hopefulidiocy

[hopefulidiocy]

Bullet to my Heart

unknown!era!aemondxmaid!OC

warnings: heartbreak, suicide - trigger warning!!

authors’ note: this is a story set in an unknown time period, it is of your choosing. my own characters are: evie and the characters who are servants. also, helaena and aegon don’t exist in this story. alicent and viserys ARE NOT king and queen, instead they are lord and lady of the manor. this was originally are story of my own creation with characters of my own but i changed it to be an aemond fanfiction. if you see the name of Benjamin thrown around, please note that that is aemond. although that shouldn’t be an issue because i’ve been through it numerous times. have a good time reading! <3

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Her skirts kick up loose grey pebbles as she makes her way to the grand old house, standing tall like a prison. The red brick imposing over the dying grass, yellow and pale with drought; the windows perfectly reflecting the hot sun that shone on her back, making her arms drip with sweat as she carried her ladies belongings. Lady Alicent swept the ground without an ounce of feet touching the floor, Evie wondered numerous times how someone could be so graceful, how someone could float an inch off the ground without odd looks.

They came to the marble archway that welcomed them to the front courtyard, decorated with green vines and a large white stone fountain that spouted fresh water that made the air cooler; as Evie passed it towards the back of the house, she felt stray spurts of water delicately spit at her. Other servants were milling about for whatever reason, stopping every so often to dip a bow or curtsey to Lady Alicent as she held her nose high. They come to the bed chamber, Lady Alicent throws herself onto the bed removing her bonnet and throwing it to her slight feet. Evie sets about unpacking the clothing from the past week, where she had to accompany her mistress to the city for poverty relief where Lady Alicent kept appearances; to make her more likeable and humble but Evie knew it would never work.

“Draw me a bath, would you?” She sighs, running her gloves down her wrinkled face. Evie doesn’t respond, she knows better than too, and enters the small bathroom attached to the chamber, towards the tub and runs it with hot water. She sits on the side, her hand running across the hot water; her skin softening and her body seemingly hydrating itself as she stares into her reflection. Her hand dips into the rose petal glass and she scatters them over the surface as her mistress undresses and sets herself inside. She scrubs at her nails, despite there being no dirt and scrubs at her face as if ridding herself of disease;

“Can never be too careful, Evie. You don’t know what they have, most of them are riddled with sinful diseases.” She shudders at the thought. Evie, again, doesn’t respond and instead looks out to the back garden through the window, the pale grass sways stiffly in the hot breeze; gardeners struggle with the rose bushes and Lady’s daughters walk arm in arm giggling to each other. Evie let her mind wander to the week prior, at how Lady Alicent and other Rah’s sat at a makeshift table in a community hall, discussing between themselves about debutante balls and the newest fashion trend; this month, silk handkerchiefs were all the rage. Evie watched from the back as skinny girl to skinny girl to rounded bellied girls plead and beg for money and shelter. The majority of the girls were dismissed, they claimed due to lack of funding but anyone with a single brain cell knows that they refused due to their living as prostitutes. During those hard moments, watching those girls go from weeping to broken, she remembered the way her mother begged for a scrap of bread to feed her three daughters. Evie, the eldest, sold wood carvings on market days and came home with enough pennies to buy mutton and bread, which would last them two weeks. Lady Alicent and the Rah’s were people Evie were supposed to hate, women that refused women due to their social status; after all, they were the ones who left Catherine to die in the arms of another stranger she so often met on the docks.

Lady Alicent showed some humility and respect for Evie, however, she gave her mother and sisters a place to rent and a chance to work in the gardens and kitchens respectively so Evie would forever be in her debt. Lady Alicent is unusual, some might say, she’s cold, uncaring and suspicious but at times she shows respect and humour and compassion.

“Help me out and then help me choose a dress,” Evie complies and her mistress is out and sat at her vanity in no time, “my sons are coming for a dinner tonight, I must look like I’m not getting any older.” She orders, she pulls the skin of her face back to even out the wrinkles but it doesn’t work because they are set deep within her face. Evie picks out a lilac dress that accentuates her womanly figure, a woman who has birthed six children back to back, her hair pinned up to God and light make up that brings a youthful glow. A few strides behind her, they tiptoe down the stairs - Evie being more heavy footed - and halt by the large oak door that held a mysterious dining room that Evie has never been allowed to use,

“When i ring the bell, you must wait out here and i will meet you in good time,” Evie dipped her head as a sign of acknowledgment. Lady Alicent eyed her for a moment, then turned to the door. A raucous laughter came from inside and then some excited exclamations from Lady Alicent. Evie turned on her heel to walk down to the servants quarters where she usually naps, eats or tends to some sewing. Tonight, she will hopefully do the latter.

She opens the door, a tiny brown door that has about five yards of solid ground before a thin spiral staircase that leads to a dark corridor with oil lanterns that flicker from the smallest possible breeze. Her feet land on the ground and laughter, gossip and cutlery clattering filter through the corridor; the door on the left is where most people down here spend their time, a large room with a rocky wooden table and too many old chairs from the house that were too old to be seen by fashionable society or broken ones. As she enters, James; Lord Viserys’ valet, sits hunched some laces that he obviously is finding difficult to handle because of his tremor; Mia, Lady Grace’s maid, sits opposite, flirting with George, an under butler who has obviously abandoned his work to flirt with her. When Evie enters, Mia pushes a chair open and invites her to sit,

“Evie, do tell this man that Lady Grace, does indeed read!” She gestures towards George who isn’t concerned about my entrance but instead staring at Mia’s clavicle. Evie simply rolled her eyes and turns towards her bag, a hat inside is to be mended; she pulls it out, sets it on the table and inspects where it needs to be mended,

“What’s for dinner tonight?” Henry, a footman, came in, “they’ve got all kinds up there! It’s making me hungry,” he pouts,

“I heard they’re eating honey roasted goose with a plethora of grilled vegetables,” Mia commented, patting down her skirts,

“Even more than that, it’s like Henry VIII’s feasts up there,” he moans,

“It’s because her favourites are here,” James speaks, Evie perks up for the first time,

“Favourites?” Everyone looks at her,

“Aemond and Daeron are her favourites, everyone knows that. Mainly because they’re boys,” Mia shrugs, “it happens, we’d be the same, Evie.”

“They’re sweet boys,” James says, some kind of affection entering into her normally dulcet voice, “Daeron especially, he’s the kind one, Aemond… he’s a quiet guy, can’t read him.”

Then the table falls silent as the footmen leave with plates of food and jugs upon jugs of red wine that will make Lady Alicent feral for the rest of the night, Evie sighs at the sight of it, then gets back to her work.

After gossip, beef stew with weak red wine, laughter and mending, the bell rang three times for Evie, Mia and James. They scrape back their chairs and head upstairs, they wait in silence in front of the door to the dining room; loud laughter and music drifts through the thickness of the door. Once the door opens, Lord Viserys is the first to exit, giving a stern nod towards James and they depart. James always has to be ten feet behind the Lord. Lady Grace, in her blonde glory is the second to leave, Mia follows her shoulder to shoulder like two childhood friends and Evie is left alone to wait, she waits for some time before the next one exits. A man with long blonde hair with a boyish sharp to his face and freckles that make leopard spots look like stripes; he’s tall with a build that would send Mother Nature herself into a coma and lips that match the boyish jawline. Evie diverts her eyes, down to his polished shoes, he smiles softly at her shyness and dips his head towards the footmen who have his brown coat and hat. He exits without a word or sound and Evie keeps her eyes down for the whole time.

“Did you see my handsome boys?” Lady Alicent asks whilst sitting at her vanity and removing her silk gloves,

“No, milady.” Evie responds quietly, removing pins and clips from her hair and letting the brown with streaks of grey cascade in clusters over her back, she takes a comb and finely calms the hair from the birds nest it was.

“My boys are so sweet, i am so lucky to have birthed them, all natural, not that disgusting muck that our Queen has taken for hers,” she literally shudders at the thought as she climbs into bed with her hair plaited and a coif over the top to stop her hair from fraying.

Evie wishes her a goodnight with an armful of dresses that need to be thrown or mended so Evie has a late night ahead of her. She treads carefully down the steps, making sure the dresses don’t drag in front of her. But, of course, as things tend to go, the bottom of the dress caught under her shoe and she collided with the floor, missing two steps in the fall. She struggles to her feet, her ankle obviously bleeding from the fall, she saves the dresses from dust and blood and finally stands tall on her feet,

“Are you okay?” A disembodied voice floats like a lullaby in the wind from the shadows, Evie steps back to the wall, her heart suddenly racing, “no need to look scared,” he laughs gently and steps into the dull light of the candle. The man from before has returned, holding a small glass of port with his coat on, he smiles gently at Evie’s deer-in-the-headlights look,

“I am fine, sir. Thank you, sir.” She says quietly and attempts to walk but a seething pain runs from her ankle to her knee,

“You don’t look fine, let me see,” he walks quickly towards her, “sit down on the bottom step here,” he gently presses on her shoulders, not using force, she plants herself on the bottom step, her ankle on fire and her head misty,

“Sir, really, I am fine. It just needs some rest, that’s all,” she attempts to rise but his hand calmly presses her down again,

“I am going to fetch you some ice,” he looks around, “where is the servants quarters?” He asks, removing her shoe and revealing her dirty foot,

“Down there,” she points towards the door and he disappears as quickly as he appeared. She rests her shoulder against the wall, waiting for the mystery son to come back. He arrives hastily with Miss Tucker, the Housekeeper, and her keys jingle in the dark light; that’s a telltale sign that she’s on her way when you can’t see her,

“Silly girl,” she mutters under her breath, struggling to her knees and placing a bag of ice on Evie’s ankle, “and these dresses must be cleaned before you mend them, your clumsiness has given you a whole nights work!” She shout whispers,

“Miss Tucker, I can take over from here,” he says,

“But sir you need to go, you have a schedule tomorrow,” she says,

“Go, I’ll be fine with it,” he says more sternly and she nods and leaves but not before shooting Evie a mean look. There’s a moment of silence as the ice compress is taken from her skin, the keys chiming away in the distance, he looks at the ankle and goes to press it again.

“She scares me,” Evie whispers, usually she’s never the one to speak first, but this situation is none other and there’s a stranger with an ice pack so she will have to speak,

“She’s always scared me,” he chuckles, “that stern look makes me rattle with fear, I don’t know how the servants can handle her,” he leans his back against the wall,

“We can’t,” she laughs gently, the atmosphere calm and serene whilst the ache in her ankle feels mended, but for some reason… she can’t find it in herself to say she now feels fine because this moment is the exact measurement of peace she has been looking for,

“I forgot to introduce myself, I’m Aemond,” he flashes a smile of two crooked front teeth whilst the other ones stood in perfect shape and form, Evie felt herself blush and thanked the night for masking it,

“Evie, Lady Alicent’s maid,” she offers him a handshake and he takes it, his hand engulfing her own and shakes it softly but stern,

“Evie,” he tests her name on his lips, liking the way they mouthed out of his mouth, “Evie… Evie what?”

“Kitch,” she smiles, “my name is rather lowly compared to yours.”

“Not at all, it’s a beautiful name, Evie Kitch.” He smiles and for a moment they keep eye contact, he searches her blue eyes that darkened when she stared back at him, he searches for a thought, of anything. But he found none. Evie found his eyes soft and kind and humble, and for some odd reason his lips seem to curl into a heart and it takes her off guard so she peels her eyes from his and begins to stand. Whilst she does this, Aemond is instantly on his feet with his arms readying her to stand, she blushes more intensely,

“Should I escort you back?” He asks, picking up the dresses and folding them to give back to her,

“No need, sir. I can make it myself. Have a good night,” she can’t look at him so she hastily exits from the scene and he finds himself watching as her braided hair bounces behind her, her black dress slightly dragging on the floor and he swears to get her something that fits.

Evie spends most of the night sewing on jewels for the dresses or mending the collar or throwing them away because the stitches are so loose that there’s no saving them anyway. Her bad ankle is a distant memory, instead the sight of Aemond searching her face is burned into her, she smiles and hums to herself as she finalises a few things before bunking down for the remainder of the night.

The next day, the sun shines high in the sky as the family have a day of croquet, Lady Alicent, of course, sits under her parasol with a cup of red wine whilst looking at the game a few metres in front of her. Lord Viserys and James are in the lead with the most balls through the holes, Aemond and Daeron kick up a fuss like most boys do when their fathers win, Grace and Stephanie laugh and chat over the small spats. Whilst Evie doesn’t look, tending to her mistress and going to and fro from the buffet table to fetch her some food or drinks; Aemond steals looks, he watches her petite face break into a small smile or sniffle at the dust collecting around her, he watches how she sways when she walks and how she listens intently to her mistress.

“Son!” Lord Viserys shouts, Aemond snaps out his trance and turns to him, “it’s your go.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Daeron asks and then looks out and sees the girl looking at her feet, “oh goodness, don’t say you’re attracted to the poor girl mummy hired three months ago,”

“Of course not,” he titters and aims his croquet stick, “mummy just looks poorly is all, is she okay?” Daeron feels unbalanced at that question but decides not to respond.

The family go inside for luncheon, Evie walking next to Mia, they small talk about the days activities when Aemond manages to break up the couple. He doesn’t know what to say so he just smiles like it’s normal he’s in between them, Mia finds some excuse to rid herself of the awkwardness,

“How is your ankle?” He questions awkwardly,

“Fine, sir,” she replies, smiling meekly,

“You don’t have to call me sir,” he laughs a little, “Aemond is just fine.” Before Evie could reply, he was whisked away by his younger brother and they continued their walk inside separate, she stands there, a spot behind her suddenly cold, she watches as he turns back slightly to mouth an apology; she just bows her head and her feet automatically begin to move, that cold spot still lingering beside her. Evie, Mia and James make their way to the servants quarters as the family sit at the luncheon table. When they sit, as Evie awaited, Mia piped up with her loud northern voice;

“What was that?” She says, her eyes wild as they sit next to each other with the other servants, waiting for their luncheons,

“What?” Evie asks, feigning naivety,

“No, don’t put on that cute voice. Young Lord came to you! He spoke to you! Actually spoke to you!” She exclaims,

“Keep your voice down, it’s nothing serious so please don’t make it out that way,” the food reaches their table and Evie instantly reaches for the freshly made bread and butters it,

“You seem so calm at the fact the YOUNG LORD came to you,” she rolls her eyes and scoffs,

“I had an accident last night, he was there so he helped me out, it’s what anyone would do.” Evie shrugs, ripping her bread with her teeth,

“If we could keep gossip to a minimum.” Vickers, the butler, orders.

The rest of the lunch is petty arguments over garments or who said what and it seems to drag on before the bells begin ringing. The rest of the day went as normal days go, Lady Alicent spends her Monday’s in the library where she cannot be disturbed and Evie learned from early on to only be around her mistress if she calls for it. So Evie mends dresses, she speaks with Mia, she gives James some shoes to polish and helps with the delivery of fruit and vegetables. Mia gives her a few looks, knowing looks and smirks whenever Evie blushes.

The bell rings for the library, Evie knows it must be for her, so she stops her sewing and kicks her feet towards the library;

“Milady?” She asks the dead air, the walls of colourful books stare down at her and large canvas paintings of the family impose the room. Above the fireplace, a large portrait of Aemond, Daeron, Grace and Stephanie hangs; no hint of smiles or hint of happiness, the portrait exudes superiority. With Aemond and Daeron standing tall with their hands on their hips, staring out at the viewer, their eyes staring a hole straight through her;

“I was seventeen when that was painted,” the disembodied voice frightens her and she whips around 360 to see Aemond standing there, his lips slightly curled upwards into a smile, Evie’s heart hammers against her chest, “I think mother should get a new one done, I’m twenty four now, I don’t look so young,” Evie giggles,

“You look perfectly young for twenty four, sir,” she says, a random burst of confidence,

“Mother will be back soon, but I wanted to grab the opportunity,” he walks towards her slowly, his eyes locked onto hers, “your ankle, how is it?” His eyes cast down to her hidden ankle underneath those long skirts, Evie wasn’t expecting that, his stutter makes her smile and she looks down,

“All fine, sir,” she says, “I don’t think I properly thanked you for your time,”

“You don’t need too, I was happy to help,” he smiles, his hands behind his back, “can I show you something?” Evie nods and follows him towards the end bookshelf, he reaches up and pulls out a red bind book, “this is something I think you should read,”

“Why; sir?” She asks, taking the book from him and examining it with her hands, it read “Dr Jekyll & Mr Hyde”

“It’s an interesting read and I’ve heard from some people that you love to read, no one in the servants quarters reads or knows how too,” he says. Evie traced her finger over the golden thread that lettered the title, the small bumps and grooves,

“You spoke to my mother and sister?” The realisation hits her and her head snaps up, a genuine smile encompasses her face, Aemond’s heart racks against his chest as her dimples show deep within her cheeks,

“I wanted to know about the mysterious girl who fell down the stairs last night so i asked around,” he shrugs like it’s nothing but no one has had much interest in Evie, she has been a fly on the wall for her twenty three years, someone people look over and speak over and think nothing about. She’s been that way from the beginning, living crumb by crumb until she was picked up by the Targaryen family and her family were able to live under the radar in the confines of a comfortable roof. Only once has someone shown some kind of interest in her, in her likes and even her injuries - and he’s standing right in front of her.

Overcome with happiness and joy and all things included, she threw her arms around the richer man. He stumbles backwards but his hands reach her middle back, he sets her stably on her feet and she doesn’t feel humiliated because he found an interest in her,

“How can I repay you, sir?” She asks, the smile never leaving her face,

“Just read it,” he smiles and they look at each other fondly before the door slams and Lady Alicent appears,

“Ah, Evie, there you are,” she rips off her gloves, “what’s this?” She takes the book from my hands, Aemond steps back with his hands behind his back,

“I gave her my favourite book, mother,” he never takes his eyes away from her and her heart skips at the realisation of her having his favourite book. Whilst Lady Alicent is examining the contents of the book, Evie places both hands on her heart and he smiles slightly,

“Women shouldn’t read,” she states, “but I’ll let it slide because my son has great taste.” She hands it back and pinches his cheeks, he blushes and Evie giggles slightly which earns a look from her,

“Let me leave you ladies alone,” he bows his head and saunters away, Evie doesn’t stop looking at him,

“He’s perfect, isn’t he?” She sighs, “anyway, dress me, you will have no mending tonight or sewing so you’re free with your evening as you please.”

Nighttime fell and Evie dressed in her thin nightgown, curls up against her wooden headboard, her fingers wandering around the soft fabric of the book and grooves of the letters. The heat of the night filters into the room as she opens onto the first page and instantly she is transported, her mind suddenly a vivid image of light and colour, the characters entering her realm of existence and her eyes scanning every page at breakneck speed. Light comes around very quickly, she slept a wink and decides to dress herself early in the day so she can read in the natural light of the servants dining room. But when she arrives, Mia instantly stands up,

“You’re the talk of the kitchen!” She hisses, “Young Lord gave you a book?”

“So what?” She questions,

“So what?” She repeats, “you are literally nothing and he gave you a book! That’s immense!”

“Whoa, no need to kick me below the belt, it was a nice gesture, let’s leave it at that.” And with that they went on with their days.

“Evie,” Lady Alicent calls from the staircase, “get your riding gear on, we are going hunting.” Evie nods and races to her room, collecting all her riding clothes and hunting rifles for her mistress and meets everyone outside the front of the house, Aemond is deep in conversation with his brother,

“Evie, you have joined us,” Daeron says, it takes her aback because she never knew he knew her name, “what a pleasure it is to have you here.” He takes her hand and dips a wet kiss onto it, Evie fights to retrieve her hand,

“Don’t be a pig, Daeron,” Grace spits, pulling on her leather gloves, “ignore him, he likes pretty girls.” Grace has always been kind to Evie, even when they see each other little to never. They share a smile and Grace gives her a kind wink before Lady Alicent turns for her hat to be fixed properly on her head,

“You don’t have to ride next to me, ride with Mia,” she says and scampers off to her husband who helps her onto the horse. Evie approaches a black horse with large brown eyes, beautiful eyes,

“Look after him, he’s my favourite,” Aemond whispers which causes Evie to blush and hide her face, “I asked for him, yet mother has no idea how many black horses we have so as far as she knows, I am the one that’s riding Buttons.” His slightly crooked smile sends her heart into her lungs and suddenly it’s hard to breathe, she dips her head as a thank you. He gave her his favourite horse, he gave her the privilege of this and she will take it in her stride;

“You have got to tell me what’s happening with you two!” Mia hisses, hitching her horse reins,

“Mia, do you really think he would find any interest in me? Everyone downstairs says that he’s kind… so it’s nothing but him being a nice person,” Evie shrugs and the group begin trotting off towards the nearby forest, plush emerald greens sway in the hot breeze. Aemond is ahead of the group with his valet and his brother, they are laughing heartily at something Daeron had said; Lady Alicent rides in silence, her lips pressing together; Lord Viserys chats to his youngest daughter Grace, they are smiling with each other and they break into song every so often which irritates Lady Alicent further.

Once they’re at the fields, birds fly high and the family take centre stage, pointing their rifles and watching James and a couple footmen run towards the corpse to pick it up so it can be plucked for food later. Mia and Evie sit with some sandwiches they had packed in the morning; Benjamin takes a quick look at Evie whilst she laughs when a breeze knocks her hair piece into the grass, she doesn’t notice him but he notices her habit to tuck non existing hair behind her ear when her cheeks blush and the way her eyes crease at the corners when she squints, probably in order to see something in the distance that her natural eyesight cannot withheld;

“He’s looking at you,” Mia whispers, leaning back on her elbows, Evie’s heart somehow skips a beat, “have a look.”

