in the sweet embrace of love.

As Tobias bolted awake, startled by the sudden jolt of laughter, Evangeline couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of his bleary-eyed confusion. With a gentle touch, she wiped away the drool that had escaped the corners of his mouth, her affectionate gesture met with a sheepish grin.

"What's so funny, honey?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Nothing, just you. You drool like a bulldog, you know," she teased, her laughter tinkling like wind chimes in the morning breeze.

"Sorry, baby. Tongue's too big for my mouth," he quipped, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Not that you ever complained," he added with a wink, his playful banter eliciting a giggle from Evangeline.

As they rose from the tangled sheets, their playful banter continued, punctuated by affectionate touches and shared laughter. The air was filled with the sweet scent of soap and steam as they made their way to the bathroom, hand in hand, eager to wash away the remnants of the night's passion.

Settling into the warmth of the large tub, Evangeline leaned back against Tobias's chest, his strong arms enveloping her in a comforting embrace. The water lapped gently at their skin, creating a soothing rhythm that matched the steady beat of their hearts.

"Did you mean it?" she whispered softly, her voice barely above a murmur.

"Mean what, kitty?" Tobias replied, his breath warm against her ear.

"About taking care of me," she clarified, her tone tinged with vulnerability.

"Yes," he replied without hesitation, his voice filled with sincerity. "My pretty kitty, it doesn't matter because I meant it. I want you to be happy, and I want you by my side, forever."

Evangeline felt tears welling in her eyes, emotions swirling within her like a tempestuous storm. Tobias leaned in close, his warmth enveloping her, his words a soothing balm to her wounded soul.

"Evan, if that's not what you want, then tell me, and I'll do whatever you-" he began, his voice faltering with concern.

"No, I want that. I want you," she interrupted, her voice trembling with raw emotion.

In that moment, as they sat entwined in the warmth of the bath, their souls laid bare before each other, Evangeline knew that she had found something worth fighting for.

And as Tobias held her close, his love surrounding her like a shield, she felt a flicker of hope ignite within her heart—a hope that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to build a future together, one bath at a time.

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Everything here belongs to me. @blurpleuni-squid

This is only a draft of what I want the story to be, I will be improving it but whoever reads this I would appreciate some constructive criticism.

Need to remind myself of this masterpiece when it updates no matter how long it takes

you're out of touch, i'm out of time

aegon ii targaryen x reader

wc: 3.3k

summary: you have a tendency to pick up strays, but when you pick up the king of westeros (who was supposed to have died hundreds of years ago), things begin to get a little complicated

cw: NSFW, f!reader, aegon being a creep (shocker), aegon being deeply pathetic (also shocker), aegon is drunk or possibly hung over, attempted sex (aegon begs for a handjob but doesn't get one)

read on ao3, divider by saradika

You’ve always been too nice. You’re aware of this unfortunate fact, though you staunchly refuse to admit it’s a weakness. Has this trait left you without necessities from time to time because you gave them to someone who needed them more? Yes, but you sleep better at night knowing that that homeless girl had sturdy new shoes, even if you had to walk home barefoot. You can always handle a bit of discomfort if it means improving someone’s day marginally. It’s not as though you’re without any sense of self preservation– you know when to say no, or when to walk away. When someone is out for their own self interest, or just plain dangerous. 

You’re smart about it. Mostly. Sometimes, though, your sympathy gene takes over, and you approach the danger because you feel there’s more beneath the surface. So far, it hasn’t put you in any troubling positions. Still, first time for everything. And as you stand on the edge of the pavement, toes of your shoes swinging down into the gutter as you sway back and forth, you wonder if you’re about to break your successful streak.

There’s a man in the busy city street, raving and desperately trying to get someone’s attention. Usually, he’s the type you’d regretfully ignore for your own safety, but he seems different. He doesn’t seem like the usual King’s Landing crackheads. He’s dressed too nice, for starters. Strange, yes, but still nice. In fact, it looks to be better quality than anything you own. And he’s young– which isn't uncommon in this situation, but it always makes your heart ache when they’re young. 

He looks desperate, terrified, and as another person ducks their head and walks past him, you feel yourself moving toward him. You don't know why. Maybe because you know if you leave now, you’ll not sleep tonight for the sheer guilt of passing him by. He spots you making your way over and turns to you, seeming to hope against hope that you’re going to acknowledge him. 

“Hi,” you say in a calm, even voice. It's a tone you’ve gotten quite good at. You’re not professionally trained by any means, but these things generally come with the territory. “Let's get you out of the road, okay? You could get hurt.”

“What the fuck are those things?” He demands of you as a car stops to let you take him across. You wave your thanks to the driver, who looks mildly disgruntled, and take the young man gently by the arms to get him onto the pavement. “Where are the horses?”

