#modern!aemond series

[daemontargaryenwhore]

he is just special

[sapphire-writes]

Ch. 3: Aemond Sees A Ghost

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summary ~ Aemond tells you everything.

word count: 4.0k

warnings: NSFW/MDNI ~ dubcon (possession), kissing, grinding, spooky stuff, thunderstorms, mentions of death, themes of loss

note: I'd say we're halfway through our spooky adventure! smh I can't believe it! I hope you enjoy loves!

banner made by the fantastic @ewanmitchellcrumbs, ilysm ange!

“I want to know everything.”

The kettle whistles noisily before you remove it from the burner. Aemond sits in his usual spot clad in checkered pajama pants and a gray cotton t-shirt. You wonder how he isn’t cold, your bare arms are covered in goosebumps and you wish you’d grabbed a sweatshirt before leading him down to the kitchen. 

There’s a constant unearthly chill in this house. You set the tea in front of him, his fingers brushing against yours as you sit beside him. 

“Harrenhal,” he says softly, as a floorboard creaks overhead. You both glance up at the ceiling, watching as the chandelier trembles, the crystals reflecting the dim kitchen light. 

You’ve seen it happen before when people walk upstairs; when little Jaehaera runs down the hall, when workers are moving down the hallways. The hour is late now, the workers have gone home, and little Jaehaera is tucked safely in her bed. 

The floorboards above creak, regardless of the truth. 

“We’re not the only ones here,” you slowly begin, eyes falling back to Aemond’s face, “We’re not the only ones in Harrenhal. Are we?”

Aemond is silent for a moment.

“No,” he says softly, “We aren’t.”

Tea turns to coffee as the sky lightens. 

And Aemond tells you everything. 

“Ghosts,” you breathe, “But…that’s not possible.”

“It is,” Aemond insists, “There is something here. Some energy….the locals are right when they call this place cursed. Tragedy befalls anyone who holds it.”

Your skill prickles with goosebumps. Aemond holds it. What tragedy will befall him? You think of Alys, of the sudden death of his wife. 

Perhaps his tragedy has already unfolded. 

“It was Harren, last night,” Aemond tells you, “And his sons, I presume. The original manor was burnt to the bare bones after they created it. With him and his sons inside of it. A terrible fire.”

A chill runs through you at the memory.

“I’ve encountered them before. They’re rather harmless,” Aemond continues, “Simply walking the halls throughout the night. Others are not as pleasant, but…harmless. For the most part.” He pauses, glancing up at you.

The hair on the back of your neck stands at attention.

“What others?” you ask, though you’re unsure if you want the answer. 

“The ones I’ve encountered throughout my time here,” Aemond sighs, rubbing his eyes. The ring on his hand catches your eye; stamped with the Targaryen crest.

You’d see another just like it. Daemon’s face flashes across your mind.

“Your uncle was here,” you tell him, watching as his spine straightens, his shoulders tense, “He knows about them too I presume? He said some things---I’m sorry….it was when you were away, I nearly forgot-”

“What did he want?” Aemond interrupts, staring at you with a renewed fire in his eye.

“He just wanted to speak with you,” you tell him.

“Did he bother you? Was he inappropriate?”

“He was a bit flirtatious, that’s all,” you assure him, cheeks warming at the memory. 

Aemond bristles at that, his hand clenching into a fist. Your stomach flips with embarrassment, the burning sensation on your cheeks spreading down your neck.

“I apologize for that,” he says cooly, “He’s a vile creature.”

You place your hand on top of his fist, “It’s alright.”

Aemond’s gaze softens, and he places his opposite hand on top of yours. You lose yourself in the sensation of his hand on yours for a moment, a pleasant swooping sensation in your lower stomach. You hold his gaze, desire burning hot in your belly. It’s you who looks away first, feeling embarrassed about the intense longing you feel for your employer. You shouldn’t be thinking like this.

“Who was screaming?” you ask, bringing the conversation back to the ghosts.

You can almost hear it still, the sound of screaming echoing in your mind. You’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to forget, even when Harrenhal is simply a memory. Aemond only stares.

“I don’t know,” he says finally, “I’m not…sure.”

You don’t know which answer you’d hoped for but find that the one Aemond gives brings you no comfort. 

Jaehaera hates thunderstorms. 

This is mostly due to the fact that the nursery has a balcony with French doors overlooking the God’s Eye and backyard. When it is sunny, warm rays light the room making it appear bathed in gold. But when it rains, water is hurled violently against the glass echoing throughout the room.

The nursery also has a closet on the opposite side of the room; the doors are made of mirrors. The room was once used as a dance studio, you could tell the moment you’d stepped inside. The wood floors are scuffed from years of use. You can’t help but wonder who danced there.  

This is exactly why Jaehaera insisted on a sleepover in the main living room that night. She suggested it during dinner when thunderclouds were just starting to roll in and turn the sky an eerie gray color. 

“I like it,” Helaena spoke, surprising you, “Let’s have a proper campout.”

So you found yourselves dragging blankets and pillows down the stairs into the living room, assembling a blanket fort with Aemond’s help, and sitting inside of it. The small space was rather cramped with the three of you inside; baby Maelor was already sound asleep in his bassinet.

Helaena was quiet the majority of the time, besides when she was quietly humming to herself. She seemed happy though from what you could tell. As happy as Helaena could be. She always had an air of melancholia around her. 

“I have a story,” Helaena says. 

It is the first time she’s spoken that evening. Jaehaera stands behind Aemond braiding his hair as she often does. She glances at her mother, giving her a toothy grin. 

“A long time ago,” Helaena begins, her eyes looking somewhere far off, “There was a girl dressed in green locked away in a castle.”

“I like castles,” Jaehaera comments, continuing to braid Aemond’s hair.

“She was young and beautiful, and very, very sad,” Helaena continued, “She wed the king, and became a queen. It was everything a girl should want. But she didn’t want it at all.”

You watch Helaena as she taps her nails against the cup of tea she holds. They’re painted silver; Jaehaera’s doing. The paint is chipped around her thumbs already. A nervous habit you’d noticed. 

“Why not?” Jaehaera asks, her nose scrunched as she pouts, “I’d like to be a queen.”

“She was in love with the princess, you see, and never wanted the old king. But he took her anyway because that is what men in power do. They take pretty little girls and keep them locked away.”

“Did she have children?” Jaehaera asks.

“She did. Many. She loved them all dearly. Beautiful children they were, and they were all taken from her. She outlived them all,” Helaena continues, “Mad with grief, the queen locked herself away this time.”

Helaena sips from her cup, a smile twitching on her lips.

“I never understood Daisy before having a child,” she muses, switching away from her story, “Before having a girl. I hope she’ll be a fool.”

A shiver rolls down your spine as Helaena locks eyes with you.

“That’s the best thing a girl can be in this world. A beautiful little fool,” she says softly, eyes flickering toward her brother, “Mũna said the same thing once, didn’t she Aem?”

Aemond holds his sister’s gaze, “I don’t remember.”

“I’m sure of it,” she says, mouth stretching open into a yawn, “You’d read aloud and Mũna would stroke your hair. You always liked that book.”

“I like a lot of books,” Aemond says, the top of his cheeks turning pink as he reaches behind him and lifts a giggling Jaehaera into the air as he stands, “It’s late, zaldrīzītsos. Time for bed.”

“I’m not tired,” Jaehaera insists, though she echoes her mother’s yawn.  

You all exit the fort, Helaena retiring to the couch. She lays on her back, stretching like a cat. 

“Mhmm,��� Aemond says, depositing her into Helaena’s arms on the couch.

He tucks them both in, turning the remainder of the lights off before joining you on the makeshift mattresses on the floor. You can only see the outline of him in the darkness; the curve of his nose, the twinkling of his eye. 

“Is Helaena alright?” you whisper, and he presses a finger to your lips.

“Yes,” he breathes, thumb tracing your lower lip, “Thank you, for doing this.”

“Of course,” you whisper, barely breathing as his finger traces down your chin, “Are you tired?”

“No,” he says softly, his hand sliding down the curve of your neck, “I’m a bit of an insomniac.”

Your breathing becomes labored as his thumb strokes your collarbone. You wish you’d worn something else, not the ratty old band t-shirt you’d chosen paired with some sleep shorts.

“Oh,” you say, unsure of how else to answer him. 

Your thoughts scramble when he touches you, as though his touch short circuits the wiring in your brain. He says your name then, so softly you almost miss it. He’s close enough to kiss, all you need to do is lean forward and his nose will bump against your own.

His hand falls from you. Eyes adjusted to the dark, you watch as his tongue darts out wetting his lower lip. 

“Aemond,” you say softly, and he reaches for you again, this time lacing his fingers through yours, “Will we be alright down here?”

His eye flickers around your face, his fingers tightening in your grip.

“I won’t let anything happen,” he assures, “To any of us.”

You choose to believe him. He sounds so certain, he truly believes it. There’s not a doubt in your mind that he wouldn’t do everything in his power to protect Helaena. Jaehaera. Maelor.

You.

You rub your thumb against the smooth skin of the back of his hand and soon your eyes grow heavy as sleep overtakes you. 