“I can’t,” Evie says,

“Just look,” she rolls her eyes and pushes her arm gently. Evie, hesitantly, turns her head towards Aemond’s direction and as if luck would have it, his head snaps back to the rifles that shoot through the air and the birds that collide to the hard ground. She tucks a bit of hair behind her ear and she turns to Mia, whose eyes are twinkling, “you’ve gone all red.” Evie hides her face beneath her palms and snorts, which then causes both of them to collapse into laughter.

Aemond hears the laughter drifting through the dry air and instantly his hairs stand on edge, he looks back and sees Evie with her head back and collapsing into the dirt beneath her; her eyes glisten with tears as Mia pulls her up from the ground, Aemond smiles and chuckles to himself,

“What’s got you laughing, son?” Lord Viserys asks, throwing the rifle behind his back, his whispers of grey beard dangling awkwardly,

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, “ready to go?” Lord Viserys grunts in response. Aemond watches as Mia and Evie struggle to get their things and their ladies things into a woven basket; without thinking, he stalks to them and bends his knees, tucking the blankets and the plates into the basket without a word and as he stands, he feels all eyes on him,

“Always such a good boy!” Mother comes running towards him and pinches his cheeks, Aemond’s cheeks grow red, “come on, let’s get some luncheon.” She hastily walks off, Lady Grace following behind her. Evie’s legs don’t want to move, she knows she must but just one look at him would make her feel better and less humiliated that everyone is staring. Before she can move a muscle, Aemond walks past her, but his fingers graze hers which are behind her back and for a moment there seems to be a linger.

Nighttime falls, the moon high in the sky that shines through the long windows in Lady Alicent’s bedroom; she sits patiently as Evie plaits her long hair down the middle of her spine, her spindly fingers working quickly as her Lady hums to herself. Evie spends this time in a mist, unfurling towards her, her hands feeling the warm softness of Aemond as his fingers touched hers secretly and wanting; the most delicate of all touches and yet it ignited a blossoming fire inside of her, her heart pitching every moment of when his fingernail caught her slightly and without the feeling of pain, how he can look at her with those piercing eyes and how his freckles lighten up his boyish face; how good he looks when the sun shines directly onto him like God has chosen him for the best mould of man. She sighs gently to herself, finding herself lost in a world full of sunlight and yellows before she realises that Lady Alicent is chattering to her;

“What do you think, Evie?” She asks,

“About what, milady?” She questions, tying a ribbon around the end of her braid,

“My daughter Grace is out in society, as you know, and she is in need of a credible bachelor,” she sighs, “Grace is young but she won’t get any younger, Stephanie is showing signs of a spinster drawn to the life of reading and writing so I’m looking towards Grace,” she reaches into her vanity drawer, “I have three eligible bachelors and I want your opinion on them.” She unfolds three photos in murky brown, three men who all look the same but Lady Alicent’s pleading eyes make Evie take a hasty decision,

“This one,” he points towards the man in the middle with the moustache. Lady Alicent hums in response and stores all pictures away,

“Interesting taste,” she says and climbs into bed without another word,

“Milady.” Evie whispers and picks up the shoes that need mending after today’s hunting session and makes her way downstairs. The oil lamps glimmer little spots of light as she makes her way through the corridor, large canvas paintings of landscapes and renaissance art of people who have come before; she wishes she could stand and admire them one day; she silently tiptoes down the stairs, making sure to miss the spots where the steps creak and she plants her feet solely on the floor without making a sound until a familiar voice swam through the air like a shark finding its prey;

“I’m glad you didn’t fall this time,” Benjamin appears from the library,

“My Lord,” Evie bows and lifts her head up to see Aemond basking in the moonlight glory. The shimmer of moonlight glows around him like a halo, like he was meant to be in her life, like he was an angel. He smiles softly at her, no one says a word, they simply look at each other with their round eyes and parted lips. Evie looks beautiful as the moon glitters her face, as she looks at him with those bright blue eyes of hers and how she doesn’t peel away from the eyesight; he wants to step closer but he can’t, he doesn’t want to overstep any boundary;

“I am enjoying the book, sir,” she finally says, her eyes finding a new spot to focus on, which happens to be the door behind him,

“I’m glad,” he chokes on his words. A slight awkward chill flows through the air like an uninvited guest, both parties want to say something but can’t find the words. The tips of their tongues swell with anticipation but they daren’t say anything,

“I should probably go mend Milady’s shoes,” she shows the shoes as if Aemond never noticed them in her hand, turns on her heel and walks down the hallway. His hands curl into fists at his sides as he internally punches himself, he watches her hand gently pull on the handle before his automatic response to charge towards her. She’s taken by surprise but she welcomes his warm arms as they clutch onto her elbows, he wills her with no words to look up; their eyes meet, hers full of confusion, guilt and a kind of fear before he cups her chin with his soft hand, he doesn’t know what he should do so he lets fate take their bodies into its hands and their heads come close, carefully but also frantically; he doesn’t want to hurt her, they butt noses ever so gently and their lips touch. A spark ignites, a small fire made in a forest on a dark night and flames ignited in their bellies as their lips touch faster, stronger and heavier. He cups her face in his hand, and they move fluidly in sync as they explore each other.

Evie is the first one to pull away, her lips heavy and blossoming as she looks into his eyes,

“Sir,” she manages to whisper, “we can’t do this,” she steps back a little but he matches her distance and cups her face into his hands,

“Evie, i have been waiting to do this, so please just let me,” and she nods and their lips touch again, that same spark flaming higher and higher.

The following night, they meet in the room behind the staircase. There’s a window with a bench that overlooks the gardens where rose bushes and large trees hang overhead, Evie sits there, her bum pressed against the hard wood as Aemond sits opposite her, admiring the slender slope of her nose as she stares out at the moonlit bushes and the trembling shake of light wind. Her dress falls loosely on her and Aemond remembers how he promised himself to get her a new one, a pretty one that accentuates her bright eyes and her beautiful skin tone; now he wants to reach over and pull her in, mask his own body with hers, smell her and feel her skin, the way it feels in her own body, he wants to feel in him. But the way she sits there, so mesmerised by her surroundings, by the way she almost presses her face against the glass;

“Shall we go outside?” He questions, she looks at him perplexed,

“Outside?” She repeats,

“You seem like you want to go outside, so let’s go,” he stands up and offers his arm. Evie stands, patting down her skirts and slithering her arm through his, he tucks her into his side and kisses her temple softly before they make their way, secretly, into the gardens. Her skirts kick up pebbles like always but this time just that bit delicately, she feels like she’s floating by his side and he’s the only one to ground her. The soft night breeze ruffles his hair ever so slightly as they walk along a path lined with rose bushes and sunflowers,

“I have never walked here at nighttime,” he admits,

“I’ve never walked here,” she says,

“Doesn’t your mother work here, in the gardens?” He questions and she nods but says nothing else; her mother probably planted these rose bushes and it wouldn’t surprise her because they are beautifully planted and here in the midst of the roses and the fantastical night air, she turns to him, she holds his hands between them both; clutching both hands to her chest and he leans down to kiss her, an inaudible sign to kiss. Their mouths move lovingly, gentle and sweet like they had all the time in the world. Until one of the windows clashes open,

“Aemond!?” Lady Alicent’s voice rings loud through the air, Aemond halts for a second and pushes Evie into the nearby rose bush which earns a scowl and a snort of laughter from Evie as she tucks herself between the thorns,

“Yes, mother,” he calls up to her, Evie peeks through the thorns and roses to see her lady almost hanging out of the window and then back to Benjamin who stands there almost proud that he’s hiding a servant in a bush,

“What are you doing out here?” She asks,

“I couldn’t sleep, mother. I just wanted a nighttime walk.” The excuse is laughable, Evie covers her hand to stop the giggling but it gets harder when Aemond sucks in his cheeks to stop laughing,

“Are you alright?” And the conversation goes on as mundane as can be until Lady Alicent finally shuts her window, shuts off the oil lamp and goes to sleep. Aemond looks over at the rose bush, he saunters over there and gets to his knees,

“We almost got caught,” he flashes a cheeky smile and dodges the thorns to get to her, she laughs as he begins to kiss her; ignoring the thorns pressing into their legs.

The next day, the sun rises high into the sky as the family and servants take to the fields again to hunt. Aemond and Daeron laugh together, Aemond taking a few looks at Evie at any moment he can without being seen and sends her a wink or a smile. She smiles back, and sits in the sun beside Mia;

“Don’t think I’m not noticing anything,” she whispers and nudges her in the shoulder. She laughs and the two sit silently.

“You finally arrived! The men are so boring with their hunting,” Lady Grace screams with excitement. Mia and Evie turn to see a group of men and women, all alike in their natural grace and the girl at the front runs to Lady Grace and envelopes her in a hug. Once she breaks from the hug, the girl is breathtakingly beautiful. With blonde ringlets that cascade down her shoulders, masked with emerald green eyes and red lips that part when she looks into the distance; her pale eyelashes flutter and she walks with ease over the hilly landscape towards the men who are hunting. Evie’s heart hammers in her chest, whether with jealousy or something she doesn’t have a hold of yet, as she makes her way to Aemond. His heart drops suddenly when he notices her, knowing exactly why she’s here and exactly why he wanted to put it off for so long. She smiles that broad lipped smile as she hugs everyone she sees and now he finds he cannot look at Evie;

“Who is that?” Evie asks,

“I’ve no idea.” Mia answers truthfully.

That night, Aemond waits in their spot with a dress wrapped finely with paper, he waits anxiously as he checks his watch, she’s late by ten minutes so maybe after the scene today she doesn’t want to see him. But she appears. As radiant and as beautiful as ever and any anxiety, any hurt, any lingering feelings disappear as they both fall into each other’s arms. He kisses her lips, her cheeks, her nose and her eyes, missing every part of her that he wants to hold, watch and caress every second of the day. She lets him take her weight as her arms wrap around his neck, their lips working at each other as if they are hungry animals. He finally breaks the kiss and shows the present in between them, she is breathing heavily as she looks at it;

“What is this, Aemond?” She asks, she takes it in her hands and as he watches, she pulls open the paper to find a smart, black dress with threading that must’ve been custom made, “Aemond…”

“It’s yours, i see what they put you in downstairs, i want to see you in something that makes you even more beautiful than you already do,” he tucks her hair behind her ear as he softly speaks,

“What will I tell them downstairs?” She questions,

“Just say you bought it with money saved up, they won’t question it,” he whisper kisses her skin, “i want to see you in it tomorrow, it’ll be the greatest honour.”

As she wakes up, the birds tweet and the sunny ambiance of the morning sends her into a blissful wake. She steps out of bed and eyes the dress which hangs proudly over the door, the black embroidered bodice with roses that shape the entire body, and the skirt that hangs loose over the hips. She steps into it, tightening it herself and her hair she lets cascade over her shoulders in its wavy form, she applies some lip rouge before stepping into the servants dining room where Mia sits, sewing a broach onto Lady Grace’s hat, she looks up;

“Oh my! Evie don’t you look wonderful!” She throws her arms up, “where on earth did you get that?” Evie takes a place beside her,

“You can’t tell anyone,” out of everyone in the servants quarters, Mia is the only one she trusts with such solid words, “Aemond had it custom made for me!” She whispers excitedly. Mia’s eyes shudder at the mention of Aemond’s names from those excited lips, but she tries to mask it and smiles thin lipped before returning to her work;

“Mia? What is it?” She asks, suddenly worried that she shouldn’t have said anything,

“It’s beautiful, the Young Lord has good taste,” Mia doesn’t look up,

“What is it, Mia?” She questions harder this time and Mia looks up, her mouth parting but she’s cut off by the bell ringing for her. Evie looks up and scrapes her chair back to see to her mistress, her mind reeling with thoughts and questions and even fear. She climbs the steps and sees Aemond about to descend, she expects him to look at her and be taken aback, but he looks at her with a dead stare, without a hint of a smile and he exits the staircase without a second glance.

Lady Alicent sits at her vanity, her hair already pinned up as she chats wildly about gossip she overheard from yesterdays events but Evie can only look at her reflection and how stupid she feels wearing the dress he gave her;

“You and the servants will be needed in the library at noon,” Lady Alicent says sternly, “be prompt.”

Evie sits on the end of her own bed, her mind wandering into places that she doesn’t want to be. She picks at her nails until they bleed, causing a hiss of pain escape her mouth. The entirety of the house is acting odd, acting like they’re hiding something or maybe they’re being so exposing with it that Evie is too stupid to even notice. But noon rolls around and the servants are called to the library.

Inside the library is Aemond with his siblings and parents, but not only them, the girl from yesterday whose name is Lady Alys, her skin glowing under the reflection of the windows, she stands by her parents but also oddly close to Aemond. He turns around to see the servants, his eyes scanning and almost praying for Evie to disobey her rules but like the person she is, she’s here and she looks worried. Aemond wants to run to her, to tell her not to be so worried but he knows it would amount to nothing.

“Evie, please give a nice glass of wine to everyone,” Lady Alicent orders, Evie nods, staying silent and picks up the wine glasses and hands them to people on a silver tray,

“Servants, family, we called you here today because we have some exciting news,” Lord Viserys bellows, Evie tries to listen over the rushing in her head, “we’re here to celebrate the engagement of our son,” oh no, “and the lovely, most beautiful girl in the county, Lady Alys.” Evie feels something akin to a rock crash into her head and she drops the tray of wine, the wine sloshing onto the - thankfully - red carpet. Her heart thunders against her chest, her head spinning and Mia runs up to help her, grabbing her hand with hers and she feels the trembling ricochet through her. Evie can’t think, she can’t breathe, she can’t see; tears form and she wills them to go, to suck back into her eyes but they drop one by one onto the carpet. Mia grabs her hand and pulls her up, wrapping an arm around her waist and taking her back to the group of servants that have stopped looking at them. Aemond swallows harshly as Lady Alys nuzzles against his arm, Aemond knows he must say something so he sticks with the most basic of all sayings;

“I am the happiest man alive.” He lies. Although it’s the most basic of sayings when someone is to be married, it still sends a shock wave through Evie’s body. Her body almost caves in and Mia holds her up, she cannot look up, she cannot see the happiest man alive with someone who is not her. So she keeps her eyes to floor.

She lies in her bed, on her side, tears seeping into the pillow at a time where Aemond could be waiting for her behind the staircase but it’s unlikely that he will be. He will be with his wife to be, happy and healthy and probably laughing at her funny jokes or kissing her more passionately than he ever kissed Evie and it angers her, it angers her that he is married off to another woman, a beautiful woman who can’t be hated because of her beauty. She can’t even be hated for falling in love with a man whom Evie loves. Aemond fleets into her mind, his sharp face breaking into a smile as he fits stylishly into a tuxedo and Lady Alys’ perfect silhouette in her wedding gown, she watches on from her minds eye at their first kiss, at the celebrations for their wedding, at their children - she sees it all. But what she doesn’t see, is herself. She doesn’t see herself in any of these visions and she’s aware that she never belonged beside him, her class and her lowly, under average looks caused her to dream, to let herself live in a stupid dream made by a delusional imagination. How could a man so handsome and rich ever fall in love with her? How could it ever be allowed? And she fought with herself for how she let her heart go so easily, he stands there with her red, bloodied heart beating in his hands and the worst of it all, she wouldn’t complain about the pain because at least he kept her heart… even if she never had his.

A sound vibrates through her silent room, she looks up in her cloudy vision and notices the rain finally pelting at the window. She can’t smile, everything hurts to move but she wills it, opening her window wide enough for her to step out of. The rain meets her hands, it meets her hair, her head and her face, and she lets herself melt into acidic rain and her feet carry her over the gardens where she once found utmost happiness, where she felt wanted and secure in the arms of a man who promised things he couldn’t keep. The rain will mask her tears. The rain will mask her pain. No matter what, she will stay here. She will always be where he left her and that is too much to bear. Every corner; every room, every dust particle will remind her of him, she cries at the thought of him leaving here with his bride as they make love in the moonlight where she and he did behind the stairs, she watches as Lady Alys’ stomach blooms in Spring and how a smaller version of Aemond arrives in Summer. She will be there for none of that.

She looks up to the sky, the rain still falling but now only softer as if allowing her to fulfil her task before getting heavier. She breathes deeply through her nose and she crouches onto the ground, the knife firmly in her hand from when she stole it from the dining table and how it fits so perfectly in her stomach, how the blood flows so perfectly and matches the rain as it grows heavier and heavier. How her last thoughts are of him, and them and the way he held her and the way he spoke her name. The way his soft fingers delicately worked on her injury and how he looked in the night. She lays down, hopelessly devoting herself to the sky because she is no longer needed on the earth. She lies until her eyes shut gently and the pebbles under her back no longer hurt her. And she lies there in peace. Until morning comes around.

[hopefulidiocy]

finally back posting for all my one shot hotties out there. my requests are open but please only request hotd🥹

anyways, i’m here and thriving (kind of). uni has been literally the bane of my existence and thank fuck i’m gone from that hell hole.

please view pinned before you put a request in as there are some things i won’t do <3

have a nice day hotties

[hopefulidiocy]

In the Rain

modern!aemondxfem!reader

warnings: cheating & heartbreak

inspiration: please listen to “in the rain” by XG whilst reading as this was the inspiration for this piece🤍

authors’ note: umm so I’m f*cking back!?!? uni has really kicked me to the kerb sooooooo i’m back and with heartbreaking stories ig

🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️

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Being eighteen came with a bout of pain and silent suffering. The death of a teenager, officially a young adult and death of innocence, naivety, anything really. Suddenly, the onset of big adult emotions pour over you the second you blew out your candles. Your mother and father clapping frantically, your family surrounding you as if you had one spotlight over you; like a cabaret performer as the candle smoke waved in front of you, towards the ceiling and disappeared. Your best friends, Helaena and Alys stood beside you, hugging you and kissing your cheeks as if it was such a huge success to hit eighteen years old. You had heard stories of girls suddenly becoming whole, accepted once they turned eighteen; but not you. No. You felt an immense amount of pressure weigh you down as you looked into the eyes of your expectant father and into the body language of your strong willed mother. The world wasn’t your oyster. You knew what was expected of you and that was to take over the family business, which consisted of bossing people around to do the dirty work whilst you stayed home with your hands clean and an empty conscience. You never understood how your parents did it, they always had such a calming aura surrounding them that you had thought, many times, they didn’t feel anything.

A vibration from your back pocket had alerted you out of your mind fog. Whilst the attendees were helping themselves to cake, you fished out your phone, grazing the cracked screen with the pad of your thumb as the light shined.

A: happy birthday, y/n.

Inwardly, you groaned. Seeing his name freaked you out, a message you had been waiting for, for months now. A message to prove he was still thinking about you, to prove he still wanted you. And there it was. Yet your thumbs hovered over the keypad, wondering whether it was worth answering. You hadn’t gotten over your first love, Aemond Targaryen, he was everything to you and probably still. He held you in your darkest days, smiled with you on the lightest and laughed with you whenever you commanded it. You had gravitated towards him at school, that broody, tall man who swanned through the campus like he owned it. People moved out of the way for him, stared at him as if he was a god and it had intrigued you. With your mothers own willpower, you pretended you had no clue on the science homework and, thankfully, you had been paired together for some chemistry experiment and there you had laid the first seed into talking to him. You could be sneaky.

“What’s this?” You held up a cylinder containing a scrap of silver, he cocked his eyebrow at you,

“Magnesium.” He said, his lips thin as he wrote down some of his findings. He was hard to speak to, often alone and deep into his own thoughts. You were a determined little thing though.

“What’s this used for?” You had questioned, leaning your elbows on the table, looking at him expectantly. You hadn’t earned a single glance, nothing when he answered and even now, you hadn’t a clue what he said because he was just so damn ethereal up close.

It started from there. Little seeds of misunderstanding in order to get close to him and many people had told you that Aemond will not do anything for others, even if they were dying. But you turned out to be different. He answered you every time you asked a question with ease and patience that had only intrigued you.

“Are you always so serious?” You asked, finishing up on an answer,

“What makes you ask me that?” He whispered, his hand working hard on his paper,

“I’ve never seen you smile,” you said, setting your pen on the side of your text book,

“I always smile,” he deadpanned,

“Show me,” you cocked your head so your hair fell gracefully over your shoulder. He made a noise in his throat as he straightened up, looking at you through his own blue eye. He was vaguely amused.

“Show you?” He cocked an eyebrow,

“Yes,” that had earned a smile, only slight but his lips definitely tugged upwards which only made your jaw drop because that singular, tiny moment had changed his entire face. He was stunning when he looked happy. Something you hadn’t ever seen before.

After that, you began to talk more, to understand him and he listened when you spoke. Every time he would zone in on you, watch your mouth and understand everything you were saying. The time it all changed was during break when it was a particularly hot day, you were sprawled out on the grass in the school field, he was sat up, his knee tucked to his chest as he played with blades of grass.

“Your sister is sweet,” you commented after a moment of comfortable silence, shielding your eyes from the sunlight,

“She is,” he hummed, his back turned to you,

“What are you doing?” You smirked, propping up on your elbows, attempting to peer over his tall frame,

“None of your business,” he pretended to snap, but you could tell the amusement that was in his voice. After a few pauses, he turned around abruptly, pretending braided blades of grass made into a small bracelet. You stunned at him, looking from the green to his angelic face.

