#aemond targaryen modern au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

targaryen-dynasty · 9 months

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LONGING.

modern!Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader

"Can I please request modern Aemond x best friend reader smut? They are watching some movie or TV series together and they have a good time when suddenly some steamy scene happens on the screen (some choking, spanking, degradation/praise kink) and he notices that she is turned on by that? And he is like "if you want to experience it I can help you with it?""

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT–MINORS DNI; fingering, p in v, spit kink, praise kink, humiliating, degrading, profanity, best friends to lovers

WORDS: 3.5 K

You were approximately 20 minutes into 365 Days when a knock on the front door forced you to get out of the comfort of your bed to see who chose to get on your nerves. Much to your surprise, it was Aemond.

It wasn’t unusual for him to come over unannounced, sometimes the reason was his brother just getting on his nerves, and sometimes it was the strict rules of his mother. You let him in, closing the door whilst he already ridded himself off his sneakers and jacket. “I was just watching a movie, lemme turn it off real quick,“ you quipped, already walking back into the bedroom.

“What movie?"

You turned to face him, grimacing at the thought of admitting your guilty pleasure to him. Movies like that weren’t your cup of tea, but sometimes you felt the urge to watch them, just because you weren’t in the right headspace for any Marvel or Star Wars movies. Aemond and you were watching the final season of Game of Thrones, and since you thought that was the reason he came over, you wanted to prepare everything for it.

“… 365 Days? Flo and Bae talked about it and I thought I’d give it a try,“ you confessed, busy rustling the sheets to get the remote of your TV.

Aemond’s heavy footsteps approached the bedroom, and when you turned to look at him, you saw him mirroring the grimace you made before. You were surprised he even knew what kind of movie you were talking about, to be honest. “You know what? Keep it on. Game of Thrones has gotten shitty ever since season 7 aired.“

Knowing damn well that the heavy sex scenes you had seen before in the movie weren’t going to be the last ones, you took a deep breath to prepare yourself for the humiliation you had to endure, muttering a defeated “fine“.

It was so damn difficult for you to say no to him, especially because of the little crush you had on him ever since you both met through mutual friends.

You had been friends–or rather best friends–for quite some time at this point. You couldn’t even recall how it all started. After a night out with your friends, you both crossed paths more often than you would have liked to admit, and Aemond made the first move to reach out to you. You bonded over multiple things, your shared affinity for High Valyrian, and your similar taste in music only being two of them. At first, things were kind of rocky between you–it wasn’t easy to coax Aemond out of his tough shell–but once that step was accomplished, the relationship between you developed rather quickly. Everyone around you called you inseparable, and wherever one of you went, the other followed.

You both lay down on your bed with your legs being carelessly thrown over his, and a large pillow placed between your bodies for you to rest your arm upon. Aemond had his arms crossed behind his head, whilst your other arm was lazily draped over your waist, nervously fidgeting with the hem of your t-shirt.

Aemond appeared to notice the tension in your body the second you pressed play, the way the corners of his mouth quirked into a slight smirk gave it away—he knew what was going to happen in the movie, but you were far too distracted to even notice it.

The anticipation in your stomach had you releasing a strained sigh, your breathing growing more and more shallow, because you knew which scene was going to come.

Baela and Floris had told you about the yacht scene, and though they did not go into detail, you could clearly grasp that it was hot and spicy. And when that scene started to play, your whole body felt like it was on fire. Not from embarrassment, but from arousal. The way he manhandled her in the roughest way and took her however he pleased was something you always wanted to experience, too. But you never found the right guy, with most of them being as vanilla as ever. The urge to squeeze your thighs together to soothe the aching between your legs didn’t come as a surprise, your hips shifting ever so slightly because you weren’t keen on catching Aemond’s attention.

But when your eyes finally averted from the screen, you saw him already watching you, an amused expression on his face, and his eyebrow raised in a way that just screamed ‘as if’.

“It doesn’t take more to get you horny?“ Aemond spoke as if that was the most normal thing in the world–as if the man‘s demeanor in that scene was the most normal thing ever.

Your cheeks instantly heated up at Aemond’s shameless teasing, and you found it difficult to meet his eye. “God, it’s been a while since I got laid, okay? And it sure as hell did not look like that… sorry,“ you all but barked the last word, raising your hands in defeat to show your irritation. Aemond found humor in your reaction.

What you didn’t expect was Aemond pinching your chin and turning your head to force you to look at him. It was then that you noticed you had shifted closer to him in your trance like state–you were just far too focused on what was happening on screen than to catch your own movements.

Your lips were pressed into a thin line, not out of discomfort but the sudden proximity, and you were close enough to feel his breath on your face.

“If you want someone to fuck you like that, you know you could’ve just asked me, right?“

You weren’t certain if you had fallen asleep during the movie, but if it was a dream, you hoped you wouldn’t wake up.

“I… uhm,“ you stuttered, the sounds barely above a whisper. A thousand thoughts were racing through your mind, the most obvious of them being the fear he was just messing with you. Oh, you knew he had to be messing with you.

His other hand was resting on your stomach, the palm rubbing soft circles over it, and once you noticed, you couldn’t stop yourself from clenching your thighs once again.

“If that’s what you want, I can help you with it,“ Aemond said softly, nodding towards your TV. “I can fuck you like he would.“ There was curiosity written all over his chiseled features, and if he was nervous, he was damn good at masking it. Your teeth captured your bottom lip, chewing on it as you contemplated his offer for a few seconds.

His piercing gaze was lingering on you, and it seemed that something in your expression and body language had subconsciously changed, because he didn’t wait for you to speak a coherent sentence, before he already moved to lie between your legs. His hands were supporting his weight on either side of your head, and strands of his platinum blonde hair fell into his face as he was towering above you.

Your breath hitched in your throat–you felt him. He was hard and pressing against your clothed cunt. One rut of his hips was all it took for you to mutter a desperate “please“, giving him your consent to keep going.

“Please, what?“

You clenched your jaw, staring up at him with a dumbfounded expression. Was he serious? Taking in a deep breath, you overcame your timidity.

“Please fuck me like that, Aemond.“

The neediness in Aemond’s kiss was an indicator that he had planned to do that for a very long time. There was no softness in it, it was just clashing teeth and all tongue, your mouths molding so perfectly against each other. Aemond was subtle and skilled in what he did, so you hadn’t really noticed his hand wandering underneath the waistband of your pants to cup your clothed cunt–his thumb brushing over your sensitive bud, causing you to moan into his mouth.

He drank down every sound you made, eagerly taking everything you gave him. Truth was, he was just as aroused as you, and occasionally, you heard him grunting and humming, the sounds surging straight to your head and causing a wave of arousal to gush out of your core.

A gasp was heard as Aemond’s fingers pulled your panties to the side to slide into your hole, soaked enough to do so with ease. You clenched down on his fingers, and your back arched involuntarily against his firm body. It felt as if he gave you everything at once, but also not enough, the despair palpable in the way you grasped his biceps, your fingers digging into his muscles.

The hand that wasn’t occupied with scissoring in and out of you made quick work of yanking your sweats down and your shirt up to reveal your perky tits.

His lips found your right nipple, sucking and nibbling on it, whilst his fingers paid equal attention to the other. His lips traveled down your body, leaving a trail of open mouthed kissed until they stopped at your pubic bone.

However, your hands were quick to entangle into his precious, silver-blonde hair, and you proceeded to pull it like reigns to where you wanted him, and right now, you didn’t want his mouth on you–you wanted his cock. The sharp tug of you as you pulled him back up had him hissing, but it was evident that the stinging pain turned him on, because his lips were on yours in an instant.

“I said fuck me, not eat me out, Aem.“ And while you expected him to chuckle, he just flashed you a gaze that spoke for itself. The way his head was tilted slightly with his dark blown eye fixed with yours was clearly meant to warn you, you were playing with fire–and you never felt more alive.

But Aemond did what you said. His pants were quickly gone, discarded on the floor next to the bed, with his boxers following shortly after. You took care of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head to join the rest of his clothes. You shimmied your way out of your sweats and panties with just a little help of Aemond, whilst your oversized shirt stayed on.

Aemond sat back on his haunches, fisting his length to pump it to full hardness. You were propped up on your elbows, and for the first time ever since meeting him, you saw him completely naked. He was fucking well-endowed, and the bulbous tip of his cock shimmered with beads of pre cum leaking out of his slit. The sight had your mouth watering, a tingling sensation spreading throughout your body at the thought that you were finally getting what you had been dreaming of.

You shamelessly stared at him working himself to full hardness, but the most erotic thing still was how he maintained eye contact with you while he did it. His hooded gaze flickered over your body, and eventually stopped at the apex of your legs.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, the tension of it all causing you to release the most desperate whimper one had ever heard.

“Impatient, are we?“ The blonde teased, a cocky smirk adorning his features. You were glaring at him the second you noticed what he was doing, and quickly threw yourself onto him, the sheer force of your body pushing against his having him groaning out.

Aemond’s hand found your waist, gripping it tightly to flip you onto your stomach. You squealed at the movement, but wiggled your hips for him nevertheless. “On your hands and knees,“ he instructed sternly, and you eagerly obeyed. With all the arousal that coated your cunt, it was easy for him to slide the tip of his cock through your folds, coating it in your essence for extra lubrication, before he finally eased into you. The stretch was delicious, painful even, but you wouldn’t trade it for a thing.

He knew how to be gentle, really, but you wanted him to be rough—and he was all in for it.

Now it was his hand that entangled into your hair, anchoring him enough to pull you back onto his cock until he was bottoming out completely. You both moaned in unison–he, because you were just so damn tight, and you, because he stretched you in the best way possible. It felt as if he was up in your throat. You felt filled to the brim, and Aemond seemed to notice, because he gave you a few seconds to adjust.

Aemond drew his hips back until he completely pulled out of you again. The thick tip of his cock slid over your clit a few times, before he slammed back into you, his heavy balls slapping against your little bundle of nerves.

The pace he set up was frantic and reckless, he wasn’t showing any mercy. Instead of moaning, you were stuttering. „Fu—Fuckk,“ you hiccuped, repeatedly interrupted by the force of his thrusts. Your hands were clutching the sheets underneath you, your knuckles blanching from the force.

From behind you, you heard Aemond groaning and grunting praises. “You’re taking me so fucking well, Y/N, didn’t think it would fit.“ It had you blushing like crazy, and you buried your head into the pillows.

A part of you was ashamed you allowed things to get that far, fearing for your relationship with him, but the other part was satisfied. It was what you had wanted for a very long time, and judging by the way Aemond took you, you knew he wanted it, too.

While one of his hands found solace in the curve of your waist, the other pushed you further into the pillows with your hair neatly wrapped around its palm.

Your sounds were muffled, and the blonde was towering above your frame, seemingly not caring. It felt as if he rested his whole weight onto your body, but you couldn’t care less because you were in a state of bliss–finally someone wasn’t afraid to use you however he wanted.

Then, the man behind you stilled, the only thing audible was his heavy breathing. His hand remained on the back of your head, but you felt him leaning over the edge of your bed, and heard him fumbling in the top drawer of your nightstand. Once a soft buzzing sound filled the silence, you knew he had found your pink vibrating wand. You managed to slightly turn your head to catch a glimpse of him.

“How—“

He interrupted you, “Just guessed. It’s usually the top or bottom drawer.“ That bastard openly rubbed his game into your face.

Before you could interject, he pressed it to your clit, the words catching in your throat only to be replaced by whines and moans.

He yanked you up by your hair to pull your back flush against his chest, and changed his grip from your hair to your throat. It was beneficial, because he could choke you and get you into a lightheaded state, but could also support your body without much effort. Each time your pussy clenched around his throbbing cock, so did his hand around your throat.

Aemond consumed you in every way. His toned body and natural heat surrounded you with his arms at either side of your body, his usually blueish eye dark blown and burning a hole into the side of your face, his thick, veiny cock relentlessly splitting you in half. And you couldn’t be more thankful for it.

He rested his forehead in the crook of your neck, still thrusting in tandem with the wand's vibrations as he began to fuck you to your peak. His lips bullied your flushed skin, sucking it in to leave bruises, marking you as his.

His thumb pressed against your yaw, turning your head so you were able to look at him from over your shoulder. It then moved to tap against your bottom lip. Your mouth already hung agape, but he still commanded you to “Open up for me.“ He could ask everything of you with the gravelly voice he used.

With his hand resting around your throat like a choker, you had little to no freedom to nod and complied by opening your mouth in the perfect ‘o’ shape, with your tongue sticking out slightly. Since you had seen quite a few porn videos, you were perfectly aware of what he planned to do, hence you gulped in anticipation with your tongue waiting for what was to come.

Aemond leant to the side, and allowed his lips to ghost over yours for a few seconds. You saw him pucker his lips slightly as he gathered some saliva, his chiseled lips pursing as he swished it from cheek to cheek, making it thick and warm for you. You didn’t even register that you whined for it, until you heard him scoffing.

And when he finally deemed it appropriate to release his saliva, he made sure to let it happen teasingly slow. It practically dripped from his mouth to yours, and when the warm fluid touched your tongue, you were eager to swallow it–until he moved his hand to grab your chin, forcing you to keep your mouth open. “Don’t swallow… not yet,“ he commanded, watching his spit dancing over your tongue to the back of your throat, and of course you obeyed.

“Good girl.“

You moved your hands to grip his forearm, supporting you enough to withstand his harsh thrusts. The angle allowed him to thrust even deeper into your tight heat, and when Aemond increased the intensity of the vibrations, high pitched gurgles left your throat, the coil in your belly was so close to snapping. It was torture, and you loved it.

A bunch of grunts and expletives spewed from Aemond’s lips as he fought his own urges to cum with your walls sucking him in, determined to first and foremost let you cum before he was to claim you, and show you that you belonged to him and him alone.

He nuzzled his nose along your cheek, pressing a sloppy kiss to it. “You gonna cum for me, pigeon?“ His raspy voice breathed against your hot skin. “Swallow my spit and cum for me.“

The second his spit ran down your throat, you released one pornographic moan after another, slowly grinding yourself against the head of the vibrator, shoving yourself deeper onto his cock. His hand cupped your cheek to press your face against his lips, his heavy breathing and grunts the only sounds filling your ears.

“Mhh, I can feel how bad you want it. Let go for me, Y/N, be a good girl and soak my cock.”

The wand was snugly pressed against your clit, and while it slowly became uncomfortable, it still brought you a good bit of pleasure. But his words and the obscenity of it all was what finally pushed you over the edge.

After a handful of sloppy, yet excruciatingly intense thrusts, you felt it. White spots clouded your vision and your orgasm washed over you, the coil in your belly finally snapping. It was prolonged with Aemond drilling his hips into yours, but you figured it was for him to reach his own peak as well.

It hit him quickly, noticeable in the guttural moan he released. His own pleasure made it difficult for him to maintain the pace of his thrust, so they grew more languid and sharp. When his cock spilled his load deep inside your walls, you whined softly, grinding your hips to help him through his high.

You stayed in that position for a few seconds without either one of you moving, seemingly just enjoying the proximity and the aftershocks that flowed through both your bodies. A twitch of his hand pushed the vibrating wand tighter against your sensitive clit, and it had you jerking back against his body.

“’M sorry,“ Aemond muttered against the side of your face.

The vibrations from the wand ceased instantly when he clicked the power button, and you heard the thud of the toy being tossed somewhere beyond your reach in the vastness of your large bed.

When his cock became flaccid, he pulled out, and you felt his sticky seed seeping slowly from your abused hole down the insides of your thighs.

His lips found yours in a passionate kiss, and you felt the corners of his mouth quirking up just slightly against your lips, satisfied in knowing he’d made a proper mess out of you. He rested his forehead against your temple when he pulled back so that his nose barely brushed against your cheek, the thumping of your steadying heartbeat filling your ears.

The movie had already ended God-knew-when, and only your panting was audible in the safe confines of your bedroom.

“Satisfied?“

You chuckled, and moved to get off the bed to clean yourself up, “You have no idea.“

Aemond followed you into the bathroom to get himself clean as well, huffing at your reply in an amused manner.

“This movie has two more parts. We’re either watching it now or tomorrow morning. I don’t care, but this wasn’t the first and the last time I fucked you.“

General Taglist: @watercolorskyy @nothingqueens

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darlingofvalyria · 8 months

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the sister's hot best friend trope— masterlist.

In which you're Helaena's hot best friend, and you take pity on Hel's younger, quieter, in an-unhealthy-unbalanced-on-and-off relationship brother by fake dating him. Hilarity (and confuse feelings) ensues.

ONGOING, +18 MDNI | Modern AU! Aemond Targaryen x Sister's Hot Best Friend!Reader, ft. Cregan Stark x f!reader + Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : P A R T S ::;˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

｡˚ ❀↳˗ˏˋ PARTS MARKED 'M' CONTAIN MATURE CONTENT ˊˎ˗ ↴🌸

01 | 'it's called a hustle, sweetheart'

M! | 02 | 'baby, all you gotta do is trust me'

03 | 'pucker up, buttercup'

M! | 04 | 'oh honey, you can do better than that'

05 | 'we're really in it now, darling'

06 | 'it's called a lovebug, lovebug'

07 | 'my love, you can call me whatever you like'

Message to be added to the taglist!

#elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒#hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd modern au #aemond x reader #hotd crack #aemond targaryen modern au #aemond fluff #aemond angst #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x y/n #˚➶ ｡˚ ➥ elle's masterlists ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚.#tshbft ༊*·˚ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ

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daemontargaryenwhore · 6 months

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he is just special

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 3 days

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A Duet of Fire and Fate

Part One | Series Masterlist

Summary: his music school having been challenged by Riverrun Conservatory, Aemond is given the opportunity to come face to face with their top musician | Word Count: 4.7k~ | Warnings: smut (not with the main female character), toxic relationship, semi-public sex

Nothing quite compared to the low hum, and delicate whine of a cello. It had been that way for some time, ever since he'd discovered it.

Aemond still remembers the look on his mother's face, her chocolate eyes wide with pride and joy, when her son who was still freshly mutilated, resulting in the loss of sight in his left eye, took an interest in playing classical music.

The cello had become more than just an instrument to Aemond; it was his refuge, his voice in a world that had grown suddenly more silent and unforgiving. The accident had not just taken half his sight but had cast a shadow over his once bright future. Music, however, brought light back into his life, offering a path forward that he had never anticipated.

The Targaryen name, synonymous with power and prestige in other realms, here lent an aura of intrigue and expectation to his performances. Yet, it was Aemond's own skill, the raw emotion he channelled through the strings of his cello, that captivated audiences. His music was a blend of classical elegance and a palpable intensity that seemed to stem from the very depths of his being.

And Aemond was nothing if not a perfectionist at heart.

He perfected everything, to the point of madness some felt. And if he had not invited a feeling of deep, primal intrigue from every performance he gave, then what was the point? This innocent hobby at first, honed by his parents and caregivers alike, was now a way of life. A career. Something to strive for.

As he became older, this competitive nature never wavered once. He embraced it like a challenge to be met. And the conductor of this prestigious school, Otto Hightower, both a friend of his father, Viserys, a business giant well-known across all of Westeros, and conveniently his grandfather, expected nothing short of the best from his prodigious grandson.

He was never self-conscious either, even if he was easily noticeable and stared upon everywhere he went. And one might expect little attention from the opposite sex in a world of classical music and elegant instruments, but for Aemond this could not have been less true.