You know he must be confused, so you’re gentle with him. “There's no horses,” you say, still holding his arms as he finally looks away from the disappearing car and into your eyes. He looks so deeply afraid, but you notice he does take a moment to look you over. You let him, trying to see the best in him and hoping it's just curiosity. It doesn't matter right now anyway, you tell yourself. “Are you okay?”

“No!” He snaps. “Course I’m not bloody okay! Where am I?!”

“You’re in King’s Landing,” you say. “Let's get you somewhere quiet, okay? Are you hungry?”

“This,” he laughs in disbelief, looking around. “Is not King’s Landing, I know what King’s Landing looks like!”

“Okay,” you nod. “I believe you. Let's go sit down, I’ll buy you something to eat.”

The man looks at you with what you think is an offended scowl, but the offer of food does seem to intrigue him. “And wine?”

“No,” you say, and he deflates. 

He scratches at his chin, but nods in agreement. “Yes, fine.”

You smile, a bit of relief easing the worry in your ribs. Sometimes people won't cooperate, or they’ll turn you away when you say you won't buy them booze or give them money outright. This young man seems to be content enough without wine, so you wave your hand and lead him down the road toward the nearest fast food joint. 

He follows behind you, panicked eyes still looking around as though he's never seen the world before. It's not wonder, but something close to anger, indignation maybe. You make it to a diner you like, opening the door for him. He's clearly astounded by the ugly cacophony of colours inside, but you can't blame him. You don't come here for the aesthetics. 

“Go sit down?” You tell him gently, framing it like a suggestion as you point to your favourite booth. He scowls, but does as bid. 

The teen behind the counter takes little notice of your strange company. It's King’s Landing, he's probably seen something ten times as strange already today. Once you’ve paid, you join your new stray, sitting down across from him and folding your hands on the table. 

“So, what's your name?” You ask him, and he looks away from the bustling street outside the window to stare at you in what you assume is disbelief. 

“What’s my name?” He echoes, leaning slightly over the table. “Are you serious?”

You blink. That’s… not a question anyone’s ever been mad at you for. You learned quickly which questions to steer clear of to avoid pissing people off.

He scoffs, leaning back in his seat and tapping a dirtied fingernail against the peeling surface of the table. “Aegon,” he says, almost experimentally. Like he's testing the waters. 

You nod politely, and tell him yours.

He stares at you. “Nothing? Aegon? You’ve not heard the name Aegon?”

“Well, of course I have,” you say, confused smile pulling at your lips. “It's a common enough name. I think I knew a guy in school named Aegon–”

“You have been to school?” Aegon asks, eyebrows shooting up and a laugh spilling from his mouth. He leans back, dragging his hands over his clammy face. “Have I been drugged?!”

You’d put serious money on that being a resounding yes. 

“This is crazy,” he says, leaning forward again. He says your name slowly, glancing around before his eyes land on you. “Can you tell me what's going on?”

You bite your lip, thankful when the cashier calls out your order number. You rush to get up and get it, fearing you may be way out of your depth this time. He talks like he’s never seen the world before, and his comment about you having gone to school… none of it makes any sense. You’ve never even had the thought of dropping someone off with someone who’s better equipped to handle problems of this magnitude, but Aegon has you really considering it. When you return with the tray of food and set it down, Aegon has the specials menu in hand and is squinting at it. 

“I got you what I usually get,” you say, setting the tray down and placing his wrapped burger in front of him, leaving the fries on the tray. “Aegon, I want to help you, but I’m at a bit of a loss.”

“That certainly makes two of us,” Aegon says, unwrapping the burger curiously. “What meat is this?”

“It’s beef,” you tell him, unwrapping your own. He watches as you take a bite of yours, and he nods as though in satisfaction before taking a hefty bite of his. “Aegon, I want to understand what’s going on in your head. Can you just…”

You’re not sure how to say it, really. It’s invasive, and you don’t want him to feel like you believe he’s crazy, or lying.

“What’s your deal?”

He chews slowly on his burger, eyeing you suspiciously. “My deal,” he echoes, lips turned down in a scowl. “Is that I’m the King of Westeros.”

You nod slowly, biting into your burger so you don’t have to answer right away. You hope if you stay silent long enough, he’ll feel compelled to keep talking. 

“King Aegon,” he says slowly, like you’re the deluded one. “Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name, Protector of the Realm, all the rest. Are you serious?”

You swallow your mouthful and nod. You’re not particularly well versed in history, but the titles ring a bell. It’s some sort of messiah complex, you’d wager. Trying your best not to seem dismissive, you pull out your phone. “Let me see,” you say. 