“What’s this?” You asked, slightly breathless,

“For you, y/n,” he beckoned the bracelet towards you but you made no move to pick it up, still stunned that he suddenly presented something so small but meaningful to you, “may I?” He gestured to your small wrist. You nodded, silently, his soft fingers gently held onto your wrist as he easily slipped it on. His fingers stilled at your velvety flesh, his eye flicking up to your face to gage your reaction.

“Wow, I’ve made you speechless?” He laughed, beautiful sound echoing through the grass, the wind carrying his magical tone as you looked into his face, a smile carved into his face. A strand of hair flew into his eye at that moment and instinctively you held your fingers to his forehead and moved it, tucking it behind his ear, he leaned into your touch, a pleasant smile on his face.

“Thank you,” you whispered, admiring the work on your wrist, his fingers still burning through you as he pulled you gently towards him. His breath fanned your face as his gaze lowered to your lips, you edged closer, giving him silent consent as the stars drew in closer. His lips touching yours. So soft and demure as his moist lips touched your very soul. You placed your hands on his shoulders as his fingers dug into your waist, his lips moving so slowly as if he was savouring this moment. Both of you deepened it, as if you were on the same wavelength, enjoying this moment of magical energy as he pulled you closer, your legs draping over his legs. Your lips parted, heavy breathing as he pulled you into his embrace, cradling you as if you could break any moment.

Months had passed which were similar, passion in the dark and the words, understanding and warmth that passed through both of you. When he held you, cupping the back of your head. He was there during your final exams, waiting for you outside the gates with roses and a card, you had pounced on him as if he was about to disappear into smoke. The emotions, feelings and everything in between was overwhelming but you welcomed it every time. You welcomed the love that took over every vessel, you welcomed the hurt that came with a disagreement, you welcomed loving him with every naive bone in your body.

Until that all changed.

You couldn’t pin point it exactly but it was during the months of summer, you had been away on holiday for a few weeks and came back to an empty text exchange. He hadn’t thought to ask if you enjoyed the holiday, if you’re okay, if you’re having a nice time. He seemed to just… go. Leave. Some would call it ghosting. You would call it ultimate heartbreak. After unpacking, you noticed a text come through, like a wild and hungry dog you opened it with a ferocity that had shocked you. Your heart thundered in your chest as the text read:

A: we need to talk, y/n.

Okay. Perhaps it wasn’t going to be too bad, you had thought. Wondering what he could possibly want to speak about, you had been fine with each other up until the last week you had been away. You assumed it was his summer job, or he had been getting wasted, which was something that had been happening recently. So you dropped everything, now you cringed at the fact you basically crawled over to him at his beckon, but love trumps all. You appeared at the gates of his home, the dark spirals of roof looked overhead as Alicent opened the door with her big brown eyes and full lips.

“Y/N!” She exclaimed, pulling you into a hot embrace. Alicent had always been so lovely to you, inviting you in and making you feel as if her home was yours. She made a banging hot coco as well, “you look so well, my love,” she kissed your cheeks and stepped aside for you to enter into the grand foyer of the house.

“Thank you, Ali.” You had gotten close enough for a shortened name, and that basically said it all about how comfortable you felt with her.

“He’s upstairs, love,” you looked back now, at that time, and remembered a look of sadness pass over Alicent as quick as a blink. But at the time, you were simply itching to see Aemond.

When you opened his door, he was sat at the edge of the bed, topless with grey sweatpants that made you hot under the collar. There was something wrong, it was in the air, hanging thickly over both of you and it was killing you inside because you didn’t know how to make it go away. He turned up at you, his eye sad and eye patch turned upwards so his glass eye was rolling in his head as he made to stand up.

“Aemond,” you whispered, closing the door quietly behind you and stepped forward, just shy of a full step. He smiled sadly as he looked away, his hand passing over his jaw, “what is it?” You walked over to him then, taking his hand into yours, begging him silently to look at you. Eventually he did.

“Y/N,” his voice almost broke, and you tried so hard to suck in the breath as you awaited the blow he was about to knock into you, “we need to talk.” You nodded, agreeing and sitting on the bed with him, your hand still in his.

“You have to know how sorry I am, I never meant for any of this to happen, I swear,” he swallowed hard as you watched him, careful and sadly, you braced your walls to collapse around you and they certainly fucking did when he said, “I’ve met someone.” You gaped as him, the words repeating in your head like a train on speed as he looked away from you, obviously guilty and letting go of your hand.

“You did what?” You hissed, snatching your hand back into your lap before he could fully let go. He turned to you, his face suddenly hard, like it had been all that time ago.

“I’ve met a girl, y/n,” he repeated,

“I heard that,” you snapped, “what do you mean?” Your heart almost leaped into your throat, tempted to spit it onto his hand to show him what those words had done to you,

“We haven’t been working well lately, around these last two months we just haven’t spoken,” he shrugged as if that was an excuse,

“We had exams, Aemond,” you scoffed, looking anywhere but at him, “I didn’t have the time to speak to you, how many times did I apologise for that?” You fought against your voice breaking and the tears from piling up into your eyes.

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry, y/n. But it’s happened and I can’t do anything about it now,” he sighed, suddenly standing up. Leaving you reeling, your lungs catching as the breath refused to let go of the tension in your shoulders. You watched him stand at his window, looking out into his acres of land as if pretending to be in a music video. You couldn’t comprehend how to feel, angry? That didn’t seem to be enough. Sad? That was too overwhelming to allow into your mind. You waited, the air suddenly thick as he creaked his window open, popping a cigarette into his mouth.

“Why?” You finally asked, he hummed as he thought of his words,

“She gets me, y/n,” he finally answered after some hesitation. Those words hit you hard and deep within your poor broken heart as you imagined all those good memories with him, when he held you as you crossed a shallow river to get to the other side: all of them now fractured fragments. You sighed deeply, keeping your tears in your face as you stood, patting down your jeans in the process.

“I understand,” you turned to leave, not wanting another moment in his presence before he blurted,

“I wish it could’ve been different,” he was staring at you now, you turned and gave him the deadliest look before you left; tears finally streaming down your face as you stormed out of his stupidly large house.

The months that followed were spent face down in your bed, crying out in pain as his sister held you, when Alys had to coax you out of your cave with a promise to see your favourite band in concert. All this time, you still saw him at school with her, Arya Stark, the girl you sat next to in Math. He held her hand, clasping his fingers tightly around hers as you walked past him in the hallways… wishing for it all to just fucking end.

Then it did. It was summer and you had finished, finally. You didn’t have to see that devastating beauty every day, you didn’t have to go back to your room in floods of tears and you definitely didn’t have to think about him again. Eventually, you began to heal, knowing that it was over and there was nothing you could’ve done to stop him from cheating on you. You hoped one day he would feel the pain he put onto you, but you were patient enough to wait for that because you knew you’d be healed and he would be neck deep in a relationship he helped bring down. Despite all the healing and the emotional rebuild, he still crept around your mind, like a shadow. He was still there. Often you thought about what life would be like with him now and you allow yourself to grieve what could’ve been, it would be stupid to ignore it.

So when you saw that birthday text on your phone, with the pads of your thumbs hovering over the keyboard and a thundering heart that almost hurt… you turned your phone off. Letting him go and hoping he was already facing the torment that you were waiting for.

[hopefulidiocy]

Y’all, I would like some requests please🥹😋🫧

[hopefulidiocy]

Familiar Strangers

A/N Soft Aemond is cute.

Warnings: smoking, weed, drinking, lots of cursing

Modern Aemond x y/n

🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂

🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂

You knew it would be bitter, the end. You knew it would hurt, that storm of words, the horrific crush of your poor heart. You remembered staring at him in the dark moonlight, outside the Targaryen Headquarters, his hair was a shining halo and you watched as his eye never created any kind of emotion. You watched as he simply nodded at you, devoid, almost empty. The whole thing had barely touched him. The weeks that followed saw your once full, red and beating heart crack, split and crash towards the bottom of your abdomen. You would sit there, neck deep in tissues and tears as your mind roamed and dangerously closed in on his once beautiful smile, the radiance that poured from him when he saw you across a room. The blush that would rise into your cheeks and the way you smiled when he kissed you for the first time. All those beautiful memories now fazed with despair.

Four months after the break, you sat dressed in your workout gear after a particularly intense day and you scrolled to the edge, breaking that promise to yourself and pressing on Aemond’s Instagram handle. You scrolled, your eyes blurry as you noticed the most recent photo. It was a group post, initially made by the Starlight Magazine for Business but tagged Aemond. He was standing, wearing his statement black tailored suit, his hair the same as it had always been and that beautiful sea coloured eye so alert. You dragged your eyes to the woman next to him, an elegant figure dressed in a tailored gold dress with trims of diamonds handing from her waist. You zoomed into her face, noticing the picture perfect make up and those beautiful black eyes that stared directly into your soul. Shaking, almost hyperventilating, you shut down your phone, staring at the white wall in front of you, picturing nothing but Aemond. He was hidden in every corner, every space, every fucking room and you couldn’t hide from it. You just couldn’t get away from him and those shattered memories. A deep breath. In for four and out for four.

It’s fine, you thought. He can do what he wants, who cares? But who were you kidding? You cared. You cared so much. Why did he look so happy next to her? Did he really forget so quick? Who does that? What decent person does that? So many thoughts, so many memories spiralled you deeper into your sorrow.

The next day was your first day back at work, you took some time off for your heartbreak, not being able to face it. But Helaena needed you so you sucked it all up, Aemond hardly came into the office anyway so the likelihood of you seeing him was exceptionally slim. The day was warm, so a simple smart dress was the best, you stood outside the all glass compound, looking up at the dark green letters that spelt “TARGARYEN” and you sucked in the breath around you and entered.

“Morning, y/n,” Alys said, smiling, a clipboard in her arms, nestled into her chest, “good to see you.” You smiled softly, adoring Alys for that moment, she was always so kind to you. In your small box office, it was stifling so you opened the window ever so slightly to let in the air. The computer sat idle in front of you, you sank your back into the leather as you scrolled through the emails. A knock at the door had you knocking over your iced coffee. Helaena entered, a small smile on her face.

“Hey,” she said, sitting opposite you, “I’ve just sent you the email and I’m not sure if you’ve seen it yet but there’s a party. Aegon thought it would be good to host a large fuck off party to introduce the VELARION company into our corporation,” she rolled her eyes, taking a hit from her weed pen before continuing, “I’m gonna need you there.” Your breath hitched in your throat, you attempted to stifle the sigh that wanted to escape from deep within. You knew it would bring up the memories you simply didn’t need. But you were Helaena’s assistant, her only one, so you needed to be there so you nodded.

~

The night came quickly a fortnight after, you stared at yourself in the floor length mirror of Helaena’s apartment. You had finished getting her ready in a deep emerald fishtail dress, the dress you were wearing was a lovely short red dress that stopped just above the knees, your lips coated in red and your hair up in a messy bun. You shot some tequila, letting the burn fizz down your throat, you fucking needed it as the nerves were threatening to burst at the seams.

The room was glittered with chandeliers, music bounced off the tall walls, the chatter and laughter was loud and overbearing. You looked at the crowd, giggling and joking over flutes of champagne. This was not your typical scene. You stood awkwardly by the bar, clasping onto a glass of champagne that was thrust in your hands at the door. You could feel a shift. A change in atmosphere, a change in tone as you turned towards the entrance. Head and shoulders over the rest of the group, next to him was the dark brown haired fiancée, dressed in a tight emerald dress, his large hand on her lower back. The champagne disappeared down your throat, sending a whirl in your head as he leaned down to hear what she was saying and he smiled. Not just any smile. It was genuine. Fucking genuine. The kind he kept secret for you on those nights you spent in his warm bed. You’d spent months missing him and here he was, completely fine. The air was stale, condensing around you, you needed to leave. You grabbed your clutch, skimming through the crowds of people that murmured when you pushed them out of the way.

Outside, the air was beautiful and light as the moonlight beat down on you. You rummaged in your clutch, looking for that familiar square packet of cigarettes. Your heart thumping, your hands shaking as you lit it, inhaling that majestic smoke into your lungs, instantly feeling the warmth that filled your body. You waited there, leaning against the brick wall that enclosed the crowds of people and the music that thumped into the night air.

“Y/N,” you turned around slightly to see Aegon, his hands in his pockets as he was walking towards you, “do you have a spare cigarette?” You nodded, handing him the packet and watching as he plucked one from it. He pursed it between his lips and took a drag that had him sighing with relief.

“I hate these places,” he admitted, hitching one leg up on the brick behind him, “I don’t see why Rhaenyra is needed here but I can’t have my father’s company going to shit.” He smirked sadly as he took another drag. You didn’t know what to say so you looked towards the stars, it was a clear night. Then, just as your cigarette reached the end of its life, familiar footsteps echoed on the pavement.

“Aegon,” that beautiful vibrato that had you flushed. You slowly looked over your shoulder, seeing him standing there stoic and cold… beautiful. He didn’t look at you immediately. But when he did you could’ve sworn there was a change, a shift that had the earth on a tilt, he stared at you, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard as he swallowed. Your skin set alight as you watched him standing there, idly and straight into your own eyes. “You’re needed, Aegon.” He said, switching his eyesight to his older brother. Aegon sighed, smashing his cigarette under his black shoe, throwing you a nod goodbye as he disappeared into the building. Aemond stood there awkwardly for a moment.

“It’s good to see you, y/n,” he said, his voice soft like a flower. You shot him a gentle smile, nodding in acknowledgment and turned away from him. He stood there for a moment before walking away.

A few days after you were left reeling from Aemond’s presence, you sat in your office chair, taking a bite out of your sandwich and looking through your emails, jotting down what else is needed. A knock on the door startled you, you swallowed your food and beckoned them in. Your breathing instantly stopped as Aemond Targaryen strode into the room, shutting the door behind him. You swallowed harshly as he stood there, idle and looking deeply into your eyes.

“Mr Targaryen.” You said, crossing your arms tightly across your chest.

“Y/N, please, just call me Aemond,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft. You surprised yourself as well with the instant anger you felt shoot through your body. You decided to ignore it.

“Is there anything I can do for you today?” You reached for your notepad, readying yourself mentally for some wedding preparations he was doing. He sighed, slipping his hard harshly down the side of his face.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he pointed to the opposite chair and you nodded, allowing him to sit. The sight of him had your eyes slightly blurring.

“What is it?” You sighed, dropping the pretend business voice and sitting back in your comfortable chair.

“I miss you,” you couldn’t help the chuckle that emitted from your throat, “I really do, y/n.”

“You are getting married, Aemond. I’m not quite sure why you’re here.” You shrugged, playing with your black pen.

“Alena was an arranged marriage, it was done way before my father’s death. I thought I had escaped it when I met you but, alas, my mother had different plans,” his eye dropped with sadness, looking anywhere but your face, you opened your mouth to speak until he spoke again, “I’ve cut it off, Aegon helped me.” You were a fish out of water, your mouth moving but nothing coming out.

He stared at you then, his eye gentle and striking you back to those times he would look at you in his bed or across the dinner table, those times when you felt loved and seen under his wondrous gaze.

“What do you want, Aemond?” You didn’t mean for your voice to edge on icy, it took him aback ever so slightly, you saw it in the way his eye flickered.

“I’m sorry, y/n. For ending it like that,” he said, clasping his hands across his knee which was propped on the opposite leg, “I felt if I did it coldly, you would get over me quickly,”

“That’s so fucking stupid,” you chuckled darkly, shaking your head, “I loved you, fuck sake, I love you still, Aemond, it’s so unbelievably hard to get over you, this, us.” Your eyes threatened to spill over, but you inhaled so deeply you felt your eyes quiver.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered,

“It’s going to have to take a lot more than that, I may not be over you but I’m not a doormat, I will not fall back into those depths again and be left at the edge of a cliff.” Your voice led into a whisper, your voice shaking as you watched for a reaction. You got nothing.

“I know, y/n, I want you to trust me again, I want you to forgive me and I know it’s hard. God, it’s fucking hard. But I will do whatever I can to bring you back to me, if that’s what you want?” He leaned forward slightly,

“I want it, Aemond. But it’s going to have to be a lot of work from you,” you shrugged, pursing your lips together.

“I’ll do everything I can, y/n,” he reached forward and instinctively you brought your face towards him, his thumb gently stroked across your cheekbone, “I’m sorry, y/n, I’m so fucking sorry.” A single tear rolled down his cheek, you watched it as it dropped off his chin and you merely smiled, thin lipped, leaning into his touch as you thought over all those beautiful, intoxicating times from your shared past.

“Aemond, I need you to prove to me that you want me… that you love me…” you whispered, a few tears rolling down your cheeks, he caught them with his strong thumbs, bringing your face towards his lips and softly kissing your forehead.

“I will do everything, absolutely everything, I’ll even kiss your bare feet.” That earned a laugh from you. You missed his jokes.

“Fight for me, Aemond.” You said, almost silently.

“Every single fucking day.” He responded.

[hopefulidiocy]

Sun Dress

A/N hello lovelies! It’s been ages since I’ve updated my tumblr, uni is kicking my butt recently and I’ve been going through a dry spell of “creativity” BUT here is a lovely aemond fanfic for y’all. Stay safe out there cuties <3

Warnings: NSFW! Mirror sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise, no panties, probably more. Mentions of Aegon being weird

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT‼️🔞

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~

Wrapped in the white linen sheets of Aemond’s bed, you roused from the yellow beams shooting through the curtains you forgot to draw last night. At first, the world was blurry, only feeling the heat on your bare legs as you blinked and blinked until the world came into view. Naturally, you turned your head towards the window, noticing the chirpy birds and the clear blue sky. Next to you, your boyfriend moved, probably from your own movements but you looked at him anyway. Bare faced, no eye patch. You preferred him without the eye patch because there was something so majestic about Aemond, the way his deep scar was so angry compared to the softness of his voice and his general demeanour towards you. You reached your index finger to brush a strand of his hair out of his face, admiring the relaxation deep within him, his features soft and gentle. His skin was better than yours, something he often joked about with you, but you didn’t mind, you knew he was too good for you. He thought the world of you.

As you planted your bare feet on the cold wooden floor, Aemond woke up, blinking just as you did earlier to adjust to the sunlight. You looked over your shoulder to see him looking at your tenderly, a lazy smirk on his face before he wrapped a strong arm around your waist and pulled you towards him with a masculine grunt.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he whispered, kissing you softly on the lips, stroking the long plait you made the night before. You smiled against his lips, humming lightly before pulling away to gaze at him. No matter how long you had been dating, his beauty will never cease to amaze you.

“What’s the plan for today?” You asked, your voice hoarse from the lack of water. Aemond’s face slightly scrunched as he dropped his hand to your thigh, it was innocent but you couldn’t ignore the pit you felt in your stomach when his strong hand could probably wrap around it easily.

“We’re meeting Helaena and Aegon, remember?” You groaned, hiding your face in his chest, earning a wonderfully warm chuckle from him, “I know, sweetheart, we won’t be there for long, I promise.”

This meeting had been in place for weeks now, seeing Aegon always made your skin crawl; the way he looked at other women, the way he looked at you simply made you uncomfortable. But he was Aemond’s family, and head of the household now, it was his duty to be seen with him so you sometimes had to tag along.

“I should get started on breakfast,” you said with a sigh, planting a small kiss on the corner of Aemond’s mouth before setting off towards the small kitchen in his apartment.

The sun was warm, your body basically glistening in the heat as you stood over the stove, cooking up a storm for the both of you. Lord knew you needed the energy. Aemond wandered in after about twenty minutes, his hair wet from the shower and his slender body covered in a simple white tee and grey joggers. You loved his laidback style. He would never be seen dead without his normal black outfits. He wrapped his arms around your stomach as you plated the food, he kissed your shoulder, trailing his warm mouth to the crook of your neck. You leaned into his touch, letting him roam with his lips before pulling away.

You ate in silence, basking in the light before setting off towards the bedroom to get ready for the gruelling meeting before you. You pulled out a yellow and white sundress, it was short but not short enough for Aegon’s tongue to fall out of his head. You debated a bra as you stood in front of the full length mirror, the top of the dress held them perfectly as you spun around. Aemond was busy brushing his teeth as you pondered whether wearing underwear at all was needed. Once he appeared, he stopped in his tracks, his chest was bare but the lower half of him was in black tailored pants that left you almost salivating. His eye roamed your figure as you stood idly in front of him.

“What do you think?” You asked,

“Spin for me, baby,” he ordered, gently. You smirked as you slowly turned on the spot, letting the skirt float up ever so slightly to leave his thoughts wandering, “you look fucking beautiful.” He stalked towards you, pushing you in front of the mirror so you could see the both of you staring back at your reflections. Agonisingly slowly, he pulled the skirt up, above your thighs, showcasing everything. He tutted, smirking.

“What’s this?” He asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear you attempt a reply. Your throat closed up on you as you watched him, his eyes hooded with desire as his hand slowly reached to your clit, he simply laid a finger on there whilst waiting for your answer. But when he came aware that your throat was not going to answer, he applied a slight pressure that had you bucking your hips backwards into his body; he reached his free hand over your neck, silencing demanding an answer.

“I’m not wearing panties,” you whispered, swallowing and adding, “for you.” He grinned wickedly as his index finger began to circle slowly, he kissed your cheek gently.