You wake in the middle of the night, closer to morning than to midnight. The sky is still black as ink, the sounds of rain splattering against the many windows. There is no room for stars, the entire night sky is blacked out by rain clouds. 

Jaehara snores contentedly next to you, wrapped up in her mother’s embrace. Helaena’s sleeping form curls into her daughter, holding her in a cocoon of warmth. Mother and daughter look incredibly alike; both share the same nose and soft pout, their fair brows relaxed in sleep. The bassinet next to them holds a sleeping Maelor, his tiny nose scrunched as he dreams. 

You sit up from your spot on the floor, looking around the dark room. It’s hard to see anything before the room is illuminated by a flash of lightning. Aemond is no longer beside you. The room descends into darkness once more, and goosebumps rise on your arms as a chill enters the room. Helaena stirs in her sleep, pulling Jaehaera closer. A mother’s unconscious need to keep her daughter close.

Lightning flashes and the room is lit once more, a shadow dancing near the stairs. 

“Aemond?” you half whisper, as thunder booms through the sky.

The thunder is not as loud as it was earlier that night; the storm must be moving out. You rise from the floor, letting the blankets fall to a pile at your feet. It’s cold, much colder now that you’re in your sleep shorts and T-shirt. You move toward the staircase, around the corner, and down toward the kitchen. Perhaps he’s making tea.

When you enter the kitchen, it’s empty. No kettle whistling, no lamp, and no Aemond. A noise behind you causes you to turn.

There’s that shadow again.

“Aemond?” you call, louder this time. A small smile appears on your face.

Could he be playing a trick on you? Nervousness stirs in your belly, and you decide to follow, exiting the kitchen. You walk up the stairs, watching as the shadow dips down the left hallway, towards his study. 

Warmth floods through you, desire lodging in your stomach. It spreads through your limbs thick like honey, like you’re floating down the hall instead of walking. Your head buzzes, thoughts fuzzy as you reach for the handle of the door, opening it. 

Aemond looks up from his papers, a surprised look on his face as you close the door, pressing your back up against it. You’ve never been here before. The room is cozy. Warm. How can it be so warm when the rest of the house is so cold?

“You were gone,” you tell him, though it's phrased more like a question.

“I told you, I’m an insomniac,” he says, the corner of his lips quirking into a smile, “Did you miss me?”

“I always miss you when you’re away,” you tell him, surprised at the words that leave your mouth, the raw honesty behind them.

Aemond’s lips part, and his lashes flutter at your confession. You walk deeper into the room, letting your hand trail across the spine of the many books that decorate his shelves. 

“You’re always away,” you tell him, tingling with anticipation, “I never see you anymore.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, as you turn to face him.

“This room,” you muse, “It’s like the heart of the house. Warm…tucked away.”

His cheeks are flushed, eyes focused on your face rather than the generous amount of thigh you’re showing. You glance down at your chest, watching your breasts rise and fall as you breathe then bring your eyes back to him. 

You walk towards him, still tracing the spines of the books that line his shelves. Your hand drops as you round the corner of his desk. Aemond has pushed himself from behind his desk, still seated in the large leather chair, his legs spread wide. His lips are parted, watching you in awe. 

“I just want you close,” you admit, stepping forward between his legs.

Aemond tenses as you place your knees on either side of his waist and straddle his lap. He groans as you sit, resting your weight against him.

“Y/N….” Aemond says, holding his hands up in surrender; he won’t meet your eyes.

You wrap your hands around the back of his neck, lacing your fingers together. 

“Don’t you want me?” you whisper, tendrils of your hair tickling his sharp cheekbones. 

Aemond looks up then, eyes meeting yours and you watch his resolve crumble. He lowers his hands to your waist, before letting them rest at the junction of your hip and thighs. The air between you is heavy, your ears are ringing as you connect his mouth to yours. 

Fire burns brightly in your chest, warming your whole body as he kisses you. He tastes just like you’d dreamed he would; spearmint and tea, and something else that is entirely him. Rolling your hips against him you grind against the hardness forming between his legs. Gods he feels big.

You moan into his mouth, your mind happily buzzing as he squeezes the swell of your ass. His kiss is like a drug, like pure heaven racing through your veins. Your limbs are heavy, thoughts scattered and hazy. 

That’s it. “Fuck me,” you whisper, nails digging into his scalp, nipping at his lower lip before sucking it between your own. 

It’s bold, it’s lewd.

It’s not you.

Aemond groans, lifting you from his lap as he stands, and places you on his desk. You continue to kiss him, to tear at his button-down like a marionette on a string. Something is wrong. Nothing is wrong, just like that.

“Gods, you’re incredible,” he breathes, and you want to scream, to tell him to wait, not like this.

Not when it's not you. Not when your body is here, but your mind is not. It feels good though, yes? The puppetmaster continues plucking your strings, making you smile coyly at him.

“My Aemond,” you whisper, hands dipping below the waistline of his pants. 

Aemond freezes, pulling back from you. You tilt your head to the side as he cups your cheeks, looking deeply into your eyes. His eyes are searching, no longer clouded with lust. Your nails scrape against the smooth flesh of his lower abdomen, legs still locked behind his waist. 

“Why’d you stop?” your lips form the words, but it’s not you. 

Aemond’s face hardens, and he wets his lips as he releases your face. He brings his hands to your calves, unlocking them from around his waist. Gently, he places his hands on your wrists, removing them from his pants. 

“Alys, we’ve talked about this,” he says softly, taking a step back.

Suddenly, the feelings of sleep are greater, and your eyelids are heavy yet they remain open. You’re aware you’re still talking, still moving, but someone else is controlling it. It’s as though you’re hearing the conversation from a different room like you’ve stepped out of yourself for a moment. 

Alys. Shhhh. Alys Rivers. It’s alright. Aemond’s….Aemond’s Alys.

“But she’s perfect, Aemond,” your voice says, “And you like her, I know you do. I see the way you look at her. Touch her.”

“Let her go,” he says, voice almost a whisper, “Alys….please.”

She reaches for him, using your arms. It’s like you’re moving through molasses, though you can sense her desperation, her need for him. 

“We can have a baby now,” she insists, your voice breaking as she speaks, “One of our very own.”

“You have little Jaehaera-”

“I want my own, Aemond, you promised me!”

“That was before, Alys. Now you’re…” he lets the sentence trail off, “Things are different now.”

She brings your hand to cup your breast, and you watch Aemond’s eye flicker toward the movement.

“She’s perfect,” she tells him, “And she’s so sweet, so wet for you, my love. You should feel how much she wants you.”

“Stop,” Aemond says, clenching his hands into fists.

“She aches for you. Not just physically,” Alys insists, “I can feel it all, here in her head.”

“I said enough!” Aemond yells, followed by a clap of thunder. 

Alys doesn’t flinch, you can feel her unyielding strength inside of you. She tilts your chin higher, hand dropping from your breast. 

“She’s different than the other one,” Alys insists, “You didn’t even like that girl-”

“You’d no right to do that to Floris,” Aemond says, running a hand through his hair, “She was a sweet girl--”

“Sweet,” Alys scoffs, “Weak. You’ve gone soft, haven’t you?” She cocks your head to the side. “Do you not love me anymore?” she asks, her voice cold as ice.

“You know that isn’t true--”

“I don’t mind sharing--”

“You’re dead, Alys.”

She’s silent then, and your chest tightens with the agony she feels at his words. Aemond’s gaze is pained, his seeing-eye glassy with tears. 

“Release her-”

“I miss you,” she says, reaching for him, “That’s all. Is that so hard to believe?” She chuckles bitterly. “I just want our baby.”

“It’s not how it is supposed to be, Alys,” he says, taking the hand she offers, “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re always sorry,” she says, her voice trembling, “Just give me what I want.”

“I can’t do that,” Aemond says, “Let her go.”

Alys holds his hand a moment more. You feel a tear roll down your cheek leaving a hot stream behind. Then your limbs go rigid before all the tension in your body releases. Your head drops forward, limbs sagging into Aemond’s arms.

“It’s alright,” he says, lifting you into his arms bridal style, “I’ve got you.”

The feeling of sleep is different now; you’re groggy as though you’d just woken from a nap. Leaning into his chest, you press your face against his shoulder. Spearmint, aftershave, and tea. He smells so good. Your eyelids are heavy as he walks down the hallway. You can’t hear the rain anymore. Has it stopped?

“Aem-”

“Shh don’t speak,” he says, placing you in bed. 

You’re in your room. Here already? That was fast.

“What happened?” you ask, throat raw, mouth dry.

“It’s alright,” he tells you, laying his hand against your forehead. 

You welcome the heat. You’re so cold.

“The heart….” you murmur.

“What?”

“The heart of the house,” you mumble, “It’s cold…”

Aemond pulls your blankets around you, tucking you in tightly sitting beside you on the bed. 

“What was that?” you ask, as Aemond’s hand strokes your cheek.

“It was just Alys,” he assures you.

You sit up then, the sleepiness leaving your body rather quickly as though someone had poured ice water down your back. The sheets fall around your waist and Aemond sighs disapprovingly as your eyebrows knit together. His hand falls from your cheek, resting on your bent leg. 