“What’s that?” He asks, leaning forward and trying to snatch it from you. You move it out of his way, yelping softly in contrition. 

“My phone!” You say. “I’m just looking you up, Aegon.”

“You’re what?” He says, looking horrified. “Give me that!”

“Dude, no! Let me just–” You stand up from your seat to be out of his reach, hurriedly typing the name he’d told you into the search bar. “Look, I know the name Targaryen, that’s the Conqueror's name!”

“Yes! Aegon the Conqueror!” He cries. “You’re finally making sense!”

“What? No, I mean Daenerys!”

“Who!?”

“Aegon, sit back down!” You snap, and he pauses in his pursuit of your phone, stunned into silence by your firm tone. Slowly, he returns to his seat, picking up a fry to eat it. 

“Only because I want to,” he says childishly. 

You frown at him, shaking your head before looking back at your phone as it pulls up the results for your search. 

‘Aegon II Targaryen, also known as Aegon the Elder, was the sixth Targaryen king to sit the Iron Throne, succeeding his father, Viserys I Targaryen, as Lord of the Seven Kingdoms.’

The search pulls up a picture as well, one of those terribly done paintings from the dark ages. It’s hard to say whether the Aegon in front of you looks much like the one in the painting, but he does have the same pale blonde hair and violet eyes. He’s a lot more pathetic than the portrait, too. He has the qualities of a wet cat, and you hate that it’s somewhat endearing. When you keep scrolling, you find a painting that can’t have been contemporary. This is a more detailed portrait, likely from half a century ago, where Aegon is covered in burns and lies dead in a carriage. 

You look up, meeting the wary eyes of the confused but un-burned man before you, and slowly sit back down. You know that he isn’t actually the king from nearly a millennium ago, but there’s an uncanny quality about him that makes you want to doubt the logical truth. His clothes, for one. You don’t know many homeless guys with such fine embroidery on their clothes. And there’s his features… you know them to be Valyrian, but rarely does anyone still pop up with the stark blond and violet irises. You remember well enough from your high school history classes that the Targaryen dynasty had those features.

“What does your little brick do?”

You blink, looking down at it and pulling up the contemporary portrait – part of you tells you not to show him the other. He scowls at it, but nods. “Seven hells, that’s not flattering. Where did you get this miniature? You have this and yet claim not to know me? What game do you play?”

You sigh. He truly doesn’t understand, does he? 

“Aegon, what year do you think it is?”

He rears back and regards you with more suspicion. “129 AC,” he says.

“And what were you doing before this?” 

“I will not tell you that,” he says. “You’re one of Rhaenyra’s spies, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know who Rhaenyra is,” you say softly. “I’m sorry, Aegon, I’m not a history buff.”

“History–” He stops, and goes deathly silent for a long moment, as though the whole situation is finally processing for him. You wonder if it’s the stench of wine that hangs off him explains his slow processing. “What year do you think it is?”

You tell him the year, even tack today’s date on for him. He stares are you, and you can see his brain buffering yet again. 

“Seven hells,” he murmurs. You find you share a similar sentiment. 

He picks up his burger and begins to eat it slowly. He’s silent for a long while, eyes seeming far away as he contemplates. You try not to stare at him, but it's no easy task. 

“This is going to sound crazy,” he says after a long while. “But I believe I may have travelled… through time.”

“I’d say so, yeah,” you respond. At this point, it's the only explanation. You’d usually say something about eliminating all the impossible options, but that just doesn't work here. Time travel is impossible, or it should be. And it's possible Aegon is just suffering from a deeply intense messiah complex. But that doesn't seem right. Your instincts haven't led you wrong before, you’re not about to ignore them now. 

“What am I going to do?” asks Aegon.

You want to tell him you’re going to try to find a way to get him back to his own time, but you’re struck once more with the image of him burned and twisted, dead in a carriage. How can you send him back to his fate knowing his grisly end?

You take in the man in front of you, this historical figure you’d never heard of until five minutes ago, and bite your lip. “We’ll figure it out,” you promise him. “You… can stay with me until we do.”

That’s probably dumb, and you’ll probably regret it. But not more than you would regret leaving him out on the streets.

“I suppose,” sighs Aegon like he’s spoiled for choice. You get up to ask for a bag for your food, glancing back as Aegon chews sadly on his burger. 

You get Aegon back to your place, and he wanders into the flat ahead of you. You watch him go with a soft huff, rolling your eyes. If everything else hadn’t convinced you, his attitude is proof positive that he’s from the past. He has all the entitlement of a prince and none of the consideration of those around him that modern men have (sometimes) gained. 

Your flat isn't much, two bedrooms and mostly paid for by your university. You had a flatmate for a time, but their sudden withdrawal left you without anyone and the school doesn’t seem to have noticed. Aegon can stay in the empty room until you figure him out. 