He attracted in every show, not only with his talent but with his haunting appearance. The straight long scar through his left eye was struck in the middle by a pale blue pupil, his other seeing eye stark in comparison. Women would watch his slender fingers strike fear, passion and energy into their hearts, wishing the very same could grip at their skin.

To their frustrations, he never acted on this popularity.

Alys Rivers was the only woman he ever reciprocated affections of some kind for. At least two decades his senior, his family had been less than impressed at her presence in his life. But there was no choice on their part. Aemond had made his, and Alys Rivers, like it or not, was his muse. A classical music lover at heart. And a professional critic no less.

One might be forgiven for thinking they disliked each other, they rarely exhibited romance. She was more akin to his manager than anyone else, critiquing his manner of playing and giving advice where he didn't want it. And he rewarded her, away from the prying eyes of the public, with quick, angry sex, exerting what control he did have, into intimacy.

She, like him, had a haunting presence to her, but one less mysterious. More overtly seductive. And though sometimes it seemed to irk Aemond, some felt as if they were still acquainted by convenience if nothing else.

Aemond always arrived early to Kings Landing Music College. The stuffy, wood-panelled room gave some semblance of comfort. There was something about the acoustics, the closeness, that felt almost womb-like. Safe. Familiar.

Meticulously, tuning his cello, he half-listened to the skinny, pink-faced Blackwood, practicing at the same time, “sound like a fucking dying pig.”

“Half dying,” Aemond murmured, with a roll of his eyes.

Otto waltzed in, clad in black slacks and a loose forest-green jumper, “Blackwood, get your fucking instrument in tune please. Fucking Cole could do a better job in violas.”

Criston twirled two Timpani sticks between his fingers, giving a look of mock offence from across the room, “just because I'm over here doesn't mean I can't hear you-”

“Alright, alright, before we begin today’s practice, I have an announcement,” Otto declared, his voice commanding attention. The room quickly fell silent, the anticipation palpable in the air.

“We’ve been challenged to a competition by the Riverrun Conservatory,” Otto revealed, his eyes sweeping across the room, measuring the reaction to his words. The announcement ignited a buzz among the musicians, the rivalry between the schools notorious for its intensity.

“This isn’t just any friendly showcase. It’s a direct confrontation on neutral ground at the upcoming city arts festival. We will be judged on technique, emotional expression, and the complexity of our performance.”

Aemond’s pulse quickened. Riverrun Conservatory had a formidable reputation, known for their strict discipline and innovative performances. The thought of competing against them stirred a mix of excitement and nerve.

Otto’s gaze swept over the room, lingering for a moment on Aemond, then moving on. “I want crispness, I want emotion, and above all, I want precision. We will begin selecting the repertoire tomorrow. Today, I want everyone to focus on their sections. I expect perfection and I will accept nothing less than your best.”

With a decisive turn, Otto left the rehearsal space, his footsteps echoing his determination. The room erupted into whispers and hurried discussions; the stakes had been set.

Blackwood sighed, stress gnawing and weighing on his face. “Fuck me, no pressure then.”

“Don't fucking shit yourself. It's only Riverrun,” a lanky guy mumbled behind his flute.

“Shut your fucking mouth!”

Aemond tuned his cello once more, a determined glint in his eye. He was eager to prove himself, not just as a formidable cellist, but as a key player in leading his school to victory. As the rehearsal began, the sounds of strings, woodwinds, and brass filled the room, each musician pouring their heart into the notes.

Aemond knew that every session, every note, would count. The festival was not just another performance; it was a proving ground. And he was ready to claim his place on it.

With his cello perched on his back as if it were an extension of himself, Aemond strode toward Otto’s office. The familiar weight of the instrument reassured him, steadying his nerves as he prepared to discuss the imminent arrival of their rivals from Riverrun Conservatory.

Upon reaching the heavy oak door, Aemond knocked with a confident rhythm and was quickly greeted by Otto, who peered out from behind a mountain of musical scores. His deep-set eyes and beard, more salt than pepper, gave him an air of aged wisdom.

"Aemond, what's the matter?" Otto asked, noticing the urgency in Aemond's posture.

Stepping inside, Aemond carefully leaned his cello against the wall. "I've heard that Riverrun will be arriving tomorrow to practise here, in preparation for the festival. They’ll be using some of our facilities. I wanted to discuss how we can use this to our advantage, especially since their star pianist is said to be among them."

Otto raised an eyebrow, a slight grin playing at the corners of his mouth. Perhaps he saw the cunning nature reflected in his grandson he perceived in himself.

"Indeed, they will be here. It’s a rare opportunity to observe them up close, to learn their strengths and possibly their weaknesses. We’ve managed to arrange different practice times to ensure there’s no direct overlap, but our paths will certainly cross."

Aemond nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. "If we could subtly observe their practice sessions, we might glean insights into their preparation and techniques. It could inform our strategy and help us focus our rehearsals where we need the most work."

Otto walked over to his desk and shuffled some papers, revealing a schedule. "Here are the timings. Riverrun’s sessions are slotted just after ours in the adjacent rooms. It’s crucial we keep our interactions professional, but keep your eyes and ears open. Understand how their pianist integrates with their ensemble— it’s not just about her solo performance."

"Should we consider adjusting our pieces or rehearsal focus based on what we learn?" Aemond asked, his voice low.

"Potentially," Otto responded, tapping his fingers on the desk. "But let’s not be hasty. First, observe. See if there’s a particular piece they struggle with or excel in. We’ll adjust our strategy based on solid evidence, not assumptions."

Aemond felt a surge of tactical excitement. "I’ll make sure our section leaders are discreet but observant. We can use this chance to refine our performance to outshine theirs."

"Exactly," Otto agreed, handing Aemond a copy of the schedule. "Use this opportunity wisely. We need every edge we can get against Riverrun. Remember, they are guests in our school, so maintain the highest standards of respect and professionalism at all times."

With a firm nod, Aemond picked up his cello, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. As he left Otto’s office, he knew the next few days could define the outcome of the festival. The challenge was daunting, but Aemond was ready to lead his school not just to compete, but to win.

Aemond was barely through the front door of his apartment before Alys was barraging him with questions. Her fine lips were lacquered with red, fingernails painted a charcoal black as she poured herself a coffee.

“I heard about the competition. Riverrun is notorious. Sure you can handle it?” She smirked behind the rim of her cup.

He sighed, setting down his cello, “yes, I can fucking handle it.” That was his only response before sinking into the sofa, laying his head flat back against the sofa, eyes shut, as if he wanted her to disappear.

He was somewhat ashamed to admit the way he tensed and then relaxed at the way her fingers expertly kneaded his shoulders, massaging the stress from him. But even more so as they trailed down, sharp nails ghosting over his neck had his lips parting and his trousers growing tight.

“Now, now. You know I only want you to do better,” she cooed, “and you will get better, with the right critique.”

He could hear her smile, her tone light and sensual as she trailed off.

Aemond turned his head and looked up at her where she was looming over him, her thumbs still pushing circles on his sore muscles.

“Critique?”

Alys’s lips curved up in a knowing smile, her gaze fixed on him with an intensity that seemed to pierce through his weariness. Her green, emerald like eyes, were like daggers, hooking and reeling him in somewhere dark.

"Of course, critique," she murmured, her voice a melodious blend of challenge and tease. "Every artist needs it, even the great Aemond Targaryen. Especially with Riverrun breathing down our necks."

She moved around the sofa with the grace of a cat, setting her coffee down on the table before moving her legs either side of him, brushing her clothed core beneath her skirt against his growing hardness. "I watch, I listen, and I provide feedback that no one else dares to give you."

Aemond sighed, shifting to look at her more directly. The red of her lips was stark against the softer hue of her face, a deliberate pop of colour that matched the sharpness in her words. "And how exactly does your 'feedback' help me tonight?" he asked, his tone a mix of scepticism and intrigue.

"It helps because it makes you think. It makes you feel. Isn't that what music is about?" Alys replied, her hands now moving down from his shoulders, her fingers tracing lines across his chest through his shirt. "Besides, seeing you tense up like that, only to melt under my touch—it tells me where you're holding back. Not just here," she said, pressing briefly into a particularly tight spot. Then, her touch sank to his belt, then drifting lower and stroking his growing erection, teasing his length slowly.

"But here too."

Her approach was intoxicating, a dangerous mix of personal care and professional critique. "You're brilliant, Aemond, but even brilliance can be polished," she continued, leaning in to whisper against his ear. "Let me polish you, make you shine brighter. Let me push you to be the best, and then push a little harder."

Aemond felt the dual edges of her influence—the softness of her caress, the hard truth in her critique. It was a manipulation he allowed, perhaps even welcomed. Her presence was woven into his life, a thread that was both comforting and controlling. Sometimes too tight.

With two needy hands on her buttocks, he rolled up her skirt around her hips, dipping between her welcoming thighs, his ego somewhat inflated to find she was wet already. Alys did little else in reaction than assisting to undo his belt, taking his hard length in her hand and seductively massaging from base to tip.

He pulled her forcefully against him, fingers dug into her pale skin as she hovered over him and sank slowly, splitting herself open on his cock with a practised moan. Her hips moved instinctually, stretching to accommodate his thickness over and over.

Between grunts and curses, Aemond was rarely vocal. Sex was a way to dispel frustration and invite inspiration in his clear head afterwards. Alys could be anyone. But he had to admit, he found her interesting, if not for her advice.

Her manicured and rounded nails dug into his neck as Alys moved on him with vigour, one hand stealing between them to circle her bud to try and hurtle herself towards completion.

It had occurred to Aemond that she was similarly using him in the same way.

With a bruising grip around her waist, Aemond jutted up into her shakily, coming hard within Alys’ quivering walls in the aftermath of her orgasm. And once she gained her breath, she peeled his hands off her as if he were suffocating. His member slid out of her, softened and slick with her moisture.

Alys straightened, stepping back to observe him, her eyes assessing as she wiggled her skirt back down. "Tomorrow, I'll come to the rehearsal. I want to see how you handle yourself with Riverrun watching. I'll be watching too, taking notes." Her tone was playful yet serious, a reminder of her dual role in his life.

As she retreated to the kitchen, Aemond lay there, a part of him resenting the ease with which she shifted roles from lover to critic, yet another part eager to prove himself worthy of her praise, his heart going fast still in the aftermath of their hastened sex.

He knew that Alys's critiques, though wrapped in seduction, were aimed at forging him into a sharper, more formidable musician. In the complex symphony of their relationship, her motives played out in chords, each note crafted to challenge and change him.

The next day dawned crisp and clear, the early morning sun casting long shadows over the grounds of the music school. The building was abuzz with the nervous energy of anticipation, the air vibrating with the undertones of an impending musical clash.

As he made his way through the corridors to the rehearsal room, he could hear the murmur of voices, the tuning of instruments, and the occasional burst of laughter or a sharp command. Today, the halls of his own school would play host not just to its students but also to their rivals from Riverrun Conservatory.

Aemond entered the rehearsal room to find it already half-filled with his peers, each one keenly aware of the significance of the day. The room was set up with chairs and stands arranged in a precise semi-circle, awaiting the arrival of the Riverrun musicians.

Before long, the members of Riverrun Conservatory began to filter in, their expressions a mix of confident smiles and cautious glances. The room's atmosphere thickened with the tangible sense of competition, each group eyeing the other, assessing and reassessing.

Amid this tense backdrop, Alys slipped into the room, a notepad clutched in her hand and a pen poised for action. Her presence was a sharp reminder to Aemond of the dual aspects of their relationship. She caught his eye and offered a slight nod, an unspoken signal that she was here in her professional capacity.

The rehearsal began with Otto taking the lead, his voice firm as he called for attention. "Let's begin with a warm-up. Remember, while we share our space today, let's show our guests the level of excellence we strive for."

Aemond took his place, settling his cello between his knees. His fingers danced over the strings, tuning with meticulous care, his gaze occasionally drifting to the Riverrun musicians who were setting up nearby. Among them, he noticed a young woman, stood between two other boys who looked over her at one another with smug smiles. They were most certainly either violinists or cellists. But the woman between them, he saw, had such delicate fingers, this had to be the pianist he had heard so much about.

All watched them perform with a sort of challenging, stoic expression, as if judging every movement, every chord and sound made. Every choice scrutinised. In the corner of his eye, between glances at the music, Aemond noticed Alys scribbling down notes.

And when their performance came to an end, Riverrun Conservatory clapped, alongside their conductor, Lyonel Strong. He was burly, red-cheeked, strict but well-meaning, as far as Aemond had heard. But the way he and Otto Hightower looked at one another was akin to some secret rivalry nobody else was privy to.

Alys slid up to Aemond’s side as he began to tidy his instrument away, her presence immediately electric. “See that man?” she whispered, nodding subtly towards Lyonel. “He conducts with his heart on his sleeve, not a metronome like Otto. That’s why they play with such passion. It’s infectious, captivating.”

Aemond nodded, absorbing her analysis. He knew of her critical acumen, but there was a personal edge to her voice now. “You sound almost admiring,” he observed, watching her closely.

Alys’s expression darkened slightly, her emerald eyes flitting back to Lyonel. “I might admire his style, but not the man. Not after everything.” She sighed, a sound more resigned than angry. “He might be the maestro of emotions, Aemond, but off that podium, he’s a different story.”

Aemond did not inquire further. If he was being truthful with himself, he didn't much care for Alys' personal grievances.

“Keep a close eye on their cellist,” Alys warned from the sidelines, watching Riverrun tune and start up their instruments for their own warm up.

As Riverrun began their performance, Aemond’s attention initially settled on the cellist, analysing his fluid technique and the rich emotion flowing from his strings. However, his focus soon drifted to the pianist, who was poised before her instrument like a painter in front of a blank canvas. Her movements were almost ethereal, feather-like, as her fingers danced across the keys, each note floating into the air with a delicate precision that seemed to transcend the mechanics of the piano itself.

The pianist's performance captivated Aemond, her connection with the music evident in the subtle sway of her body and the gentle closing of her eyes as she played. It was more than mere execution, it was an embodiment of the piece, a true manifestation of feeling and artistry.

Alys, standing beside Aemond, watched the pianist with a discerning eye. After a moment, she leaned closer to Aemond and whispered, "See how she plays? It’s like she’s not just striking notes, but weaving a spell. Each touch is thoughtful, precise yet so naturally expressive."

Aemond nodded, fully absorbed in the performance. He could see what Alys meant—the pianist wasn’t just playing, she was performing in a way that made the piano speak directly to the audience. It was an inspiring display of how technique served as the foundation for emotional expression.

"Her approach is impressive," Alys continued, her voice a mix of professional respect and genuine admiration. "That’s what we need to aim for, Aemond. It’s not just about the notes, but how you make them feel alive, how you connect them to the listener’s soul."

Watching the pianist, Aemond felt a surge of inspiration mixed with a competitive drive. He realised that this was the standard he needed to meet and exceed. The way the pianist’s performance resonated in the room, how it seemed to stir the hearts of all who listened, including his own—it set a clear benchmark.

As the piece drew to a close, and the final note lingered in the air, a hushed silence fell over the room before applause erupted. The pianist looked up, her expression serene, almost surprised by the intensity of the audience’s reaction.

Aemond clapped, his applause thoughtful, infused with a newfound respect and a burning motivation. He turned to Alys, a determined look in his eyes. "I see it now," he said. "But she's nothing special. Our pianist is just as good."

“Just as good isn't enough. We have to be better. We need to surpass them—to be so outstanding that Riverrun feels like just a prelude to our performance. They shouldn’t just be impressed by us; they should be overwhelmed."

Aemond’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he processed her words. He watched the pianist from Riverrun mingle with the crowd, her presence still resonating with the lingering notes of her performance.

The shy, timid prodigy. A story written a million times. He felt as if he saw right through her, and no way was that washing with him.

“Meet me in the supply room before lunch,” Alys whispered, turning on her heel before Aemond could reply. The swing of her hips as she moved towards the Riverrun musicians and indication of what she wanted from him. All she ever wanted from him.

Aemond merely watched on from the sidelines, arms crossed. Alys mingled with them all, shaking their hands and wishing them luck in the weeks of practice and competitiveness to come. And when she finally shook the hand of the pianist, his gaze flickered between his lover and the delicate frame of this stranger he had yet to know.

Everything about her was different to Alys. She wore sheer black tights, and sensible shoes. Her skirt was flowy and ended mid tight, covered only at the top by her high-necked top, also black. And it was here he recognised a similarity in her and Aemond's dress sense.

Alys on the other hand exuded sexuality. Tight fitting skirts and dresses, no tights and heels at least four inches high. And while Alys wore a sleek straight style, the pianist was loose and free, if not slightly frizzy.

He watched the two women talking animatedly. Alys no doubt congratulating her on how well she plays.

He'd never been in more need of a cigarette then right at this moment.

“I apologise for him, he’s usually more expressive on stage than off,” Alys joked lightly as they approached, teasing Aemond in her usual manner.

The pianist extended her hand to Aemond with a firm, confident grip that surprised him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve seen your performances online,” she stated, her tone straightforward, skipping the usual pleasantries. Her directness was refreshing yet unexpected.

Aemond took her hand, a bit taken aback by her assertiveness. “Thank you,” he responded, realising only after the words left his mouth that she hadn’t actually complimented his work, just acknowledged it. “Your performance today was quite remarkable.”

“Thank you,” she replied, nodding politely, her smile brief. There was no reciprocal flattery, no effusive praise—just a clear, concise acknowledgment.

Her straightforwardness intrigued Aemond. It was rare for him to encounter someone who didn’t engage in the typical exchange of mutual admiration among peers, especially when one had just praised the other. Her confidence and lack of concern for social niceties made him rethink the usual dance of compliments that often felt more obligatory than genuine.

Their exchange maintained a professional veneer, but Aemond felt a distinct chill in the air as the pianist held his gaze with an unyielding intensity.

“I'm interested. How do you prepare for a performance of this calibre?” She asked in a probing manner, clasping her hands behind her back. And when she swept her hair out her face, a dash of her perfume hit him, light and floral, he noted.

“I focus deeply on the composition's technical demands," he responded crisply, his voice carrying a cool, almost detached quality. "Emotional expression is secondary to flawless execution.”

She bit back a smile he noticed before she could hide it, “that is quite a disciplined approach.”

"It’s the only way to ensure a performance is beyond reproach," he stated flatly, eyes scanning the room. "Judges appreciate perfection.”

“And the audience?”

He shrugged, “whether they do or not, it doesn't change my approach.”

She nodded, leaving a long pause, as if laying a trap, “interesting,” she mused, "I always believed that connecting with the audience was the true measure of a performance’s success."

“Emotions are too subjective.”

Alys, sensing the growing tension, interjected with a light laugh. "Aemond here is all about the technicalities when it comes to music. He believes in precision over passion."

The pianist tilted her head slightly, considering his response with an analytical gaze before a playful glimmer appeared in her eyes. “Are all aspects of your life subject to such rules?” her tone light, but probing. “Musicians are usually branded as romantics, after all.”

Aemond's brow twitched, a subtle annoyance. “There is a time and a place. In a competition, it's about control. Discipline.”

She hummed, slightly amused, “how practical. Does it not get lonely, striving so often for perfection?”

He shrugs, “it doesn't matter. Wins are measurable, feelings not so.”

“Musicians are not remembered for their wins. They're remembered for the feelings they tease out of people.”