“Alys,” you repeat, “Your wife.”

“Yes.”

“She made me….” your cheeks warm, “Did…did we…?”

“No,” Aemond assures, shaking his head, “No we only kissed.”

You can feel him still, the ache returning between your thighs. His violet eye watches you closely as does the sightless milky one. He’s reading every microexpression on your face like the pages of a book. 

“I’m sorry-”

“Whatever are you sorry for, dōna hāedar?” he says, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“That we…that when we kissed…” you murmur, looking down, cheeks blazing with embarrassment, “That it….that it wasn’t me.”

Aemond rubs circles on your knee, watching the movement. The room is silent for a moment apart from your steady breathing. There is an ache between your eyes, deep in your skull that you’ll no doubt need to sleep off. 

“We should rectify that,” Aemond says softly, “If you’d like.”

Your lips part as you meet his eyes again. He’s watching you so carefully, as though you may run from the grounds at any moment never to be seen again. 

But you’d made your choice. And you intended to stick to it.

“Yes,” you breathe, leaning forward, “I’d like to.”

“Then it’s settled,” he murmurs, leaning forward. Your eyes flutter shut as his nose bumps against yours causing you to gasp softly, lips parting even more, “It’s only right.”

You can feel his lips against yours as he speaks; just brushing slightly.

“I agree,” you say breathlessly, and he closes the gap, pressing his lips firmly against yours, his hand cupping the back of your neck. 

Your hand fists his shirt as you kiss him, his mouth hot and greedy against yours. His lips, his perfect lips fit against yours so perfectly, and he turns his head slipping his tongue into your waiting mouth. 

Gods you want him. You want him so badly you’re trembling with need. Aemond leans forward then, pressing you back against the bed, kissing you all the while. Your hands claw at him until his hands lace through yours, pressing them back against the mattress. He murmurs your name, lips trailing down the side of your throat. Yes, yes, yes. 

“Aemond!” you gasp, pushing at him suddenly. 

He tears his lips from yours, standing immediately as you gasp for breath. The pair of you stare at each other wide-eyed, trying to catch your bearings. 

“She’s here,” Aemond says, voice hoarse.

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly, “It felt like she may…come back.”

“Fuck,” Aemond growls, “Fuck!”

You wet your lips, wanting nothing more than to hold him. Aemond leans against the bedpost, lost in thought.

“We have to be careful,” he says, “On the grounds. She’ll try…she doesn’t know what she’s doing.” You can hear the love he holds for her in his voice, even now. “She just wanted a baby.”

“It’s alright,” you tell him, “We’ll be careful. We won’t….” your sentence trails off. 

“Yes,” Aemond agrees, “Not long now. The house will go quickly once it’s on the market. Summerhal house is waiting for us.”

You force a small smile.

“No ghosts?” you ask. 

Aemond’s returning smile mirrors your own.

“No promises,” he says softly, “Get some sleep.”

“What about Helaena? And the children…”

“I’ll go to them,” he says, walking forward, placing a kiss on your forehead, “You rest.”

“Goodnight Aemond,” you call as he exits your room.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, the door clicking shut behind him.

You lay on the bed, your body trembling. The rain begins once more, the sound of thunder returning. It may be the rain, you’re not sure, but as you drift off to sleep you swear you hear the soft sounds of a woman crying somewhere in Harrenhal.

note: hope you enjoyed this chapter! as always, comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated but never expected (though you will receive a forehead kiss from me if you do any of them).

if you would like to be tagged in this series, please let me know!

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[nxpthys]

Aemond: Can we please stay in your room?

Helaena: Why?

Daeron: We played with an ouija board and cursed ours.

Aemond: Aegon doesn’t know how to banish the spirits, so he just threw salt at them and yelled, “DOES THIS LOOK LIKE A HOTEL TO YOU?!”

[arcielee]

Just a World Away

Summary: Modern!FemaleReader has a choice to make. Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Modern!FemReader Word Count: 4021 Warnings: Smutty smut, oral (male a receiving, female receiving), sexual themes,  dubcon, possessive Aemond (since you all loved it, but you can call me kettle). Author's Note:  Here it is, the final part! It’s a bit longer than the others, but we had a lot of shit to unpack. Thank you @f4ll-for-you​ for all of your help!  And thank you, my dear thirsty readers, I really appreciate all the reblogs and all the comments on this series. I just adore all my Tumblr kindred spirits. ♥ Tags (kindred spirits): @glitterandgoldfinds @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @fan-goddess @welcometothelioncage @hueanhdang @sahvlren @heavenly1927 @missusnora @lemonivall @iiamthehybrid @sirenofavalon @hb8301​ (slash through means Tumblr is still betraying me and I cannot tag you, but expect a DM)  Series:   Call It Dreaming

When morning came, it took you a moment to place where your head was resting.

At first you could feel the warm thrum of a heartbeat and your eyes fluttered open; the touch of bare skin was comforting and you felt a sense of serenity with the arms that wrapped around you with a hold that hinted that a lesser grip and you would be lost. 

Aemond Targaryen and his charred, warm and woodsy musk. 

The early morning light streaked through your window, the lighting allowed you to admire the definition of his torso and the silver streaks of scars across his hard chest. You were careful when you moved your arm, your fingers gentle as they trailed the planes; his chest expanded with a deep breath and he rolled to his side, pulling you closer still, placing his chin on top of your head and a low hum vibrated from the back of his throat. 

This new position allowed you to feel him intimately and you began to burn as his hardness pressed against your stomach.

You tilt your face up into his neck, pressing your lips on the juncture of his jawline to his neck with slow kisses. He shifted and growled your name, half asleep still. “That tickles.”

You grin into his neck, pushing him to roll on his back and straddling his abdomen, leaning forward to find his lips. His kisses are gentle, with one hand cupping the back of your neck and his tongue ran your bottom lip before he nipped it. 

You pushed backwards on his body, careful to press the heat pooling between your thighs against the underside of his cock and he groaned in response, pushing himself to sit upright and hold you in his lap. 

As his mouth latched and sucked on the curve of your neck, you struggled to control your giggles as you reached behind him, piling the pillows up. “What are you up to?” He hummed, nestling into the other side of your neck, his tongue tasting you. 

You did not say anything, instead pressing your palms on his chest and pushing him until his back was against the pillows stacked. Your lips trailed his body, stopping to kiss his scars, your tongue trailing one side of his Adonis belt, and finally you tucked yourself between his legs, peering up to see his brow was raised and the hint of a smile curled onto his lips. 

His cock was swollen, the head a flushed pink that glistened with precum. His gaze did not leave you and you slipped your hand so the back of it rested on the silver patch that trailed a thin line upwards to his bellybutton; you returned his look and leaned forward to drag your tongue flat on the underside, tasting yourself, and up to the tip. 

He groaned and his hand moved to the back of your head as your lips wrapped around and you started a slow bob, allowing your saliva to lubricate as you take him, inch by inch, in your hot mouth. 

You gag when he hits the back of your throat and you feel him arch his back with another guttural groan. “Mazemā nyke sīr sȳrī,” You take me so well, he praised you, his voice low. 

Spit began to dribble from both corners of your mouth and pooled at the base of his cock; you wrapped your fingers around his shaft, using the spit for lubrication as you synchronized the movement of your grasp and your mouth. The motion allowed him to be swallowed and you hollow your cheeks to tighten the suction; his hand grabs a fistful of your hair and you moan around him. 

“Kessa,” he growled. “Sepār raqagon bona. Sȳz riña.”

Yes, just like that. Good girl.

Your other hand holds on his hip and you shift your weight, focusing on the motion and mindful of your teeth; your tongue flattens the underside and runs the length of him and back. There is the prickle of tears in the corners of your eyes, but you can feel him pulsating and know he’s close. 

His grip on the back of your head holds you down for a moment, your nose pressed into the silver hair nested above; you pause a moment and then flit your tongue back and forth the base of his cock. Another groan drags from the back of his throat with his release, a hot stream of cum goes into the back of your throat and you become relentless with his release, your head moved to lick every drop of him. 

“Iksā va jāre ossēnagon nyke!” He groaned again. You are going to kill me.

You stop, wiping the corners of your mouth and he grabs you to crush you against his chest again; you lay against him, listening to his heart and waiting until it paces itself. “You seem so pleased with yourself,” he commented with an exhale.

“I am, my prince,” you grinned in return.

His head turned and his fingers caught beneath your chin. “My name is Aemond,” he said. “You should remember from how you have screamed it prior.”

His comment made your face burn and a smile hinted again as he pushed away from you. “Or must I remind you…?”

Aemond was both a prince and gentleman, you have decided as he nestled between your thighs. His slender fingers remembered every sensory pressure point of yours and his tongue diligent and able to find your pearl with efficiency. You came undone, tears streaming your cheeks, and he kissed the insides of your thighs, which caused you to jump. 

“You seem quite smug yourself,” your voice is breathless and you can see how his cheeks dimpled with his smile. 