Aegon’s standing in your living room, staring in wonder at the decor you’ve collected over the course of your degree, at your television, maybe he’s just looking at all of it. He’s turning in a slow circle, eyes narrowed. 

“This is very nice for a commoner. Very strange, but it is not… disgusting.” He pauses in his assessing, looking between you and the ridiculous tapestry you purchased one night after far too many drinks. “Who is this man?”

“Oh, he’s this guy from a movie,” you say, not really processing that he won’t understand what a movie is. He stands there, dumbstruck, while you go to put your leftover food in the fridge. 

“A what?”

“Just… don’t worry about it. There’s going to be a lot for you to take in, but with any luck you won’t be here too long.” You come back over to him, taking him in. He looks out of place standing here in his king’s threads. “Let me get you something to wear.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this,” he says, shifting and taking in your clothes. “Where is your father? Your husband?”

“My father is in my hometown, and I don’t have a husband.”

“You live without a man?” He eyes you suspiciously. “A whore?”

“Okay,” you say, gently grabbing him by the shoulders and walking him over to the sofa. “Sit here, I have some men’s clothes lying around. Do not move.”

Aegon huffs, rolling his eyes and sitting back with folded arms. You wonder, as you go into your room to find something for him, if he’s heard the word ‘no’ very much in his life. It wouldn’t seem that way, but sometimes the way he reacts to you telling him off leaves you thinking otherwise. He’s a bigger mystery than you’ve ever faced, but something tells you he’s worth it.

You emerge after a while to see him flicking through the book you’d left on your coffee table, frowning. He looks up when you enter, setting the book down. “Your home is peculiar,” he informs you. 

“I know,” you say, handing him the soft clothes you’d found. “Student housing is kind of a lottery. You can get changed in the spare room, if you want. I’m going to go shower. If you get hungry, your leftovers are in that big white box there, okay?”

“Yes, yes, whatever.” 

You watch him enter the near-empty bedroom and shut the door, heaving a heavy sigh before you go off to your own room. You don't shower. Instead, you pull out your computer and set out to learn all that you possibly can about Aegon. 

What you learn twists your stomach into knots so tight you feel that they would trap the nausea that grips your throat from escaping. Aegon was no saint, no, but what you find is that his life is steeped in tragedy. If he believes himself to be king now but remains unburned by his cousin’s dragon, he must be near the end of his life; but the worst of his troubles have yet to begin. 

It is strange to think of the pathetic and bratty man in your flat as growing into the role of a king, if one could say he ever did. He seems nothing but a lost young man, unloved but for the power he afforded his Hightower family. 

The reports on him are so extensive and exhaustive that an hour has passed before you realise you haven’t been disturbed. You get up from your desk, wondering if Aegon has somehow wandered out of your flat and back onto the street.

When you open the door, you’re greeted by the sight of your kitchen cabinets strewn open, and your cheap bottle of vodka now empty on the counter. Aegon is sprawled on your sofa, cradling a novelty ceramic beer mug you won in a pub quiz in your first year. 

“Seven hells,” you mumble, going over to him and snatching the cup from him to be met with his whining protests. You sniff the cup, nose scrunching in disgust at the acetone-y smell. “Not even a mixer…”

Aegon looks up at you, trying to reach for the cup and whining your name. At least he changed into the sweats. The King’s Landing University jumper rather suits him, actually. 

“Please,” he says, looking even more closely akin to a wet cat. He seems on the verge of tears. “You’re pretty, do you know?”

“I’ve heard,” you say, setting the cup down on the coffee table and turning to him.

He grabs your wrist, tugging you closer with surprising strength considering how sloshed he is. “You’re so pretty,” he whispers. He almost sings your name. “Will you get me off?”

“Wh- Aegon!” You snap, tearing your wrist away. “No!”

“Please! Just your hand, you’ve got such soft hands!”

“Aegon,” you hiss. “No. You’re drunk. Even if I wanted to, that wouldn't be okay. You don't know what you're saying.”

Aegon pouts at you, falling back against the sofa and letting out a soft hiccup. “That doesn't make sense.”

“Maybe not in your time,” you say, grabbing him a blanket and laying it over him. “Gods- just- just try to get some sleep, okay? We’ll talk in the morning when you're fully sober.”

“I’ll die before that,” he says, snuggling up to the soft blanket with a ridiculous cartoon of a wolf on it. Another of your decor purchases you thought would be hilarious in the moment. You grab his cup and pour what’s left of the vodka into the sink before gathering up your remaining bottles and vowing to take them to the cabinet in your room with a lock. 

“Maybe. But if you vomit on my carpet, you’ll be paying the cleaning bill, your grace.”