“We have twenty minutes, baby, make it count,” he whispered, giving you the consent to sink down to your knees. Hungrily, you unzipped his pants, eager to see his cock, even though you had seen it the night before last. He roamed his hand through your curls before latching onto your roots harshly as you took him into your mouth, allowing your tongue to tease his sensitivity as his length hit the back of your throat. The noises that bounced off these walls were obscene as you bobbed your head up and down his entirety, enjoying the taste of him coating your mouth and throat. He swallowed hard, looking at the picture below him, you on your knees in the prettiest little dress he had ever seen as your mascara began to roll down your cheeks. He loved watching your cheeks hollow out to take him deeper, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he held you at the base, making you gag and make other obscene noises. He could cum right there. But instead, he hauled you onto your feet by tucking his arm under your arm, he spun you around like you were a simply plaything. His palm was flat on your back as he bent you over in front of the mirror, the burning in your thighs happened almost immediately but you didn’t care because then his cock entered your tight walls. You moaned loudly, not caring about any neighbours or the window being wide open for the world to see. You would let the world burn for this feeling, the feeling of his love pressurised between your legs. He shifted positions, grunting as he thrusted sharply into you, jolting you forward with a string of curses slipping out of your mouth. He smirked, holding onto your shoulder as he snapped his hips harshly in and out of you, giving you no time to breathe. You relished in the magic that seared through your body, rolling your eyes as his tip hit that beautiful melodic spot that had you seeing stars. Aemond always knew how to make you feel good, he laughed wickedly as your vision blurred, pulling your hair as his cock hit every note within your body, tingling through you as you hit that high that only the gods could create.

“You’re so good to me, aren’t you, baby?” He cooed, reaching his free hand around your waist to your clit, applying the pressure that had you groaning like an animal. Words were out of reach. “Answer me,” he harshly thrusted into you, grunting with each thrust, “answer. me.” With each word he spoke he thrusted, sharply and slowly in one. You attempted speech but it was taken from you when his hand began working miracles on your clit which had you almost screaming for more.

“Such a good slut for me, you always know how to treat me well.” He said, pulling fully out of you, leaving a squelch that would usually have you humiliated but you loved the heated look he gave you from the mirror. The emptiness was echoing through your body, but he knew, he knew he would have you screaming his name as he shoved himself dangerously deep inside of you.

“Such a beautiful girl.” He whispered, his thrusts slowing and you knew just as you hit that ear shattering orgasm that he would be painting your insides like Michelangelo. One thrust was all it was to have him falling to pieces inside of you, he groaned loudly, kissing your lower back as he pulled out of you with a popping sound.

“I want you to keep my cum inside you all day.” He whispered, wrapping his arms gently around your shaking body, you snuggled your face into his bare chest allowing your body to come back to normal. He stroked your hair, then your back before kissing you softly on the mouth.

“What do you say?” He tipped your face towards him with his index finger under your chin,

“Thank you.” You whispered, he smiled and that beautifully wicked face melted into a soft and warm glow as he kissed your forehead.

“Good girl.”

[hopefulidiocy]

One of You Must Die

Prince!Aemond x GN!Reader

Context: a prophecy that declares you and Aemond cannot live in the same world…

Warnings: death

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The news broke you when the Maester delivered it on a parchment, sprayed with yellow edges, with shaking hands you opened it to find the prophecy that claimed you or Aemond will have to die as you cannot live in the same world as each other. At first you didn’t want to believe it, you threw it to the fire, hugging yourself in your white nightgown as the embers harassed the parchment, curling and withering in the grey smoke. But you knew prophecies were unlikely to be false, your family was full of prophecies and every one of them became true. The prophecy of your mother giving birth to your Dreamer brother, the prophecy of your father dying of the Green Sickness - it was all true and now you were the one given the task to fulfil the prophecy.

Aemond received it after supper with his family, reading the cursive letters that outlined the must for him to kill you. He had more on the line, he was the Protector, he had to live if he wanted to conquer Kings Landing for real as his brother lay dying with each raspy breath. But still, he loved you more than words could ever say… so he crumped up the parchment and threw it aggressively to the floor just as you flung open the doors to his chambers. He looked at you, in your pristine nightgown, your hair flowing over your shoulders with red raw eyes:

“Y/N,” he breathed, swallowing harshly as you fled into his arms, your short arms squeezing him as if he was about to disappear in a puff of air. He wrapped his around you, smelling the crown of your head, his heart faltering as the scent of rosemary filled his body with warmth. He couldn’t kill you, he knew it the second he saw your beautiful eyes, the way your lips stuttered as you cried in his lean chest. He didn’t know how to calm you down, you very rarely got into states such as this, so all he did was cradle you like a newborn, stroking your shoulder with his hand. He leaned his chin on your head, as you found a comfortable position on his chest.

“I don’t want to kill you,” you whispered, sniffing, “I don’t want you to kill me,” you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to shut out the thought of standing over Aemond’s dead body with a bloodied knife, tears streaming down your face.

“It’s okay, y/n,” he whispered, picking up your chin using his index finger. He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, pinching the top of your cheek slightly which always made you smile but this time it didn’t. He softly kissed your lips, meeting the pillows that he learned to love and offered no sweet word because he knew what he had to do.

🔮

It was a bleak day, you hugged your elbows, still in your nightgown as you watched the rain collapsing against the window; you zoned out to see your reflection, still alive but not well. You had hoped to catch an infection or something so this prophecy could be over without a fallen tear. Aemond had been ignoring you, causing a slight terror manifestation into your body because you knew he was planning to kill you. You couldn’t hide, there was nothing you could do to stop this… yet you couldn’t make peace with it.

The night came tumbling in before you could keep up and after long hours of deep thinking, you had to keep yourself alive somehow. You were ten and eight, too young to die and yet… so was Aemond. Both of you too young, but the prophecy is truth. It’s the truth. The truth… truth.

With a deep, deep breath, you grabbed the axe you kept by the side of your bed, for no reason before other than it looked cool when you saw it but now it had a completely different use. You stalked towards Aemond’s chambers, the axe heavy in your hand as Aemond himself jumped out of his doors with two swords in his hands. What an idiot, you thought of yourself. He was a trained warrior, he would make a meal out of you. He smiled at you lopsidedly as he launched himself into an attack that you managed to dodge breathlessly, trying desperately to haul the axe high, survival instinct kicking in as you sped towards him but this effortless gait he jumped out of the way. You knew your warrior skills were clumsy because he had a slight smirk on his face, and in another world this was a play fight, he was teaching you how to defend yourself but this wasn’t that. No, you were trying to kill each other.

He prepared for an attack but you were too quick for it and managed to duck as he swung his sword over your head. You snuck in a crouched position towards his legs, getting your axe ready to slash his ankles but he caught you. Pain seared through your arm as the tip of his sword split your arm like slicing bread. You screamed in terror, the noise reverberated through the room as you collapsed onto your side, clutching at your arm as the blood seeped through your fingers. Suddenly, you were terrified of him as he stood over you, his breathing heavily and hesitant.

“Y/N,” he whispered, dropping the swords at his side, you shuffled away from him as tears streamed down your cheeks, “please,” he kneeled beside you, taking your face in his hands, his thumbs swiping away the fat tears.

“I don’t want to die,” you whispered, the pain replaced with a dull ache inside your heart. He took you into his arms, tears streaking his own cheeks as you laid against his chest, your head at an odd angle but you didn’t mind as you were finally in his arms.

“I don’t want you to die,” he whispered, kissing your head, “but… baby, think about it,” he wiped his tears that were now violent against his cheeks as he cradled you side to side,

“If I killed a prince I would be executed,” you said in utter shock at the truth of the situation you found yourself in,

“Yes, my love,” he sniffled, kissing the top of your head again, “it would be a painful, painful thing to endure and if we can’t live in the same place at the same time, I would much rather have your death quick and simple,” he whispered, kissing your cheek passionately as if he couldn’t ever let you go.

“So you have to kill me… instead of me killing you,” you whispered slowly, your heart thumping hard against your chest. You felt him nod behind you as his arms tightened around your body, already dazed from the blood loss from your arm. You nodded, not succumbing to the truth as he carefully removed his body from yours. He cradled your cheek, smiling unhappily as your eyes grow sore from the tears. You knew this would happen, you knew he had to do this. You raised your hands, stopping him from hauling his sword,

“My love?” He whispered, his tears dropping off his chin,

“Can you kiss me?” You asked, shyly as if it was the first time asking him. He smiled sadly, getting on his knees and kissing you lovingly on the mouth, letting the taste of you linger on his lips as he pulled away, stroking your beautiful face,

“It will be quick, sweetheart. I promise and you will never be forgotten and soon… I shall die and be reunited with you, I promise.” He whispered, pushing your forehead towards his, his breath fanning your face as your tears mixed with each other, his lips pressed against your head,

“Kiss me when I’m dead so I can go into the After World with you on my skin.” You whispered, he nodded solemnly as the sword pierced through your heart.

Silence fell after the violent squelch and your blood spewing all over your chest, your breath was catching, unable to fully comprehend that your heart was slowing. You watched Aemond as he fell to his knees, the swords clattering beside him. Your vision flickered as he brought you into his embrace and kissed you as lovingly as ever as you slipped away into a forever sleep.

Your dead body lay silently in his strong arms, your beautiful hair splayed over his arm as he rocked you slowly, bringing you as close as possible towards his chest whilst sobbing so heavily it was almost like he was howling into the dead of the black night.

“My love!” He screamed, his mouth gaping open as tears ran onto his tongue as he kept you in his arms, rocking you until the early morning when his mother found him with you cuddled to his chest.

🔮

[hopefulidiocy]

Hi guys, there has been proper radio silence on here and just wanted to pop on and say I will NO longer be writing anything Harry Potter related, the oneshots that are on my account will remain but no others will be made.

Thank you💕🪽

P/S Requests open for hotd and squid game

[hopefulidiocy]

Sunset

Modern!Aemond x Modern!Y/N

Warnings: soft smut, smoking, drinking

MINORS DNI 🔞

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The Uber driver chatted brightly to you as he drove you through the snowy forest of the countryside, you rested your forehead against the cold window as you ummed and ahhed over his words. You weren’t listening as well as you should’ve been considering he was really kind, but you wanted him to cease talking immediately. Everything in silence was better for you, in your job you were always talking and trying to bribe people to take what you were pitching, to agree to your ideas but recently it hadn’t been successful and you deserved a sabbatical. So it was time for your winter holiday, spending Christmas alone could be considered sad or lonely but you truly couldn’t give less of a shit about it. Your family wasn’t exactly welcoming and there was nothing fun about a holiday where everyone is going at each other’s throats. The car pulled up to a selection of dark wood log cabins, desolate and dark, with the snow pattering upon the roofs in such a delicate way you had never seen before: this type of view wouldn’t be seen in the city. You thanked the driver, pulled out your heavy suitcase and logged it towards Cabin Nine, the only cabin set far away from the others and it was the most beautiful spot you had ever witnessed.

The door was light when you unlocked it, opening into a warmth that enveloped your entire being as you shook the snow off your wellies and propped your suitcase against the fragile wall to the side of the door. The space opened up into a wide living room with a flat screen and under the screen was an oak table with four strong chairs that were tucked tightly underneath; you looked towards the open plan kitchen where there was enough surfaces for you to cook and, most importantly, you looked for the wine glasses, score there was three of them, two more than you actually needed; there was two bedrooms, one significantly smaller than the master room with a king sized bed and towels, rolled upon the end, where your feet would be and a small bathroom off to the side which matched the rest of the cabin with its swollen wood panels and a white tiled floor. The first port of call was to fetch your red wine bottle you received from Secret Santa at work, you uncorked it and watched as the beautiful liquid filled the glass halfway. The taste coming to your lips was the real moment your perfect holiday began, alone and isolated in the middle of nowhere.

The sun began to set and behind your log cabin there was a clear view of the horizon and you, cotton headed, walked out with your cardigan wrapped around your shoulders and a glass of fresh red wine in your hand. You sipped at the liquid, chewing your nails as the sun began to deepen to a beautiful, calming orange that struck pink and purple lights throughout the sky. For a moment you were transfixed at the sight, until you weren’t alone anymore. No one spoke about it, but there was a man beside you, sucking on his cigarette, pulling in toxic chemicals and pushing them out with pursed lips. He wasn’t standing close to you, probably about a couple of steps away and he leaned on the wooden fence that separated the log cabins and the field ahead. He was deep in thought, his eyebrows furrowed as his elbows held his strong body up. You stepped to the side, trying to get away from the smoke that was bellowing from his lungs.

“Sorry,” he said, he didn’t look at you but you knew he had noticed you step away from him, you smiled tightly, not wanting to respond to him because he was a stranger and simply because you were a bit too drunk to say anything coherent. You watched as the sky darkened and the stars began appearing, twinkling and almost saying hello to the two people in awe of them.

“Have a good night,” he flicked his cigarette over the fence was crunched as he walked away, you took a glance of him, his long white hair wrapped up in a ponytail with strides that were bigger than any step you had ever made,

“Night.” You whispered.

The morning sun broke through the bedroom, coming in through the small gap between your curtains, your mouth dry as a dog in the desert and your head slightly whirling once you planted your feet on the cold carpet. The shiver ran through your spine as you splashed freezing water on your face and decided it was time to shower because being hungover and smelly was not something you wished to tackle today. The water jets cleared your skin, reopening pores and steaming them as you exfoliated with your coffee scrub you bought randomly on Amazon one night when you felt bad about yourself. Wrapping your hair in a towel, toothbrush in, you sauntered towards the kitchen cabinet to see what kind of breakfast items they had in. Bacon, eggs and some bread was everything they had that could constitute towards a fulfilling breakfast so you spat out your toothpaste, dressing from head to toe in a baby pink tracksuit and fluffy socks. The smell of bacon filled the air, your hungry stomach growling at you and demanding food NOW! So you munched down on your sandwich, ready for a day slaving in front of the TV.

A new glass of wine, despite how cotton mouthed you were this morning, was in your hand when you crunched over the slushy snow towards the fence at the back of your cabin. You leaned over, sipping on your wine watching as the sky deepened into an orange and, just like yesterday, that man appeared with his stinking cigarette so you moved away just a few steps.

“Do you not like the smell?” He asked, not turning to you, keeping his face towards the sky,

“No it’s not that. It makes me want one,” you admitted, itching for the cigarette pack that was poking out of his coat pocket,

“Ah.” He said, not seeming the least bit interested in your admission.

Slowly, he walked away, back to his own cabin with this mystical aura surrounding him like he hadn’t been there in the first place. You scoffed.

The next sunset was taking place alone, you drank warmly at your wine as the sun disappeared below the horizon. You sank into a dreamy state, watching the stars welcome you to the night when the mysterious man made an entrance. You looked over at him, he was shrouded by a large oak tree, only a flicker of orange light when he cupped the lighter, lighting his cigarette. With his lit cigarette, he approached the fence, you took him in, noticing the eyepatch over his right eye, intrigued you asked.

“Why do you have an eye patch?” He seemed very slightly amused by your question, looking directly at you, his icy blue eye struck you through the body so much you had to look away,

“You’re not interested in my name, my age or my height. Instead you’re interested in my eye patch,” he replied, sucking on his cigarette,

“I was only asking,” you pouted, turning away from him,

“I got into a fight when I was younger, my eye was sliced out,” he said, a bit disinterested in his own voice,

“Oh.” Was all you could reply with, slightly amused by his stoic face,

“Why do you have two eyes?” He turned to you fully then, one elbow leaning against the fence, his cigarette hanging out of his mouth,

“Because I was born with it,” you shrugged, taking another sip of wine,

“So was I but now I have one, things happen,” he was strangely defensive about it,

“They do,” you said, becoming a bit heated at this whole interaction,

“Do you want a cigarette?” He asked, holding out a pack and your senses peaked up, you instinctively went out to pick one but you stopped yourself,

“I shouldn’t,” you waved your hand,

“Why?” He questioned, still holding out the packet,

“New Years Resolution, I shouldn’t smoke anymore,” you said, drinking,

“But you’ll continue drinking alcohol?” He smirked, “you’ll get rid of one wicked habit for another, I don’t believe it works that way,” the packet was still out for the taking, you gave him an annoyed look but just believed he was right and pulled out a cigarette,

“Lighter, please,” you held out your hand, the cigarette hanging out the side of your mouth, he smirked and gave you it. It was bright pink. You cupped your hand over the lighter as the breeze picked up, you clicked it and lighted the cigarette, dragging the toxins back into your lungs and it was like your veins peaked up, screaming happily at the cigarette, “thank you.” You nodded towards him, handing him the lighter.

“Where are you from?” He asked, pocketing the lighter,

“*where you are from*” you sucked in the cigarette,

“Ah, that makes sense, your accent is different,” he said,

“Not that different to yours,” you rolled your eyes,

“True,” silence hung over the both of you, only owls filling it in, “anyway, good night.” He strode off, disappearing behind the oak tree.

🌅

After days of staying in, enjoying the silence of nature, it became clear that you needed some time to walk amongst the forest, feeling the crisp air poke at your skin so you shoved on your wellies and made away into the forest. The trees around you were whispering as the breeze struck through them, the grass now completely white and crunching as you landed each of your feet. Ahead of you was the tall man you’ve been seeing every night, a cigarette almost burnt out in his hand as his free hand stuck his phone against his ear. From what you could hear, slightly far away from him, he seemed annoyed. You managed to squeeze past him just as he ended his call.

“Hello again,” he said, catching up to you, “I don’t think I’ve seen you outside during the day,”

“Probably not, I’ve taken into my own company, it’s been needed but now I’m starting to feel some cabin fever,” you admitted, hugging your arms around your middle to combat the cold,

“I feel that, I’ve been trying to have a small daily walk every day since I’ve been here,” he flicked the cigarette away, landing it in the snow,

“When did you come here?” You asked, looking at him. He was taller than you thought, his skin almost as white as the snow only making his blue eye more striking, he was about two heads taller than you; his hair was a beautiful shade of blonde, something you hadn’t seen before and it was pulled back into a small ponytail but the rest of his hair was strung over his shoulder, his body lean and a slightly curved spine.

“About a month ago,” he said, reaching for another cigarette and offering you one, you took it,

“A month ago?” You exclaimed after you shared a lighter, he hummed in agreement,

“Why are you here?” He asked, puffing the smoke above him,

“I just wanted to be by myself, my family is complicated and my work life is even worse these days so I needed to spend this holiday by myself,” you admitted, swallowing the fresh air,

“Gods, tell me about it,” he chuckled very slightly, “families are all complicated,”

“Is yours?” You asked,

“More than you can imagine, my mother is the second wife of my dead father and my father’s first born child hates us and we hate her. It was her son who took my eye,” he huffed through his nose,

“Your own nephew?” You exclaimed, turning towards him seeing a smirk play on his lips,

“Yeah, my own nephew, it’s crazy isn’t it?” You hummed in agreement and a silence fell over you. It was comfortable walking beside each other, throwing the cigarettes in front of you and continuing this nice walk with a stranger. Just yards away from your own cabin you didn’t notice that huge tree trunk that was sticking out from the ground and you went absolutely flying over it, landing on all fours and a searing pain shocking through your leg. The man was quick to come onto his knees beside you, hooking his arms around your middle and pulling you up to stand but your ankle gave in and you went tumbling again.

“You can’t stand?” He asked, some form of expression in his face, you shook your head, sighing out the pain as his arms hugged around you, picking you up bridal style. You strung your arms around his neck, your face screwing in pain, your legs hanging over his elbow, “don’t panic, I’m first aid trained,” he said, making a slight joke that gave him a twinkle in his eye, sending a smile travelling over your lips. He basically kicked down his cabin door, setting you carefully on his sofa, striding towards the fridge. You held tightly onto your ankle, praying it wasn’t broken when it returned with a bag of frozen peas.

“Might hurt a bit,” he said, gently placing the freezing bag that sent your entire body into an almost shock, he placed a strong hand on your shoulder trying to calm you down as tears leaked from your eyes, “wine?”

“Yes.” You squeaked, blubbering over a twisted ankle. You were never great with pain and in front of a handsome man, you were incredibly embarrassed and that was the reason for the tears. He came to you with a clean glass of white wine, not your favourite, but you had to have something in you so you sipped on it delicately as the pain started to slip away. He looked at you, intriguingly as you sipped on your wine.

“I don’t even know your name,” he said, “and you’re in my cabin, drinking my wine and using my peas,”

“You gave them to me,” you furrowed your eyebrows as a smile danced on his lips,

“What’s your name?” He asked,

“Y/N,” you admitted, “what’s yours?”

“Aemond,” he took in a mouthful of wine and smiled knowing you were about to ask what the fuck that name is, “my parents chose it, and no it’s no Edmund,”

“That’s such an interesting name, I’ve never met anyone with such a unique name before,” you smiled, finishing off your wine and setting it on the coffee table beside you. He opened his arms as if to say yep that’s me!

“How’s your ankle?” He asked, nodding towards it,

“It feels fine now, thank you,” you removed the frozen bag, giving them back to him and getting onto your feet, you felt slightly weak.

“Let me walk you to the door,” he held your elbow softly as he led you towards the door, but there was something… a kind of connection that you couldn’t put your finger on started buzzing within you, igniting your blood vessels as his large hand found itself on the small of your back as you walked out the door, “see you later, y/n.” He said, smiling. You waved to him and walked back to your cabin.

🌅

The next night, your ankle healed apart from the little twinge that carried through your leg every time you walked but it was bearable. You stood at the fence, no wine this time, leaning over the fence watching as the sun fled from the sky. Aemond’s delicate footsteps sounded behind you, he leaned right next to you so your elbows were touching and came again that buzzing.

“Hello,” he said, “how’s your ankle?”