Aemond’s gaze held steady, impressed by her ability to intertwine light-hearted banter with serious debate. “Maybe so, but I’d rather be remembered for setting records than stirring hearts.”

There was a long pause, her eyes never leaving him as if trying to piece together a delicate and intricate puzzle. And she had to bite her lip to contain her smile, simmering frustration in his chest.

“Interesting,” she mused, releasing her lip from between her teeth.

She finally broke their intense gaze, stepping back slightly as she prepared to leave. "Thank you for the conversation, Aemond. It was... enlightening," she said, her tone serious and reflective. "I'll be interested to see how your focus on the technicalities plays out in the competition. Good luck."

With a formal nod, she turned and walked away, her demeanour composed and professional. Aemond watched her rejoin her group, the interaction leaving him with a lingering sense of disquiet. Her straightforward, no-nonsense approach had challenged his views subtly yet profoundly, pushing him to reconsider the balance between technique and emotion in his performances.

Something he'd considered very little.

And as he fucked out his frustrations with Alys in the supply room, pushing her front against the wall and plunging into the tight warmth and solitude she offered, the encounter had ignited a new sense of challenge within him, or perhaps it was a hint of doubt, unsettling the confidence he had always felt in his methodical approach to music.

The usual clarity with which he viewed his musical career was now clouded with questions, thanks to a simple yet impactful exchange. It was a confrontation of ideals that made him both wary and intrigued.

It was clear now that the competition had escalated to more than just notes and rhythms—it was a clash of philosophies, a duel of passion in dual meaning.

And he was prepared to meet it head on.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blackswxnn @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @emmaisafictionwhore @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust @minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @primonizzutto @qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince

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sapphire-writes · 1 year

Text

Down in Flames ~ Masterlist

pairing: Aegon x Reader & Aemond x Reader

chapters: 10/10 COMPLETED

summary: Dracarys is the next big thing, and you have followed the band to the top. But tensions rise as the band grows into fame. Will you make it out in one piece, or are you destined to go down in flames?

rating: mature/explicit/18+

tropes: ex-boyfriends brother, enemies to lovers, he fell first

❤️‍🔥 listen along with the playlist ❤️‍🔥

Main Story

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Oneshots

The Christmas Party Prequel Daylight (Aegon's Happy Ending)

Headcanons

Aemond's Dream

Moodboard

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officialaemondtargaryen · 9 months

Text

A Fine Line [part 1]

Summary: You've been with Aegon for a little over four years and the relationship just isn't the same. His brother isn't helping the situation, either. This is a Modern Day AU!

Pairing: Aegon x Reader / Aemond x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Author’s Note: Guys, I think it goes without saying that you should never cheat on anyone. Just don’t do it. This is a complete re-write of an old Marvel idea that I had. It is also my very first HOTD fic, so I am open to any feedback that you may have. This man just has a motherfuckin' hold on me, like I don't even know what happened. Nevertheless, I hope that you enjoy this! Please let me know if you would like to be tagged.

Warnings for the entire series: severe angst, cheating, unprotected sex, jealousy, lying, possessiveness, stalking, manipulation, and language.

Playlist here

Read Chapter Two

You felt the bed shift.

The sun hadn’t yet made a break in the early morning sky, and the room was still dark; only dimly lit by the bathroom light that had just been turned on. You could hear the faucet running and the faint sound of teeth being brushed as you reached over and checked the time. The intense light of the screen made your vision blur and eyes squint, but after a few blinks, you could make out those three numbers; 5:06 AM.

A shadow moved along the hallway walls, and you quickly placed your phone back on the bedside table and turned on your side. With your eyes clamped shut, you listened as he moved around the room, mentally picturing every action; opening the closet door, pulling a shirt from the hanger, crossing the room to the dresser, finding a pair of socks and boxers in the drawer. It was the same every morning, every day, at the same time.

Aegon wasn’t Aegon without his daily routine; wake up, brush teeth, shower, breakfast, work, lunch, work, home, dinner, bed. You used to enjoy it, the structure that you had both brought to each other's lives. It was a complete change from when you had first met him. He used to be completely haphazard; snoozing through every alarm and perpetually late, but he had come into his own after he had met you.

You used to wake up with him and get an early start on your day; making breakfast together, sitting at the table together, reading your emails while he scrolled through the news. You'd make plans for dinner and talk about your friends, and your jobs, and you'd laugh and joke. And it used to be nice. But now you just pretended to be asleep, waiting until he left before getting out of bed.

You wondered if it was wrong to do that, because, to you, it certainly felt like it was. Aegon brought it up, too, a couple of times; always wanting to know if something was wrong, or if you were okay. Truth be told, you weren't even sure of the reason for the change, so you just told him that you were tired and that work was stressful.

Often, you wondered if maybe you should start again.

Start trying...

Maybe it’d make things better.

Or as your best friend, coworker, and self-proclaimed love guru, Baela, liked to say, there was no getting better. According to the white-haired cynic, the vast majority of relationships are doomed from the start, and that you should take your unhappiness as a sign that things just weren’t meant to work out with Aegon.

Some mornings, you’d look in the mirror- bare feet cold on the tile floor, hands gripping the sides of the porcelain sink- and asked yourself if Bae was right; if all of this was a sign that you just weren’t meant to be. You’d ask yourself if you really loved Aegon, and if it’d be better to break things off than to dig yourself in deeper. You knew that the answer was probably ‘yes’, because if the answer was ‘no’, you wouldn’t even be asking those questions in the first place.

But then you’d remember what it was like to be together when the two of you first started dating, and couldn’t help but hope that one day it’d go back to that. Fooling yourself into believing that this was just something that all couples went through, and allowing yourself to continue on with your boring, auto-pilot type life.

The subway platform was cold and damp as you waited in the crowd of a hundred people. Melting snow from the streets above had water dripping down the walls, and it smelled of musty leather and dirty shoes. Your scarf and jacket weren’t doing much to keep you warm, and you cursed yourself for not grabbing your gloves before you left the house. Although, you probably wouldn’t have kept them on very long because you couldn’t use your phone while wearing them.

It was the first week of January. Christmas and New Years had come and gone and people were making their way back to work after a long weekend. In the office, there was a giant board in the break room for people to write down their resolutions; serving as a reminder to keep people on track for the first few months. Most of them were ‘eat healthy’ and ‘exercise more’, and most people would fall off the wagon before February.

Baela was already at her desk when you got to your tiny, cluttered, shared cubicle. A red coffee cup in one hand and cellphone in the other; her hair was pinned up to perfection and shined underneath the fluorescent lights; swaying softly as she turned around in her desk chair.

“Good morning!” She said with a smile. “Coffee’s on your desk.”

“Thank you,” you replied. “I didn’t have time to stop this morning.” You shrugged out of your jacket and hung it over the back of the chair before grabbing the small, cardboard cup and bringing it to your lips; eyes fluttering shut at the taste and warmth of the beverage. “You’re too good to me, B.”

“I know,” she replied with a kind smile. “How was your weekend? Did you and Aegon do anything exciting?”

“We stayed home, had a couple glasses of champagne and watched the ball drop.” You replied with your back turned to your coworker, fingers dancing over the keyboard as you logged into your computer. “I broke out that pretty, purple lace lingerie set,” Baela made a sound to let you know that she was still listening. “He said that he really liked it, but he didn’t want to do anything because he was too tired, and had to go into work early.”

You could hear her clicking her tongue against her teeth.

“It’s like, we have these really good moments together,” you continued. “And most of the time, things are pretty good, but they just aren’t the same. There’s no passion, or spontaneity, it’s like we don’t have fun anymore.”

“Yeah, but you guys have been together for a few years,” Baela replied, turning slightly in her chair to look at you. “Relationships usually change after awhile, that’s normal.”

“Bae, the last time we really had fun was Jason's birthday.”

"Our boss Jason?" She gulped. You nodded and her eyes widened in disbelief. "But that was last May!"

“That’s exactly my point.”

“Speaking of birthdays,” Baela began, finally changing the subject. “I was planning to celebrate Jace's is on Saturday, and I was thinking we could take him out for a few drinks, let him beat us both at bowling, I might even make a cake.”

“I can do Saturday,” you replied as you marked the date on your desk calendar.

“Great!” Baela exclaimed. “He’ll really like that, I think.”

As if on queue, Jace popped his head over the wall of your cubicle, eyebrows raised. “Hey ladies,” he said smoothly with a slight smile. “How are you both on this Monday morning?”

“Great!" Baela answered first with a wide, sparkling smile.

“I wouldn’t have used that much enthusiasm, but sure, it’s great.” You mumbled in return, not taking your gaze off of your calendar after having noticed that it was almost four years to the day that you met Aegon. Little, red hearts outlined the box that marked the day.

You remembered that day so vividly, as if it was just yesterday; stumbling out of the snow and into an inviting coffeeshop on the corner of 39th & 7th. Your boss had asked you, of all people, to interview the son of the President & CEO of the most well-known oil company in the world regarding the mass job cuts that continued after the COVID-19 pandemic. He was late to the interview by twenty-three minutes and you found it out-of-place that he wasn't wearing a suit. His hair was unkempt and his blazer was not doing a very good job of hiding a toothpaste stain on his button-up.

"Thank you for waiting, the train ran late." He greeted as he shook the snow from his hair and extended his hand to you. The closer he became, the more apparent it was that he was either high or hungover. "Aegon."

"Y/N," you replied and gestured towards the table. "Your assistant said that you liked one cream and two sugars?"

What was supposed to be a 30-45 minute interview turned into an hour and a half long conversation. Aegon had an answer for every one of your pointed questions, and gave great responses about the future of the company with his father's dwindling health and the succession of his business- which was what everyone really cared about, really. But you found yourself nearly hanging on every word, even if you truly thought most of it was bullshit. There was something you found incredibly attractive about his sarcastic smile and the way that he quipped back at you when you'd try to back him into a corner.

When it came to the article, you didn't hold back- you couldn't; blasting Aegon for his unprofessionalism and the excuses that he made for his father and grandfather regarding the layoffs. After the paper was printed and distributed, you received a bouquet for roses to your desk with a card that read, "Thank you for your honesty and the conversation. Let me take you out on a real coffee date some time? 212-555-8598"

You remember the look on Baela's face as she stood over your shoulder reading the tiny, rectangular card along with you. Her elbow digging into your side as she wagged her eyebrows, teasing you as if you were children. But nevertheless, you did text him, and you did let him take you out on that date, and you had been together ever since.

“Hello?” Jace’s voice pierced through your thoughts. “Earth to Y/N! You coming to the meeting or are you just going to sit at your desk and daydream all day?”

You looked up to see Baela and Jace both standing, waiting for you. There was a mandatory team meeting in five minutes.

“Yeah, I’m coming.” You said quickly, grabbing your coffee and following your coworkers towards the conference room.

“What’s got your head in the clouds?” Bae asked under her breath as you walked side-by-side.

“Just thinking about when Aegon and I first met," you replied.

She just shook her head at you and took her seat at the table, pulling a pen from behind her ear, and waited for the meeting to start. Her face was determined and focused, ready to spill all of her new ideas for this week’s paper, and knowing Baela, she had a million and one.

After the meeting, you both went straight back to work, only letting up off of your keyboard for your lunch hour. Your cubicle mate was strictly relationship advice, and had an entire bin in the mail room dedicated to letters from her fans; who were mostly women in their late 30′s to mid 40′s, wondering what to do about their lazy husband who failed to notice that they got their hair cut.

You had your own column that was rightfully called ‘Popular Now’, where you wrote about everything that was popular that week; including television shows, music, people, movies, and restaurants. Sometimes you got to go to fancy restaurants and club openings, movie premiers, and concerts. Despite your life long dream to be a front-page, investigative crime journalist, you enjoyed your job and the perks it offered.

“You want to go grab a drink?” Baela asked, turning off her computer. She had a stack of fan mail in her hand. “We can read about all the horrible break ups that happened this past week.”

“As fun as that sounds,” you began. “I have to go to the grocery store before I head home. I’m making Linguine tonight. Aegon's favorite.” You said as you shut off your desk lamp and began stuffing some papers into you bag.

“Suit yourself,” she replied with a shrug. “I’ll ask Jace.”

“You two have fun, then!”

The streets were overcrowded with overworked city-dwellers who were desperate to get home. The wind had picked up significantly since that morning, numbing your face as you walked through the crowd of double-breasted, suit wearing men and women who were yakking on their phones about what was for dinner. Your tights did nothing to keep your knees from shaking, and you started to regret your decision to walk instead of call a cab. It would have only taken longer for the latter in the stop-and-go traffic of rush hour.

You tried to call Aegon once you got into the store to make sure that there wasn’t anything else he needed added to the list, but he didn’t answer. He barely ever did. He was almost always on his phone, taking business calls and messages for his father, but could never answer the phone for you. At this point you didn’t even bother leaving a message, knowing that he wouldn’t take the time to return it.

After you had made your way through the aisles with your basket in hand, you walked towards the checkout lanes, only to find two long lines that were moving much, too slow. Your foot tapped impatiently against the floor as you waited. You turned your head slightly, watching as more and more patrons continued to line up with their carts. You noticed the gentleman standing behind you with only one item. He looked oddly familiar, but you shrugged him off as just being another hipster guy with long hair.

"Would you like to go in front of me?" You asked him politely.

The corners of his lips turned into a small smile as he eyed your basket. "I appreciate the gesture," his voice was smooth. "Are you sure you don't mind?" You shook your head and stepped to the side for him to move in front of you. "Thank you."

"Of course," you responded.

The line was still moving painfully slow; coming to a halt as the cashier called for a manager on the overhead speaker over the price of a shampoo bottle. Your eyes perused the magazines on the shelf to your left, glossing over the headlines and laughing to yourself at the more ridiculous ones. As you continued to wait, you couldn't help but steal another glance at the man now standing in front of you. Your eyes must have lingered a little longer than they should've, tracing across his sharp features, because you were brought back to reality when you heard him clear his throat- his steely gaze returning yours.

"I'm sorry," you confessed to him as your cheeks grew warm. "You just look so incredibly familiar and I can't put my finger on it- have we met?"

"You're implying that I'm forgettable," he responded with a smirk. "I don't think we have, I would certainly remember if we had as there is nothing forgettable about you." Your blush only intensified as he held his hand out and took your hand into his. "I'm Aemond."

"Y/N," you replied, fingers curing around his. "Wait, Aemond?" It finally clicked. This was Aegon's brother that you had never met due to the fact that he was always traveling for business. You had only seen his picture on your refrigerator a million times. Only, in the picture he was about twenty years younger, his cheeks were more plump, and he had both eyes. "You're Aegon's brother, there's a picture of the two of you as kids on our fridge."

"You must be his lady, then." He replied and you thought you could hear a hint of disappointment in his voice. You hadn't even realized that he was still holding on to your hand until he dropped it. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"The pleasure is mine," you smiled as he placed his item onto the conveyor belt as the line began to move again. "Aegon says that you are always traveling for work? How long are you in town for?"

“I actually got promoted,” he replied and you placed the plastic divider on the belt, signaling to the cashier where his order stopped and yours began. "I’m home for good now.”

“Oh that’s great!” You exclaimed. “You should come by some time. I’m sure Aegon would love to see you.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled as he handed his card to the cashier. “I will.” He took his bag from the end of the counter and looked back at you one last time before taking his receipt from the cashier. “I’ll see you around, then.”

You nodded as the cashier asked if you had your discount card.

Aegon wasn’t home when you got there, and you reveled in coming home to an empty apartment. It was so quiet; no loud television or hour long conversations with his financial advisers about the business. Just the sounds of boiling water and the sizzling of shrimp in the frying pan.

It was peaceful.

You stood in front of the refrigerator staring at the small photo of Aegon and his brother held to the stainless steel with a smiley face magnet. Aemond's freckles and messy hair, Aegon's toothy grin and mischievous eyes as they pulled funny faces for the camera. Aegon didn't talk about his brother much, but you knew that he missed him.

“Yeah man! It’ll be great to have you around again.” You heard the front door open shortly after you drained the noodles, signaling that Aegon was home. The door slammed behind him, followed by the thud of his briefcase on the living room floor. “You should definitely come by soon,” he said loudly into his phone. Moments later, he joined you in the kitchen and placed a kiss on the side of your cheek without saying a word and then headed up the stairs to change into something more comfortable. “I can’t wait for you to meet, Y/N. You’re going to love her, brother.”

You smiled to yourself as you pushed the shrimp around in the pan one last time before shutting off the heat. Everything looked and smelled amazing, and you couldn’t wait for Aegon to try it. You had the table completely set up; white wine, the nice plates that were only for when there was company, and the candles were burning.

“Hey babe,” he said as he stepped back into the kitchen. “That was Aemond. He’s back in town for good now, he’s going to come for dinner Friday night.”

“That’s great!” You replied, and Aegon picked a plate off of the table.

“He’s excited to finally meet you.” He was grinning from ear to ear. “I was thinking maybe you could invite Baela?” he followed up as he sat the plate on the counter next to you and moved to grab a bottle of beer from the fridge. “So that you have someone to talk to if we get caught up in catching up."

“Y-yeah,” you replied with your back to him, wondering why Aemond didn’t mention your run-in at the grocery store. “That sounds like a great idea.” You placed the pot on the kitchen table with an oven mitt underneath and took to your usual seat.

Aegon, still standing, hurriedly fixed himself a plate and popped a shrimp in his mouth. “Mm, this is delicious. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to eat in the office. I have a lot of work to catch up on.” He told you quickly and dashed up the stairs.

Before you could say anything, he was already gone.

You took a sip from your wine glass and sighed, staring at the dinner you had prepared. Despite how hungry you might have been before you cooked dinner, your appetite seemed to have completely vanished. You didn’t even bother to fix yourself a plate, just finished your wine instead before standing up and putting the leftover away.

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two-white-butterflies · 6 months

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series masterlist | parallel lines

Description: An ordinary middle school teacher moves to a desolate town with her fiancee. After suffering episodes of vivid nightmares, she realizes that his uncle looks exactly like the man in her dreams.

Pairings: daemon targaryen/reader, aemond targaryen/reader

Trope: Reincarnation

(A rewrite of 'Waiting for a Bus')

Prologue: An Overused Trope Part One: Nobody's Son Part Two: Meeting in Starlight Part Three: Subject of the Poem Part Four: Our Love Was True Part Five: You Can't Catch Me

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unicorncornflakes · 8 months

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Family Sins - One Shot || Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Paring: Reader x Aemond Targaryen.

Summary: Every Thursday afternoon you and Aemond meet, even if you have to pay for his family's sins.

Tags: Alternate Universe/ Emotional Hurt/Angst/ Drama & Romance/ Eventual Smut.

Warnings: I am just sad. This is the best I can write these days.

Author´s note: Pls, enjoy! Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!

Word Count: 4.2 K

You were soaked to the skin. All your clothes were loose. But, you were still pretty. It was all Aemond could think when he saw you walking through the aisles of that roadside gas station. He followed you with his eye while you consulted the prices of a small cocoa bun. Your black sweatshirt was soaked all over while your damp hair was tied up in a ragged bun. Your black-painted nails grazed some of the price signs as you put the small dessert back in its place and grabbed a cheaper one. You smiled at him as he followed you closely and he picked up the same product that you had left in its place. You didn't talk, Aemond wasn't given to too many words and you were tired from the rain. But, storms always made you happy. It was something Aemond could never understand, but he shared with you.