Eventually, you leave the bed; you scrounge through your closet and find an old pair of grey sweatpants left behind and the largest shirt you had to best fit his long, lithe abdomen. He hummed his appreciation when you combed through his silken locks and took care to twist it into a low bun. He accepted the beanie you presented him without complaint and followed you into the kitchen. 

You helped him decide on a cereal to hold him over while you cooked breakfast. At first, he leaned on the kitchen bar, propped on his elbows to watch you pull a clean bowl from the cupboards, followed by a collection of boxes that you set on the counter. 

“What is that?” He had asked.

And you did your best to explain the concept of breakfast cereal to him. 

“It is to be eaten with milk?” His brow furrowed. 

“Yes, but we are lactose friendly,” you add, meaning you and your roommates. “So we mostly use almond milk.” 

His lips had the slightest curl to them. “Milk from almonds?” But Aemond was willing to try, pushing from the counter and coming up behind you to pick up the first box. “Honey Nut… Cheer-ee-os?” He attempted the word.

You struggled to hear him, your face flushing from him being pressed against your backside. “It’s Cheerios,” you correct him, almost choking on the word. 

Aemond was all too aware of your visceral response to him and he leaned forward to rest his chin on your shoulder, his arms caged you in as he picked up the next box. “Cinnamon Toast Crunch?” He said it like a question, his eye flitted over the cardboard. “The printed nutrition for this item shows it is mostly sugar…” 

You giggled and twisted to face him, your lips brushing his chin. “You should try Cheerios, it’s probably the only thing cereal-wise with the least amount of sugar. It can hold you over while I cook us something.” 

“You can cook?” He sounded impressed, pulling away and returning to the kitchen bar, seating himself on one of the stools. 

“It’s a quality needed in my world to survive,” you grinned as you poured the almond milk over and walked back to place the bowl in front of him. “Eat, my prince,” your voice is low and he smirks, grabbing the spoon.

There was comfort in the simple action of frying some eggs and slices of ham, listening as Aemond munched away. You steal a look and find he was just watching you, his one sapphire eye and one lavender eye locked on your every movement; the blood rushes to your cheeks with your smile-

“Oh, good morning,” the singsong voice of Emma interrupts and you both look to watch her shuffle into the kitchen, wearing an oversized shirt and some shorts. She stops to pull out a pitcher of iced coffee from the refrigerator and the creamer.

“Is this the late night guest?” Miguel was next to follow in. “Pour me a mug.”

“You know I cannot reach the mugs,” Emma made a face. 

“Oh, right, well then move,” he nudged her with his hip, reaching to grab two mugs from the top shelf and Emma turned back to the kitchen bar. 

There was a moment of silent, exchanged looks as Aemond finished his last bite, pushing back from the bar and placing the bowl in the sink. You finished plating and he reached to take one, leaning forward to press his lips against your cheek. 

Your cheeks flame when you realize your roommates were still watching, though Aemond just returned to his seat. Miguel finally just shrugged, “So, are you going to introduce us…?”

The blush envelopes you further as you follow to sit next to him, gripping your own plate. “Yeah, sorry, so rude of me,” your words feel rushed as you hand him some clean silverware. “Emma, Miguel, this is Aemond, my… friend,” you decide on the word, your face even a shade deeper. “He came in on a late flight to surprise me.”

“Well,” Miguel mixed the creamer in both mugs, dropping the spoon in the sink and handing one to Emma. “Cheers to having such a good… friend.”

You avoid Emma’s look, who was smiling like she was suppressing a smirk. “So nice to meet you, Aemond.”

Aemond hummed, nodding his head and was quick to swallow his bite. “A pleasure to meet you both,” his tone was polite.

You managed a weak smile and looked at Miguel, “Um, his luggage was lost. Is there something he could borrow…?” 

Miguel raised his brow but disappeared into his room for a moment. You then hear Emma ask, “So, Aemond, what brings you to the area?”

Your attention snaps back to them. “He is thinking about transferring to our campus,” the lie was quick to your lips, your eyes wide when he peered at you.

“Oh, yes,” he adds, his voice flat with his delivery. “It seemed like an adequate institution and she promised to give me a detailed tour of all its facilities.” 

You nod, relieved when Miguel returns with an armful of clothes. “I had to guess your aesthetic,” he placed the folded clothes on the counter and Aemond pushed to stand, cleaning up your plate and his own, bringing them to the sink. “A hipster flare is my guess? But with your complexion, I was thinking darker tones-” 

“Yes, perfect,” you are quick to grab the clothes. “Thank you. Uh, what do you guys have planned today?”

Miguel perked at your words, “Oh, are you inviting-?”

“No,” you stop him. “Just calibrating schedules. For, uh, private time.”

“Private time,” Emma called from the kitchen. “With your good friend.”

You grab Aemond’s hand to pull him into the bathroom, leaving your giggling roommates behind; you show him hot and cold, as well as where the soap, shampoo were and he hummed his understanding. Just as you tried to leave, he grabbed your elbow to offer, “Perhaps you want to join me…?” 

You decline with a pained expression, only because you knew full well your roommates still lingered in the apartment and, instead, you returned to your room, breathless and your mind whirring over what was happening. 

Aemond Targaryen is in your world right now. His perfect physique is showering in your bathroom and using your toiletries… your face flushed again and your hands held your face. How long would this even last? Or was this a result of the stressful semester finally breaking your psyche?

The constant linger in the back of your mind, did you tell him about the pregnancy test? 

Instead, you get dressed, changing into some black leggings and an oversize sweater that would be perfect with the beginning of Autumn. As you pulled your boots over your socks, Aemond walked into the room.

Your breath caught in your throat: he was wearing black joggers and a grey shirt that fit across his chest and shoulders, with the jean jacket slung over his arm. You bite the inside of your bottom lip and guide him to sit on your chair, taking care to towel dry his hair and twist into a low bun; you hand him a corduroy cap. “For discretion,” and you gesture wearing it low to bring less attention to his sapphire eye. 

I don’t want to wake up. I don’t want this to end.

He hums and pulls it on, his gaze falling to your wall where your artwork was pinned. He peers back at you with the curl of his lips, noticing the subject drawn. 

Himself.

Your face flames again but his voice is soft with his compliment. “This is how you perceive me?” He asked, reaching and touching one. You nod mutely. “These are very good.” 

“Thank you,” your throat is so dry, it is almost a squeak. 

“Are you an artist?” His tone does not mock you, but is a generous inquiry. 

You scoff and quickly add, “I wish it was, but I am on a pathway to some state job and a lot of debt.”

His brow quirks at your words and you reach for his hand. “Nevermind. Let me give you a tour,” you offer and he follows. “And you can explain how you are here.” 

The day is spent exploring the campus; you show him the buildings that arch upwards, the campus community where you stop to grab a drink, smiling when he tentatively sips at the tea the barista prepared for him. You bring him to the art museum where students have their end of semester projects on display and his free hand interlocks his fingers with your own as you both take your time to look over the artistry. 

“Which one is yours?” He whispered in your ear.

You blushed again as his question fans his breath on your cheek. “Oh, no, Aemond, I only draw for personal pleasure.”

He hummed, looking around. “Your work is much better, though.”

“Isn’t that a biased opinion?” You grinned.

He just shrugs and you both continue to walk, eventually finding the library. He admired the arched, glassed ceilings that showed the beginning of the setting sun, allowing the rows of shelves brimming with literature glow with the warm reds, yellows, and amber colors. 

“I would never wish to leave this,” he whispered to you, his gaze taking in the lines of book spines. “I wished to lay my head in your lap and read my days away.” 

You were at a loss for words. A few months ago, you were fantasizing about a fictional prince from some fantasy world and now you were touring the fucking university with him. “Aemond,” your voice is low. “You still have not told me how you came here…” 

Aemond looks down at you and hums before taking your hand and pulling you towards the exit. You round the corner and stop to lean against the outside wall, listening as he delves into his explanation which includes a witch and a potion she concocted, which would allow you the opportunity to leave this modern world you were ensnared in and return with him to Westeros. 

It all sounded too good to be true. 

You watch him wet his lips, waiting for your reply. 

But you still had no words and so you pressed to your tiptoes to kiss him. He responded by wrapping his arms around your waist, his mouth opened to deepen the kiss and his tongue was tantalizing against your own. His hands moved to rub the curves of your hips and pull you closer against him for a moment before releasing his hold. 

You fall back a step, your cheeks and tip of your nose red from the kiss. “Let's go back,” you whisper and he is quick to follow you. 

The modern drab is easier to peel away and you both fall into your bed a tangle of bare limbs. His touch is tender and attentive as this morning, with a familiarity as he navigates over your body; Aemond is dutiful to your reaction, pacing himself with the soft gasps that spilled from your lips, until the inevitable rush of blood that bloomed between your thighs with your climax. 

He falls forward, burying his face into your neck with the hum of his own release and his lips kiss the curve of your neck. You both lay there until you feel your heart beats return to its normal, precoital pace. 

You have your answer for him.

“Aemond,” your voice is soft and he shifts to his side, his palm resting beneath your breasts. “I will return with you to Westeros, but…” his face is stoic, just waiting for you to finish your thought. “There is something I have to tell you first.” 