“Fine, thank you,” you smiled, turning to him surprised to find that he had been looking at you, a smirk dancing on his lips but his eye deep within your core that it sent a shudder down your spine. His eye caught something just to the side of you, and his hand came forward, batting a fly away as it was softly landing on your fringe. You smiled shyly, turning away from him but he pulled your cheek, making you turn to him softly with his fingers. Both of you gazed at each other, a slight murmur of wildlife whispering around you, he tucked your hair behind your ear and gently moved his lips to yours. For a moment, you are taken aback, slightly pulling away from his lips but you calm into him, placing your hands on his chest as he squeezed you further in his body, your kisses light and almost loving as you count the beats of his heart through your hand. His hands journeyed towards the small of your back as the kiss deepened, the buzzing sensation piling up from your core until slowly he began turning towards you neck, slight and butterfly kisses down the length of your neck, opening up your shirt to kitten lick your collarbones before your jellied core began to drop. With no one else around, you agonisingly unbuttoned his black shirt, pulling it off and holding onto his goose-pimpled skin as your own shirt was shifted over the top of your head. He kissed you, lovingly, until he reached your nipples, nipping at them sweetly before he reached the zipper of your jeans, your own hand rubbing over the tent in his own slacks, playing with the zipper before getting the confidence to pull it down and feel his length in your hand. He groaned into your mouth as you pulled gently up his shaft, smiling in the kiss. Whilst this was not on your radar to happen, this moment became so magical and fluid that even when he softly bent you over the fence, his hand stroking up and down your spine with such softness it had you shivering. The sun before you had disappeared, leaving a dark purple hue in its shadow as he lined himself up against your folds, slowly entering you and hissing as the warmth enveloped his most sensitive area. He was big, you knew that by the handjob you gave him earlier, but his length stretching your walls ignited the fireworks in your veins. Gripping the fence harshly with weak fingers, he thrusted into you hard enough to have you whine out into the desolate field. Despite his stoic and almost cruel face, his touches were enlightening and soft that your heat began clenching around him, he moaned under his breath, pulling on your shoulder to give himself more leverage to thrust into you. You whined into the cold night, not caring who heard you but also finding it riveting having sex in a lonely world. He grunted as his thrusts began slowing knowing that he was near his end and his last thrust before he pulled out had you rolling your eyes back, shuddering under his hot touch before he spilled all over your back and chuckling.

“I never expected that to happen,” he whispered, out of breath, before he cradled you against the fence, your back against his naked body, his elbow hung loosely around your neck as he pressed his cheek into your temple,

“Neither did I.” He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, continuing his loving attitudes towards you,

“But I’m glad it did,” he whispered, “I’ve grown fond of you.” You laughed, leaning into him as the stars winked at the sordid moment they saw, knowing that whatever was around was only the two of you and the stars who were cheering you on.

🌅

[hopefulidiocy]

Can I request an Aemond reader love triangle fic? Love me some jealous Aemond

Killing me so good

Prince!Aemond x Fem!Y/N x O/C!Milo Cole

Warnings: death, sword fighting, arguing

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“You have two choices,” you said, swinging your sword in your strong wrist, “you can either walk away unscathed, or leave blind.” You grinned at the One Eyed man in front of you, who narrowed his comically one eye at the mention of his one good eye. You relished in the moment of seeing the man you hated try to hold in his anger, pursing his lips and trying to come across as if he found your words funny.

“I am two years your senior, y/n. You truly think you can beat me?” He laughed and whilst caught unguarded, you went for him, slicing your sword towards his side but he managed to dodge it; jumping back into a semi-squat with his sword strongly held in front of him. He attacked you, jabbing his sword towards your throat but you threw yourself into your back, your free hand breaking the fall. He lost his balance and fell into you, you positioned your sword towards his neck, smiling.

“What a weird position we’re in, One Eye.” You laughed and that got the emotion you wanted, he yanked you back to your feet and began swinging the sword so fast you could barely see when it sliced through your thigh. The pain pierced down your leg as you clutched at it, dropping your sword, Aemond didn’t care though; he picked up your sword, both hands clasping the handles and placing his knee down onto your pelvic bone.

“And that’s why, I am the better swordsman.” He chuckled darkly, throwing your sword towards the edge of the fight square and taking off with his powerful strides.

Down in the depths of the Red Keep where you and your family stayed, your mother bent over your leg with a needle and thread, tutting and making comments about your outrageous behaviour. She had given you a rag to bite down on, there was never any antidote for your cuts and bruises, your mother thought it would be useless since then you wouldn’t learn your lesson.

“I can’t believe you fought him again.” She sighed, piercing through your skin with the needle, your scream completely muffled by the rag.

“Mother, he’s a little bitch. He needs to be taken down a peg or two.” You said, at the end of your sentence your mother jabbed you again which had you tearing down the walls with that guttural scream of yours.

“Y/N I wish you would stop with your hero nonsense. You’re here to work, not fight.” She patched up the gash, patting it for extra measure before rising on her bony knees.

“Ser Criston said I could be a promising fighter.” You turned so your back was against the pillows of the sofa, tucking in warmly.

“Yes, but you’re a woman. You need to find a husband and quickly, you’re aging,” She packed away her medical supplies, “come on, we should go up.”

The Targaryen’s had banquets almost every evening, with every Targaryen present and the walls would stink of grease and meat for days to come and you had the pleasure of serving their meals to them. You were never excited for it, more so because you had to see Aemond who was never welcoming and always made a comment on your attire. Sure, you didn’t look attractive in your potato sack dress and white rags covering your black hair but still it didn’t mean he had to be rude, did it? The first serving was one of a roasted pig, it made you chuckle knowing this could’ve been Aemond’s first “dragon” and you knew, just to piss him off, was to put it in front of him. He always sat next to his sister Helaena, who he was devoted to, and you had to give it to him; that man was loyal to those he deemed worthy of his affection. You walked in onto booming laughter from the King and Daemon, you set the plate in front of him, giving him a small smirk before jetting off to grab the other plates of food. When you came back, the head was ripped off the pig and onto Aemond’s own plate, he was picking at it when you walked into his vision, he snarled at you as you set down the fruits and took your place behind the table.

“Servant,” he beckoned you over, you forced the eye roll back into your head as you curtsied before him, “wine.” He clicked his fingers rudely so you picked up the heavy jug of wine, pouring it into his empty cup. He sipped at it thoughtfully before purposefully tipping it onto the front of your dress, you gasped and jumped back, eyes of fire towards Aemond as he feigned innocence.

“Apologies, my Lady.” He smirked, pulling the jug of wine and pouring HIMSELF a cup of wine.

After storming out of the hall, you stood in your undergarments as your sister scrubbed the living hell out of the dress, the red wine wasn’t clearing and you were planning your revenge on Aemond. Perhaps you could take his eye patch? No that was way too nice. You would think after a nice long sleep.

“I hate him, Raven. I really do.” You spat, tucking your hands under your armpits, trying to keep warm as the cold stone blew air into the coldest parts of your body.

“Hate is the wrong way to live. Just forgive. He is the Prince after all.” She sighed, giving up on the dress and stretching her back. Pregnant with her fifth child, Raven was the epitome of forgiveness since her husband has probably fathered more than fifteen children in the Red Keep but still she stuck beside him, because that was what women did. You hated that concept, you just wanted to be on the battlefield.

You struck the sand man in the heart with the pristine point of your sword under the sweltering sun, watching as the sand poured out of it and collecting at the bottom of your feet. You sighed, not feeling any satisfaction unless that sand was actually Aemond’s blood.

“Well, well, well,” there came that deep voice, “y/n.” He called, you turned around, cupping your hand above your eyes to block the sun to see Milo Cole, Criston’s son, his smile was frankly dazzling; his teeth white and almost glowing in the sunlight; his dark hair falling over his eyes like the growing man he was; his lips slightly pouting as he watched you, completely agape like you always had been around him. Your first crush. Quite possibly your first love. But he never knew that.

“Milo.” You breathed, suddenly aware of your youthful voice. He smiled, that beautiful smile that knocked the air out of your lungs. His body was firm and lean, you could see the outline of his stomach even in his armour, and it caused your head to swirl.

“Hey,” he swallowed, “duel?” He offered his hand to you, it wasn’t covered with his usual metal plate and instead it was his large hand, it could probably wrap around your entire head. His fingers covered yours as he strode towards the fighting square, the sun wasn’t doing you any favours as a bead of sweat dripped down your temple, perhaps you were so nervous in Milo’s presence that it literally made you sweat.

Both of you prepared your first attack, unlike with Aemond, Milo made it fun and always had. He took the first jab, pointing his sword at his stomach as you swiped his feet from underneath him, turning until the sword was at his neck; he smiled brightly before throwing you onto your back, pretending to slice your throat before helping you back onto your feet and redoing the choreography before someones presence came to the edge of the square.

“You’ll get nowhere with her,” Aemond could not sound more bored in his life, his eye was completely dead as he watched Milo help you up for the second time, “she’s a hopeless case.” You rolled your eyes, sheathing your sword, Milo ruffled your hair sportily before scoffing at Aemond’s words. The two boys had been at each other’s throats from the moment you met them, Milo was certainly more tolerable than any man you had met whilst at your time at the Red Keep and he definitely was your only friend; the girls tend to keep away from you, it upset you at first, feeling shunned from girlhood like you weren’t enough for their precious conversations and gossip. So you mainly kept to yourself, unless you were fighting.

“She’s not that useless,” Milo grinned, you hit his arm playfully.

“Shut up, Milo.” You scowled, noticing after you turned your head that Aemond was looking peculiarly at Milo, his eye narrowed and lips pursed, but you overlooked it because your mother came to call.

“Stop playing your games and help me in the kitchen!” She shouted from across the courtyard, inwardly groaning.

“Duty calls.” You walked off towards your mother, looking over your shoulder just before you reached the entrance to the servants quarters and noticing Aemond and Milo staring at each other, doing nothing but that.

Heat hit your face as you walked into the kitchens, just about dodging the cook who was fretting with his towel, flinging it over his shoulder, over and over again. Your mother in the corner, slaving over a trifle, trying to place raspberries as carefully as she could. Her hands shook as she plopped one down on the mound of trifle that swirled until it reached a sharp point, her tongue sticking towards her upper lip as she concentrated; something she had done since you were a babe. But the shaking had concerned you, admittedly though you had never looked at her hands, she always had a demeanour of calmness; not caution.

“Stop staring and help me,” she scolded. You cleared your throat, placing the raspberries where she commanded before letting her take it in her hands and walking up the stairs to the banquet room where Aemond had just arrived. You took your place behind him, your hands behind your back as you watched ahead of you; completely missing that mother had toppled the trifle onto the pregnant Rhaenyra’s satin dress. Aemond turned his head ever so slightly so you saw his side profile, his eye pointed at you as you suddenly realised that your mother was on her knees, begging for mercy from Rhaenyra; who definitely wasn’t angry. You ran to your mother’s side, embarrassed for her because the entire Royal Family was looking at her as if she was diseased.

“Please, Princess. Give mercy.” Your mother was practically sobbing and you stood behind her, frozen as you watched Rhaenyra struggle to her knees to hold your mother.

“Do not fret, it was an accident,” She soothed, tipping her head so they were looking at each other, “I can get a new dress.” She smiled and then looked up at you.

“Come on, mother,” you grabbed her elbows, hauling her up to her feet as she slumped into your side as you practically dragged her back to your own quarters.

Curled up underneath a feather blanket, you and your sister sat with your mother, who had a crumpled tissue in her hand, clutching it to her mouth.

“How long have you been unwell, mother?” Raven asked, sniffling. She had been crying nonstop after watching mother coughing up blood into a wooden basket.

“I don’t know, my dear.” She said, hacking up once again. The noise pierced through your eyes as you watched your pale mother wither away in front of you, ashamed that you hadn’t noticed it earlier.

A small knock came from the door into your one roomed quarter, you were the first to stand, letting Raven cry over your mother in her own comfortable silence. Behind the door was revealed to be Queen Alicent, who stood gracefully, her hands clasped at her stomach and some kind of expression in her eyes; she was hard to read. You sank into the lowest curtsey possible as she watched over your head.

“Please, don’t get up,” she said kindly to mother after she attempted to get to her feet, “you are unwell, you need to rest.” A small smile appeared then.

“How can we help you, My Queen?” Raven asked, her hand propped onto her rounded belly.

“I came to see how your mother was doing. She has been a servant at this Palace for some time.” She floated in then, crouching by your mother’s side.

“We thank you.” Raven said, shooting you a look for your silence. You couldn’t even try to speak.

“You are with child.” The Queen nodded towards Raven, who smiled.

“Yes, Your Majesty. My fifth.” She stroked her belly, Alicent watching on with some affection.

“I remember when you two girls were infants. So very sweet.” She smiled and hummed, gliding away into thought before standing up and leaving without another word.

Since Raven was to rest, same with your mother, you took up their duties around the castle. Meaning there was no longer any time to duel, which you missed dearly but your mind was so preoccupied with the amount of cleaning the garments of the Royal Family that your mind was basically thoughtless. Clipped shoes came into the room, you wiped the sweat that was beading on your forehead before you could even notice a man stood in front of you.

“Y/N.” It was Aemond, inwardly you groaned, you would snap at any moment and it wouldn’t be unlike you to snap at Aemond.

“What do you want, My Prince?” You asked, focusing on your oily hands scraping at a stain in the Aegon’s shift.

“I came to ask after your mother.” He rested his hands on top of his sword, looking particularly uninterested.

“Since when do you care, Aemond?” You sighed, looking up at him.

“How is your mother?” He ignored your snappiness.

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes, trying hard not to let any tears drop because she wasn’t doing fine. In fact she had been doing worse and it was horrific to watch your mother, who had been the epitome of health in your naive eyes, wither away and you couldn’t do anything about it.

Aemond watched you for some time, a couple of beats, before walking away. You were left to your thoughtless mind except one thought stuck… why did Aemond care?

When you arrived after your chores, you pulled off your apron as you watched Raven spoon feed your mother some vegetable soup that you made earlier in the day. Mother was groaning as she craned her neck towards the silver spoon. The air swiftly breezed into the room, like a storm waiting to happen, as your mother collapsed onto the pillow, exhausted from her movements.

“How was she today?” You asked, folding your apron and throwing it onto the wooden chair next to the heath.

“Just as she is any normal day.” Both of you looked as mother wheezed, covering her entire body with the blanket.

“Are you cold, mother?” You questioned and she nodded, you clasped your fingers around the handle and pulled it gently shut.

Raven and you slept soundly next to each other and the next day you had found a small note tucked under the door, whilst half dressed, you opened it and found a note.

I am away on business with my father and heard about your mother. You have my sincerest condolences and sympathy.

Your dear friend,

Milo.

Your heart pattered against your ribcage as you held the letter close to you, it meant a lot for someone to express how they felt; especially someone close to you. You tucked the letter into your apron as you walked into the pantry, grabbing the bread dough and slapping it onto the counter; your fellow servants milling around you. Outside, grunts were floating into the room and you turned around, your neck craning to see Aemond and Aegon fighting each other in the fighting courtyard; your heart dropped ever so slightly, seeing them do something you loved to do and not being able to do it.

Later that night, you were working over your servant dresses when a knock sounded. You pushed away the work, grabbing the door handle and opening it, finding Aemond, without his eyepatch. The bright sapphire took you by surprise, you hadn’t seen it before and you had known him for such a long time; his mouth was straight and almost non existent as he looked at you with strong disinterest.

“Y/N.” He said, his eyepatch in his hand.

“What is it, Prince?” You rested your arm on the door.

“I need you to help me with something.” He said. You were taken aback rather suddenly when he pointed to his eye stitches… they had come undone and whilst you had some experience in patching up wounds, it wasn’t enough to actually help him out. There was a real Physician in the castle so why did he come to you?

“I’m not sure if I can do anything to help you, My Prince.” You sighed, looking over your shoulder at your sleeping mother. Raven had gone to be with her children for the night.

“Just help me, y/n.” He sighed, you stepped to the side to let him in. Like his mother, Aemond floated slightly above ground, his feet didn’t touch the ground. He perched himself on the window seat, his leg hitched up against his opposite knee. You pulled a stool with your mother’s medicine bag and tucked it between your feet. His hair was slightly askew, his normal half up ponytail was flopping over the left side of his head.

“I can’t promise I’m any good at this. These stitches will probably last a day.” You said seriously but a smile quivered on his lips, his breath fanning your cheeks as you reached forward with a needle and thread.

“It’s fine.” He said, you pierced his skin, sucking in the air through your teeth as he winced. The stoic and cold Aemond Targaryen… winced.

“Sorry,” you whispered as you threaded it through to the other side of his scar, his sapphire eye shooting through you. He didn’t respond but his one eye watched you as you got to work with a wonky design, the scar only closing slightly so it was still susceptible to infection. “I’m not too good at this, My Prince. So you should probably visit the Court Physician.” You said lowly as you wiped away the blood with the gauze, then throwing it into a bucket of water, then packing away your medicine.

“I’m sure you did an adequate job,” he cleared his throat, slapping his knees and grunting as he stood up, “thank you.” And with that, you curtsied and watched him leave the chamber. But you couldn’t leave it there, he had visited you randomly and wanted your help, you hated him and he hated you. So you followed him.

“My Prince!” You exclaimed, he stopped abruptly in his journey and turned to face you, his eye narrowing.

“Yes, y/n?” He asked, resting his elbow on the hilt of his sword. The darkness of the corridor suddenly made you nervous, you shuffled slightly under his stare and the darkness. The cold air had you clutching at your elbows as Aemond softly landed one foot in front of the other.

“Why did you come here?” You half whispered, he cocked his head to the side, resting his ear almost onto his shoulder as he pondered for his next response.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“You know exactly what I mean.” You folded your arms tightly across your chest.

“I came to ask for help, y/n. It was not a special visit. The Royal Physician is away for the next few days so I came to the next best thing which, admittedly, is your mother but I had to ask you since she is… unwell.” He said, locking his hands behind his back.

“Oh.” You said, a blush rising on your cheeks and you were grateful for the darkness hanging over you. Embarrassed that you even thought about the theory he could be coming to see you and enraged that you even allowed yourself to think that. So when you watched his hair swish as he walked away, you threw your middle finger aggressively at him.

🗡️

The following two nights later, you were observing the banquet where the entire family, including Otto, was attending. You watched as Aemond smouldered at Jace and Helaena dancing, you smiled though because Helaena actually looked like she was having fun for the first time in her life. You were holding a silver plate of wine cups that Daemon kept requesting for so it was simpler for you to stand right next to him; two servants came with a sizzling pig, on a large metal plate and slammed it in front of Aemond. You watched as he surveyed the pig, you looked under your eyelashes as Lucerys who was stifling a laugh. Aemond punched the table hard before standing to his compelling height,

“Final tribute!” He exclaimed, Aegon instantly raised his cup, “to the health of my nephews… Jace, Luke… Joffrey,” he poignantly looked around, “each of them handsome… wise…” the atmosphere completely shifted because everyone could guess what he was going to say next, so you kept your head down, “and strong.”

“Aemond.” Alicent warned.

“I dare you to say that again!” Jace, being skinny, had to make his voice sound rounder as he squared up to Aemond.

“Why? ‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourselves strong?” Aemond marched towards Jace, who was a good two heads shorter than him. Jace swung his arm back and smacked Aemond in the cheek, but he hardly moved, his face quickly turned before he snapped back and pushed him onto the ground; laughing and walking away, his eye brushing over everyone as he did, even your face, making you look down.

Daemon had managed to split them apart, Rhaenyra’s children fleeing quickly before Aemond followed, floating out of the door. It was also your time to leave, so you clutched onto the tray and made your way towards the kitchens, shoving them on the counter before downing a cup of wine, suddenly stressed from everything that had just gone on. And the fact your mother was at deaths door.

🗡️

The next night, your life changed forever. Possibly for the worst as you sat at your mother’s bedside, Raven in a sobbing heap next to your feet as you watched, detached from everything, your mother taking her last breaths. A woman who had a full head of red hair just a few weeks ago, with rosy cheeks and plump red lips; now mostly bald, except for a few strands; her skin pasty like it had been painted with white paint and her lips bloody and bruised from picking at them with her little energy. You held onto her clasped hands as she rasped, her throat closing in around her and her eyelids fluttering shut for the rest of time. Your heart stilled as you watched her face set, tears threatened to spill but you couldn’t let them fall, you could never let them fall as you softly placed her cold hands together on top of her stomach. Raven draped herself over your mother, sobs coming deep within her gut and escaping through her mouth. You had to get away. Your sword, sheathed against the wall, was calling to you so you grabbed it and made way towards the fighting courtyard. The sand men from earlier in the day, some had stab wounds but you didn’t care, all you needed was to ruin something. The heat boiled within your arms as you lifted the sword above your head and dropped it down towards the head of the sand man, cut straight down the middle and you roared as you moved fluidly to slice the stomach and bringing it hard over your head to land an ending shot in his groin. By this time, tears have spilled down your cheeks, your heart stuttering and dropping every two seconds as you inhaled. The world suddenly felt lonely, the silence night air was too loud and you just wanted to hide somewhere, somewhere quiet that didn’t make you want to scream. The sword circled above your head before slicing the first layer of skin off the sand man’s shoulder, you swallowed your saliva and sobbed as you pulled the sword from the sand man. The pain in your arms was absolute bliss, anything to replace the emptiness left in your heart.