Outside, at that small gas station in the middle of the forest, it was still raining. Only Aemond's gray Mercedes and the old bicycle that your mother had given you two birthdays ago were parked at the door. You always pedaled five kilometers to meet Aemond. Every Thursday afternoon. He came directly from the city and was waiting for you, drinking a coffee that he always considered awful while you arrived. He always thought he could go find you. Pick you up at the door of your house and take you to a better place. But, that would have been giving you greater importance than you really should have for him. Although, you had driven him crazy. That was all he could think every time he saw you arrive at that place on your bicycle. In summer you always arrived with your short shorts, in winter with your military boots.

On that rainy autumn afternoon, you arrived with that huge black sweatshirt that must have been borrowed, courtesy of your older brother, surely. Or that was what Aemond thought as he followed you through that small commissary that the gas station had. The idea that that sweatshirt belonged to a man other than your brother drove him crazy, so he preferred to think that it belonged to your brother. It made things easier for him. You looked at a series of cookies one last time and left them in their place.

Aemond continued to follow you at a safe distance. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye while you laughed. The two of them alone in that place. Thus, things seemed easier than they really were. Everything was simpler when you were alone.

You walked up to the register and opened the small cloth bag hanging from your back. You took out that cat-shaped purse that Aemond had bought you at a market in Flea Bottom. Also soaked, you opened it, careful not to break it while you counted the coins that that strawberry bun that you had left on the counter cost. Right behind you, Aemond also placed the cocoa puff you had chosen earlier and took the elegant black leather wallet out of his pants. Unlike you, he wasn't wet. His hair was immaculate and his clothes looked as always, well ironed and freshly washed. That black turtleneck sweater he was wearing that day, you knew, cost the same as what it took to eat at home for a whole week.

“Give me a pack of Lucky Strike too,” he said diligently as the cashier looked you up and down. Aemond also dropped a package of condoms on the counter and you blushed while he simply prepared to pay with his credit card. Two small buns. A pack of tobacco. A package of condoms��

Rob, the cashier, looked over his shoulder at you as he charged Aemond for that purchase. He was your neighbor and you were sure that he knew what you and Aemond were going to do that rainy afternoon. You left the store with the strawberry muffin even before Aemond finished paying, although it was clear that you preferred the chocolate one.

He looked at you through the huge glass doors of that gas station and wondered if it wasn't better to give you the treatment you deserved. However, he simply took the condoms and tobacco in one hand, that chocolate bun in the other and went outside. The water continued to fall hard and you were leaning against the door frame. It fell so hard from the ledge that it soaked your torn canvas sneakers, even though the rest of your body was trying to regain heat. Aemond gave you the cocoa puff and you reluctantly took it. You knew what awaited you at home that night because of that simple gesture that was intended to be kind on Aemond's part.

“I could have bought it,” you said without much encouragement, taking down your backpack from your back and putting the condoms and both buns in it. You looked at Aemond, who remained stoic and unfazed as always.

“You would have bought the strawberry one because it's the only thing you can afford and because you need to eat something,” he responded, shrugging his shoulders and opening the packet of tobacco. “This way you will eat something you like,” he said out loud, making the difference between him and you evident: he always paid with a credit card, it seemed like his money was created out of nowhere. You always carried coins in your bag and you never bought what you wanted because you simply didn't have the money for it.

“I guess,” you answered, not daring to look at him. Aemond approached you and finally kissed you. All of his slim, slender body against yours. The height difference was considerable. He just grabbed your face in his hands, his lips making contact with yours in a sweet and passionate way. You held his wrists, as if you always needed an anchor to the ground every time he kissed you. That kiss, surrounded by the storm, was observed under the disapproving gaze of that gas station cashier in the middle of nowhere. The rain threatened to soak you, but you didn't care.

As always, in the middle of all your kisses, Aemond opened his only eye, almost wanting to check that you were real, and not a simple fantasy of his imagination. He always slowly closed his eye again as your lips continued to crash against each other.

At the end of that silent kiss, Aemond took your hand, without looking back, and opened the passenger door for you in the rain. You quickly got into the car and Aemond ran to the driver's seat in the rain. You saw how his hair had now become wavy and he gave a half smile when he saw how you smiled silently, tiredly resting your head on the seat. “I could take the bike and put it in the trunk. Take you home after the motel,” he confessed, not daring to look at you. At that moment, he wanted to go further with you, beyond what he wanted to admit.

"No, do not worry. Then just leave me here and go. I’ll go home from here on the bike,” you told him, not daring to look at him either. You grabbed one of the wet, unruly strands covering your face and tucked it behind your ear. “I don't want my parents to know where I've been this afternoon,” you confessed dejectedly. You knew they would find out before nightfall, just when Rob walked through the door of your father's bar, the nerve center of the town where you lived.

“As you wish,” Aemond responded as the engine roared just started. He turned on his car radio. It only played classical music and you wondered as always if Aemond listened to anything else or the high cultural esteem in which you knew he was held prevented him from doing so. “I bought you other sneakers,” he whispered while keeping his eyes on the road. The windshield wipers of his car moving frantically in the face of such an amount of water.

“It wasn't necessary,” you responded, biting your inner cheek. You hated that he did that. You hated that he bought you everything you needed. You knew he did it for a simple reason: to hold your meetings every Thursday afternoon. As if you were a prostitute, Aemond bought everything he thought or felt you needed. It was his way of keeping you by his side. The only language of love that seemed to know how to offer, understand… “My sneakers are fine,” you said, looking at them. Destroyed and torn. That was all they were.

“They were just on sale,” he responded, putting the issue to rest. His voice always seemed to be devoid of all emotion. Sometimes you wondered if Aemond knew how to feel anything other than indifference or anger, but you knew he did. Every Thursday afternoon he demonstrated it to you. Always in the solitude of that motel room that he reserved for a few simple hours. The radio interrupted the broadcast to talk again about another urgent environmental disaster and Aemond turned it off.

Both you and he knew it was what was going to be talked about. You could see him tense up as he drove. And you directed your body towards his, releasing the seat belt. You bit your lip hesitantly as you brought his body closer to his, one of your hands gripping his seat. The other traveled to Aemond's fly.

“Hmm” was all you heard him say as your hand slowly lowered the zipper. The metallic sound of each and every one of the teeth that made it up exploded against your ears, just like the sound of the rain in the now silent interior of that high-end car. You unbuckled his belt and your hand quickly found his cock in his pants, hard and warm, soft and firm. You bit your lip seductively as you took her out of those extremely expensive underwear. “I don't want to have to give explanations at a police checkpoint like last time,” he answered, without taking his eyes off the road. Grabbing your hand with his as the other grabbed the steering wheel. “Don't be mean to me, (Y/N),” he asked you under his breath.

“I just wanted you to relax,” you whispered sensually and he smiled again without looking at you, although you never knew if when Aemond smiled he was truly happy. You returned to your seat and watched as he quickly buttoned his pants again. “If you don't like it…” you purred and he interrupted you.

“Hmm, I didn't say that,” he repeated again, remembering the fine he had had to pay and how your cheeks had blushed the most while that police officer asked you what your relationship was and forced you to take out your ID card to verify that You were actually nineteen years old and no less. Aemond was six years older than you at the time, but he had always looked older than he really was. He remembered telling the police officer that you were a couple and how you had looked at the ground in regret as those words came out of his mouth. The following Thursday you had not shown up, nor the next one. Three weeks later you came back with a very bad-looking bump between your ribs that you promised was the result of a bad fall on the bike. He knew you had lied, but stating it out loud would have meant never seeing you again.

You finally arrived at that roadside motel and Aemond left you in the car while he went to the reception to get the keys to room thirteen, the one he reserved every Thursday. You received a message from your mother asking if you needed her to pick you up after your study hours at the library. You answered no because you were carrying the bike. You lied to her again. You turned off the phone and closed your eyes. You could understand why your parents didn't want you to see Aemond, but it really wasn't his fault…

He woke you from your thoughts as he opened the car door. You walked out next to him and he held your hand again. You ran through the rain until you reached the second floor of the motel. He clumsily opened the door and you both walked in laughing and soaked. Aemond kissed you again, closing the bedroom door behind you. Holding your face again, with no escape. Your bodies swayed together in that room that had witnessed your meetings for the last two years.

You could hear him gasp as he kissed you. You broke away from his grasp and took off your soaked sweatshirt, which fell heavy to the floor. You also took off your wet shorts and were left in your underwear. Cold and shivering, Aemond covered you with his body, though he was almost as wet as you. You took off his eye patch and he laid you on the bed.

He smiled bright and powerful, like you knew he really felt about almost everyone. He was a Targaryen. He took off his turtleneck and you could see the symbol that already named him as such. The tattoo was fresh on his skin. A green and black dragon on his shoulder. Detailed to excess and you knew it named him as someone important within the family and business, criminal and legal structure. You didn't dare ask, even though he knew you knew the meaning. Your sister had explained it to you when Aegon received his. Years ago, you had both been naïve enough to think that type of tattoo was exciting and powerful. Your sister had been a fool. You weren't on a different path.

Aemond's arms supported his entire weight as he lunged at you to kiss you. His pants though on but his belt undone. He had never been a subtle boy. He smiled at you proudly and cockily, he almost seemed to know what you were thinking. He was dying to tell you that just two days ago he had given him the tattoo, that he had stood stoically and without any emotion while it was done, but his heart had been beating strongly, as if this were finally the moment of approval that he had been waiting for all his life.

He kiss you. His lips met with strength and need. They eagerly bumped into yours. A watery sound. A pleasant shiver ran down his spine, like every time he kissed you. You knew there wouldn't be much more foreplay.

He stayed silent over you. His single eye scrutinized you while the prosthesis remained immovable in that empty eye socket. He had never told you what had happened to him. He would never do it. You had heard rumors, but... His eye continued to look at you in silence. You looked beautiful with your hair wet, all spread out against the pillow, your eyes locked on his, a half smile on your lips.

His thumb brushed your bottom lip gently. Comfortable silence reigned in that cheap motel room. The gray walls. The simple sheets. That sad blind half lowered. The complete scene of your meetings every Thursday afternoon. “I love you,” Aemond confessed in a whisper. Your eyes appeared to offer a small surprise upon hearing him. He felt your entire body stiffen under him. It was the riskiest confession he could make to you. However, he was happy. At that moment, he was happy after a long time. “I love you” he repeated again with more force, as if he wanted to reaffirm his words.

His lips found yours again and you relaxed at the attention. You were in big trouble if Aemond confessed something like that, but it was really what you wanted him to do. Confess that way, with you, and only you. He lightly bit your lower lip with a smile, trying to relax you. Your hands ran up his arms as you kissed. The hand traveling on his right shoulder tried to avoid the dragon tattoo. Aemond was beginning to follow in his older brother's footsteps... You thought, you always thought that he was not that kind of man... but, he craved power like everyone else, right?

Aemond's always skillful fingers undid your panties, removing them heavy from not only the humidity of the rain that had soaked everything. You were too. Your core throbbing and waiting for a simple contact with him. An arrogant smile appeared on his lips when he saw the small soaked grotto, as if his mere presence already activated all the keys you needed. You smiled shyly at him and he kissed you again.

Your bodies merged in an embrace that promised to be eternal. You felt Aemond's cock hard, eager for what he always got when he was with you. The bright red tip protruded through the elastic of his boxers and you licked your lips in a reflex and subconscious act that Aemond was always grateful for. Seeing your wet lips and bright eyes, he could only think that you were perfect, terribly perfect.

“I'm going to get the condoms,” you whispered, a feeling of regret running through your head, as if those words had ruined everything. The atmosphere that had existed until that moment seemed to have almost disappeared and you felt his grip loosen.

“Sure” It was all he said as he stood up and took off his pants and boxers. He didn't dare look at you because he thought that afternoon was finally the moment you would leave him... bareback. He had confessed. He had done it... and you had been taking contraceptives for a year, he had no more sexual encounters than the ones he had with you... he looked at you out of the corner of his eye, crouched down rummaging through your bag, looking for the packcage that he had bought himself. You had never talked about it, but… “I'm not my brother, you know?” He whispered, looking back ahead, not daring to look at you. “If something happened, I would…”

You interrupted him by returning to bed with a condom and leaving it between the sheets while you lay on your side and he turned to look at you. “You know we can't take risk,” you told him as he went back to the bed and grabbed the wrapper. You didn't point anything out but it always made you nervous that he would tear it with his teeth. He put it on silently and positioned himself between your legs. He looked into your eyes and, for the first time, you saw an authoritative gleam behind them, almost as if that damn tattoo had changed him.

“I'm not my brother,” he repeated again under his breath. He entered you forcefully, without breaking eye contact. Your legs surrounded your hips and you moaned at that impact with such violence that it caused his testicles to collide against the slit of your pussy. You closed your eyes and didn't say anything. The sins of his family would always be present among you.

“I'm just saying that family is destroying the town.” Old Tom was sitting at the bar while your father cleaned it. It was late, but he kept moving that old rag against the bar. His eyes filled with worry as he waited for you. He knew where you had been. He knew what you had done. He had always thought of you as a smarter girl than your sister, but it was clear that you were not.

“Once again they have polluted the river with waste from the plant,” said Clark. His mug of beer met his lips. Your father knew where you had been, Rob had told him before he went home. His face had turned gloomy just then. “Those damned Targaryens…”

Just then, all the voices fell silent in the town bar. You had just walked through the door, soaked to the skin. You had pedaled there from the gas station in the rain, even though Aemond had insisted on giving you a ride home. You couldn't let your father see you with him, although when his accusatory eyes fell on you, you knew he knew. Everyone tried to return to their previous conversation as your steps led you to the bar. There a boy with white hair painted in silence. You sat next to him and saw your sister's son painting a green dragon. You were surprised to see him there. Normally the child was always well hidden at home.

“They are just destroying lives. That's the only thing they know how to do…” Tom attacked again. Clark agreed and your father approached in silence, trying to pretend he didn't know, but he knew, of course he knew.

“Your mom had to go pick up your brother… Why don't you join Greg for dinner?” your father whispered as the four year old was still engrossed in his drawing. You scooped up the little boy, who clutched the paper in his hand as you walked up the back stairs.

Your house was on the second floor of your father's business. The metal steps creaked under your weight, but your father's eyes exerted a greater weight on you. He would never tell you anything. He hadn't told your sister before he died either, but the Targaryens had destroyed his life, the life of the people in that place... your life.

Greg stared blankly as you dressed him in his pajamas after dinner. Sitting on your bed, his purple eyes seemed empty and innocuous. It had always been like this. Consciousness never seemed to have reached that unwanted child. You ruffled his hair, almost expecting a smile, but he just fixed his eyes on you. Empty and deep. As if he knew everything and nothing at the same time. You sat down next to him and took off the new sneakers Aemond had forced you to accept.

“Today I saw a dragon,” you commented, also staring at the wall. The boy turned his head slightly. His huge eyes fixed on you. The stories you always told him seemed to be the only ones that woke him up from his lethargic state. “A green dragon, like the one you were painting,” you smiled at him and his eyes seemed to get even bigger.

Greg's real name was Aeron, courtesy of your sister and his father, Aegon Targaryen. Your sister had been stupid enough to get pregnant by that rebellious boy and die in childbirth, leaving her son alone. Your parents had wanted Aegon to keep the child, but it had been impossible. A child who was not like the others, a dragon locked in a home where they were hated. Greg. It was a much better name according to your father. Your grandfather had been called that.

The Targaryens had destroyed the town with the pollution emitted by their businesses, both legal and illegal, and your entire family. And you… you had fallen in love with one of them.

Greg ended up falling asleep with you while you waited for your mother and brother. Your father always closed the bar late, but it wasn't normal for them to take so long to come back. Something must have happened...

At midnight, the lock on the front door clicked and you went out into the hallway to see if your brother and mother were finally arriving. However, that was a big mistake.

“Be thankful they're not going to press charges,” your mother's words echoed throughout the house, no doubt she was scolding your brother. He uttered something incomprehensible in the state he was in. At the time, you didn't know it, but your older brother was in trouble with Aegon again... bloody knuckles. His lost look. The split lip. While you had made love with Aemond, Gregory had punched Aegon to death.

You stood petrified, contemplating him in silence. Just then he located you. “You're a whore who sells herself for a simple cocoa roll,” he whispered. He had never told you anything like that. He, unlike your father, had always known how to hide his anger towards you. But, that night was the one that changed everything.

“Gregory, stop it,” your mother scolded him, knowing before you what he had in mind, after all she had given birth to him… Gregory pounced on you. “Gregory!!!” your mother shouted it. His bloody nails dug into your brother's skin as he hit you while you fell to the ground.

Your father had only hit you that one time... only that one time... was all you could think as you received one blow after another. He grabbed your hair, stretched your neck, and choked you until you were unconscious... The Targaryens had destroyed everything you cared about... and the only thing you could think about was that Aemond would be angry when he saw your body full of bruises... The enormous Greg's eyes watched everything in silence. That child had only seen violence in his life.

The Targaryens always destroyed everything, and Aemond and the tattoo he now had on his shoulder were proof of that.

#aemond targaryen x you #aemond x y/n #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen modern au #aemond modern au #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x fem!reader

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myfandomprompts · 1 year

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Dubious Headlines | Aemond Short Story (Part 1/3)

Aemond x Reader Modern!AU Masterlist

Synopsis: In a world where Dragon Incorporation is the most powerful firm in town, Rhaenyra Targaryen's last announcement sends you, a journalist, to interview the younger sons of the family. However, you did not ask for any of this.

Viserys Targaryen was sick, and had for many years bequeathed all of his shares in the care of his children. But everybody knew that the Targaryen was a drama family, and that strife was ever present between the different siblings. Lately, the eldest, Rhaenyra, had made an announcement in which she said to intend her branch of the company to take a whole other direction, putting the other branches managed by her brothers and sister in a difficult position.

“Y/N, where are Mathilda and Sam?”

You raised your head from your computer to look at your boss, M. Vander.

“Uh… I don’t know, I have not seen them all morning. Covering the charity event maybe?”

The man looked around desperately, thinking. “Ok then," he decided, eyes darting at you. “In my office please.”

You looked bewildered. You swore that if you he gave more work because Sam and Mathilda had run off again…

“I need you to go to Dragon Incorporation and interview Aegon Tagaryen,” he announced as he sat behind his desk.

You internally cursed. As if you did not have enough work already. “What? Why me? I cover cultural events, I am not…”

“You did hear about Rhaenyra’s announcement right?” he interrupted you.

“Yes, but since when are we interested in gossip, sir?”

“It’s not gossip. It’s gathering impressions on the changes that might have an influence on the citizens of the city. I’m sorry but you are the only one available that is competent enough Y/N.”

Please, anything but this.

“I- I don’t think this is a good idea sir, Mathilda is the one who usually interviews them I-”

“Y/N, I know you will manage perfectly. Take care of this please.”

You deeply inhaled as he dismissed you, nodding and got out of the office.

The reason why you dreaded the interview, except for the fact that it was absolutely not your area of expertise, is that Aegon Targaryen, second son and head of the communication department at Dragon Company, had such a reputation that you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. As a journalist, you were usually one of the firsts to learn what was new in town, and Aegon was definitely in the top 5 of the most scandalous things you had seen. Besides the accusations, the trials, the complaints and the police reports that most of the other agencies tried to hide from the public, he was also clearly a man that just did not care about his actions. He liked doing interviews, though, you had seen a draft of Mathilda’s interview with him once. You could not emphasise enough how much she had to remove in order for it to be decent to be published.