He moves again to bring your head to his chest and you nestle beneath his chin, unable to see his face. “Go on with your confession,” his tone is tight. 

With a deep breath, you tell him you may be pregnant. 

His reaction was not what you expected; you feel him still and look to see him peering down at you, a small furrow on his brow. “Are you certain?” 

You explain the concept of a pregnancy test but that you had yet seen someone to confirm. His palm moves, calloused but warm, and rests on your stomach. “Ñuha zaldrītsos,” his tone is so low and your cheeks heat with his words.

My little dragon. 

“We will marry once we return to Westeros,” he continued and, of course, it was not a question but stated as a fact. When he notices how you stare, only then does he say, “You must know that I cannot father a bastard and I certainly did not travel to your world to only be,” his lips curled with the words, “your good friend.”

Your face flames. “I mean, yes, but, uh, I also thought it would be… you know, a bit more romantic?”

Aemond only hums his reply, pulling you closer and you eventually relax against him, your head resting on his chest and listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. After a few moments, you finally ask, “When would we leave?”

“Tomorrow night,” and with his words, begins the countdown of your time left within the 21st century. 

The next day begins with the warm hum of Aemond nestled between your legs, with kitten licks to your cunt until your eyes flutter open. You feel the coil in your lower abdomen and his fingers curl into you to coax your release. “Swear you will always wake me up like this,” you are breathless and he grins as he licks his fingers clean. 

Eventually, you pull yourselves from the bed and find all your roommates dressed and waiting in the living room. They treat you to a late lunch at your favorite restaurant and give an annoying toast to you and your good friend. Aemond smirks into his drink, his hand underneath the table and palming your thigh; your fingers rest gentle on his firm grasp, enjoying the heat of his hold. 

Back in the quiet of your room, you settle in a nest of pillows to write a farewell letter to your roommates. Aemond spends a moment in front of your shelf and comes to lay on the other side of your bed with a book in his hand. “The Hobbit?” You ask with a smile. “It is a classic and one of my favorites.” 

“I have always read to understand and to learn, which I enjoy,” he explains, looking over the cover. “I am curious to read for the sake of a story. This is a first for me.” 

Finishing your note, you clear off your lap and allow Aemond to lay his head down as he reads; your fingers comb through his hair and he gives the occasional hum when your nails scratch his scalp. 

There is a tightness in your chest. You dated a bit, but nothing that allowed an intimate moment like this. You had never been with someone who so boldly craved your touch, your attention. There was a comfort under his constant eye, how his gaze would search for you and watch your every move.  

You sigh at the thought, knowing this was why you decided to leave, because what truly kept you here? You had devoted yourself so thoroughly to a tedious school schedule and were now in your mid-twenties and all that remained was a tedious career and debt. 

You lost the little things in this life that you had so dearly loved. 

You are going, your mind was bold with the words and only then did you notice Aemond shifted to stand up, holding his hand towards you. 

Your room was dark, save the golden glow from your lamp. Your fingers were cool to the touch and he pulled you to your feet and only then did you notice an iridescent circular glow in front of your closet. “It’s time,” he said.

And you freeze, your eyes looking over your room that you stayed in for the last 7 years. There was comfort with what was familiar and risk with the step, but what was the fucking quote? You cannot live your life in fear, or you will forsake the best parts of it?

Only then you realized how Aemond was watching you; he dropped your hand and turned away from you. 

You stupid bitch, why did you hesitate, you think and reach to touch his arm. “Aemond, I’m sorry, I’m just scared-” 

He turns back to bring you against his chest, pressing his lips against yours; you welcome him, your lips parting to deepen the kiss and your mouth fills with a liquid with a sickly sweetness like cough syrup. You try to pull back, but his hold tightens and his hand clamps over your mouth and he does not release until he feels you swallow. “Aemond,” you gasp for air. “What the actual fuck.” 

Aemond leans forward for a second kiss that is more chaste, his lips soft. “I understand your hesitation,” his voice is low and his gaze is intense. “But I cannot risk it. Life presents different pathways and we have only a moment to surrender to it, allowing yourself something that is destined for you.” He kisses you again and you moan in his mouth, your head spinning. “You are mine and you will return with me to Westeros where I will spend all of my days to cherish, to worship, to ravish your body until my last breath, I swear this to you.”

Your eyes are wide with his words and only then do you notice an iridescent glow to your skin tone. “What is happening to me…” 

He pulls you closer still and whispers, “Come with me.”

And you go, half expecting a rush of wind, some sort of indication you left behind everything you ever knew, but instead you were standing in an empty throne room where tapers were lit and littered around, emitting a warm glow. 

Alys Rivers looks up from where she is sitting and you see a smile to her painted lips. “You returned with her, my prince,” she turns her focus to you. “Allow me to be the first to welcome you to Westeros.”

[officialaemondtargaryen]

A Fine Line [part 1]

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

Pairing: Aegon x Reader / Aemond x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

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

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

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Read Chapter Two

You felt the bed shift.

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

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

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

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

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

Often, you wondered if maybe you should start again.

Start trying...

Maybe it’d make things better. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You could hear her clicking her tongue against her teeth. 

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

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

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

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

“That’s exactly my point.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You two have fun, then!”

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

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

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

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

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

"Of course," you responded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was peaceful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Before you could say anything, he was already gone.

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

[flowerandblood]

The Knight & The Judge Masterlist

[ modern Frollo • Aemond x Esmeralda • female ]

[ warnings: dubcon, sex content, smut, angst, domination kink, revenge motive, description of physical and mental disabilities, remorse, depression, hysteria attacks, swearing, trauma, suicidal thoughts, prejudices against disabled people, mention of an accident with fatalities ]

[ description: After a car accident, his brother has to deal with the consequences of what happened, and he, as his protector, does not know how to help him. His sister comes up with the idea of hiring someone as his carer who will be able to cheer him up and occupy his mind. It turns out, however, that the girl he hired charmed not only his younger brother. Obsession, self-destructive behavior, verbal and physical aggression, sexual tension, dark, malicious Aemond. ]

Author's note: This story is a request, but I decided to freely use what I liked in the book and Disney film to create a new, disturbing story taking place in modern times. It is intended to be uncomfortable and will contain scenes that are at least morally questionable, in my version "Esmeralda" is not Romanian. My story will also touch on the problems of people with disabilities, so if these are sensitive topics for you, I advise against reading further. You have been warned.

Part 1 - The Knight & The Judge

Part 2 - The Sin & The Penance

Part 3 - The Doubt & The Delight

Epilogue

Main Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

[ethereallocs]

Siren Pt.2-Modern! Aemond Targaryen x Fem Reader

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen(Bass Player) x Fem Reader (Lead Singer)

Word Count: 2.3k

Content/Warning: !!🔞PLUS!!, Smut, P in V penetration, Spanking, Ass-play Virginity loss, Ass-Licking, Choking, Balcony, Grinding, Exhibitionism, Degredation and Fluff/Aftercare.

Author’s Notes: Now I know I’ve used “The Summoning” by Sleep Token for inspiration for another fan-fiction of mine (Taste of the Divine). But since I’ve heard this song and recently rewatched HOTD I cannot let go of the fact that this song fits Aemond so well. So I’m using it again for this, in my mind it definitely fits better in this scenario so I hope you enjoy reading it just as much as I enjoyed writing it. Oh he has a bit of an ass fetish…

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the HOTD characters nor the song being used. They are used only for creative purposes.

After the bands opening night and the events that transpired later on Y/N was conflicted. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t attracted to him or that she didn’t like him. But one thing about band romances is they hardly ever end well and nothing but drama replaces what once was love. They were now touring in Europe; London, England to be exact. Y/N and the crew were riding on their tour bus to their destination. Aegon, Tommy(electric guitar player), their back up singers and Y/N were up front either sleep, on their phones, or singing. Aemond was in his room, he had isolated himself from the group when he did what he did and hadn’t spoken to Y/N since. He was ashamed of himself, he’d never done something so irrational, but she…she did something to him and brought something almost primal out of him.

He figured she’d never want to speak to him again and awaited the worst to come when or if she decided to tell the rest of their bandmates what happened. He decided to finish a song him and the band had record without Y/N. It was actually written for her, but he’d never admit it. Without warning a knock was heard at his door. “Come in..” And in she came slowly finding a place to stand as awkward as it was. “So I wanted to talk about what happened the other night. Why have you been avoiding me? You don’t just come into my room do… those things to me and then pretend I don’t exist.” She was frustrated for several reasons one of them being that she had been try to get that high feeling again and failed miserably every time. The other because she thought he used her for his own pleasure and basically threw her away like some old toy.

She got slightly distracted hearing the song playing and it sounded really good. “Wait who is that singing?” She wondered he sounded familiar and then it finally came to her. “Aemond…that’s you..” he sighed softly closing his laptop and turning to face her completely. “Yeah…me and Aegon were just fucking around. It’s nothing serious…and to answer your question I’ve been avoiding you because I took things too far with you. I should’ve never touched you in that way and you were intoxicated it was shitty of me and I’m sorry. You didn’t speak to me after that night and I just assumed I had gotten the wrong idea.” She huffed and sat at the corner of his bed trying to find the words to say. “I…I wasn’t mad at you…I just…you..you made me feel something I’ve never experienced before and I didn’t know how to say I want more or tell you I like you back.”