“Y/N.” Aemond’s voice wafted through the air, he must’ve been watching you for some time. You didn’t answer him as you roared and penetrated the middle of the dummy with so much power that the point of the sword had come out the other side. A broad hand landed delicately on your elbow and you stopped instantly, your shoulders heaving, snot dribbling down your cupids bow as you looked up to find Aemond’s eye softening.

“What are you doing here?” You wiped your tears, angry at yourself for crying in front of him, even though you had been crying by yourself for a longer time. You decided not to let yourself down by spilling more tears down your cheeks.

“I know about your mother, y/n.” His voice was gentle, or perhaps you were hearing incorrectly.

“How?” You sniffled, looking at your feet.

“I came by, to see you,” you looked up, “don’t ask, but I found her and I knew you’d be here.” You turned your face to the sky, letting the air dry up your tears.

“I didn’t know you cared, My Prince.” You laughed, mockingly.

“You’ve been a friend since I was eight, I’ve always cared.” His voice was sincere and you looked straight at him, your face snapping towards him, his face soft and caring. At that moment, tears began rolling, fast and fat, dropping off your chin. His eye quickly roamed your face, shocked to see you show such emotion, and both of his thumbs came to your face, his finger cupping your cheeks as his thumbs swiped away the beads that were rolling. Normally you would back away, disgusted by his touch, but none of this was normal; Aemond even being soft toned with you was out of the ordinary but this time you relaxed into him, letting yourself have this moment of comfort. You squeezed your eyes shut as Aemond gently stroked your cheeks, watching you intently as your bottom lip sprouted into a pout. Slowly, he folded you into his powerful embrace, placing his hand on your jawline, his fingers splayed over your hair as you tried to muffle your weeps with your clenched hand.

“Let it out, y/n.” He whispered, his other arm snaking around your waist. Your chest broke open then, all the emotions that stayed deep within you came screaming out as you sobbed hard into your hard, not having the strength to feel embarrassed about this moment because this embrace under the moonlight was suddenly intimate. His lips softly grazed the crown on your head as he rocked you from side to side, an odd moment you never saw coming.

“It’s okay, y/n. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” He whispered, somehow holding you even closer.

Aemond escorted you back to your bed, tucking you in and leaving a very tiny kiss on your temple before fleeing the room. The next day, your mothers body was taken by the Septor’s ready for a burial, you and Raven had no money so your mother would be resting just outside the city walls, with no headstone but a nice set of flowers that told you where she was so you could pay your respects… or simply talk to her. Even if she couldn’t talk back.

At the edge of the courtyard, where the gates were situated, you watched, sitting next to Aemond in silence as two men on horseback arrived; you squinted, your knee knocking against Aemond’s, and saw him. You saw Milo. The second his feet hit the ground you were rushing towards him, throwing yourself at him, your legs around his waist as he twirled you around, laughing heartily.

“Milo!” You shrieked, eyes filling with tears at the sight of your friend. You needed to see him after such a horrible time in your life.

“I came as soon as I heard,” he tucked your hair behind your ear, rubbing the back of your ear as he spoke, “how are you holding up?”

“I’m okay, Milo. I am. She’s past her pain… but I miss her, I miss her more than anything.” Tears threatened to fall, but you sucked them back in as you wrapped your arms around his waist. He tucked his head into the space between your neck and shoulder, humming as he squeezed you closer and closer to him. His musk of something wooden and ale-like instantly silenced your heart, you let yourself sink into his strong arms, suddenly feeling sad, that overwhelming sadness that comes in waves when his fingers softly stroked between your shoulder blades; you smiled, shyly, pulling away and rubbing your eyes.

“I’m so happy you’re here, Milo,” you smiled, taking in his smooth, sweet smile that always relaxed you, “thank you.”

“I have a break, shall we get something to eat?” He asked, his teeth twinkling under the sunlight. You nodded, tucking your hand into the crook of his elbow, smiling amicably at Aemond as he balanced his sword on his knees, wiping it clean.

You and Milo sat opposite each other, scraping the bowls of your food, just enjoying each other’s company. He spoke of his days at battle, his meetings and people he met and the way his eyes sparkled when talking about his endeavours made the aching in your heart die down for just a moment.

🗡️

Later that night, you took your place in the banquet hall behind Aemond, watching over the family as they ate quietly, the first time they ate since Aemond’s fight with Jace. Everything was silent as they slurped and chewed on their food, their mouth sounds filling the empty table. Aemond turned his head, flicking his index finger over to you; you dipped a curtsey and walked to him with the wine jug, as you tipped the red liquid into his small cup you noticed how his eye was fixed solely on you, making you nervous. At the same time as you pulled up the jug, he pulled up the cup to his lips, making your knuckles gently brushing; you swallowed the sand that suddenly appeared in your throat as you backed away, back to your spot. You watched as Aemond sipped and ate silently before being the first to leave the table, much to his fathers dismay, as he turned to walk off; his gaze was on you, only for a short moment, before his head turned towards the door, disappearing.

You came back to empty quarters, the bed your mother died in was still just as messy as it was when she had left the earth. You couldn’t find the strength to sleep in there not when your mum died there and the memories that lingered of you tucking your head under her chin as her breathing slowed you into a deep, happy slumber. You pulled off your apron, pulling the rags that kept your hair up and pressing your palms onto the circular table that sat in the middle of the room, your arms straining from the pressure you were applying; soft tears falling from your eyes.

The night air was beckoning you outside, so you wiped your nose, pulling a warm robe around your body and making your way, just for a short walk around the grounds; no sword fighting today. A swish, a few grunts and delicate footsteps bounced off the walls of the courtyard, when you turned the corner from the hallway entrance to the outside, you saw Aemond. His slender body twirling and slicing into the dummy man, grunts escaping his mouth and for a moment you watched his graceful moves; how every calculated movement made your heart slightly twist and how his hair was swishing with the breeze. The pebbles crunched under your feet which made his halt, mid action and slowly turn around. He pressed the point of his sword into the pebbles, his eye grazing over your full body.

“Y/N, you’re awake,” his voice was dry, like he couldn’t be bothered which was a complete contrast to a few nights ago when he held you in this very courtyard.

“It seems to be that way,” you sighed, pulling the robe tighter around your body as the night chill sneaked underneath your clothing.

“Can’t sleep?” You shook your head, “neither can I.” He looked at his feet, a very very small smile apparent on his lips. A moment of awkwardness fell over you when Aemond sheathed his sword, walking towards you, your breathing hitching as he stopped just three stone throws away from you.

“You’re barefoot,” he stated, looking at your feet.

“I am, I needed to walk,” you sighed, feeling slightly embarrassed. He cocked his head, pouring his lips in thought before he swiftly picked you up; your legs dangling over his arms, your arms around his neck, “Aemond-“

“You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep walking around barefoot, y/n,” he was slightly amused by it, “we can’t have that, can we?” He turned his face towards yours, a full smile on his face which almost made you cower in submission. You had to focus on your breathing, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Suddenly, you were intensely aware of his strong hands cradling you like you were a child, somehow feeling secured in his arms as the warmth of the castle enveloped you. He hoisted you up with his knee as you started slipping just before you entered your quarters, he noticed the way your eyes glistened at the sight of your mother’s death bed. Without a word, he set you down on top of the table before bending to his knees, brushing the pebbles stuck into your feet with his hands… that were surprisingly soft. The moment was done in complete silence as he softly removed everything in your feet, as his hands grazed your calloused skin… such a contrast compared to his creamy hands that made your heart thump against your chest. He exhaled through his nose as he looked up at you, his eye twinkling in the orange candlelight, his arm reaching up and softly grazing his curled index finger down your cheek. Instinctively, you leaned into the touch, sighing contently with this gentle moment between the two of you.

“Are you just going to stare at me, y/n?” He asked, his voice a whisper, you snapped back into reality.

“You’re not saying anything,” you whispered back, finding the moment to bring forth your hand and tuck his white hair behind his ear. It was a brave move, his eye widened slightly before he stood to his full length; you examined every detail of him, from his straight nose to his puckered lips, things you hadn’t noticed before. He cleared his throat, grunting as he stood to his entire length, watching you carefully before placing a light kiss on your forehead, sending ignited flames through your skin. Then he left, leaving you awakened.

🗡️

The kitchen was bustling with trepidation as they prepared the feasts and the hand crushed wine for the Masquerade Ball that was taking place tonight. The sky had turned a dark purple when guests began walking into the hall with their big hooped dresses and magnificent masks, you watched each pretty lady walk passed you, grabbing a cup of wine you were holding on a tray with tired arms, they never looked at you or said a simple thank you, instead they ignored your existence completely. Aemond stood with his family, a gold mask apparent on his face where his sapphire eye shone through the small holes fitted for his eyes, he watched carefully as every lady being thrown at him by his mother who was eager to get him a marriage match. Milo came up to you with a crimson red mask covering half his face, taking a cup and standing closely beside you,

“Shouldn’t you enjoy the night, Milo?” You asked, turning to him,

“Extravagance like this makes me feel a bit sick,” he gulped the wine in one,

“Why?” You asked, being able to be a part of the dancing and the sheer richness of this society was something you dreamed of before you fell asleep,

“It’s just weird to me, so many people dying and here we are having fun and warm beds for nighttime,” he chuckled darkly, making you smirk as well because his laugh was something that was incredibly unique to him, it was a mixture between a guffaw and a chortle. You looked ahead of you to see Aemond watching you carefully, his lips pursed as Milo whispered something incoherent to you but to make it less awkward you just laughed heartily and he genuinely looked proud of himself, but Aemond was quick to flex his hands before looking away. The group began to part, creating an aisle for the Starks who sauntered through with an air of arrogance, especially the daughter Nora Stark, who had her head held up so far it was a wonder she could see. It was obvious he was going to be dancing with her as a smile danced on his lips when his eyes wandered down to her cleavage. You looked away, swallowing the sand that had whipped up inside your throat as he took her hand, dipping a small kiss on her knuckles. For some reason, the deep groaning within your gut had you blinking tears away and then the music began which almost made you break. So you made some stupid excuse to Milo and stormed out of the hall, violently wiping tears away as they trailed down your cheeks, pulling harshly at the rags in your hair a complete juxtaposition to the beauty of Nora’s hair that was perfectly wound in a braid atop her head. Someone you could never be. You grabbed your sword, not caring about your servants clothing and swishing the sword, cutting through the freezing air, surprised you had so much swiftness despite the aching in your limbs.

“Y/n,” Aemond had called you, from afar you could hear his footsteps crunching under him but you ignored him, hitting the sand dummy over and over again but never relaxing or relieving yourself.

“Y/N!” He called you louder and you stopped, crashing you sword to the ground and turning around to Aemond with no mask or eye patch,

“What do you want?” You crossed your arms,

“I saw you leave,” he said, his voice softer, “why did you go?”

“Because I hate being surrounded by rich people laughing in the poor’s faces,” you shouted, even though you were simply just jealous of him dancing with Nora, “and how beautiful all those girls looked and how so simple I am,” tears threatened to spill again when he stepped forward slightly,

“It means nothing,” he whispered,

“No but it does. It does. You and all your family have these riches, laughing and eating to your hearts desire when I have to suffer my mother’s death in silence!” Your screech struck the air then, silencing even the birds,

“You don’t have to do it alone, you know that,” he exclaimed, stepping quickly towards you and taking your elbows in his hands,

“I do. Raven has her own family and I have no one to share my grief with,” you yanked yourself away from him,

“You have me, y/n. Don’t you know that?” He called, itching to get closer to you,

“No, because you’re going to get married someday soon and you’re going to forget you ever spoke to me,” tears quickly escaped your eyes, dropping onto the pebbles below,

“That’s not true,” he whispered, his eye narrowing and creating a glistening film over them, “it’s not true, y/n.”

“I hate you and your perfect family,” you spat venomous, despite not believing a word coming out of your mouth, you needed some relief from this moment. He stepped back, hurt and upset,

“You mean that?” He swallowed,

“Yes, Aemond, I fucking believe it!” You shouted and he simply shook his head, a cruel smile on his face and quickly made his way back inside, leaving you and the moon alone to cry.

🗡️

Two months passed slowly, you had almost nothing and everything to do. Everything you did was in the kitchen or serving at the banquet table during supper times, watching Aemond and his giggly new bride Nora fawning over each other at the table, you had to change your station, staying behind Princess Rhaenyra instead so you didn’t have to see full frontal Aemond and Nora fuck each other. Nothing you did was to do with anything that interested you, there was nothing fulfilling during your day and you had given up sword fighting, dumbing your days down to simply watching Aemond and Milo go at each other during your breaks. If truth be told, you missed Aemond, you missed bantering with him and enjoying his time simultaneously and it hurt so deeply to see him and Nora arm in arm all day every day. Nothing would make that pain disappear.

During supper time, you watched as Aemond kept stealing glances at you, his eye slightly misty every time you ignored him, but Nora kept distracting him with her perfect cleavage. He beckoned you over with the jug of wine, his fingers grazing your hand so bait that you were scared for people around the table to see. But no one did, all involved in their own conversations.

“You should come back for sword fighting,” he whispered and covering it up with a throat clearing. You moved away, your skin prickling with anticipation but you knew you couldn’t do that, you couldn’t go back to it knowing how you still felt about Aemond.

Later that day, after your job, you journeyed to the edge of the Red Keep to visit your mother, her grave barren since Raven didn’t visit often. The row of flowers gave way to the peasant cemetery, your eyes settled on a stone, clear and new. A headstone, too expensive for either you or Raven to buy, lay erect. You laid flowers, roses on her grave, as you watched the stone stand there undisturbed, you walked away after saying your prayers and letting your mind spin. It was probably Milo.

🗡️

As you were settled in your bed, a knock came, you groaned inwardly as you were finally warm, you opened the door to find Aemond standing there, his leather outfit clad and stretched across his firm body.

“What do you want?” You sighed, not able to look him in the eye,

“Did you like the headstone?” Your head shot up,

“That was you?” You questioned, “thank you.” You whispered, looking at your feet,

“I’ve missed you, y/n. I’ve really missed you.” He admitted,

“It doesn’t seem to be that way, you’re engaged to be wed,” you chuckled, shaking your head,

“Not anymore. I sent Nora packing this evening,” he stated, “I couldn’t marry when…” he trailed off, sniffing slightly,

“When what, Aemond?” Your heart pitched up, your ears suddenly in tune to everything that was happening,

“When I’m actually in love with you.” You stepped back, unable to stand still after such a declaration, you walked towards your window, catching your breath as Aemond came in close behind you, his hands touching your elbows,

“You can’t be, I’m a servant,” you whispered, turning around to see him stood so close to you, he tucked your hair behind your ear and you shuddered,

“I love you, y/n. I always have.” He whispered, his breath fanning your face before he leaned in to kiss you. It was so soft and light that he had you melting into him, as if you were one being, your hands splayed on his chest.

“You can’t,” you whispered, touching your swollen lips as his hands cradled your cheeks,

“I can and I do,” he said, “I’ll speak to my mother about it, I can make this work but I can’t carry on my life without you by my side,” he caressed your cheek softly and besides yourself you sank into his delicate hand before standing on your tiptoes to kiss him once more,

“I’ve always loved you Aemond, I even hated you at times,” you laughed, breathy, “I’m sorry about everything I said.”

“I know, y/n, I know,” he kissed you again, “and if I see you with that bastard Milo again, I’ll kill him.” You laughed and punched his shoulder playfully before he tucked you into his arms and kissed you lovingly.

[hopefulidiocy]

Landline

Modern!Aemond x Modern!Y/N

Warnings: SFW

A/N: this is mainly dialogue through a phone

📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞

📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞📞

“Sometimes I think Professor Watkins has it in for me,” Bryony, your nearest and dearest friend, stated as she kicked the long grass; both of you on your weekend hike across the hills in your nearest countryside,

“Why?” You snorted, pulling your heavy water bottle out of your backpack and chugging it like you were in a desert,

“He’s always gunning for me, always, like he never stops asking me such stupid questions!” Suddenly she got annoyed, kicking the head off a Daisy as you reached the peak of the final hill. The views were outstanding, a green river of treetops swaying in the wind; a light blue hue grazing atop the trees that made the sky go on forever; a few spotted people enjoying their walk on this brisk spring day. You turned to your friend as she breathed in the beautiful, fresh air that filled her lungs before she hit her vape. Irony at its finest.

“You know you’ll die one day smoking them,” you laughed, pulling your backpack to your feet, “all those chemicals.” You added,

“At least I’ll die happy,” she sighed and the smoke blew out, swirling in the air and escaping her, “and young.” She added, laughing, knocking you with her elbow.

Both of you continued your walk, talking and whispering about your student lives as your apartment block, white and bright, came into view. Your calves ached as you dropped your heavy bag at the door, shutting and bolting the door after promising a wine night with Bryony later. Your hairband came tangled in your hair after the wind threw you to and fro for the last 20 minutes of your one hour and twenty minute walk, you pulled harshly, hissing when like half of your head came out with it. The shower hit your skin, the sharp pellets cleaning out your pores as you let yourself relax, massaging your calves deeply with your calloused knuckles.

Wrapping a clean towel around your hair, you began your skin routine, rubbing coconut oil over your legs and arms to the point you felt you could slip through the small gap in your door. By the kitchen counter, your empty fruit bowl lays unhappily and you made a comment to finally buy some bananas or something and fulfill your New Year’s resolution… eating more fruit. As you sat, with a nice glass of iced water, your normally silent landline rang; bouncing off your quiet walls.

Perplexed, with broken acrylic nails, you pulled the phone to your ear,

“Hello?” You asked, tapping your nails on the counter,

“Hello,” the voice was male and gruff, slightly feminine, a voice you had never heard before,

“Ummm… who is this?” You questioned, somehow your patience wearing thin,

“Aemond, am I calling Aegon?” He said, his voice slightly wavering towards the end,

“No, this is y/n,” you laughed, endeared by his realisation he called the wrong number,

“Oh! Oh! I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t bother you?”

“No, of course you didn’t.” You smiled, ending the phone on him and sighed. That voice was very calming, what was his name? Aemond? What an odd sounding name, you had definitely never heard that name before and even with modern day technology, your parents had begged you to have a landline so your grandparents could call you and check in with you.

The night drew in, the wine was poured, the comfy pyjamas were on and your favourite k drama as you and Bryony snuggled up together, popping crisps in your mouth as you shouted at the TV. Bryony was absolutely fawning over the attractive male lead, she was actually blushing over him every time he came on screen, kicking her feet… the whole works. The wine made you sleepy and you dropped off over her shoulder.

The dawning sun shot through your living room window, the orange light painting the cream floors as you woke up with an agonising crick in your neck, still against Bryony.

“Morning, sleepy.” She smiled, flicking through TikTok. Your heart puttered against your chest because your friend had been awake for some time and hadn’t moved, she kept you asleep for almost two hours.

“Ugh, what time is it?” You asked, covering your eyes from the sunlight,

“About 8 AM,” she smiled, “you look tired, go back to bed.”

“No, I have an essay to bash out,” you groaned, rubbing your sore temples as you stood on your feet, “matcha?” Bryony nodded. You slaved over your milk and matcha powder for a good fifteen minutes before the drink was perfect, both of you continued the episode of your k drama that you were watching last night.

Bryony had left at 11AM and at 1PM you were halfway through your essay, your head aching from looking at a bright screen for almost two hours so you decided now was the right time for lunch. Normally, you had a chicken salad but you were due a grocery shop and had in only tinned tomato soup… it wouldn’t fill you but you definitely couldn’t be fucked to pop down to the corner store to fetch something more filling so you plopped the liquid into the pan, waiting for it to boil when the landline rang.

“Hey,” you said, resting it between your ear and shoulder as you buttered a bread bun,

“Hey, Aegon,” the same guy from yesterday said, somewhat melancholy, you laughed loudly,

“You’ve got the wrong number again, Edmund,” you licked your fingers,

“Oh, fuck!” You could hear him smack his head, “I’m so sorry, again and it’s Aemond not Edmund.” He laughed, a breathy kind of laugh that had your heart almost racing. Ew, get a grip of yourself, he’s literally accidentally called you twice!

“No worries, Aemond. I hope you eventually call this Aegon guy,” you said, amused,

“Seeing as I’ve called you twice now, can you remind me of your name?” He asked,

“Y/N,” you smiled, “it’s a pretty easy one to remember.”

“It definitely is, it’s also simply a pretty name.” He replied. Was he flirting with you? It was so odd.

“Thank you, Aemond,” you laughed, “it’s been good to talk to you?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, you could tell his head threw back slightly because his voice distanced from the phone, “it’s been good to speak to you too.” He ended the call and you had stared at the phone for some time when you placed it in the holder, before rushing to your stove as the boil began to spill over the side.

Cuddled up on your sofa, your fluffy blanket wrapped around your body, a sore head from so much thinking but thankfully you finished your essay and was having some much needed you-time. The phone rang. You groaned as you shuffled in your comfy socks as you picked it up.

“Hey grandma, you okay?” Despite having two calls prior to this one from that one boy, you genuinely assumed it would be your grandparents.

“Hey, no, sorry, it’s Aemond,” the revelation had you rolling your eyes, it was getting annoying now that he kept calling,

“Oh, Aemond. Did you call me by accident again?” You asked,

“No!” He exclaimed, “no, I didn’t, I wanted to call you well… because I really liked your laugh and just.. wanted to get to know you I guess.” This information had you sitting at the barstool,

“You wanted to get to know me?” You repeated, a slight amusement in your voice,

“Is that wrong?”

“No, it’s just interesting,” You smiled, hopefully he knew you were, “but why don’t you get my mobile number? It could be easier to get to know me that way.”