You had called your friend on your way to one of the many locations of Dragon Inc., taking your sweet time.

“I am so gonna kill them. They owe me big on this one, being absent today of all days. I hate them.”

“So you managed to get an appointment with him? With Aegon?”

“Uh…. No, I didn’t, not really. I kinda hope that I would just show up and that he would be absent. This way I won’t have to do it at all!” you sighed as you climbed the stairs that led to the offices floor.

“Y/N…Vander will be mad if he realises that you delayed this on purpose.”

“Trust me, if I am not the one who does the interview, he will have no trouble sending someone else, and be a hundred percent more satisfied with them, a clear win for both of us the way I see it.”

You were on the third floor, near the CEO’s office. As you walked through the corridor, you did not see the man who had just exited the elevator, almost bumping into you. He watched you warily as you continued talking loudly over the phone, not bothered at all if you were heard. Who was that woman?

“You are not that bad at interviews… Just go in there, ask the questions and get out, easy.”

“No it’s not! I’m used to report on cultural events, not… whatever this is! Gods I really don’t want to do this, Mathilda told me awful things about him...”

The man was walking behind you at a safe distance, now amused at your ranting. From what he gathered, you were a reporter. Were you here for his brother?

“Yeah, I read the papers too… Are you there yet?”

You were now before the door on which the shining plate of “Aegon Targaryen, Communication Director” was displayed.

You sighed. “Yeah… I’m standing at the door,” you breathed out, looking at your feet, defeated. “Maybe I could just… invent an interview.” Behind you, the man silently laughed at your unprofessionalism, comfortably leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you talk to the door. He was enjoying this far too much.

“You are stalling again… It will be alright. Hang up, and call me when you’re finished.”

“I guess you’re right, I should just, rip the band aid off. Ok… Talk to you soon.”

You hanged up, nervously fidgeting with your phone and puffed. You were staring at the door, gathering the courage to knock. As seconds passed without you moving a muscle, your silent observer then decided to have a little fun. “Can I help you?”

You jumped, startled at the sudden voice so close to you. Arms crossed over his chest, a man was staring at you, the ghost of what you thought to be a smile on his lips. How long has he been there?!

“Oh god you scared me!” you gasped, clutching your hand over your chest. Then you realised how odd your behaviour must have been. “I’m so sorry I was just… umh.”

He arched a brow, waiting for your response. You cleared your throat nervously.

“I came to see Aegon, Aegon Targaryen. I’m Y/N L/N, journalist at The Westerosi.” you smiled awkwardly before extending your hand to him. He looked at you for a moment before taking your hand.

“Aemond Targaryen,” he said as you shook hands.

Of course. You had recognised him at once, a beautiful lilac eye on one side and another piercing prosthetic blue eye on the other, a chiselled jaw line, silver-haired, and so very tall. There stood Aemond Targaryen, the most mysterious of the Targaryen’s siblings. You knew him to be quite intimidating from the pictures you have seen of him, but you did not expect the effect of seeing him in the flesh would have on your body as you let go of his hand. His whole demeanour screamed power and poise. You tried to control the feeling that crept up from your neck to your stomach. You cleared your throat, his intense gaze on you. You nervously fidgeted with your phone again.

“So is he…” you pointed to the door, “Is he in there?” you asked, your voice unsure.

“Yes.”

Aemond simply crossed his arms again, watching you look at the door like if it was an insurmountable obstacle. You were clearly not a fan of his brother.

“Would you like me to knock for you perhaps?” he asked.

“No no! Thank you, I perfectly know how to knock!” you tried to joke as he raised his brow higher. “I just, uhm…”

But then an idea came to your mind. Aemond was the most secretive of his family, never giving interviews, never appearing at social events as much as the others, and he was just there. You didn’t really know if he was as vile as his brother seemed to be, but you knew that if you brought back an exclusive interview of Aemond Targaryen, your boss would be delighted, and might even overlook the fact that you had been… unable to talk to Aegon. You had to take your chance. You turned around to face him.

“Actually, do you have a moment? I am gathering information on the recent changes that occurred in your company. Would you mind answering a few questions…?”

That is an interesting turn of events.

He seemed to pounder the proposition for a moment, and you were certain that he would throw you off, that you had overstepped.

“Very well,” he stated, his face letting nothing appear as you widened your eyes in disbelief. “What do you drink?”

You were so taken aback that you forgot to speak properly.

“Dr-d-” you stammered, “What do I drink?” you repeated.

“Yes. Coffee? Tea? I can have you brought anything you want.”

This man was unsettling. You had to put yourself together. “Uh... no, thank you. I’m fine.”

“Mh.”

His eye was scanning you, and you couldn’t help but fidget on the spot, clearing your throat as you felt naked under his gaze.

“We will be more comfortable in my office. This way.”

Without a glance back at the door you had almost walked in, you followed him to another corridor, and inside a luxurious office. He sat behind his desk, tapped something on his phone and invited you to sit. You did as ordered, thanking him and taking out your pad containing the questions meant for Aegon.

You tried not to be disturbed by the unfaltering stare the second Targaryen son was giving you as you asked question after question. You had quickly rephrased some of them to be more suited for him instead of Aegon, and you thought that it was playing out quite nicely for an unintended interview.

He listened to you attentively, answering each of your questions as concisely as possible, and you could not be anything but impressed by how eloquent he was. You considered it a shame that his family did not use him more in public.

At one point, a beautiful woman that you gathered to be his assistant, entered the room, carrying a hot cup of coffee in hand. Her presence made you stop as she lowered herself to put the cup down next to Aemond, her low cleavage making you regret the fact that you had not taken off your blazer. He thanked her and as she left, her eyes looked at you from head to toe with a sufficient smile before walking her heels to the door and closing it, but not before giving the brightest smile you have ever seen to Aemond. You guessed that being this handsome and rich might have that effect.

He seemed unfazed though as he took a sip of his coffee nonchalantly. You could not help but stare at his throat as he drank the hot liquid, his Adam’s apple slightly pulsating at the movement. You were forced to clear your throat again, snapping out of your trance as he put down the cup.

“So, how would you describe your sister, Rhaenyra, in simple words? How do you see her as a member of your family and as an eminent member of your firm?”

He let your question hang in the air for quite some time, before biting the inside of his cheek and sitting back on his chair. He clearly did not like this one.

“Next question,” he deadpanned.

“I’m sorry?”

“I don’t like that question, so next please.”

You dropped down the pen that was ready to write to look at him with surprise. “You do realise that this interview is about the subdivision of the company, started by your sister.”

“Half-sister. And I understand perfectly. Please continue.”

You hold his gaze for a moment, unsure.

Very well then. “Have you ever considered, as head of the financial branch, to invest in other areas than the one you are currently involved with? Have you ever thought of sponsoring events or… celebrities for instance?”

As he answered your question, relieved that he did not seem crossed by the previous one in any way, you could not help but notice the way he licked his lips as he took another sip of coffee, his tongue slightly peaking out. At this moment, you had completely lost track of what he was saying, and by the time he had finished talking, you internally congratulated yourself for recording the interview on your phone. How very professional of you.

It seemed that your temporary distraction had you more disturbed than you thought as you saw the next question originally written for Aegon on your pad: How does the fact that you work in the same company as your wife influence you r decisions?

This was obviously not a question suited for the man sitting across from you, so you took a moment to try and adapt it to him, but it seemed that you were incapable of coherent thoughts right now.

“Are you involved with anyone?”

The question had left your lips faster than your brain could think. Not that you apparently owned a brain right now by the look of it. You cursed yourself. Big mistake.

You could see how the question had caught him off guard as you blushed and fiddled with your pad, apologising profusely at once.

“I’m so sorry, don’t mind the last one, it was meant for your brother…!” you stammered before realising that it sounded worse. You quickly found the next question, your body heating up.“Where do you see the company in ten years time?”

He had taken a bit more time to answer this one, watching how flustered you were and how your cheeks had reddened, making your skin so appealing to him that he could have sworn that he felt its warmth from this distance. Your nerves were all over the place, but it calmed down as the interview came to an end, taking control of your body again. You thanked him and stood up to shake his hand, promising him to keep him updated.

“Thank you very much for your time, M. Targaryen. I will take your secretary number and notify you when the article will be published.”

He left his place from behind his desk in order to accompany you to the door as you retrieved your coat, bringing with him the sweet scent of sandalwood and coffee. You had to get out of here.

“I look forward to reading it. When you see my brother, please tell him I said to behave.”

Oh. Aegon. It had completely escaped your mind. You undoubtedly felt like you had no obligation at all to go see him now, having obtained the interview of his quite private brother… But you could not tell him that. Instead you just nodded, hoping that he would not accompany you to his brother’s office.

“I will. Although I don’t think I will need anything more from him. I feel like I have everything I need,” you said, tapping on your pad.

“That is a relief. This way you won’t have to… invent an interview. I’m sure your skill lies elsewhere.”

You blushed at this, realising that Aemond had heard a good part of your conversation on the phone. You did not move as he stared at you quite pleased at your reaction.

“I would never… I mean, it was only a joke,” you tried. “I take my job very seriously. It’s just that I am more used to deal with people from other backgrounds.”

“Mh,” he nodded, reaching for the doorknob behind you. You exhaled in relief, the prospect of freedom one move away, but he paused again and did not open the door right away.

“By the way, the answer is no.”

You turned your head to him, almost bumping into his chest. “I’m sorry?”

“No, I am not involved with anyone at the moment.”

You tried to recall when in your life you had been as short of breath as you were now, stuck between the door and the man whose gaze made you feel like the weakest thing on earth. You tried to reply but nothing came, and as you bit your lips in anxiousness you tried not to notice how his eye had quickly lowered to the movement.

He only smirked and opened the door, stepping aside to allow you space. You swallowed as you quickly passed him, hands clutching at your coat in tension.

“Have a good day Miss L/N.”

And then he closed the door, leaving you to face the pretty assistant studying you from behind her desk, clearly annoyed at you, for whatever reason. You rapidly took the contact you needed from her and exited the building, welcoming the fresh air and grabbing your phone, calling your boss right away. Your lungs were on fire.

“Is it done?”

“Well, not exactly. I managed to have much better.” You were overselling it, but it was a miss or hit situation.

“What did you do Y/N?”

“I had obtained a meeting with the one and only Aemond Targaryen! He answered all of the questions on the subdivision, and even managed to get the intel you could not have if it had been with Aegon. This is good for us! You know he rarely gives any interviews.”

You were met with silence.

“Y/N…”

“Listen, I promise you to do the best article I have ever written on Dragon Inc. You will not be disappointed, I swear. Give me a chance Vander.”

“Y/N, how do you think Aegon Targaryen will react if he learns that he had not been consulted first?”

“Do we… really care about that, sir?” you asked, slightly appalled as you considered it.

“He is the main correspondent with our newspaper. Mathilda has always gone to him when we needed insight on Dragon Inc!”

You swallowed. This would not stop you, you had to make it work.

“All due respect sir, if you wanted that kind of interview, you should have sent her, not me. I managed to have an exclusive one and I believe in what I have gathered. You should too.”

Your boss went silent again, and as you saw this as a good sign, that we would be considering it at least, you continued.

“I will send you a draft tonight, and I’ll prove to you that this paper is worth publishing. I can assure you that Aemond’s Targaryen’s insight will raise the reader's interest much more than Aegon’s.”

Some more seconds of silence.

“Very well. I don’t like this, but I trust you Y/N, you have rarely disappointed me. I expect it before tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Then you quickly texted your friend, summarising your encounter with the one-eyed Targaryen before you jumped in a taxi and went home, reading over your notes.

Yep. Aemond Targaryen would not leave your mind any time soon.

Your boss had been happy with the draft, and now you were at your desk, writing the actual article. You had taken your time in scolding Mathilda and Sam, blaming them for forcing you to take on a task you knew would not have you so riled up, but your friends had only sympathised with you, and you had not been able to stay mad at them for long.

By noon the article was finished, and you had to wait for tomorrow’s paper for it to be published. You had managed to progress on your other projects in the meantime, but now it was dark outside and you were the only one left in the office. Again.

The piece of paper next to your keyboard with Aemond Targaryen’s contact information, was now becoming more and more difficult to ignore as you were soon to go home. All day you had glanced at it, hesitating between sending your completed interview to him now or waiting for him to discover it with everyone else in the morning.

Taking a deep breath, you finally took the piece of paper, typed the e-mail address and attached your article to it before thinking of something personal to write.

Nothing came as you simply wrote the most formal of e-mails, giving him the time of publication and thanking him again. As you pressed send, you sat back into your chair and stared at the screen as your mind began to imagine him receiving your e-mail, how his brows would knit together while his eye would dart over the lines you had written.

Shaking your head, you cursed yourself for losing yourself in such thoughts before shutting your computer down. You needed sleep.

Aemond Targaryen had looked your name up as soon as you had departed from his office, curious to know more about the woman who had forsaken his brother and dared ask an interview of him, Aemond Targaryen, of all people.

He stared at the screen with interest as he browsed The Westerosi ’s archives online, seeing the several articles you had written over the years, mostly about city events or local cultural activities, smiling each time he read your comments about this or that particular representation. Now he was having dinner with his family, listening to his mother’s complaints about his eldest sister again, when he felt his phone vibrate. He could not ignore the satisfaction he felt when your name appeared on the screen next to an e-mail, and wasted no time reading what you had sent him. You had done a good job, he liked that you remained factual in your writing, and he could not help the disappointment he felt when he saw the few lines you had written to thank him in your message. As he put down his phone again, he remembered how you never seemed to miss anything that happened in the city. He counted on that.

-0- Part 2

A/N: Any resemblance to a particular book/movie was unintended, I realised it afterwards. (Oops)

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the-dendrophile-bookdragon · 9 months

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Remedy

Pairing: Modern!Surgeon!Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warning: smut, oral (fem receiving), fluff

Summary: Your dates with the hot surgeon go very well...

Part 6/9

Masterlist

Please support me by liking my post and reblogging and maybe leaving tags. Thank you!

One date in a restaurant turned into two, then free until you had been on your sixth dinner date. After the last one, Aemond brought you home. You didn’t want him to leave and offered him a late-night coffee. He accepted immediately. You both never ended up drinking the coffee. You were occupied with other things. After that night, your relationship bloomed and grew.

Currently, you were sitting on Aemond's couch in his living room. You have been here a couple of times by now but only till noon, never overnight. He had stayed at your apartment plenty of times but you never at his. You had come back from a movie date. The theatre was closer to his penthouse than to your flat. So he asked you to stay at his for tonight.

You sat crossed leg on one side of the couch facing the hot surgeon. “So there is still the question hanging in the room. Is it true you have a dragon tattoo on your chest?!” Aemond chuckled. His head rolled back and he laid it on the backrest of his couch. “It still bothers you, doesn’t it? You have seen me naked!” You sigh, “Well you didn’t give me time to admire you!” You pout softly.

Aemond turned his head to you and smirked. “You want to find out?” Your pout turned to an excited grin and you nodded eagerly. Aemond leaned away from the back of the couch and crawled over to you. His look was predatory, sending a chill down your spine. He grinned as he saw your reaction.

He crawled over you. You bend your back until you lay against the armrest. His smirk was devilish as he saw you looking up at him with big doe eyes. He leaned down, connecting your lips in a passion-filled kiss.

You kissed a for a while. Each kiss grew hungrier and more primal. The dress you wore, rode up from the slight movement of your hips until your panties were in plain sight. Aemond’s hands caressed your thigh with the free hand he wasn’t holding himself up with.

Slowly you began to undress each other. First your dress then his button up until you both were left in your underwear. You looked down at his chest and saw his dragon tattoo. The dragon seemed to move on his body. Its head was over his left pack near where the heart was. The tail went over his shoulder before curling around his biceps.

You marvelled at the beautiful design on his skin. Your fingers glided over the ink under his skin. Your touch left goose bumps over his chest. A small smirk played on your lips. “You done staring?” He had an equal smirk on his face. You looked up in his eyes and saw lust but also a different emotion dancing in them. But you didn’t dare believe your gut feeling about it exactly right now.

Aemond captured your lips in his again. They were hungry, nearly devouring. You could feel every ounce of desire he had for you.

Electricity flew through your body as he moved downwards. He left a trail of love bites in his wake. Every one of them elicited a small gasp and shiver from you. The man accountable for your body's reaction just smirked.

Your head lay on the headrest of his couch so you could watch his every movement. Your eyes were hooded. Both of your eyes met for a short while. He was so close to your core. You could feel his breath there.

Aemond smirked as he saw your chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. He moved down and closed his lips around your clit. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan. He sucked it in before working his tongue over it. First, they were mere kitten licks. Then he let go. You wanted to whine but he turned it to a loud moan with a brought lick up your slit.

His mouth was relentless. You tried to move away but he grabbed your hips and went down on you harder. Aemond could hear you scream his name, even if your thighs were around his head, blocking his ears.

“Aemond, please.” The man in question looked up with a Cheshire Cat grin on his lips, “Please what, my darling?” You groaned as he took your pearl between his lips and sucked on it softly. “Don’t tease, you tease.” Aemond chuckled darkly. “Very hurtful your insults, darling.”

He sucked, licked, and slurped for good twenty minutes before he let you be. You had come two times already. It felt like you were boneless. A boneless, whimpering mess in between his muscular arms.

Aemond cooed at you as he saw your dishevelled appearance. “I wasn’t even starting! You already look like I fucked you into oblivion.” He kissed your cheek and jaw softly. “Did you never have someone who ate you out properly?” You shook your head, “No one.”

Aemond clicked his tongue in disappointment. “So you say you dated dump, little boys before me? Oh, darling.” He grinned wickedly down at you as he started to kiss down your body again. “I will show you how a man should treat his woman.”

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elaratyrell · 3 months

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Modern! Aemond drunk texting his gf:

#Hotd #House of the dragon #House of the dragon x reader #House of the dragon au #Modern house of the dragon #Hotd au #Modern Hotd #Hotd x reader #Modern! Aemond Targaryen #Modern! Aemond Targaryen x reader #Aemond Targaryen #Aemond Targaryen x reader #Aemond Targaryen au #Aemond Targaryen modern au #Hotd modern au #House of the dragon modern au

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targaryen-dynasty · 7 months

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KINKTOBER SLEEPOVER.

No. 3 -> GIF.

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTEN-MINORS DNI; oral (fem receiving), face sitting, masturbating, licking cum off body (cum eating?), exes to lovers

WORDS: 1.2 K

NOTES: Thank you @chattylurker for this request! I love that you requested it to be In The Space Between Aemond and Reader.

Even before you had the chance to answer, Aemond’s hands hooked beneath your armpits to effortlessly throw you over his shoulder. The eagerness of his actions had you squealing which quickly melted into a fit of giggles.

“Seven months without that sweet cunt of yours,” he mumbled, his boxer briefs getting lost on the way towards your bed. “Need to taste you… fuck.”

Every sound you had made before died in your throat at his words, and a shiver ran down your spine to the soles of your feet. You’d most definitely be sore when morning came, turning the wedding into a living hell for you. “What?” you whispered, almost inaudible. “You’ve heard that right,” came his cocky reply.