“Wait you like me back? So why the fuck did you tell Aegon the kiss between us on stage meant nothing?” She rolled her eyes and sighed laying back on his bed. “Because I didn’t think you liked me and because I know how band relationships end. They are never a good idea to get into…it just makes everything else difficult.” He listened attentively placing a calloused hand on her thigh squeezing softly before he climbed on top of her to give her a kiss.

“Band or no band you’re stuck with me you know that right? And you had Instagram and Twitter going crazy with that kiss. They’ve been what’s the word stanning over us ever since.”She pulled him in making his lips crash into her, but they were quickly interrupted, when Aegon came crashing through the door, eavesdropping obviously. She ducked and rolled off the bed running back to the front of the bus with everyone else. “Hey Bro, Y/N? What the fuck were y’all doing in here?” He mocked them with kissing and moaning sounds laughing at their obvious embarrassment.

It seemed like the bus ride dragged on for hours and finally they were here at the venue and Y/N was super excited for tonight she had something very special planned for tonight’s performance. As usual the concert goers can rushing in, the place was sold out and every seat was filled. This was going to be perfect she thought. She walked out on stage as usual relishing the chants and cheers as her band played behind her. She raised her hand signaling them to stop and she looked to Aemond with a grin on her face. “So everyone I’m sure you all know Aemond. The best damn bass player in King’s Landing!!!”

They all cheered and she laughed calming them to let her speak. “Well, I’ve got a surprise for you and him too. I just learned on my way here that he is multitalented and him and the band recorded a song. And I’ve only heard a few seconds of it so this will be a first for me and you all. So..without further ado, I welcome to the stage Aemond Targaryen!!!!” The crowd went wild chanting his name and he looked to her in horror she walked to him and placed her hands in his ear whispering. “Your going to do great babe.” She kissed his cheek moving in his spot so that he may take hers.

He stood in the spotlight the light was blinding, but he put on a brave face for her and flashed a smile to the crowd. Aegon signaled the group with the clicks of his drumsticks and they began to play and a voice almost angelic left his lips. Leaving Y/N in awe.

I've got a river running right into you

I've got a blood trail, red in the blue

Something you say or something you do

A taste of the divine

You've got my body, flesh and bone, yeah

The sky above, the Earth below

Raise me up again

Take me past the edge

I want to see the other side

See the other side

The crowd loved every second and still he left Y/N speechless. She had heard him messing around before, but she never thought such a beautiful sound could come from him until now. She felt herself being taken away with the music. Is this what love felt like she thought. He looked back to her and she sang background vocal improvising and he winked at her looking back to the crowd as he continued. His mind filled with thoughts of nothing but her as he sang. Calling to her the way his heart did so silently. The songs tone switched and there was a breakdown she had not expected. He walked toward her with his mic in hand and Vhagar on the side of his waist gripping at her hips and pulling her close.

Oh, and my love

Did I mistake you for a sign from God?

Or are you really here to cut me off?

Or maybe just to turn me on

'Cause these days

I would be lying if I told you that

I didn't wish that I could be your man

Or maybe make a good girl bad

I've got a river running right into you

I've got a blood trail, red in the blue

Something you say or something you do

The taste of the divine

You've got my body, flesh and bone

The sky above, the Earth below

Nothing to say and nowhere to go

A taste of the divine

She shuttered feeling his fingers trailing up and down her spine. He pressed his forehead to hers, chest to chest. Her heart skipped, his lips hovering over hers. He pulled away leaving her wanting. She was unbelievably turned on and it was easy to tell. Her pale cheeks were a rich red and her legs rubbed together trying to find some form of friction. He passed the mic to her kissing her forehead before scooting her back into the limelight where she belonged.

Tonight was another successful performance their were already headlines about the two of them from TMZ to MTV. They were sleeping at a hotel tonight due to their fans stalking the tour bus. Y/N gave him her room key and she went up to take a well needed shower. He let himself in and heard the shower running. He found himself looking around the large room. Checking out the large terrace that was attached to her room. A rather tantalizing idea popped into his head. Shortly after she returned from the shower wearing a crop top and black shorts that stop right above the cuff of her cheeks.

He moved in his seat pulling at his pants trying to remain calm, but she made it oh so hard to. He stood to his feet, seeming to levitate toward her. His hands found their place into the dips of her waist. Pulling her into him. “I should have my way with you for that little stunt you pulled, my little siren.” She blushed biting into her rosy bottom lip. She needed to stop before he devoured her very being. “You tease me and your not even trying. Can you feel what you do to me?” He groaned pressing his sweat pants covered hard on against her hip.

His hands slid into the back of her shorts gripping on her round flesh growling at how well it filled his hands. “Perfect..” He spoke in a hushed tone pulling away to look into her eyes. Her eyes low and filled with lust. His lips crashed into hers and she moaned into his mouth, practically melting into his arms. He picked her up by her ass cheeks and carried her out to the terrace where a table and two chair sat. He sat down with her straddling his lap. “I want you to rub your pussy against my dick.” She looked at him with embarrassed expression. “Out here?” He hummed. “Mhmm…” He positioned her perfectly pulling the back of her shorts down to cuff under her cheek. His hungry hands kneeling them like dough. Pushing and pulling them apart the cool air hitting her skin.

Soon she began bucking her hips against him his cock rubbing against her sensitive clit. His left arm wrapping around her to pull her against him and his right laying harsh smacks against her plump ass. She whimpered and moaned, the red tint flushing to her welting skin. He moaned at the sight and bit into her neck; pumping up into her hips. He spanked her until she was sore and sat her on the table pulling her shorts off the rest of the way. The cool feel of the table caused her to shiver.

He looked to her sweetly before flipping her so she stood on all fours and he stayed in his seat. He smiled at the view spreading her cheeks apart seeing the delicate pink flesh of her pussy glistening from the light hitting her slick. He licked his lips like he was starving. But that tight hole of hers was what he really wanted. He buried his face between her ass and his tongue lapped over the tight flesh of her ass her back arched involuntarily. His eyes rolled at the taste of her. She gasped and moaned holding onto the edges of the table his tongue greedily lapping at her ass and dipping into pussy every now and then.

“Gods…you taste so good..” he cooed as she mewled from the sudden suction of her clit. He smacked her ass again letting his thumb rub against the rim around her asshole. While he looked back at the mess she was already making. “Your such a dirty little slut aren’t you? You’re making quite a mess on this table I wonder if anyone can hear you.” He smiled wickedly and turned her to face him. He stood in between her legs pulling his cock from his pants letting the thick head rub between the slit of her gorgeous cunny.

She writhed in pleasure seeing her like this drove him insane he couldn’t take much more. “Are you ready, my love?” She nodded sweetly. “Please, Aemond…I need it…” she whined and he smiled kissing her to dull the pain as he prodded at her entrance slowly letting it give way around him. He buried his head into her neck and gasped. “You feel amazing, little siren.” He stayed still letting her adjust to his length and girth which was above average. She felt like she was going to break, she need him deeper. “M..More…” he looked into her eyes..”More? Well aren’t you greedy are sure you can handle more?” He laced his fingers around her throat giving her the right amount of pressure before he filled her completely.

She winced but moaned her eyes rolling back. “Good girl you take me so well..” He began his assault pumping into her mercilessly her pussy gripping him like a vice with each pull. “Oh fuck..Aemond…” She called out his name like he always imagined. Was this dream? It couldn’t be it felt too real; too good. “That’s it baby let me make you feel good, baby girl. Let the world hear how good I make you feel.”

She grunted like an animal nails digging into his back the knot in her stomach tightening. She was so close to her release, but he popped her thigh denying her of it. “Please, I can’t hold on anymore..” He hushed her “Just a little longer I want us to cum together.” He continued hitting that spongy spot the drove her crazy, feeling her legs trembling uncontrollably. “Come baby cum on my dick, give it to me.” She screamed creaming all over his dick smearing it with her arousal his seed spilled instantly inside her.

The rode out their orgasms and he carried her inside. He showered with her a got her dressed in a large t shirt leaving soft kisses along her lips and neck. He carried her to bed and they spooned for the remainder of the night until they fell asleep.

To be continued…

@pet1t3 @proudlittlewitchbitch @xlaurenlintonx @jadianasithandjedi @ellxpsismm @chainsawangel @aemondslefteyeball @baebunnyxo @ammo23 @valeskafics @boundlessfantasy

[sammythelover]

[themotherofhorses]

hey hotties, guess the fuck what.

[lustingforcherries]

“Money is the Anthem.”

Warnings; talks of marijuana usage & drinking, that’s it <3

Everyone in Westeros knew of the rich, and infamous Targaryen family dynasty. The same family that has several estates in different places across the country, and have partnered up with multi millionaire companies that all the more improve their wealthy lifestyle.

One can only imagine it to be a lavish way of living, with vacations to the Bahamas, banquets, and throwing business parties. What more could you ask for?