“I don’t have a mobile phone, only a landline, that’s probably why I keep getting my brother’s number wrong.” He said, somewhat shyly,

“Why don’t you have a mobile phone?” You cocked your head, resting the phone between your shoulder and ear,

“Ummm… mainly because I prefer to live offline and most people I know have a landline so… why get one?” He said. Based on the very little information you had on this man, he seemed peculiar. He had no phone. Constantly got numbers wrong and wanted to get to know you based solely on your laugh. It was a bit weird, most people could agree.

“Interesting,” you hummed, feeling slightly bored,

“Tell me an interesting fact about you then.” That had you thinking deeply about yourself, there wasn’t much interesting or exciting about you because you didn’t do much apart from studying and going on a weekly hike. So sadly you were going to let him down by saying,

“There’s nothing interesting about me,”

“I’m sure there is, y/n,” he said, “everyone has something interesting.”

“You start then,” you quickly said, trying to buy time to think of something exciting that would make him want to talk to you more,

“I have one eye,” he cleared his throat, you scrunched your eyebrows wondering if he was actually telling the truth. Rule number one of talking to strangers… most of them catfish you. Rule number two of talking to strangers… most of them make up wild shit.

“One eye?” You repeated, disbelieving him,

“Yeah, I bet it’s weird to hear about but I really do,” his voice shook with a chuckle,

“How did you lose it?” You played with the ring on your index finger, waiting for him to answer,

“I got into a fight when I was younger, I have a complicated family, and my nephew who is only slightly younger than me sliced my eye out,” he was laughing as he said it and you boiled that down to becoming so numb to his reality that all he could do was laugh about it,

“That is horrific,” you said, “did it hurt?”

“Of course it did, it was the worst pain in the world, I would never put anyone through that, not even my worst enemy,” he laughed, cracking his knuckles,

“And who’s your worst enemy?” You asked, picking at your nails,

“My sister,” he answered immediately,

“Your family sounds complicated,” you smiled, shaking your head,

“Definitely. But I’m a lone wolf, I tend to separate myself from them,” he said. Yep. He was definitely a bit weird. But sometimes the best families were a bit complicated.

“Well then,” you exhaled, “turns out I have nothing as interesting as that. I have both of my eyes.” He laughed at your joke,

“What’s it like to see out of both eyes?” His laugh came from his throat, it was slightly strained,

“Normal. What’s it like to see out of one?” You asked,

“Normal.” Both of you chuckled, “I should probably let you go now, it’s getting late,” you looked at the clock and saw that it was nearing midnight,

“Yeah, I have an early start tomorrow,” you said, “it was nice talking to you.”

“Same to you, call the same time tomorrow, if that’s what you’d like?”

“I’d like that.”

*

The day you had was stressful to say the least because you had your Professor on your ass all day about taking up tutoring for the first years, two years below you. You were unsure, not even 50% sure about the tutoring because the imposter syndrome in your medical studies was so strong that it was something you thought about every day and every lecture. So you came home, kicked off your shoes and poured yourself a large glass of white wine and sat in the darkness of your living room. The silence was broken by the phone ringing, you padded your feet towards it, collapsing on the stool.

“Hey,” you said, “Aemond?”

“Yep, it’s me again,” he chuckled, “how was your day?”

“Stressful. My professor wants me to tutor the first years, but I don’t believe I’m good enough to do it and I’ve said this to him but he just won’t stop jabbering on.” You sighed, taking a gulp of your wine,

“Why don’t you think you’re good enough?” A shuffle rang through the phone,

“Mainly because I got into the course by going through clearing. I’ve got here simply by chance, not by being smart,” you shrugged, resigned to your fate,

“Your course is?”

“Medicine.” He laughed, heartily,

“Of course you’re good enough! Only the smartest people can get onto a medicine course, clearing or not,” his mouth spread into a smile, you could hear it so naturally your mouth journeyed into one as well,

“Thanks, Aemond,” you replied, a blush rising to your cheeks, looking down at the counter slightly embarrassed about getting shy around someone you had never met before,

“It’s Edmund actually,” he joked, his laugh breathy and deep,

“Don’t lie,” you giggled back, “anyway, I should probably head to bed.”

*

After a couple of days, probably a week, you found yourself waiting by the phone, eager for him to call and you’re unsure whether it was because you started to feel some connection for him or whether it was just a nice thing to do during the evening. Every evening, he called at 5PM, ready with baited breath you picked up the phone, bringing it to your ear and waiting for his deep, almost feminine voice,

“Hey y/n,” he said, his knuckles cracking,

“Hi Aemond,” you smiled, a little too eager for your liking and all conversations started like that, continuing through to a deep conversation surrounding life, experience and something philosophical,

“What is a chair?” He asked, munching down the phone,

“Something you sit on,” you said, rolling your eyes. It was now week 2 that you had been talking with Aemond and it quickly became a routine,

“How do we know it’s a chair?” He questioned, his voice having a slight lilt to it,

“Because we’re conditioned to believe it is one?” It came out as a question because it seriously dumbed you when he came out with such interesting theories,

“Hmm… cool,” he said, his mind obviously far away, “hey, y/n?”

“Yes Aemond?”

“I’ve really enjoyed talking to you, it’s been a highlight to be honest,” his voice became somewhat shy and your heart melted into a small puddle at the bottom of your stomach,

“I’ve really enjoyed this too, Aemond,” you said and then realised, “but I don’t even know your last name,”

“Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen,” he chuckled,

“That’s such a unique name, Aemond, where does that come from?” You asked, popping a chocolate coin in your mouth and sucking on it,

“Somewhere old, I’m not even sure myself,” he laughed, “but yeah it’s a pretty cool name.”

*

You and Bryony walked through the mall, mooching around for some kind of birthday night out outfit for a mutual friend who was going to Magic Mike in the coming month. It proved to be difficult though because you had no idea what people wore there, every TikTok has just come up with naked men dancing and not a single outfit check. The day was nearing 5 and you were itching to get home, to have that nice chat with Aemond that you always looked forward too. It was a special moment between you two, like nothing else existed in the world, just the both of you. Maybe it was time to finally meet, you knew he lived quite far away but you would make that distance just to possibly see his face and maybe take that a bit further. You knew you felt something for him, the way your heart slowed whenever he spoke and the way it sped up when he laughed. Even thinking about his laugh made your cheeks heat up and your mouth form into a small smile.

With your bags that you shoved at the door, you ran towards your kitchen island, sitting there like a sad puppy waiting for the call to come through. You looked at the clock: 4:59. Tapping your fingers against the table, you waiting for a minute… for two… for three until Aemond hadn’t called you at 5:30. You wished you had his number saved so maybe you could call him, but you didn’t. He always called you so you felt you didn’t need it, so you waited for three hours, hopelessly waiting for his call. But it never came.

Even a month later, the call never came. At your friend’s birthday, when all the girls were having fun, throwing fake money at the dancers and hollering at their body rolls, you were thinking about where he had disappeared too. Was it something you said? Did you come off too strong? For the past month you had been thinking about what you could’ve done wrong. Bryony tried asking why you were so down, but she wouldn’t understand, no one could. How could you explain that you started crushing on a man you had never met?

During your lecture, scribbling down notes in your italic handwriting, a notification came through on your phone. At first you ignored it, focused more on naming every muscle in the body with your gingerbread chart. But once you had finished, shaking your sore wrist, you picked up your phone. Numerous notifications, mainly from Bryony who had been on five dates with the same guy and it was going nowhere. But an interesting BBC headline caught your eye.

Conservative Leader pays homage to his brother

3:23PM 16/04/24

Leader of the Opposition arrived at the annual Targaryen Spring party exclaimed fiercely about the love for his Late brother, Aemond Targaryen. Sir Aegon Targaryen took to the stand in front of hundreds of guests to express his sadness and gratitude for his brother, he stated:

“My brother Aemond Targaryen came across as stoic, it was hard to talk to him at times, especially when he was younger: he was incredibly stubborn,” this earned a laugh from the audience, “my brother had a lot to deal with, he was bullied from a young age and is the reason I want to put a definite end to school bullying, and when he was ten years old, his eye was sliced out in a cruel attack from a boy just a year younger than him. Affectionately, he was known as “One Eye” which definitely annoyed him at times but it was always said with love. He took his time, talking at schools and becoming one of the best criminal lawyers in the country. He died in a freak accident just a month ago, the driver of the car has since been questioned and will hopefully be imprisoned with manslaughter of my beautiful brother.” Aegon ended the speech with a toast, his mother, Alicent, obviously upset sobbed as she raised her glass to him, she named him her “beautiful son.” Written by Bob Declan, BBC News

Your eyes watered, disbelieving that this could be the Aemond you had spoken to for just over a month. In a room full of silent people, you couldn’t react to the news, you couldn’t let yourself cry over someone you technically didn’t know so you excused yourself to the bathroom. Perched in front of the mirror, hands on each side of the porcelain sink as the tears dropped and disappeared down the drain, you couldn’t stop them. You felt your heart racing as you sniffed and prayed to anything mystical that Aemond, the Aemond you had spoken to, wasn’t dead. With trembling hands, you researched Aemond Targaryen, and with bated breath you waited for the internet to speed.

There he was. Beautiful and smiling next to his family, who all had the same white hair, striking with one shiny blue eye and you just knew it was him. It came to you in an instant, that man you knew through the phone, that man you spent so many evenings talking to was dead. You would never get to meet him, you would never get to hold him in your arms and he never got to see you, with your auburn hair and kind eyes. You zoomed in on his face, a slight smirk, just like you heard through the phone, was apparent on his face and you fell in love with that face in an instant. It just made you cry harder.

[hopefulidiocy]

Crawl

SG!Salesman x Fem!Y/N

Warnings: smut with no plot, humiliation, good girl kink, spanking, teasing, gagged, choked.

MINORS DNI 🔞

👔👔👔👔👔👔👔👔👔👔👔👔👔👔👔👔👔👔👔

👔👔👔👔👔👔👔👔👔👔👔👔👔👔👔👔👔👔👔

The student in front of you had his hands in his hair as you attempted to walk him through Pythagoras theorem, no matter what he could no get to the right answer so, you called it a day. Shutting your tutoring books, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder as you escorted him out; your mind scrambled from the amount of energy you had put into trying to make mathematics easier for him… sadly it wasn’t working. You wondered whether you were truly the right tutor for him, even though you were exceptionally gifted at numbers and scientific equations. When you shut the door behind him, you pressed your back against the strong white wood and massaged your temples; aching for some kind of realise. The bottle of red wine he bought you a week ago for being such a good girl was sitting in your fridge, gagging to be opened so, naturally, your feet glided you towards your silver fridge; the blue light shining in your eyes as the wine stood in the middle, shimmeringly untouched. With your wine glass in your hand, fluffy socks and silk pyjamas you collapsed into your feathered couch, switching on the tv, flickering through the channels until something caught you.

Knee deep in your show, a knock sounded, your head whipped towards the door… who could be calling? You thought. You set your glass on the coffee table, softly padding your feet towards the door. The man. In his grey blazer and pant suits with a white shirt pulled taut against his lean body, his famous briefcase pulling tight to his legs; as always, his little smirk that sent your mind reeling.

“Y/N,” he stated, smirking.

“I-I had no idea you were coming over today…” you admitted to yourself that the wine had gone to your head, probably because you hadn’t eaten much,

“Hm… I see that,” his dark gaze wandered down your pink silk pyjamas, “you look nice.” That simple compliment was enough to make you blush, juxtaposing the strict but fair teacher you were during the day. He slithered beside you and the door frame, striding in with that confident gate he had and placed his briefcase on the counter, eyeing the wine. Shyly, you followed him, finding your abdomen drop when he turned around, his wicked smirk gone and instead a strict, straight line as he looked at you,

“Get on your hands and knees.” The command wasn’t out of nowhere, you knew he must be arriving for one thing and one thing only. A sane person, who could stand up for themselves would spit at his feet, but you weren’t sane. You were his through and through, and you loved every moment of it.

You sank to your knees, keeping his eye contact and rested your body on your palms, flat into the cold ground as you watched him turn away from you, walking towards the chair that was turned in your direction. He sat there, his legs spread, his curved groin apparent to you so much that you felt your mouth water and your throat turn to mush as he cocked his head,

“What are you waiting for, y/n?” His voice was laced with amusement and darkness, creating a deep, warm flip deep within your gut, “crawl to me.” He sat there, so proud and smug as you began to crawl to him; keeping eye contact despite the humiliation that had him sneering at you. Once you reached his knees, he leaned down, grabbing you by your face, looking deep within your soul as his free hand ducked under your top, smirking when he found you had no bra on,

“I want to have a little fun with you,” he whispered, his breath fanning your face. His voice alone made you whine. He pulled you onto his lap, your arms hanging over the chair as your belly rested painfully against his muscular legs. He teased you, painting circles with light fingertips but once he reached the waistline of your shorts, your silk shorts, his light touch diminished when he yanked them down with so much force you heard a rip. The cold air hit your ass, but it wasn’t for long before he landed a savage spank onto it, so hard you gripped the arm of the chair and yelping. He chuckled from your response and landed another one, carefully watching your reaction. He knew he had you wrapped tightly around his finger, he could make you do whatever he wanted and you would drop everything to keep him satisfied. Both of you knew your role in your dynamic and it was so beautiful to fulfill it.

“Count.” He demanded, his voice sultry as he smacked you again, harsher than before,

“One…” you croaked and he hit you again, “two…”

The moonlight shone in through this sordid moment, you strung against the lap of the man that could make you cry and scream… all in the best of ways. He hit your ass more than twenty times before his touch became softer, he rubbed the red hand marks and travelled towards your heat, where you swore you had made a mark on his thigh. He would love it. His index and middle finger found its way to your clit, he hummed as you mewled in the crook of your arm, bucking your hips upwards,

“Be patient, baby,” he cooed as his fingers began to circle around your clit, adding just enough pressure that made your eyes flicker and your jaw slackened as he painfully pressed against your clit. You moaned out as his fingers perfectly tuned you, his fingers knowing exactly what to do that made you become all his, the shiver that he sent up your spine when his hand began to work faster could not be written by the perfect author. You ground your hips into his thighs as you felt the world begin to spin, squeezing your eyes shut you submitted to his will and let go of your stress over his hand. He chuckled darkly, shoving his fingers into your mouth, curving them deeply down your throat as you lapped up your own taste. He enjoyed you tasting yourself, he groaned as he hooked your mouth, pulling you harshly upwards,

“You’ve been good to me, now show me how much you want it.” He sneered, pushing you off his lap, not hard but enough force that made you tumble. You trailed your hands up his thighs, your eyes making one spotlight over his groin and massaging it with the base of your palm before hungrily pulling down his zipper and pulling out his cock. It shocked you every time just how long he was, it was a miracle you could fit him in. You spread kitten kisses all over him before licking from the base to the tip, making his thighs shiver. He looked at you, his eyes drunken with lust as you took him whole, his cock full in your mouth; beginning to bob up and down, letting him violate you. He pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail, gripping tightly onto you, almost controlling your eagerness. He grunted as your strong tongue licked as you sucked, giving him a wild look in his eyes, his hair slightly disheveled as his hand pulled you completely off his cock. He watched you for a moment before slapping your cheek as gentle as he could, which wasn’t that gentle at all. He smirked when the red mark appeared on your face, you loved the way he ruined you, you loved how much of a slut you were whenever he visited you. He stood up, grabbing your elbow along with his movements, dragging you towards your couch where you had been sitting just a half hour earlier in such innocence and now, in that exact space, you were being dragged back down to hell. He bent you over, your cheek pressed hard against the feathers as his cock teased your wet folds, dragging his leaking tip up and down until it pressed so beautifully against your clit. The absence of movement had you craning your neck towards him, and in that moment he had never looked more beautiful; moonlight behind him making him look like an angel fallen from grace as he undid his top button and harshly pulling his tie off his body, winding it into a ball, his eyesight caught you,

“I like your neighbours hearing what a whore you are for a man you hardly know, but I also like to see you struggle,” he shoved the material in your mouth, muffling your noises as he spread your cervix around him. You squeezed your eyes shut, breathing deeply through your nose to accommodate to his size; but he didn’t allow you that luxury as he began snapping his hips in and out of you, your eyes rolling hard to the back of your skull. His cock, thick and hard, hit that spot that had you crying out, bringing water to your eyes. He imprinted his fingers into your hips as he brought you towards him, the slapping sounds bouncing off the silent walls that became fucking classical music to you. Chewing down on the tie, you made a feral groan that did not release any of the stress that had built up within your core. His movements sped up, his hip bones hitting your ass cheeks with every animalistic move he made, your eyes and stomach went wild for him as his ground his cock deep within your stomach, reaching around to press your abdomen so the space between your bladder and cervix became almost nonexistent. You loved it when he knew how to play you so perfectly like a violin. His hand painfully pressed against you, threatening to release all over him, but both of you loved the mess you made so you relaxed allowing yourself to feel the mixture of pain and pleasure he gave to you. His hips snapped, his tip hitting your gspot, sending your head rolling back, your eyes at the back of your skull as you groaned harshly into the material.

“Let them hear you, baby,” he pulled the tie from your mouth, bucking his hips so fast you hardly had a moment to breathe and you curled your fists around the sofa as you shrieked loudly for all to hear. He chuckled mockingly before wrapping the tie around your neck and pulling harshly so your head was yanked backwards. The pressure of the material around your neck only had you begging for more, you vocalised it and he commanded your wish because his movements were so feral it had you seeing stars. You closed your eyes, feeling the drop in your stomach, the world nothing but a slight glimmer, his groans and disgustingly seductive curses blessing your ears as his movements slowed down to a painful pace, aching for more, aching to let go you pushed your ass back. With one swift thrust, he had you gushing all over him, coming undone once more as he painted your walls with his perfection. You collapsed into the sofa, curling into the foetal position as he squeezed himself behind you, his arms strong around you as you came down from your undoing,

“You were so good for me,” he whispered as his hand travelled down to your sensitive clit.

[hopefulidiocy]

Writers block..? SAME! I’ve had this idea for WEEKS and just never write it lol.

So imagine there’s this like legend of The Great Targaryen (reader) who lived before Rhanerya and them and she was called The Great Targaryen because she commanded like 4 dragons instead of one. (kinda like Daenerys)

So maybe she was like so powerful or whatnot a witch (idk if they rly had those back then but like, there’s dragons so bare with me lol) cast her to sleep, saying she’ll only awake in 100 years OR SOMETHING IDK YET.

But anyways, team black realizes that if they want to win they’ll need her or something so they go looking.

The find her asleep in a cave off the coast somewhere and somehow she wakes up (haven’t rly gotten there yet) and they’re all like woahhhh but she has no dragons?

They get to the top of the cliff and she kinda just faces out towards the ocean and stands there, everyone is confused. She raises her arms like A GODDESS and BOOM flying out of the ocean is DRAGONS!!!

Idk it’s a really weird concept but I had a dream like that and that’s where this came from lol.

Watcha think???

The Dragon Tamer

House of the Dragon x OC!Female!Character

Warnings: mentions of child loss, death, destruction and disease.

Characters that are my own: Efflestead the Warrior, Alina the Dragon Tamer/Demon Queen, Jocelyn the Great

A/N: I have never written something like this before and I looooved doing it <3 part two?

MINORS DNI 18+

🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉

🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉

Many tales graced the darkened walls of Westeros. They flew, invisibly, through the air as folk songs or poems; they were words, spoken from generation to generation. Efflestead’s siege on the North, battling it to great victory until all that was left was rubble and dirt and dead bodies. He was celebrated, a day commemorated to him and how he savagely killed thousands of innocents for being in his war path to the Iron Throne. He was crowned on the 10th of the Third Month, creating catastrophe and violence in his stead. But no one remembers that part. They don’t remember how he killed his way to the top, tortured those who dared to whisper in the corners of every house, how he employed spies who could’ve well been your father or brother and they would let loose their secrets and you’d be on the Wall within the hour. Most people remember him as Efflestead the Warrior King, a family man with fifteen children of his own, all just as ghastly as he was, a man of great honour - being with his wife for more than 40 years, but everyone forgot he had mistresses and often beat his wife to the point she lost more than five children. No, people forget the bad parts because they want a story they can be proud of. Efflestead’s children went on to become monarchs, Heiron being the first and rather boring King, contracting Green Fever before the Winter. Jocelyn became Queen after he died, she was a beauty, to all accounts of people who knew her but, of course, when she was murdered in the comfort of her own bed; her own brother, Aegon, was the one who distributed horrific lies and propaganda. She was a witch and bewitched a plague amongst the Smallfolk with her sixth finger and long, hanging nose that drooped over her upper lip. No one remembers that she was kind and generous to the Smallfolk, no one remembers that she cared for the health of her people and sought to change all of it.

History and myth are not kind to those who actually do good, they would rather remember those with an intriguing story that they can pick apart and leave out the bad bits.

There was one though, no recollection in any chronicle of history, no written records, just a song. Sung in the streets of the Red Keep.

A dragon descended upon the River;

His claws long and his mind clever;

A woman with eyes so black;

Came onto the shore with a crack;

She said, “Who hath come to fight?”;

When one man stepped forth, she cackled to the night;

“Is that all you have?” And so she unleashed her fury onto the innocence;

Letting them have her anguish and misguidance;

Four wild beasts arose from the dark;

Fire, blood and fury from their violent arc;

She tried, as she must, to fight with her life;

But the Smallfolk were full of strife;

They killed her with one switch of a blade;

And off her head rolled in the shade;

They rejoiced and called out;

“At last, the Demon Queen is dead! And so she will be forever at rest!”