When he dropped you on the bed, you were quick to make yourself comfortable in the fluffy pillows, spreading your legs once your flimsy thong was flung through the room. But then, the mattress dipped beneath his weight, and, while you were more than certain he’d shuffle to lie down between your legs, he lay down next to you.

Aemond had an eyebrow raised as he met your eyes, and even without him saying anything, you knew what he had in mind. “Sit on my face,” he commanded, causing embarrassment to color you from the inside out. A bright red tinted your cheeks and neck, your teeth digging into your bottom lip.

During your relationship, you both had tried out more than enough positions, some of them lewd enough they’d make other people blush in shame. And yet you were hesitant to climb his face, not that you had done so in seven months. Aemond tilted his head slightly as if to encourage you to move, his hand clasping around your wrist to gently pull you towards him. “Don’t make me repeat myself, bunny,” he said. “You know I don’t like that.”

You did as he told, and moved to straddle his waist, even if you were hesitant to do so, bracing both your hands on his chest. You looked down at him with more or less widened eyes, seeming as if you had forgotten how it all worked – as if he hadn’t fucked you over the railing of the balcony just a few minutes prior. The man beneath you sighed, and both his hands wrapped around your thighs. Gripping them rather tightly, he flexed his biceps and hoisted you up, positioning you on his face himself.

Another squeal — or perhaps even a startled gasp – left your lips, and soon enough you found yourself hovering over his face with both hands tightly clutching the headboard.

“T-Tap me three times when you need air, yes?” you asked, an edge of nervousness in your voice.

Aemond just rolled his eye, but nodded still, knowing damn well he didn’t have to rely on the tapping if he ever felt the need to breathe. He’d gladly die with his face buried between your legs, swallowing every drop of your delicious juices while he perished.

“Are you quite finished now?” he asked, and the way his eyes crinkled gave away that he was grinning. His breath fanning over your soaked folds had anticipation bubbling in your stomach, your body on full alert. “We’ve done this plenty of times before, sweets, c’mon.”

You meekly nodded, and bit your bottom lip before you lowered yourself on top of him. The first few flicks of his tongue had you mewling, the anticipation quickly turning into a heat that spread through your veins like wildfire. No matter how badly you wanted to keep your eyes locked with his, yours fluttered shut at the pleasure, a shuddered breath leaving your lips. “Fuck, yes… Aem,” you moaned, your inhibitions quickly toppling over.

His tongue probed deep enough to make you whine, and each time you gently rocked your hips against his face, his nose nuzzled against your aching clit so perfectly, amplifying your pleasure. One of your hands entangled into his silver strands, the tug you gave him harsh enough to make him groan. The reverberations of it against your core elicited another moan from you, and you liked his confidence, knowing he felt no shame in showing just how much he enjoyed pleasuring you.

It seemed as if Aemond conquered you anew, reclaiming what he had lost a few months ago, spurred on by all the sweet sounds you made because of him.

“That’s-That’s it,” you whimpered. Your thighs clenched around his face when his tongue dragged through your folds, his lips wrapping around your clit to suck causing your body to twitch. “So, so close, Aem. Just-Just like that… please.”

In your state of ecstasy, your other hand slipped beneath your tanktop up to your breasts, teasing your nipples and squeezing your flesh only to be joined by his large one not long after.

With the coil inside of you tightening, your muscles tensed, and your hips started to move on their own accord, rocking against his face with new-found vigor, much more confident and determined than before. No words left your throat, only whines and whimpers that heralded your orgasm.

You felt your legs trembling from how tightly they clenched around his face with the force of your orgasm, having passed the stage of soreness and overstimulation so quickly, there only was pleasure. You rode out your high on his face, and only once you came down from it, you noticed that he was stroking himself frantically to the sight of you falling apart all over his tongue.

“Fuck,” you whined at the realization, a new wave of arousal dripping out of your core. The ministrations of Aemond’s tongue had long seized, prompting you to raise your hips, his hot breath caressing your soaked folds. His breathing was heavy, a string of grunts and groans escaping his parted lips when he eventually reached his climax, his eyes squeezed shut. “That’s it,” you spoke gently, coaxing him through his own orgasm.

And while he caught his breath, you climbed off of him, avoiding to lean in to connect your lips in a kiss. On your way towards his stomach, you caught a glimpse of his chiseled jaw, glistening with your arousal in the dim light of the room. You had successfully claimed him.

His eyes widened when you positioned yourself between his legs, his mouth agape as he watched you carefully. Your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, sucking gently while you swallowed the remaining drops of his seed. Releasing it with a lewd pop, you tilted your head a bit and kept your eyes locked with his, before you followed the trails of seed on his lower abdomen, licking him clean.

You moaned at the salty taste on your tongue, and quickly climbed over him to capture his lips in a searing kiss, mixing both your juices and tastes. His husky groan was swallowed by you, and your lips merely parted for you both to draw in a deep breath.

“Don’t fucking know how I managed to live without you,” he rasped, propping himself up on his elbows as his lips chased yours for yet another kiss. You smiled against them, dragging your tongue over his bottom lip. “You no longer have to, Aem.”

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lauraneedstochill · 1 year

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this is not a character study, but rather a bunch of songs that remind me of him. some songs do fit his character (if I dare say so myself), some may seem questionable (although I definitely have my reasons to add them). + I use them as inspiration for when I'm writing stuff. maybe it will inspire some of you, too! 🎵 Spotify, 🎵 YouTube (maybe I'll make a fancy looking video idk) ⏩ I made a playlist for Aegon (there's a chance I'll add a few more songs later on)

#house of the dragon #guys PLEASE let's pretend the gif is fine #I haven't used photoshop IN AGES and my perfectionism is one step away from a breakdown #yes I KNOW there's room for improvement but I'm tired so that's it #my stuff #hotd #hotd modern au #house of the dragon modern au #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen modern au #aemond targaryen fanfiction #ewan mitchell #it feels weird to add his tag though... ANYWAYS

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daemontargaryenwhore · 6 months

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I dont know what to feel

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 8 months

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A Perfect Score - Chapter 7 - Avalanche | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: With some time to spare before the finals, you return to the Hightower/Targaryen Household, a million questions on your mind | Word Count: 6.8k~ | Warnings under the cut~

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: smut straight out the gate, swearing, degradation, aemond being a sexual menace, a lot of dirty talk, p in v unprotected sex, marijuana use, hotboxing, oral (m receiving), face-fuccin, swallowing, toxic family relationships, implied p in v under the influence

A/N: yeah the whole hotboxing in a wendy house is actually a true story, my mum did it with my aunty when I was a kid (I wasn't there lol), so yeah thought it'd be fun to pop that in. ANYWAY feel somewhat self conscious of this chapter cos I feel like not much happens but OH WELL

Comments, reblogs & likes are always appreciated in this household. I love u 😚

You thought he might have been joking.

But he was playing a dangerous game.

Hotel check-out, they said, was 10:00am. Aemond has simply shrugged and hummed in agreement, not giving the receptionist the impression that he cared.

He'd made good on his promise after the match you'd won, practically dragging you to Arryk's car having made his pleasantries, pictures and casual conversations with the judges.

But after that? He was a man on a mission.

Arryk's car was deadly quiet the entire ride back to the hotel, the sun beginning to dip against the buildings by the time you got back. And some of the hotel residents had looked on with one eyebrow raised as Aemond's led you hurriedly through the foyer, still in your outfits.

As soon as the lift doors were shut, he was on you.

Hungry. Like he'd finally been allowed out of his proverbial cage, desperate for a freedom he found in having you all to himself.

He spent the majority of that evening between your thighs, basking in said freedom.

A beam was bleeding through the slits between the curtains, but the light against the warm cotton made the room feel soft and inviting. It was like the feeling of rolling around in fresh bed sheets and tired lazy mornings.

The soft slapping of Aemond's hips against yours was the only sound that managed to disturb this tranquil morning, as well as the hushed murmurs of his words against your tacky skin, and the softened tumblings of tiny moans from your lips.

You've lost track of how many times he's made you cum by now.

It's all a haze of the closest intimacy, the room smells of sex, humid from your bare bodies being pressed against each other.

" - Aemond - we have to - ah, fuck - we have to check out soon -" you manage in a breathless whisper, the air constantly being fucked out of your lungs with each desperate slam of his cock in the deepest parts of you.

You feel him, how his cockhead bullies the rough, spongy spot inside you. Unsure if you can even handle another orgasm. How Aemond is even doing this right now is beyond reason, the amount of sleep this man is running on.

Aemond grins against your ear, groaning lowly at the feeling of your nails scraping against the nape of his neck. If your previous trysts have been quickies, this time it's lazy and languid, almost thoughtful.

"You can give me one more before that" he growls, voice vibrating in his chest pressed flush against yours.

Your eyebrows furrow together, the pressure building whether you want it to or not, the way his length drags against your over-sensitive walls is too much and yet not enough. Feeling both numb and tender. Head feeling as if it's airy and empty, all you're able to think about is him and how he's making you feel.

Your body moves with the pace of his thrusts, breasts faintly bouncing alongside it, sticky from the previous rounds' half-dried spend. His fingers dig into the meat of your hips, anchoring you to him, inevitably leaving marks in their wake.

He leans forward on his knees, his firm, muscular and athletic thighs, hardened from years of training, brushing against your own. The movement has his cock brushing against your cervix sensitively.

His hands, fingers long and lithe, hold your thighs and lift them higher and to your sides, widening you for him and granting himself deeper access. Your face heats up instantly being so on show, eyes glazed over with lust when you look at him.

His hair falling around his face, messily. His wide shoulders and slim waist, muscles flexing as he adjusts your position. As well as the warmth blooming in your core, it also does so in your stomach, and you briefly fear what it could mean.

You watch as Aemond keeps your legs elevated, his hips moving once more against you, his skin tapping against yours audibly with how wet you are.

You swear you've never been more aroused in your life.

The coil winds tightly inside you, watching how diligently and carefully he fucks you. As rough as the actions are, there is a softness in the way he holds your flesh in his palms.

"Come on, we don't want to be late now do we, pretty girl" he grins, lips parted to breathe with each thrust, a sheen of sweat covering his neck and chest, catching the light between his pecks.

If his movements don't finish you off, that most certainly does.

It's almost worse being in the back of Arryk's car with Aemond after all of that. Like the tension hasn't disappeared one bit. And you try to busy yourself with something else, like putting some music on or staring out the window. But nothing seems to help.

After successfully making it to the check out time, Aemond smirking the entire time he was giving his keycard back, you both faced the onslaught of reporters who hung around the entrance of the hotel where Arryk's car was parked. All wanting a glimpse and/or a word from the finalists who were warming up to each other visibly.

The flash of the cameras blinded you, and you recoiled with the appearance of several microphones shoved in your path with such personal questions, all talking over one another.

You at least made out that they suspected there was some romance involved.

Aemond, with his tall, beanpole form, had blocked the view with his body, rounding the car to open the door for you. He didn't seem to flinch as he parted his path between the reporters to get in himself. You supposed being the prodigal son of Viserys Targaryen and Alicent Hightower will do that to someone.

Idly you scrolled through your phone, seeing the various recommended news articles about the famed finalists.

Ice Prince and Princess demolish the semi-finals with their sensual performance. Aemond Targaryen. New partner or new lover? The ice has melted with our finalist couple keeping each other warm.

That last one made you cringe and click off your phone.

Even though things were better, and he had at least apologised, you couldn't help but have more questions. Mostly around Floris? Could you really believe Larys? And did Aemond have this kind of relationship with her as well? Perhaps that had been the reason behind her 'accident'?

Part of you, the doubtful part, thought that he'd only done all this, get close to you and sweeten you up, to improve the performance. Give him a better chance at winning.

You didn't want to think about that possibility. And yet it lingered.

Instead you focussed on the final. The final.

And against all the fucking people, it was the Martells.

Ugh.

But at least there was more time between the last match and the finals now. Time to prepare.

That meant going back to the large Targaryen House, back to 'normality'. You itched to be around other people again, as being around Aemond made your skin prickle up almost uncomfortably. Maybe it was not knowing where you stood with him.

The car zoomed past the electric gates and Helaena and Alicent were waiting outside, Helaena beaming with joy and waving and Alicent, ever graceful, hands clasped at her front, smiling fondly at the return of her son.

As soon as you got out of the car, Helaena threw her arms around you, her hair emanating her signature lavender-like scent, but as soon as she pulled back she had a knowing smirk on her face, which mildly panicked you.

Alicent made her pleasantries, hugging her abnormally tall son and guiding you both inside. Helaena grabbed your hand, following shortly behind, giving you the side-eye.

"What?" You asked her.

"Oh don't give me that. I have some questions for you later"

You didn't have time to roll your eyes before a loud, ear-splitting bark reverberated off the waxed floor, the click of claw-lined paws echoing as a large Great Dane, who was clearly on the older side, bounded happily towards Aemond, heedless of its true size, and tackled him successfully to the floor.

"Umf! Gods Vhagar" Aemond hummed annoyedly, but the smile on his face when the large dog stood on his chest and licked his face betrayed his true feelings. You'd rarely seen Aemond properly smile, so seeing the boyish excitement on his face was…a strange welcome feeling.

Aemond laid there, back flat on the wax floor, accepting his fate. The dog named Vhagar you surmised, once done with its vicious attack, looked up curiously to you, tongue and tail wagging with equal vigour. Aemond tilted his head back to look at you, amused, the dog's paws planted firmly on his pecks.

"This is Vhagar, she doesn't like gir-"

Vhagar barked and made for you, taking mercy somewhat and only jumped up to rest her paws on your chest, craning her head for pets, which you were more than happy to give, paying special attention to her neck and ears as a wide smile graced your face.

"Good girl, Vhagar" you praised, her tongue still hanging out her mouth excitedly. Aemond raised his eyebrows, shocked and happy to see that reaction, as if to say 'I stand corrected'.

"I didn't know you had a dog" you say, watching as Vhagar gallops back over to Aemond, sitting at his feet as he stands and brushes himself off, looking up to him with admiration.

"We all do. Family tradition. They've been at the kennel for a bit" he explains, shoving his hands in his pockets. At the mention of the word 'kennel', Vhagar puts her tongue away, staring with worry, as if she was horrified. Aemond hums a laugh.

Alicent claps once, gathering all your attention. She's elegant as always, long sleeved top and a black slinky skirt, her hair perfectly tied back and held with a gold accessory.

"Well! It's lunchtime, you can tell us all about the tour over some cheese and wine, yes?" She beams.

Ah yes, back to aristocratic 'reality'.

Outside, the table was set with a gorgeous spread of brightly coloured food, plates and such as well. Otto seemed not to be present, and with that, the mood was lighter, less business-like and more like a family.

That as well as the presence of another silver-haired brother, much too skinny to be Aegon.

Aemond shoved his arm around their neck playfully, dragging him up, “Baby brother, are you geriatric? Your senses are getting worse”

You and Helaena watch with amusement as the smaller silver-haired brother goes pink, stuck in the hold Aemond has him in, “The fuck is wrong with you, Aem, get off!”

“Aeg, get his legs” Aemond smirks, scooping his arms under the smaller brother’s, “Daeron, you look hot, how about a dunk?”

“No! No, Aegon, stop it!” he protests, but the oldest brother simply smirks, a cigarette hanging from between his teeth as the two shuffle over to the pond in the middle of the garden, “Don’t encourage him, Aeg, put me down!”

“Well that’s not fun then, is it?” Aegon grins,

Helaena laughs, simply watching but not helping, “Think of it as punishment for being away from us for so long!”

“That’s not fair, Hel!” he shouts as Aegon and Aemond begin to swing, chanting ‘a leg and a wing, to see the king’.

“Boys, put your brother down, the meat’s getting cold!” Alicent calls, bringing out the iced lemon water.

With a huff, they do as they’re told, Daeron landing to the floor with a thud. The youngest brushes the grass off his slacks, smiling at you as if he’s just noticed you’re here.

“Sorry, Daeron” he smiles politely, shaking your hand.

You smile, “A pleasure”

“Dig in, everyone” Alicent beams, setting down one last plate of bread rolls, “I’ll just get some cutlery”

Aegon huffs in his seat, “Look delicious, mother. Who can I thank for such a spread?”

Alicent taps the back of his head in a playful scold as she’s walking past, “Me, you cheeky little so-and-so”

You laugh as you take your own seat next to Helaena.

Without Otto here, the atmosphere is warm, everyone’s happy. A stark contrast to your first evening spent in the formal cave-like atmosphere of the dining room, feeling left-out and ostracised.

It’s more like a family now.

Conversation flows exceptionally well, all the tension now completely fizzled out with the soft, warm afternoon sun just dipping beneath the trees, flooding their garden with an orangey glow. Aemond and Aegon badgered their youngest, Daeron, about his studies and why he went to see Aegon instead of Aemond on tour, harmlessly teasing him on having favourites.

Alicent watched her three sons with motherly joy, but mostly chatted idly with you and Helaena.

After a glass of wine, Helaena now loosened, she confided in you quietly about the tour.

"Think I'm losing it" she mused,

"Losing what?"

She looked at you, violet eyes catching the sun, "My touch. The tour was okay but we got annihilated by the fucking Stormlands of all people" she scoffed.

"Who was representing Pairs for that?"

"Cass Barath and some guy she used to go to school with. They couldn't fucking stand each other but won on technical"

Couldn't stand each other.

That sounds familiar.

Or rather sounded.

"Shame. We could've been against one another" you smile, tapping your glass with your nail.

"Gods, if we went up against you after the last performance we'd have no chance" she smirks, "I have questions for you, don't think I've forgotten"

At the idea of telling Hel your face flushes briefly, turning away to try and hide it, just as Aemond has turned to you, Daeron talking his ear off. He gives a lazy smirk, somewhat bashful, as he looks down into his lap where his hands are clasped.

The evening was so peaceful it made a pain in your heart. And you wished it was like this for them all the time.

Alicent smiled, tapping her hand on top of yours, "Congratulations, sweet girl. We're very proud of you both"

You can't help the drop in your heart when she says that.

She speaks to you like she would a daughter.

It's a warmth you've not known for some time.

And she sees the way your face is completely relaxed, like nobody had ever said that they were proud of you before. There's a sadness in her expression.

When was the last time someone said that to you?

Estranged from your own parents, you honestly can't remember.

So you swallow over the lump in your throat and nod gratefully, trying not to show how deeply her small act of kindness has affected you.

"Thank you"

She smiles reassuringly, but it doesn't quite make it to her eyes, like she knows exactly what you're thinking.

A mother's intuition is never wrong.

She pats your hand once before pulling away, "You know, you remind me so much of someone I used to know"

You cock your head, "Who?"

Alicent visibly swallows, her eyes casting back, "An old friend" she says, smiling at the memory, "she was so sure of herself, unapologetically so. And she never let other people tell her what she should think"

You laugh lightly, "She sounds more confident than me"

"You are as well" she reassures, "I remember my last match you know.

I always wore blue, for my performances. But this particular day, my father got me to wear dark green, as an…homage of sorts, to Oldtown" she recounts, "I loved that outfit"

Her face falls somewhat then.

"I still can't watch that performance. Knowing it was my last"

Your heart aches in sympathy for her.

"And I can't look at that outfit without turning sad" she says distantly, her chocolate brown eyes looking down sadly.

You, of course, know this story to some extent. Banned from competing entirely, which seemed a very harsh judgement from the committee, but a decision was made nonetheless. You remember briefly watching reruns of her performance, how happy she looked then. How absolutely natural she was.