It’s quite a simple explanation as to how Targaryen HQ has been around for years, and years. One father passes down the empire to the eldest of his children, and then they pass it down to theirs, etc etc.

It’s a repetitive cycle of Targaryen parents passing their responsibilities, and duties to the oldest of their kids to continue the family business.

Y/N has been friends with Helaena for years, very well aware of her family’s wealth, but never using it against her, and never using her for it. Y/N’s friendship with Helaena had blossomed at the beginning of freshman year in college, Helaena was a radiant ray of sunshine on a dreary afternoon only wearing pastel colors, and styling her hair in intricate styles with butterfly clips, and hairpins. Helaena only kept to herself during those earlier months of the year.

Helaena and Y/N had seen each other in the halls but never stopped to approach each other, that was until they took a class together during the second semester that they had become closer.

Y/N had been watching the girl with stunningly gorgeous platinum blonde hair, and beautiful violet eyes studying an insect in the middle of class. Y/N raised her eyebrow watching the girl next to her let this tiny creature crawl across her hand, and she’s simply unbothered by it.

The girl must have felt her gaze, because she turned her head towards Y/N, and was staring right back. Granted she deserves it for staring in the first place, but that’s when Y/N realizes she was nervous.

“Hi! My name is Y/N.” She finally breaks the silence offering a friendly smile to the meek girl. She’s hesitant, and it makes Y/N frown for a second she pauses before speaking again. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, I will leave you alone now.” She blushes a violent red color turning her head towards the board. “My name is Helaena…” Her voice is light and feathery, her response catches Y/N’s attention and renders her speechless. “I’m sorry for not speaking, I thought you were going to make fun of me…” She speaks quietly while looking down at her pink sneakers adorned with the cutest little gems on top.

The thought of Helaena being bullied made Y/N frown, how could anyone hate, or even dislike this girl? “I would never, in fact, think you are interesting. I’d like to know more about you, Helaena.” Helaena smiles at this, and begins to speak about her interests and hobbies, and even introduces her to Gerald, the eight-legged creature she’d seen only minutes earlier crawling along the lengths of her pale fingers. Y/N sat and listened to all of it till class was over. They even partnered up together in a lab and completed each task efficiently.

It has been months of them knowing each other at this point, Y/N had not known a single thing about the Targaryen family tree. Helaena refrained from talking about her family, and Y/N respected her privacy and refrained from prodding into her home life. That is until something urgent came up, and Helaena was gone within a day on her way back to king's landing.

Y/N had texted her every day since she was gone wondering if she was alright, yet every time she got no response. This worried Y/N and made it harder to focus during classes.

A few weeks had passed since Helaena had left to go back home due to family issues, but when Y/N heard a knock on their shared dorm room she all, but bolted from her bed.

When she finally opens the door she’s met with a tired jet lagged Helaena. “Helaena!” Y/N shouts before wrapping her arms around the girl.

Helaena wraps her arms around Y/N as if she were to leave her in an instant, and unexpectedly she starts sobbing into her shoulder. Y/N pulls Helaena away from her embrace, finally getting a good look at her.

Her watery eyes were paired with tear-stained cheeks, and purple bags underneath. “Hel, what happened?” Y/N asks her brows nearing each other in confusion. Helaena shakes her head, and rubs her right eye with the palm of her hand before speaking. “My father is very ill… And there is talk of passing down my family’s Empire to my brother Aegon.” She sniffs. “I’m scared, Y/N. What if he ruins it? Everything we have worked for, what my dad has worked for.” She says in between ragged breathing.

Helaena has never gone into detail about her family, but she was very persistent in coming to her father’s defense despite the stories she’d vaguely told Y/N, but in her eyes, Helaena’s father was an asshole with too much power, and it made her angry how Helaena talked about how he treats her, and her brothers.

In his eyes, his offspring were conceived solely to continue the Targaryen Empire, and that is the most fucked up thing Y/N has ever heard in her entire life. Helaena had talked about having brothers, but never going into detail about them, only ever uttering a name, or two. She did however speak fondly of her mother who she is very close to, and would help when she was stressed, or upset.

“Hel, respectfully your father is an asshole,” Y/N says, playing with Helaena’s hair. Y/N drops her gentle grip on Helaena’s strands of platinum, and walks towards her bed patting the spot next to her. Helaena quickly shuts the door before locking it, and accompanying Y/N on her bed. “Hel, your father has never appreciated you the way you deserve, but it is understandable that you are upset over his sickness. I wish I could take your pain away.” Y/N says before locking her hand with Helaena’s.

Helaena’s sniffling was all Y/N could hear throughout the night, The sounds of a heartbroken little girl who only ever wished for her dad's approval. Helaena laid against Y/N, her back facing Y/N’s chest while Y/N caressed Helaena’s hair softly, as they both awaited sleep.

It had been a while since that had happened, and due to Viserys’s sickness, he passed 9 months later. They held a funeral, and Y/N was invited for Helaena’s moral support. Though she understood the grief the Targaryen family was going through, she couldn’t feel a single ounce of remorse for that man, and maybe it was because she never knew him, or maybe it was because of the stories she’s heard that were enough to seal her opinion on him alone.

During the funeral Y/N had been introduced to the entirety of Helaena’s family; her mother was a woman with gorgeous auburn hair that framed her soft features beautifully, while her brown eyes held a warm friendliness that was inviting.

Alicent and Y/N talked for a while about college courses and classes. Something Alicent didn’t have the privilege of pursuing while having kids at such a young age, but she doesn’t regret it, she loves her kids dearly. The conversation was interrupted when Helaena managed to drag all three of her siblings to meet Y/N. Aegon was cross faded, and it was plain as day, the whites of his eyes were red, and his speech was slurred, but he still had the familiar violet eyes, and platinum blonde hair of a Targaryen nonetheless he was still boyishly handsome, although his attempts at flirting with Y/N were shut down immediately by Helaena who lectured him about flirting at their fathers funeral, which understandably so.

The long-haired man towering over all of them stood stiffly, and politely unlike his shorter, but older brother who was practically switching legs every second. Aemond was chaotically beautiful, and it took Y/N off guard, his roguishly handsome features captured her attention, and made it hard to focus on anything else, other than his carved cheekbones. He seemed ready to take his father’s place as a CEO. Daeron seems to sink into himself more than his two older brothers, almost as if he was unsure of what to say or converse about, but once again he was sporting the Targaryen features like it’s nobody’s business, his hair is short, and styled for the funeral, and he looked like a good kid.

After meeting the Targaryen siblings, Y/N learned more about the family, and how it works. Aemond was a quiet, and reserved man with honor, but his brother was always trying to meddle in his personal business suggesting lewd things, or asking about who he was currently seeing. Aegon is the pushy type who thinks it’s his way of living, or none at all while sleeping with as many women as he can, drinking the finest of wines, and smoking tree like there is no tomorrow. Aemond would much rather be reading a book instead of partying with his childish older brother.

Y/N and Helaena stayed the weekend. Until they finally had to go back to college.

After the funeral Y/N had not seen the Targaryen family in a long time, she assumed they had been grieving during her, and Helaena’s time at college. Y/N’s mind occasionally wanders to the strikingly handsome Aemond at times, she wonders how he’s doing, and if she made as much of an impression on him as he did her.

Little does she know she’d be invited to their mansion in King's Landing to accompany Helaena during summer break, and the Targaryen empire has already been handed to one of Viserys’s older sons.

Note: Sooo… I may have came up with a concept for a series 👀 and I will preface this by saying that I do not know how to work tumblr 100% so if things are choppy, and messy I am sincerely sorry, but I did spend a while on this so I do hope you enjoy <3

[daemontargaryenwhore]

I dont know what to feel

[sapphire-writes]

Chapter 2: Curiosity Killed The Cat

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

summary ~ You begin to adapt to the unusual events of Harrenhal and your mysterious host. An unexpected guest arrives.

warnings below the cut for your convenience

warnings ~ spooky ghostly stuff, spiders

note: and so begins our spooky adventure! I hope you enjoy it!

banner made by the fantastic @ewanmitchellcrumbs, ilysm ange!

You lay in bed, tossing and turning for several hours waiting for another scream to inevitably pierce through the now silent halls of Harrenhal house. 

Your eyes are too heavy, and you drift into a dreamless sleep. The belly full of tea must have helped soothe your nerves. Or perhaps it was more your time spent with the stoic head of the house. 

It is Maelor’s cry that wakes you the following morning, rather than his mother’s, through the baby monitor on your nightstand. You hear his small gurgles as he wakes, hungry for his morning bottle. Grabbing the monitor, you jump out of bed to head toward the nursery. 

As you walk down the hallway, the door opens and Jaehaera stands dressed in a pink dress, her hair done in two braids down the side of her head. 

“Beat you!” she says, grinning like the Cheshire cat. 

“How’d you get ready so quickly?” you comment, smile slightly faltering, “And how did you do your h--”

“Come on Miss Gevie, breakfast is my favorite meal of the day!” she sings, brushing past you and towards the hallway.