Of course, the Smallfolk only knew the lines to a wretched song that kids would learn as they grew up in the parks and the bakeries. They would be told the Demon Queen will have you for supper! If they forbade any law. But, of course, the Demon Queen was more than a ruthless woman. First of all, she had a name… Alina Targaryen. Born to the bastard grandson of Efflestead. She was known to be a beauty, long white hair always in a braided crown, dresses that puffed around her and always glided along with her. She was kind, generous and full of wit. Many men wanted to have a slice of her, but she never allowed it, she kept herself neat and tidy for any man that would marry her.

She never did marry.

Instead found her love elsewhere. With multicoloured eggs that she grew with affection and suddenly… she was the most powerful woman in Westeros.

Being so powerful, she became a target. A target for war, for assassination, for love and temptation. But she hid out in the caves, away from human life and settled with her dragons. The song got one thing right, she did tame four dragons, she loyally loved each dragon.

Fate is a funny thing. It is what’s meant for you, even if it’s not what you want. Alina didn’t want to sleep for one hundred years, she was completely oblivious to it until the day came when the waves crashed harshly against the cave, the dragons looked at her with perplexity and so, being the brave soul she was, she opted to explore on foot. The grey waves curled up into the sky with every crash against the rock, she clung to the edge as she watched spurts of water form a woman, no eyes and no mouth, just a plain black face with wispy hair like a witch. Alone and cold, the witch whispered under her breath that sent Alina into a sleep, never to be heard from again. Until Westeros went to shit.

Around the Queens’ table at Dragonstone, Daemon sat with his elbows propped up, chewing onto his fingernails as Rhaenyra stood, stoic and strangely calm whilst Rhaeyna spoke of the dangerous plans the Greens have for Dragonstone.

“He will surely arrive with Vhagar, even with the three dragons we have cannot take her on. We all know that.” She said, sitting straight. Daemon looked up at her worried face before switching to Rhaenyra’s face, she was deep in thought, Jace behind her, pacing up and down.

“Jace, stop. I can’t think right now.” Daemon ordered, but Jace didn’t stop. He rarely answered to his step father, he was deep in thought like the rest of the room. A hanging shadow was hanging over Dragonstone with Aemond’s threat to burn it to the ground. The Blacks may have the Dragon Queen but the Gods themselves couldn’t defend Dragonstone against Vhagar.

“You know…” Jace trailed off, Daemon looked at him disinterested. Rhaenyra turned her head slightly towards him, as he thought of his next words.

“What is it, Jace?” Rhaenyra spoke, slightly impatient.

“Alina Targaryen.” He said. Everyone exchanged glances, some confused, some surprised. They hadn’t heard that name in ages and perhaps some people had never heard it before.

“She’s been dead for 130 years.” Daemon said, matter of fact.

There had been a grumbling amongst the smallfolk, something was occurring and no one had the answer and it was something bigger than Aemond and Vhagar. The grumbling was like something was rising, coming alive and word on the street was Alina was planning to come back to slay all the sinners. She had not yet made an appearance.

“The prophecy. There was a prophecy.” Jace pointed out even though he couldn’t remember the full details of said prophecy.

“Yes. They said Alina was to die amongst her dragons, safe within the caves in the North, to protect the eggs of the future but if she was to come alive we would have to gain dragon fire.” Rhaenyra said impatiently, crossing her arms and not looking at her son. “It could never work, Jace.”

Later that night, Jace awoke in his bed from a fitful dream of Vhagar tearing his home to shreds and he knew he had to do something about it. The prophecy of Alina Targaryen was difficult but it was not impossible. Many people at the time did not own dragons or their dragons weren’t used for warfare, just simple fun, so of course the prophecy would be hard. He wrapped a warm robe around his body, keeping the cold chill at bay, thinking over his plans as his bare feet slapped against the stone flooring. His mind was on Alina, the beautiful blonde that was etched into law scriptures, there had even been an execution method in her style for those less fortunate: partially burned by dragon fire and then strangled over several days. It was a gruesome way to end and many people had been subjected to it.

Vermax was asleep when Jace entered the Dragon Pit, he watched him for a while before whistling to awaken him. Vermax was always grumpy when he woke up but actively being woke up was a whole new level of grumpy so Jace was in for a long, long night. In High Velarian, he told Vermax of the old prophecy, of the High and Mighty Alina Targaryen who could help them from being torn into pieces.

Deep within the breathing caves, Alina was still, flat on her back on a spacious rock table; her hands clasped at her stomach, still in her riding gear; her peach coloured mouth relaxed into a soft line; her halo hair scattered around her like a wave as Jace began commanding Vermax’s fire, miles away from the caves. The walls began to move, shaking ever so slightly at every will Jace gave to his dragon and with that push, Alina began to rouse. Not awaking properly, her eyes hadn’t opened but her toes squeezed against her leather sandals as Vermax breathed his hot rage into a vat of iron; quickly, Jace covered the top, burning himself but keeping the fire closed within the jar. He could’ve sworn Vermax rolled his eyes when he thanked him and ran off.

Rhaenyra hardly slept. It wasn’t uncommon. There was much to think about. She was sat at her desk, rifling through some parchments when her eldest son came battling through the door; evidently struggling with his barrel.

“What in the Seven Gods have you got there?” Rhaenyra asked, standing up.

“It’s a vat of fire, Lady Mother. For the prophecy.” He was so unfit.

“The prophecy won’t work, Jace. Don’t be a fool and fall for it. Alina was killed by a Sea Devil. It is in the history books.” She batted her hand away and sat down, not wishing to listen to him.

“Mother, when I was commanding Vermax, it felt like something awoke within me. I could feel this cold chill run right through me, I’m telling you, I don’t think this prophecy is fake.”

“You felt the cold chill because it’s midnight and it’s cold and you’re wearing nothing. Go to bed. I don’t want to hear about it anymore.” Defeated, Jace dragged his vat of fire back to his room.

Defeated by his mother he may be. But something happened and it was unmistakable. So when day broke, he climbed onto the back of Vermax and rode off into the North.

The cave was located amongst a rocky terrain, hidden behind a jagged rock that had dried blood, possibly Alina’s, coated over the tips. The waves crashed against the rocks as Vermax flew onto the hanging cliff, denying to put himself and his rider in danger on the rocks. Jace sighed, noticing the jagged rock, his vat of fire on his back as he slowly, incredibly slowly, bum shuffled down onto a flat rock just to the side of the cave, trying to find a different way to enter but the gap between the rocks was too small, even though he was a particularly skinny young man, he could not fit between them. So he had to go around, the wind whipped around his hair, flowing it into all directions as he clutched onto the sharp edge of the jagged rock, cutting diagonally across his palm as he hauled himself onto a small foot cove when his toes fit perfectly. The waves crashed against him, throwing him into the rock at full speed, cutting the side of his face. He groaned into the cup of his hand, trying to keep his composure as the pain seared through him. Once the waves had ceased for just a moment, adrenaline shot through him and he jumped from the foot cove onto the flat surface at the entrance of the cave.

There was a few spots of water, deep enough to drown in, due to the land shifting over the century she had been dead. At first it was dark, he couldn’t see his own hand in front of his face but slowly a light was forming in front of him. Two fawn columns created an archway where a beam of yellow light flooded onto a flat rock, washing over the body of a still woman who was wiggling her toes and small groans escaping her pursed mouth.

“Alina.” He whispered, running towards the rock and finding a beautiful woman, forever twenty three in front of him. The Great Dragon Tamer. Alina Targaryen. He opened the vat ever so slowly, wondering what would happen if the fire was to consume her surroundings, whether she would come to life again. The fire cascaded up and above, touching stalactites and flowing over, somehow it did not touch Alina or Jace and he watched as the Dragon Tamer twitched her eyes. He knelt down beside her, watching her intently as her pale grey eyes opened and took in the fire above her.

The prophecy had worked. The second Alina saw Jace, she shot to her feet, her hand on the sword attached to her leather belt.

“Who are you?” She asked, her voice rough after a century of non speaking.

“I’m Jace… Jace Velarion.” He stumbled across his words, straightening to his feet. Her face was thunderous, her lips straight and almost snarling as she took him in.

“You work at sea.” She spat. “Have you come to kill me once and for all, Jace Velarion?” She unsheathed her sword, the glinting point at his face.

“No, it’s not like that.” He cleared his throat. “I am the son of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen. I have come to ask for help.” Her sword lowered ever so gently as she inquired him with her eyes, narrowing them and looking him up and down.

“A Targaryen Queen? You must be a bastard. Where’s your white hair?” She was vaguely amused by this. In normal circumstances, Jace would not be able to control his anger and although he could feel it bubbling, he didn’t want to say anything; this moment couldn’t be ruined.

“We are under threat. It’s complicated but Queen Rhaenyra is technically Queen of Dragonstone but she is the rightful Queen of Westeros, in the Red Keep. But her younger half brother plotted against her, the Hightowers, and now he is on the throne and there’s a threat Vhagar and his bastard rider will detonate us all. We need you.”

“The Hightowers.” She spat, tucking her sword back into her sheath. “I’ve always hated them.” She slapped her thighs, she was incredibly masculine, and drove herself to the entrance of the cave. Jace watched in awe as she screamed in Old Valyrian, something he couldn’t understand himself and saw four dragons rise from the rocks. They had been disguised for 130 years as these jagged rocks, the ones that Jace cut himself on, they roared and they were ten times bigger than Vermax. The wind blew in at a high speed when Alina turned around, a mischievous glint in her eye and the first smile he had seen.

“Are you ready, Prince Jace?”

[hopefulidiocy]

All my current requests are queued for the following days so please send more in. I will be writing anything House of the Dragon, Harry Potter and Squid Game.

[hopefulidiocy]

nsfw salesman?🫣

Bitch

Salesman x Fem!Y/N

Warnings: rough sex, gun play, p in v, foreplay (f receiving), SMUT, not kind, but he feels something for her.

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Red dress. Heels.

The text came through when you were sat in your lecture, scribbling down notes you weren’t going to look at later but knew you had to do something to get him out of your mind. For the past few months you had been playing a tedious game with a nameless man, someone who had been following you for months before he turned up at your flat with four words…

“Let’s play a game.”

And you, being intrigued in this handsome man, agreed to play with him. Despite your gut telling you to run. He came every Monday an hour after your classes without fail. And without fail, you were undone every time he left.

The text came as a surprise, leaving you breathless as the class came to an end. He left no time, no place to meet, just what to wear. How the fuck could you find a red dress within the depths of your sweaters and baggy jeans? Dresses don’t suit you. It’s not a part of you. At least that’s what you thought. He might’ve seen something in those twinkling hours above your naked body, maybe he thought you’d look good in a dress. So, the port of call is to call your best friend.

It took a few tries to get through to her but she finally answered.

“What?” Her gruff voice came through your phone, she had definitely just woken up.

“Have you got a red dress?” Both of you rarely said hello to each other.

“Yes. Why?”

“Okay I’m coming over.” You hung up, tucking your phone into your back pocket and taking off down the green campus, onto the busy Main Street and basically becoming Usain Bolt towards your best friend’s apartment.

No questions asked, she thrusted the red dress in your arms and oh my god it was fucking short. It wouldn’t even cover your ass but you had the short straw here, you couldn’t simply bargain for a longer red dress because no one owns one these days. Your best friend is a hoarder so it’s usually more than likely she will have something.

Evening was drawing in, you had blown out your hair knowing it would be completely lax by the time you arrived back at your own apartment; the dress definitely didn’t cover anything, you would look better going out naked; the heels were too high and it took a few rounds of your bedroom to walk like a normal person but at least your make up was astonishingly. You were waiting by the door, anxiously tapping your toes against the wood. The knock came, once and then twice before you answered. He took one swift look at you, with that shit eating smirk of his.

“Beautiful.” And then he led you to a place with dim lighting and dark candles.

“I need you to remember something for me y/n.” He leaned forward, his elbows pressed into the table as his eyes zoned in on you, darkening with every passing second. “You’re my bitch, okay?” Goosebumps raised on the back of your neck as you squeezed your thighs together, his mouth was slightly puckered as you attempted to find the words that roamed freely in your mind. He cleared his throat, looking marginally disappointed at your silence. You simply couldn’t find any words to say. His arm reached for his briefcase, pulling it up to his lap as his hand completely disappeared inside of it. You watched him, mouth dry and throat closed as he threw a black gun on the table. He didn’t say anything at first, instead he examined you with one elbow on the table and his fingers touching his chin, his eyebrows slightly raised.

“Is-Is it loaded?” You managed to muster. He broke out into a mocking laugh, it shook the room. You leaned back in the chair, trying to breathe as his snake-like moves suddenly came closer. His broad hand wrapped around the gun as he pressed the cold brass against your temple, your breath hitched and died in your throat as he clicked the revolver. His lips brushed against the side of your neck, his breath hot compared to the cold shivers that were coursing through your body; a shock sent straight to your abdomen.

“Would you like to find out?” His voice was so low it was barely audible as his lips sent waves down your spine, he wasn’t kissing you, just simply grazing his lips against your neck, teasing you until your hands clenched in your lap.

“Answer me.” His wrist wrapped around your locks and pulling harshly, the gun still taped to your temple.

The sane side of you wanted to say no, that side wanted to push him away and point the gun at the centre of his head. But you knew you’d be seeing stars before day break, before the moon fully made itself present you’d be shaking under his touch, and you loved it. Every second you loved the way he made you feel, how his fingers played you like a toy.

“Yes.” You whispered, a small tear forming at the corner of your eye. He chuckled darkly before kicking your legs apart, suddenly revealed to him in the candlelight. He trailed the gun down from your temple to your chin as he got onto his knees for you, the only time he ever did, and hitched your dress to your hips. He tutted, shaking his head.

“Why are you wearing these?” His index finger poked at your black underwear, the only thing saving your dignity and the way he poked at you sent a harsh gasp through your body and out your mouth. He narrowed his eyes before smirking, with one hand he yanked your underwear until it was dangling over your heels. Devastatingly slowly the gun traced over your collarbone, to your breast bone, to your naval and finally onto your clitoris. The cold metal stung and the thrill of danger had you weak, it was unlike anything you felt before even from him; he clicked the gun and you shrieked despite yourself even though this gun was obviously not loaded. His gun was left on the space between your legs on the seat as his hand grazed over your inner thigh before circling your clit with the pad of his thumb, similar but better than earlier in the car. He watched you through his dark eyelashes as you slowly lolled your head to the side, your eyes fluttering shut at the gentle touch to your sensitivity; he licked his lips as he sweetly kissed you on your pussy before diving in. You clutched on the sides of your chair, moans escaping your throat as you looked towards the ceiling, letting him work his tongue all over you. Black vision spilled in front of you as your body played along with his beautiful music, your vision completely blurred as a cold wave crashed over you, causing your knuckles to go white due to the hard pressure against the chair. You knew you were shrieking, but your body completely detached as he continued using you, your noises far away as if it’s in another room. White noise rushed into your hearing as your body began to tremble, your thighs locking him shut between you as he worked faster and faster on you until you folded into yourself. The cold air hit your aching skin as he removed himself from you, standing to his full height which was imposing even in this environment and then he scooped you up bridal style. It was almost romantic as he threw you against the window for all of the world to see, it was almost beautiful when he ripped your friends dress for the neighbours to enjoy the look of your breasts pressed against the glass. His black leather shoe kicked your feet to separate them.

“Stay there.” He ordered before his shoes grew quieter and quieter. The moments in which you were alone, your body on full show, prepped for him and you knew you were a whore for him, you knew this was going to be your life now. The threat of being killed, the threat of being hurt only turned you on more until you were basically dripping down your thighs. His footsteps became louder and you knew, you just knew, he had a gun in his hand. A different one and you had no idea whether it was loaded or not. The idea made you whine, your abdomen aching for his touch.

“You look so fucking beautiful like this.” He stood back to admire the view of your ass sticking out and the rest of you pressed against the glass. He enjoyed the thought of people watching you becoming undone by his simple touch.

During these times, he rarely removed his suit and today was no different. All he had to do was unzip his pants and his dick was excitedly pointing towards your heat, he lined himself up, a gun against the back of your head unknowing whether it’s loaded or not. He grunted as the tip of him entered your walls, the stretch always shocked you, the thickness was something you had to prepare for but he very rarely allowed the bliss of feeling ready for his cock. A small loan escaped his lips, it was classical, as he entered fully inside of you, allowing himself to fully enjoy the your warmth. You pressed your cheek against the glass, jaw slack as his cock touched every nook and cranny of your cervix; he reached around with his free arm and pressed down on your abdomen as he began to push further inside of you. Whining, you arched your ass towards the ceiling to accommodate his size.

“Look at you.” He snarled, pulling himself out to just the tip to make you beg for it. To make you weak and ache for his cock. And you were. The instant he pulled out almost completely, you felt the cold air and groaned in annoyance, you were empty and all you wanted was to be full of him. You bucked your knees, to try edge his cock in further but he harshly held onto your hips, his thumb digging in so hard you felt the bruise forming. That magical feeling of his breath escaping his mouth as he emerged back inside of you, the relief that settled your heart before he began hammering his hips into you, deeper than you ever felt. The cold glass and the hot feeling of his cock inside of you was such a stunning contradiction, you hoped people could see what this man was making you feel, you squeezed your pussy around him just to hear that musical moan escape his throat again. His tie became undone as he clicked the gun, relishing in you flinching, ducking your head every so slightly but enough for him to notice and laugh.

“You love the threat of being shot, don’t you?” He snapped his hips so deep into you that for a moment you forgot your native language, you forgot the laws of physics as his cock buried itself deep within your womb, readying itself for his lust. You felt the tip of the metal begin trailing your spine as his hips snapped in and out of you, huffing as he brought his fingers towards your clit, circling it in a ferocious manner to bring you quicker to your undoing. Suddenly, he flipped you towards him, he preferred to see your face as you moaned all over his cock, bring your legs to his shoulders so he could grow deeper inside of you. You didn’t even worry about slipping down the window because he had you hard against the glass, there was hardly any space between you and him and the window. His hips came down like a hammer, he wasn’t picking up his pace and instead simply pulled half way out slowly and slammed his hips down, hitting your aching g spot as it threatened let go all over him.

“Please, faster.” You begged, crying almost to let go. His hand clasped around your neck, adding onto his quickening pace. Instead of hammering down onto your quivering body, he began to level up faster, making you cry out in absolute bliss and serenity. His hips slapped quickly onto yours, as he grunted and groaned, hiding them in your neck; he bit down as hard as he could as you let everything go all over him. He knew you had reached your high, but he didn’t stop, instead in one swift movement he picked you up and slammed you into the hard floor. You knew, come daylight, there would be a mark but you would parade it proudly knowing you had become a whore for a man you hardly knew. It was disgusting but somehow it made you hornier as his cock worked you to a pace of his own, something that physics hadn’t yet discovered. The gun was forgotten about, he didn’t want to continue threatening you, instead he wanted you to see stars once again, he wanted to hear your beautiful music as you shrieked over him.

“So good to me.” He grunted. “Your pussy belongs to me, you belong to me.” He wrapped his wrist into the knotted locks of your hair pulling violently that it made your neck completely snap towards the ceiling, making you cry out in pain that was overwhelmed with pleasure. You contracted around him, your toes curling as you unleashed everything onto him; he moaned in delight as he pushed further into you. His large hand grabbed the gun and pointed it at your forehead, you just about saw the barrel, your jaw slack and dumb.

“Look at you, in this pretty dress, getting fucked, being my own personal fuck toy.” He mocked, pounding even harder. You started seeing stars, your eyes rolling back and your throat sore; you let him have his way as you dived into a world of satisfaction, no moans or words could describe this moment between the two of you. “Can you not speak, pretty girl?” He pouted, pulling your hair and rising you roughly so your back was against his chest; your eyes still rolled at the back of your head. His fingers splayed over your exposed throat, your hair sweating as he whispered. “Do you like it when I fuck that tight cunt of yours?” You wanted to scream yes, you wanted the whole world to know that you belonged to him and you loved being used like a useless toy.

“Y-Yes. Yes I do!” You managed to squeak, but he wasn’t happy and clicked the gun in his free hand, making you flinch once again, his hips still bucking at a gods speed. “Yes. I love it when…. When… you fuck me, I love it!” You ended up screaming towards the end, eager to get it out and he chuckled darkly as his movements began falling. Close to his edge, his imprinted himself onto your neck with his mouth and shook with agonising pleasure as he painted your walls. He groaned loudly, pulling out and you simply collapsed onto your hands and knees; a stupid, shaking mess. You managed to look up at him, his eyes were black with pleasure and he smiled sweetly as he saw you curled up by his feet.

“Now tell me, sweet girl, what are you?” He mocked.

“Your bitch.”

[hopefulidiocy]

hi! do you write for squid game any chance? btw LOVE your work!

yes! I will be doing squid game stuff!

[hopefulidiocy]

Hello lovelies. I’ve been radio silent on here bc a girl like me HAS A CHEST INFECTION I AM DYING. DEATH PERSONIFIED. I have been fighting my own body all week, I couldn’t even enjoy Christmas Day because my ears decided to stop working and my throat decided that actually I didn’t need to talk all I needed was to flip people off left right and centre. So all in all, a great week.

Ewan Mitchell wasn’t under my tree either? Like wtf is that about?

On the plus side, I got lots of HOTD shit and I screamed whenever I opened my presents. Adorbs. Anyway, I am back on the writing grind so feel free to send some requests.

^ accurate depiction of me rn