She didn't seem like she'd aged much at all. She certainly didn't look as if she had four children all grown.

You can't help but feel as if she had to grow up quickly.

"I'm just going to go and get some napkins, darling" she says with a polite smile, as if the conversation hadn't happened, standing up and excusing herself to the kitchen.

"So!" Aegon starts, "'Ice Princess', huh?"

You give him a playful glare, "Shut up"

"What!"

"I thought it was nice" Daeron says timidly,

"Don't you start" you retort, face heating rapidly as Aemond just sits back and lets the chaos ensue, with a satisfied smirk on his face.

"It was a good routine. Our grandfather wasn't much pleased" Aegon grins,

Aemond does too, "I bet he wasn't"

Helaena cocks her head, "What made you switch up the routine?"

Just as you're about to open your mouth, Aemond gets there before you do.

"I just gave her some advice in the dressing room" he grins mischievously, "looks like it worked"

Your lips slam shut at his words, a kind of dull, ache settling between your legs, reminding you of this morning, when Aemond had you in a rather precarious position. You hope to every god that exists that your face doesn't show it, as you stare him down.

He just looks impressed with himself.

You're not sure if it's the chill of the evening or the effect of Aemond that has goose bumps on your arms.

Just as Alicent comes back outside, Helaena takes your hand, standing quickly.

Thank the gods for that.

"I'm freezing, Mum. We're going to go inside"

"Alright, darling" she smiles.

You spare a look over your shoulder as she hurries you through the glass doors into the kitchen. Of course, Aemond is watching, his gaze unapologetically roaming over what you're wearing.

You don't miss Aegon's knowing smirk either, which never fails to make you roll your eyes.

"Hel, what the fuck is this?" You laugh as Hel hurries you to a secluded area near the trees.

There, nestled between two oak trees, is a tiny little wendy house, clearly purpose built, and by now definitely looking it's age, with single paned windows and fading blue paint.

"Otto had it built it for me when I was five" she uses all her possible strength to pull the door open, the wood having swollen with age and damp. It eventually gives with a squeak, dust billowing between you both, "come on"

You duck, slipping past the threshold, "You're not gonna axe murder me in here, right?"

She scoffs and pulls the swollen wood back into place, the windows rattling in the frames as she does, "If I was an axe murderer you'd be dead by now"

She produces a rather worn plastic bag, with several freshly rolled spliffs stuffed inside.

"Sorry I just assumed you did-"

"I don't often" you shrug, "but when in Rome" you smile.

She passes you one and sticks one into her mouth.

"Where did you even get these?"

She grins as she pulls out a lighter, "Aegon. He sells them"

She blows the first buff out from between her lips, tossing you the lighter, "So you stole them?"

She shrugs, "I'm his sister. I'm just borrowing them"

"Hmm" you hum as you light yours as well.

You both pull yourself only the ledges opposite each other, knees almost touching as you draw a few breaths in, the effect of it warming your throat and chest, your head already starting to feel lighter. The smoke fills the tiny wendy house, only serving to heighten the intensity.

"Right. Spill" Hel grins.

"Gods Hel, I'm not even high yet!"

"I don't care. Spill"

You give her a look, "He's your brother"

"Yeah I don't want the nasty fucking details, just keep it vague please"

"Alright, alright" you laugh, sighing between drags, "Well…"

"When did it happen?" she asks, raising her eyebrows.

You roll your eyes, "The first night at the hotel"

"The first night?!" She shouts in shock, leaning forward and mouth agape, "How-"

You can't help but laugh at her reaction. She'd obviously expected more of a romantic lead up to what occurred on that night, the memory making you squeeze your thighs together.

Helaena listens intently, asking the odd question, the effects of the drug must be getting to her as well because sometimes she asks the same one twice.

Explaining it all to someone else, it makes it all feel a bit more real, and you're eager to see how his sister, the person who knows him perhaps the closest, will react to your side of the story.

"In the dressing room??" She grimaces, "you guys are fucking disgusting. I don't think I can watch that performance the same way ever again"

You laugh, the effect of the drugs now weathering away your inhibitions.

You suppose there's no time like the present to ask an innocent question.

"Can I ask you something, Hel?"

"I'm all ears" she responds.

Your fingernails tap against the worn out wood, nervously, "Were…Aemond and Floris…"

Helaena doesn't even let you finish.

"Oh fuck no. Absolutely not. When Floris was here he'd find any excuse to not be around her. It was quite funny really. But no, he's not really been with any girl since that fucking dinosaur"

Oh, Alys...

It's embarrassing, the relief that gives you.

"Floris just couldn't hack Aemond, she just thought he was…a cryptid weirdo. Aemond in turn just thought she was dumb and didn't care much for her skills"

"Was she not very good?"

"She'd be alright on her own, but she didn't collaborate well. Couldn't take criticism" she says, and you can tell by the tone of her voice that she's trying to be as nice as possible.

"Right…"

"So, you and Aemond…you're all good now?"

You sigh, honestly not knowing the answer yourself, "I think so?"

"You mean…you don't know?" she snorts, "surely if you two are smashing you're all good"

"Not really. I catch myself half-thinking about what he said, what I said, what's happened-"

"Yes, but Aemond's apologised, you said" Hel reasons, the small stream of smoke blooming from her spliff.

A warmth of embarrassment blooms in your chest.

"Yes but…I haven't"

Hel cocks her head, "What do you-"

Light floods the Wendy house as the door swings open, both of you squinting your eyes shut, having to somewhat sober up as the smoke is sucked out. Aemond grabs the doorframe, showing just how comically small the Wendy house is compared to him, and sticks his head in, crinkling his nose.

"Using your Wendy house to hotbox again?"

"Yeah until you came to ruin it!" Hel says.

Aemond laughs lowly, sparing a glance at you and plucking the spliff from your fingers to take a drag of his own before returning it. The act, weirdly, has your skin burning where he'd touched.

Hel pushes off the ledge, brushing past her brother, stubbing out her spliff on the side of the doorway, "I'll leave you two"

You look at her in shock as she crosses the greenery, watching as she passes you a smug grin over her shoulder, knowing full well she's leaving you alone with Aemond to torture you.

Aemond barely manages to fit inside the Wendy house with his height as he occupies the spot where Helaena was.

"What were you girls talking about?" He asks, his arms leaning against the ledge. He's wearing his usual, entirely black get up, something so unapologetically Aemond that you don't even question it. But the way his arms look in the short sleeved shirt never fails to send flutters in your belly.

So you just laugh anxiously and stub the spliff out.

"Just girly stuff"

He raises an eyebrow, "girly stuff?" He asks, pushing the hair back over the top of his head with his fingers.

Fuck. Him. For being so attractive.

Your mind whirs uncomfortably, confronted with him. If you don't say anything, who knows is Hel might.

"About you and Floris"

"Ah" he says, smiling, "is someone jealous?"

"No"

He presses his lips together like he doesn't believe you.

"In any case, if you were, there's nothing to be jealous about, princess"

You roll your eyes at the nickname.

You bite your lip, "and about how it's come to this. You and me" you start, "Hel and every other person in Westeros by the sounds of it"

He huffs a laugh, "Yeah I've seen the news articles"

Your mind swirls, his presence coupled by the effect of the drug have made everything feel like it's been turned up to 100. The warmth inside the Wendy house now that the doors closed, your knees nudging against each other, his broad form, almost encompassing every square foot.

It's here you realise he's not taken his gaze off you. Possibly feeling the same way himself.

"What?" You ask with a drowsy smile.

He shakes his head.

"Nothing" he answers, suddenly looking anywhere but at you. You swear you see a blush on his face.

The smoking has made you more aloof, so you step forward, running your hand up the inside of his arm, almost pressed flush with him.

"C'mon tell me" you insist, smiling mischievously, "I could practically hear you thinking"

He turns his head, sighing, but not really annoyed. He's quiet for a moment, like he's considering something, like he wants to say something. But all thoughts are sapped from you when his palm cups your face, his thumb runs across your bottom lip, barely applying pressure.

It's his fixed look that holds you though, his reverent gaze at your lips, flitting to your eyes that glimmer with a sort of drunken haze.

It almost sobers you up entirely.

You wonder what he's thinking, he's so difficult to read.

The thoughts don't last. Aemond leans down to press his lips to yours, the naturally curved shape of them anchors your mouth open to taste you briefly. Both of you taste of tobacco and smoke, mixed together with the musk of his scent. You don't know why it drives you so crazy. Nobody has made you feel like that…ever.

It's tender. Almost loving.

Embroiled in the heat of the moment, arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush to him, and you smile somewhat against his lips feeling his hardness pressed against his sweatpants.

With enlarged confidence due to lack of inhibitions, your hand winds down his body, your palm running over his length, and it's clear by the way he delivers a stuttered groan into your mouth that he enjoys it immensely and was also not expecting it.

You only part when both of your hands stop at the waistband of his sweatpants.

"What are you doing" he asks, his voice hoarse in anticipation.

"What does it look like" you smirk, lips still close to his, teasing him, "taking care of you"

Pushing them just past his hips, your hand slips down the front, past his tummy, to his achingly hard cock, wrapping your fingers around him and pumping slowly.

"I don't hear you complaining..." you smile.

" - fuck - baby…"

You can't help but love it when he calls you that. Like it just comes so naturally.

A wicked idea strikes across your mind like a match. Your eyes light up, loving the way he's giving the illusion of being at your mercy, when in reality he could very easily flip the switch and be his usual cocksure self.

His breath seems to get sucked from his lungs when you kneel down before him, looking up at him dreamily while tugging his sweatpants down enough to free his cock, standing entirely hard against his muscled stomach, the tip ruddy and leaking with arousal.

He has such a pretty cock it's difficult to look away, and you feel your own arousal pool deep in your stomach in anticipation, tracing your palm from base to tip, caressing his length with care. Watching how his grip is white-knuckled and tight on the ledge, the wood cracking under it.

You've not done this yet with Aemond. It's always been him pleasing you.

This time it'd be different, even if he was only pretending to be in control.

Aemond watches with lips parts as you lower your mouth to the base of him, drawing a line with your tongue agonisingly slowly over the prominent vein on the underside, all the way to the tip, swirling your tongue around where he's most sensitive. It has a shuddered breath escape Aemond, with something akin to a whine.

He shuts his eyes, his fingers carding through your hair at the side of your face, all the way to the back, curling them and tugging at the follicles pleasurably.

You've slept together, but you've never seen his cock up this close, and it's a shame, because he's perfect. Thinking about taking him into your mouth is just too good an opportunity to pass up, and the heady scent of his skin just has you wanting to devour him.

" - please, don't tease m-"

You moan around his length as you take him as far as you can, relaxing your jaw muscles to allow for more, and whatever you can't fit, you caress with your hand. Aemond gasps quietly as your mouth tightens around him when his cockhead hits the back of your throat, his grip tightening in your hair.

It doesn't take long for you to begin properly pleasuring him in earnest, figuring he's been patient enough. You press your tongue to the underside and hollow your cheeks, creating more friction. Aemond looks down, watching the way his cock disappears into your mouth over and over, the length slick with saliva from your efforts.

He meets your rhythm with the soft canting of his hips, using his hold to slightly pull you onto him. You look up at him, watching his hedonistic expression and the way his mouth is slightly open with hurried breaths, pupil blown wide with lust at the lewdness of the act as well as the setting.

" - you're so good - fucking perfect - " he whispers.

The praise goes straight to your core, tightening around nothing, and it only serves to redouble your efforts.

As usual, Aemond feels the need to be assertive, and his hands smooth your hair into a ponytail, one hand gripping it in place and he pulls you off, only a string of saliva connecting either of you.

"Wha-"

"I want to fuck your mouth, baby" He mutters lowly. And in the gentle darkness of the room, with only a whisper of light at one side of his face, he looks mythical. His sudden change of tone has you wet your lips nervously, but also in excitement.

"Can you do that for me?"

You nod once, eager to please him, but also to taste him again.

He smiles slightly, "Good girl"

He pushes off the ledge slightly, standing straight and holding the base of his length, prodding the tip against your lips, the precum making them glisten. Your hands find his muscular thighs for stability.

"Tap my thigh twice if it's too much"

You nod in understanding.

"Open up for me, baby"

He plunges his cock into your mouth, taking his time to sink completely in, until he bottoms out in your mouth, his cockhead now truly tapping the back of your throat. You gag softly at the invasion of him so deeply, your grip tightening.

"Breathe through your nose - that's it - good girl - " He praises lowly, and you do as he says, making the effort to relax.

He starts to slowly fuck your mouth, gauging how much of a pace you're able to take before going any faster. His grip tightens on your hair, tugging at the makeshift ponytail and pulling on it, making you whine around his length, which only serves to urge him on as he uses your head for leverage.

" - such a pretty little mouth - fuck - " he whispers, his hips now moving in earnest, snapping against your mouth with renewed vigour, in search of release, " - you're so perfect - look at me - "

It's hard to look up at him with his cock pistoning into your mouth, but you do, and the look he has is borderline magical. His chest moves quickly with his breathing, a soft smile on his face as he looks down at you with pride.

" - that's it - finally, a good use for your dirty mouth - looks so much better with my cock in it, don't you think?"

You hum around him, trying to relax your jaw as much as possible as his cockhead bullies the back of your throat, a line of saliva running down the side of your mouth.

He laughs, " - baby you're making such a mess on me - such a good little slut - ffffuck- bet that pretty little pussy is soaked from sucking my cock -" his head tilts back, clearly close, and you can tell by the way he goes faster.

Your stomach rolls with delight, face warm with embarrassment, knowing he's entirely right, you squeeze your thighs together for some semblance of friction.

" - you gonna be a good girl and swallow for me? - want me to cum in your dirty fucking mouth? - "

As a way of answering, you press your tongue to the underside again, one of your hands going to his balls to caress them, urging him on, with pleasured tears pricking at your eyes.

" - seven fucking - you're bad, aren't you -" he breathes, " - oh fuck - "

He slams into your mouth forcefully one last time, stilling as his cock throbs on your tongue, feeling his cum at the back of your throat. Joining the line down your chin, a line of his spend also runs down, having completely filled your mouth.

You look up at him for a brief moment, appreciating the way his eye is closed, his breath coming heavily from his lips after what sounds like a shattered whine. His shoulders tremble, and the bit of his tummy you can see poking out from under his shirt clenches uncontrollably, his muscles moving with his breath. It doesn't taste unpleasant, but it's salty and coats your mouth in the most lewd, delicious way. To see him so lost in pleasure is worth it.

His fingers loosen, and stroke your hair lovingly as you swallow as much as you can, thrusting shallowly a few more times with a near pornographic sound. After a moment, he pulls his softening length from your mouth, using one hand to tiredly tuck himself away as he looks down at you, his pupil blown wide enough to eclipse the blue and still trying to regain his breath.

"You're amazing" he praises, his thumb coming to your face to wipe the line of his release, dipping it back into your mouth. You eagerly wrap your lips around his digit, making a show of it while your eyes meet.

He pulls you up to your feet, slamming his lips against yours, heedless of the taste of himself on your tongue as he moans into your mouth. It sucks the air from your lungs, his arms wrapping around you and you in turn wrap yours around his neck.

"I could fuck you all night, you know that?" He whispers between breaks for air.

You've spent so much time with Aemond, less time romantically, but even still, it feels nice to be touched by him, to be praised by him.

He breaks and presses his forehead to yours, eyes shut, completely at ease.

You swallow. The haze now dissipated somewhat.

"I…need to say something"

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry…"

He opens his eyes, brows arched in questioning, "what for, princess?"

Fuck, he needs to stop saying that.

You wet your lips, "For calling you a nepo-baby…"

The reaction you didn't expect from Aemond, was to fucking laugh.

But he does, quiet at first, but gaining traction, his eyes crinkling up into something you've barely seen. His white teeth gleaming in the darkness.

"What?" You smile, nudging his shoulder.

"Has that really been eating you up inside?" He jokes,

"Yes!" You insist, "I've said some…nasty things as well"

Aemond rolls his eye, "You don't need to apologise to me"

"Well I did, so now's the part where you say you forgive me" you reply, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

He hums a laugh, "forgive you?" He grins, "and what if I don't?"

"You have to"

"Hmm" he smirks, "maybe -" he spins you around, pushing you against the opposite ledge, and you're astonished to find him hard, yet again, against your backside. Your hands find purchase on the ledge, keeping yourself up, and your face splits in a gasp when Aemond swiftly pushes his hand past your tummy at your front and swipes two fingers across your drenched folds.

"-You'll have to earn it, princess"

When you returned to your bedroom, with a pleasant ache between your thighs, having shushed and giggled with Aemond when you snuck back in (apart from when he'd nearly knocked a very precious antique sword off the wall), you'd felt a surge of something deep in your gut when stood outside in the hallway.

Aemond could barely keep his hands away, and as well as that, couldn't let go to say goodnight. He'd pulled you to him, littering your face with kisses that always seemed to end with his lips pressed to yours desperately.

When he'd pulled away, looking down at your face in the soft darkness, there was a tug in your chest. He looked so peaceful like this, so calm. And his thumb caressed the skin of your face with care, taking in every little feature.

He opened his mouth, but swiftly closed it.

And said something else instead.

"You're so beautiful"

Though it made your skin bloom all the same, as he so easily managed to do, you felt as if he wanted to say something else. And there were words on your mind as well, that felt too serious to say out loud.

Being this close to him, it felt incredibly intimate and rare, as if something precious had been granted to you.

And you could see the way something melted away when you touched his face, your thumb tracing the bottom of his scar carefully.

You wondered if he knew how beautiful you thought he was as well. If he'd ever been told that.

It seemed like he understood just by the gentle touch, all the little thoughts in your head.

Even if you weren't sure where exactly you stood with Aemond, even though you knew something needed to be addressed, to be defined…

…this felt nice.

But you didn't tell El these details. It would mean she'd ask questions, make you question yourself, and how you feel. You weren't sure if you were ready to confront them.

El was absolutely smug and ecstatic when you told her about what happened. As opposed to Helaena though, El did ask for the nasty details, which you provided some of. But not all. Those were for your own benefit.

You didn't tell her about what Larys had said about Floris though, not until you knew for certain. What did Larys have against Otto anyway? And why would Otto do such a heinous thing?

Supposedly.

You woke early the next morning as you always did, and pulled on a hoodie, with the chill of the day still hanging in the air. Your footsteps were soft from the fluffy socks on the staircase, a soft light emanating from the living room, and hushed angered voices within.

You stopped in your tracks, ears pricked.

Otto was here.

"You will not push Aemond as you pushed me, I will not allow it!" Alicent started, in an accusatory tone.

"I pushed you to be the greatest figure skater in Westeros. Or have you forgotten?" Otto replied, and you could tell from the tone of his voice that he looked smug.

"And pushed me into his arms into the bargain!" She retorts, her voice upset and strained, "Because of you, I am banned from skating competitively! Because of you, I cannot have one good thing of my own, and you robbed me of my only friend!"

There's a silence. You sit on the staircase, feeling wholly bad for prying, but too curious to stop. Alicent sounds as if she is catching her breath.

"And you will not take Aemond from me. You will not rob Aemond of her either"

Your heart freezes.

"She has little to do with this" Otto states,

"She is good for him. Aemond likes her"

Otto scoffs, "It is just business. Aemond knows this, it has been discussed. This is why I do not consult you, you get too emotionally invested"

Just business? You think over the words Otto has just said.

Just business partners?

No, surely…

"They are emotionally invested! I have never seen Aemond as happy with anyone as he is with her! You shall not ruin that with your vicarious ambitions!"

You can't bring yourself to truly believe what Otto has said.

Surely what you both had was more than that…

Anger prickles at your insides.

How he treats his daughter, and by extension his grandchildren, with the exception of Helaena, who he dotes on, angers you.

How could he be so cruel to them like this? Instilling a business-like appearance on a family.

You pull out your phone, typing furiously and quickly, still hearing Alicent and Otto argue in the living room.

What sort of information do you have?

You wait impatiently, but there's no need. Larys replies a few moments later and your heart pounds.

Good to hear from you. I'll send over all I have as soon as possible. -Larys S

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officialaemondtargaryen · 9 months

Text

A Fine Line [part 3]

Summary: You've been with Aegon for a little over four years and the relationship just isn't the same. His brother isn't helping the situation, either. This is a Modern Day AU!

Pairing: Aegon x Reader / Aemond x Reader

Word Count: 4.0k

Author’s Note: Sorry it was late! I don't know if my M,W,F schedule is going to work. I just want to say thank you all! I really hope you like this one and please, I would love to hear your thoughts & predictions! I basically screech like a pterodactyl whenever you guys leave comments! Tag list is open!

Warnings for the entire series: severe angst, cheating, unprotected sex, jealousy, lying, possessiveness, stalking, manipulation, and language, alcohol use, recreational drug use.

Read Part Two | Read Part Four

Playlist here

The light from the early, Saturday morning sun filtered into your bedroom through half-opened blinds, illuminating tiny specks of dust in the air. It was warm with Aegon pressed against your back; his soft breaths fanning over your shoulder. You stirred softly, turning so that you were facing him, doing your absolute best to not disturb him so that he could continue to sleep in.

It broke your heart to look at him now, knowing that your relationship was hanging by a thread. Wondering how you got here, how you arrived at the platform of whatever these feelings were that you felt for him. Caught between the memories of what you had once before, and feeling as if you were in this bed alone, despite the fact that he was laying right next to you.

You moved, swinging your feet over the side of the bed as you stood up with a sigh. Aegon groaned, his arms reaching for you before turning back over on his stomach and going right back to sleep. His wavy, golden hair splayed out on the pillows as he shifted deeper into them. The duvet pulled down, exposing his freckled shoulders. It took everything in you not to reach out and touch him.

Even your fingers balled into a fist, nails digging into your palm to keep yourself from it. Why? You'd wind up disappointed, feeling unwanted, and he'd be annoyed that you woke him.

The thought made you want to cry.

It was around noon when he finally emerged from the bedroom. You had lost track of how long you'd been sitting at the kitchen table; a bagel untouched on the plate in front of you. You jumped slightly at the feeling of his hand on the back of your neck, just briefly touching you as he made his way to the coffee maker. It was a fleeting moment, his fingertips leaving you just as quickly as they came.

He was in a white t-shirt and a pair of boxers. Despite his disheveled appearance, he looked close to angelic- even with the dark circles under his clouded, blue eyes. You could hear him inhale and exhale heavily with his first sip of coffee; shoulders rising and falling with his breath.

When did it become this way? This silence?

You used to look forward to Saturday mornings; knowing that you had two full days with him to yourself. You'd spend every weekend tangled on the couch or in the bed, not getting up unless you absolutely needed to. Weekends in the summer were always fun, too. He'd always find something for the two of you to do; getting high at the beach, spending your days at Coney eating corndogs and funnel cake until you wanted to throw up or throw yourselves right off the end of the pier. You missed his ice cream cone kisses and the way he would lay his head in your lap as you would read whatever novel you had brought with you that day.

"Colleen Hoover," you whispered to yourself as you absentmindedly stirred your lukewarm coffee; the last book you remember reading on a beach towel under the hot, July sun.

"What was that?" Aegon asked, turning to face you.

You were broken out of your trance and looked up at him. "What?"

"I think you went somewhere," a goofy smile replaced his signature pout. When you didn't say anything, his smile faltered. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Mm," you hummed and took a sip of your coffee before making a face. It was definitely lukewarm- cold, even. "So, awards ceremony tonight, huh?"

Aegon rolled his eyes, "If I could just not, I would not."

You stood up and dumped your cold coffee down the drain and sat your cup in the sink. "But babe," you sighed softly and reached for him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "Look at everything you've accomplished, what you've become! You've worked so hard!"

His eyes were glued to the floor. "You're right," his lips turned up into a smile as he looked up at you through fair lashes. His hands caressed the skin on the back of your arms. "I've worked really hard, and soon it will all pay off and we'll buy a house and get a dog." His forehead pressed against yours as he sighed. His eyes fluttered shut. "A golden retriever, we'll name him Sunny."

"Sunny sounds like he's a really good boy," you whispered and moved to place a kiss on his lips.

"The best," his body became less tense.

You smiled as you stood like that for a moment, just swaying back and forth as he held you so close that you could feel his heartbeat. He was so warm in your arms that you felt like you were holding onto a piece of the sun. You turned your head to place a kiss on the side of his neck, lips brushing the soft skin under his ear, wanting nothing but to tell him that you loved him, that you missed him, that you wanted things to go back to the way they were. But your eyes fluttered open as you heard his phone vibrate on the counter, the moment instantly shattering to bring you back to the reality of your mediocre life. Aegon tensed, his head falling to your shoulder as he groaned in annoyance.

"And so it begins," he mumbled. He let the phone ring, knowing that Otto would call back immediately after it went to voicemail.

Before he could leave the kitchen, you stopped him.

"Hey, would you mind if I invited Aemond to go bowling with us tonight?" You asked, gnawing on the inside of your cheek.

"Not at all," he shrugged. "It'd probably be good for him to get out. Let me see what this fucker wants and then I'll text you his number."

Aegon left shortly after, having been summoned to some "pre-ceremony conference" just to finalize the details of the evening. He had sent over Aemond's contact information before he left, promising that he would see you later tonight. Suddenly you found yourself alone, the silence sitting with you like a friend that you'd run out of things to talk about with.

You stared at your phone for what felt like hours, thumbs hovering over the keyboard; not sure why 'hey, did you really want to go bowling' was such a hard thing to say, but you typed it and deleted it about one hundred times. The final time you typed the words, you quickly pressed the tiny, blue arrow, sending the message into the void before setting your phone face down on the table and standing up.

Before you had even turned to walk out of the kitchen and towards your bedroom, you heard a ding! The butterflies in your stomach, which shouldn't have been there, fluttered mercilessly almost making you nauseous. You inhaled at the sight of the words on the screen, your eyes scanning them over and over again: "Of course, I'll see you there." What was most likely an unambiguous winking emoji at the end of that sentence- because in your experience, men didn't know what emojis even were- was staring back at you with a strange tension that caused a knot to form in your throat.

It was wrong.

It was all so, so wrong.

You placed your phone back down on the kitchen table and shook your head; fighting an internal battle with the guilt and the excitement that you felt. Neither one was winning, but both were slowly tearing you in half.

The thought of cancelling crossed your mind as you showered, but only because you found yourself fantasizing about every possible scenario that would lead to this night ending with you on your back in Aemond's bed. You pictured a navy blue duvet and cold, cotton sheets; a wooden headboard tapping against dark colored walls. Your legs clenched together at the thought of his weight pressing down on you.

As you continued to get ready, the images were becoming ingrained on the back of your eyelids. Every time you closed your eyes small details would change; positions, locations, where his mouth was on your body, the lighting of the room, the scent of his cologne, if his hair was up or down. You had tried to reason with yourself, that this was a completely normal feeling, that you just hadn't been laid in a while.

It didn't make a difference.

You half-hoped that he wouldn't follow through with his plans to meet you at the bowling alley. However, when you turned the corner on to 9th Avenue, you noticed his lithe figure leaning against the outside of the building. You stopped for a few seconds, watching him as he stood there; his warm breath swirling in the frigid, January air as he checked his phone.

Seconds later you felt a vibration in your pocket: "I'm here."

"I have to ask, what is your haircare routine because I've yet to see you have a bad hair day." You texted back.

He looked up and around until his gaze caught you, a small smile tugged at his lips as he pushed himself off of the side of the building. You joined him at his side, your neck craned to see his face.

"It is surprisingly simple, but if I told you then I'd have to kill you," he said so smoothly he could have rehearsed it. "And I like you," he added as he opened the door into the bowling alley and gestured for you to go inside. "So, I'd rather not say."

You smirked at his words, eyes rolling slightly. "If you ever change your mind, here's my business card-" of course you had one with you. "My readers would love to know."

He chuckled at that, "I absolutely will," and tucked the card in his coat pocket. "So who's birthday is it?"

"My coworker, Jace," you replied as you scoured the lanes for Baela and Jace. "He's probably a few years younger than you, writes really thoughtful obituaries." You spotted Baela and waved. "Baela is here, too. You met her last night."

You weren't sure why you felt nervous. Aemond certainly didn't seem to be. He was so calm and collected, and cool, as if it was effortless to him; as if he didn't command every eye to look at him the moment he entered a room. The look on Baela's face couldn't have been further from calm, collected, and cool. Her white curls fell over furrowed brows and her lips were pushed to the side.

Jace just looked happy to be there.

"Hey guys," you greeted as you stepped down to the table they were sitting at. "Happy birthday, Jace!" You moved to give him a quick hug. "Jace this is Aegon's brother, Aemond. Aemond, this is Jace. Aegon couldn't make it, some work thing."

"Lucky me," Aemond smirked as he shook Jace's hand. "It's nice to meet you." He then turned his attention to Baela. "Lovely to see you again, Baela."

Despite her rigid expression earlier, you did see her cheeks turn just a shade darker as he kissed her knuckles. You smiled to yourself.

"You guys should go get shoes," Jace mentioned. "Unless you're afraid to lose."

Aemond's eye squinted as he looked at Jace and laughed, "In a hurry to get shown up on your birthday?"

"Go get the shoes!" You groaned at him, pushing him towards the rental counter. "I'm a size __." Your eyes followed Aemond as he disappeared through the crowd before you turned your attention back to Baela. "What?"

Her arms were crossed over her chest. "I'm just concerned," she says softly. "You've been here all of five minutes and I haven't seen you this happy in two years? I just don't want you to do something that you'll regret."

Your shoulders slump and you rolled your eyes dramatically. "Baela, I'm just-" you stopped when you saw Aemond making his way back over to the table. "Being nice! Two people can be just friends."

She gave you a look but dropped the subject as Aemond dropped your bowling shoes in front of your feet. Someone ordered a round of shots, and then a second round, and a third. It was starting to get warm, the music was loud, and you felt good. Aemond was surprisingly extroverted, despite the enigmatic aura he typically projected. He seemed so nonchalant, like he belonged there, like he was good at it.

The game was obviously competitive, with Jace and Aemond doing their best to one-up each other with every strike. They carried most of the score, while you and Baela joked around, not really caring. You stepped up to the line, getting ready to throw the swirly purple and teal ball down the lane.

"Wait, wait, wait!" You heard behind you. A flurry of pale blonde hair bounced towards your side. "I've watched you throw three straight gutter balls, please, allow me?"

"What?" You gasped. "I know we're behind, but I'm not going to cheat and let you take my shot for me!"

Aemond held a hand to his chest, "The fact that you would even insinuate that I'd allow you to cheat!" He scoffed. "Please, just-"

He turned you back to face the pins, the contact of his hands on your shoulders made you disoriented. You tried to breathe, but it was so warm in there. There was a slight rosy hue to his otherwise pale cheeks as he towered over you. His hands lingered still on your shoulders. You tried not to pay attention to the way his fingers pressed into your skin as your blouse shifted beneath his grip.

"Put your feet here," he instructed and pointed to where you should stand with his toe. One hand dropped to the small of your back, you swallowed thick. "Now," his lips were dangerously close to your ear. "Line your ball up with that pin and when you step up to throw, bring this leg back."

You felt the inside of your body clenching as his hands dropped to your waist. Your cheeks flushed as the hair on the back of your neck stood straight.

Following his instruction, you took a few steps up to the pine and released your ball. Within seconds it curved to the left, falling straight into the gutter once more. You turned to look at him with a disappointed frown. His lips couldn't help but begin to turn upwards at your failure.

“I thought you said you were good at this?” You say to Aemond, giving him a playful shove. "We're going to lose!"

"And you'd blame me?" He asked with a smile.

"You instructed me right into a gutter ball!" You threw your hands up.

"My instruction was flawless, as always," you could hear the double entendre in his voice. "Not my fault you couldn't focus."

"I beg to differ," you quipped under your breath, knowing that he was close enough to hear you.

On his next turn, Jace bowled a strike to win the game. The scores weren't even close, but it didn't matter. You'd had more fun tonight than you'd had in- well, since you could remember. For a moment, you'd wished Aegon had been here, but you shut the door on that thought as you checked your phone to see that he hadn't texted you- not even to check in- since he left the apartment earlier.

Your eyes connected with Aemond as you slipped your phone back into your pocket and you smiled softly. You hardly knew him, but you could tell he knew; Aegon was his brother, after all.

"Another game?" Jace asked.

"I don't think I have another game in me," you chuckled. "My shoulder is killing me after the three games we just played."

"The three games you lost, you mean?" Jace countered.

"Hey, I know it's your birthday, but I will still kick your ass!" You laughed as you slipped out of your bowling shoes.

"We'll have a rematch, soon." Aemond interjected, holding his hand out to Jace. "Good match."

"Girls versus guys next time, maybe?" Jace laughed and shook Aemond's hand.

"That wouldn't be fair," Aemond mentioned with a cocky smirk.

"I wouldn't underestimate us," Baela added as she slung her arm over your shoulder and began walking with you towards the counter to drop off your shoes.

The midnight air was numbing as you stepped out of the comforting warmth of the bowling alley. You were almost instantly sobered, feeling tiny flecks of snow fall to your face. The sidewalks were still buzzing and the traffic on 9th Avenue was still busy as car horns sounded in the distance; a reminder that you lived in a 24 hour city.

"Anyone want to go grab a slice of pizza?" You asked. One, because you needed something to soak up the alcohol in your stomach. And two, because you knew that once Jace and Baela left, you'd be alone with Aemond.

Baela hugged you tightly before holding you at arms length, she mentioned something about going to church with her parents tomorrow morning and promised to see you bright-and-early Monday morning. Jace was already flushed from having a few, too many drinks, and Baela urged that he needed to get home.

You weren't necessarily disappointed, just anxious.

"Thanks for coming," Jace smiled warmly as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder in a side hug. He extended his fist out to Aemond, "it was good to meet you, man."

"Likewise, have a good night." His voice was soft through a tight-lipped smile.

You watched as Baela and Jace turned the corner, before turning your attention to Aemond. The headlights of passing by taxi cars shined in his crystalline eye, making him look as if he were unreal; a marble statue dressed in all back with his hands shoved into his pockets. You weren't sure what to say to him, if you should stay or go.

"Can I walk you to the train?" He asked and you exhaled with a smile.

"I'd like that," you replied.

The closest subway platform was two blocks down on 42nd. You did your best to keep up with his long strides, but it proved to be difficult. He had to stop a few times, turning to you with a smile while he waited for you to catch up. You mostly talked about work to keep the conversation going. The one thing you had noticed about Aemond was that he was a good listener, whether he actually cared about anything you were saying or not, he at least seemed to be interested.

He talked about himself, too, which you enjoyed. He talked about all of the places he had travelled to last year and how happy he was to be back home. He gushed about being able to see his family again, specifically his mother and his sister.

You'd never once heard Aegon speak about his family in such a way.

"Can I ask you something?" You said after the conversation had faded out. Your train was running late, but Aemond had been willing to wait with you so that you weren't alone.

"I can't guarantee I'll have an answer, but go for it."

"Why didn't you tell Aegon that we had met in the grocery store?"

He looked at you, his eye narrowed. "Honestly, it's just easier not to say anything sometimes." He spoke, a pensive expression across his pointed features. "Why didn't you?"

You dropped you gaze to the concrete floor. "Because it's just easier not to say anything, sometimes." You repeated his own words, knowing exactly what he meant.

"Hm," he hummed as he leaned up against a brick column. "You know," he said after a few moments of silence. You looked back up at him. "This can't happen." He motioned to the space between the two of you.

"What? Never!" You replied quickly. "I'm appalled that you're even assuming."

"I'm just making sure we're on the same page," he held his hands up defensively.

"We are," you agreed.

"We are?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yes, we're friends," you replied sternly. "That's all it can be."

"Good," he stuck his hand out for you to shake on it.

You shook his hand with a firm grip, but he turned your hand over in his, placing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. It made your heart flutter every time. The announcement that your train was arriving played on the overhead speakers.

"Thank you, Y/N. For tonight." His blue eye was piercing through you. "That was the most fun I've had in a while."

They way he said your name and the feeling of your hand in his made you wish he'd just take you home with him; to that navy blue duvet you were picturing earlier. But that was just a fantasy that lived in your mind only, and would never- could never come to fruition. He was right, Baela was right, this couldn't happen.

"You're welcome, I'm glad that you had a good time." You said softly, doing your best to hide your disappointment that the night was ending. "Thank you for coming with me."

As the train pulled up to the platform, you wished that he would pull you into him. The crisp air was thick with tension, and even though you had just agreed to the terms of this- you weren't even sure if you could call it a relationship- friendship, a look lingered in Aemond's eye that told you he didn't mean any of it.

"Friends," you repeated, reminding yourself and him of the deal that you had just made.

He nodded, "Friends."

"I hope you have a good night, Aemond." You pulled your hand from his slowly until it dropped to your side. The doors to the train opened and you found yourself a spot next to the window, forcing yourself not to look back.

Aegon isn't home when you step into your apartment. It's almost too dark and cold, and quiet, and you feel like you shouldn't even be there. You don't even care to hang up your bag and coat, you simply toss them over the arm of the couch. You've got a slight headache and you're starving, and all that you can think about is something you shouldn't be thinking about.

Your phone vibrated as you headed into the kitchen.

Aemond.

"Thanks again, I hope you made it home safe."

You found your thumbs typing a reply before you could even think if it was a good idea or not, "Anytime! I just walked through the door. We should have definitely gotten pizza, but I guess leftover lasagna will work."

Not even bothering to heat up your leftovers, you make your way back into the living room with a Tupperware of lasagna from last night and a fork. You click on the television, catching up on the news before flipping it over to one of your favorite shows.

"You've beaten me, I've got cereal."

You laughed and typed, "That kind of suits you."

Over the next two hours you had squeezed in three new episodes of your show and discussed everything from food, to movies, to philosophy with Aemond. He'd leave you the occasional voice note when he didn't feel like typing a reply, and you'd try not to think about how good his voice sounded at this ungodly hour. You'd try not to think of him sitting back, half-lidded on the couch, in a very comfortable sweater and a pair of joggers with a smile on his face because he was texting you.

It was almost 3:00 AM when you finally got a text from Aegon.

"Don't feel like you need to wait up for me. I love you."

Tagged: @tssf-imagines @gothicwidowsworld @itsabby15 @possiblyafangirl @namelesslosers@toodlesxcuddles @hiraethrhapsody @heavenly1927 @chainsawsangel @hanula18

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