“Jaeha--- um--- I have to get Maelor!” you call, as she disappears around the corner her braids swinging behind her, “Okay….you head down!”

The day starts with a simple breakfast of oatmeal and eggs--Jaehaera is first to inform you that the only way to eat eggs is sunny side up. Aemond joins you but only for a cup of coffee. You notice he prefers it black. He doesn’t speak to you, listening intently to Jaehaera as she chatters away. Then Jaehaera begins her morning lessons when her tutor arrives promptly at nine. A kind older woman who awards you a tight smile when she introduces herself.

You hold Maelor against your hip as he babbles, walking through the main foyer and toward the library. Several workers have arrived, and you’ve seen Aemond directing them to different areas of the house throughout the morning. He’s present in the library, sitting at the oak desk when you enter.  

“Sleep well?” he asks, as he notices you enter the library. His eye flickers to Maelor in your arms. 

Rising from his seat, he closes a folder of papers before rounding the side of the desk. He walks closer to you, lifting his hand toward Maelor. The baby grabs Aemond’s forefinger with his pudgy fist.

“As well as I could. I was nervous during the night,” you admit, cheeks warming, “Just in case anything happened again.”

Aemond hums, still watching Maelor who holds his finger hostage. The baby brings it to his mouth, gnawing on it with his gums. 

“He’s teething,” Aemond comments, “Hopefully that won’t cause more late-night disturbances.”

“It’s alright. I know what I signed up for,” you assure him, as he pulls his hand away from Maelor, patting the baby on the head. 

“I’m afraid you’ll get more than you bargained for,” he says, eyes meeting yours, “This is…a lot.”

Your eyes search his face, trying to decipher the emotions he hides. Trying to find some cracks in the armor he wears during the day. You saw some last night, in the kitchen. The walls came down, if only for a moment.

“You need help,” you tell him, “You can’t manage this all on your own. The kids, Helaena, the house…I’m here to help.”

“The children,” he clarifies, “You’re here to help the children.”

“And you,” you offer, “I mean…if I can be of help with anything I’m happy to do so.”

Let me help you, you silently beg. Someone has to.

Aemond hums once more, “You’re very kind, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Just doing my job,” you assure him, but your face continues to warm at his compliment. 

You hold each other’s gaze for several moments before Aemond finally looks away. 

“I have some work to do,” he tells you, and you take it as a sign to leave him be. 

“Maelor is about ready for a nap,” you tell him, turning on your heel to go.

You shut the door behind you, neither speaking again.

“I’ll be gone for a few days,” Aemond tells you later in the week during one of your late-night chats. 

A cup of tea at midnight has become somewhat of a tradition for both of you. Helaena wakes nearly every night. It's always the same. Screaming for the son she lost. The green and purple cups are always waiting for you in the cabinet by the stove for your inevitable journey into the kitchen. 

“Just tying up some loose ends in King’s Landing,” he assures you, “Helaena should be alright. I’ve spoken with her doctor about increasing her nighttime medication.”

“And if she isn’t?” you ask, unable to hide your nervousness at the thought of him leaving.

Aemond watches you for a moment, humming softly to himself. It does little to soothe your nerves.

Things go smoother than expected while Aemond is away. You fall into a gentle routine with Jaehaera and Maelor. 

While Jaehaera is in her lessons you bring Maelor to Helaena. As Aemond had prepared you, Helaena refuses to hold him. She barely even looks at him. Her eyes instead are trained on your face, reading your microexpressions like the pages of a book. You and Helaena don’t talk much during these visits, though you attempt to engage her in conversation.

She always joins you for lunch, after you put Maelor down for his afternoon nap. Jaehaera comes fresh from High Valyrian and chats with her mother in their native tongue. 

Then it’s time for Jaehaera’s afternoon lessons and you get some time for yourself as Helaena returns to her room like a bird returning to its cage. 

Usually, you journey to the library, browsing through the collection of novels and trying not to snoop. Though you must admit, in an old house like this it's hard not to. 

Curiosity killed the cat.

Advice you should probably heed. You glance at a desk in the library strewn with papers. Aemond has a private office, he’d told you as much when you arrived. Still, your fingers skim the papers, and you pick up a manila folder examining its contents. 

Old documents, withered and yellowed nearly disintegrating from age. You can barely read the cursive ledger on the page. Squinting, you are able to make out the word Strong.

Satisfaction brought it back.

A loud thump causes you to drop the folder in surprise, sending pages scattering to the floor. 

“Shit,” you curse to yourself, dropping to your knees and picking up the pages, putting them back where they belong. 

You hurry over to the window, looking outside. A red Corvette is parked, its driver missing. The noise must have been the car door slamming shut. Dusting off your knees you hurry out of the library closing the door behind you. You quicken your pace down the hall and front steps as voices echo from the kitchen.

A man stands in front of the sink clad in a three-piece suit, holding his cell phone to his ear.

“Tell Corlys…dammit, I can’t hear you,” he snaps, holding his phone in front of him, “Hello?”

The call clearly drops and he sighs, “Bloody service.”

You clear your throat, alerting him of your presence. He turns slowly, still looking at his phone as though he couldn’t be bothered with you being there at all. A lock of silver hair falls into his eyes as he leans against the counter. A ring on his hand catches the light. Like you’d need to see the Targaryen sigil stamped on the back. You knew he was a relative the moment you saw him.

Targaryens don’t camouflage well. 

“Just a moment,” he comments, glancing up at you from his phone. He does a double-take, straightening up and slipping his phone into his back pocket, “Hello.”

“Sorry…I wasn’t expecting anyone,” you tell him, watching the corner of his mouth tick upwards in a smirk. 

Aemond does that too.

“And I wasn’t expecting a beautiful woman to greet me,” the stranger says, “So I suppose we’re both surprised.”

Warmth floods through you at his flirtatious tone. He’s older--much older-- and an air of confidence encircles him like a veil of smoke.

“Daemon,” he introduces, extending his hand for you to shake, “And you must be the au pair.” 

You place your hand in his, and he grasps it firmly. His palm is rough and warm; much larger than your own. Your lips part, you’re sure you haven’t taken a breath since he’s looked at you.

“Mhmm,” you answer, telling him your name.

Daemon releases your hand, shaking his head slightly as he chuckles to himself. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end.

“Something funny?” you ask, trying to keep the annoyance from your tone.

“No, nothing. I’ve found au pairs to be particularly helpful,” he comments, laughing under his breath as though he’d told a joke, “It just surprises me, is all.”

“Why is it surprising?”

“Aemond’s not usually the sort,” Daemon says, not clarifying any further. 

You understand what he is implying, your cheeks growing hotter.

“Aemond and I have a strictly professional relationship,” you tell him, causing him to chuckle more.

“I’m sure you do. Aemond does value his professional relationships, doesn’t he?” Daemon says with his smirk growing, “All this talk of my nephew and I’ve yet to see the man. Where is he?”

“He’s not here.”

Daemon’s eyebrows lift toward his hairline.

“Not here?”

“He’s away on business. Won’t be back for a few days.”

“And he left you, all alone?” Daemon asks, taking a step closer to you. He reaches up, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You can’t suppress the shiver that rolls through you. 

“I can take care of myself,” you insist. Daemon’s scent floods your senses; teakwood, smoke, cinnamon. Intoxicating; it makes your head spin. 

“I’m sure you can. My nephew wouldn’t have hired you if he had any doubts,” Daemon murmurs, dropping his hand, “It’s not the harmless nanny he needs to worry about.”

“What do you mean?”

Daemon watches you like a cat toying with a mouse. His lip curls slightly, enjoying your discomfort. 

“Are you aware of the history of this house?” Daemon asks.

“Yes,” you tell him.

“Well, there you have it,” Daemon says, walking by you, “Have Aemond call me when he’s returned.”

You can hear his steps echoing down the hall, followed by the slamming of a car door. You stand in the kitchen for several moments, trying to catch your bearings when Jaehaera runs in.

“Who was that?” she asks, throwing her arms around your waist. 

“Just…nothing,” you assure her, stroking her hair, “How were your lessons?”

As Jaehaera tells you about her day, you focus on calming your racing heartbeat. You can’t help but linger on what Daemon had said.

What exactly was he worried about?

Helaena Targaryen loves arachnids. 

This becomes apparent when a spider scurries across the floral picnic blanket you’d laid out for Jaehaera. 

Maelor sits with his thumb in his mouth rocking back and forth as though a gentle breeze may knock him onto his back. Sitting up is quite new to him. The afternoon had been going quite well before the eight-legged monster descended on the tea party.  

“Miss Gevie! Miss Gevie!” Jaehaera screeches, launching herself off of the blanket and into your arms. Her girlish scream echoes through the backyard and she trembles against you. 

The arachnid freezes at her movements, eight legs tensed and ready. Maelor stares at his sister, violet eyes wide before they drop to the blanket. Helaena is seated in a chair a few feet away, the large sun hat she wears partially obscuring her face. 

“The fresh air does her good,” Aemond had told you before he left.

Helaena dives off of her chair, knees crashing into the grass beside the picnic blanket. You comfort Jaehaera as Helaena dips her torso lower against the blanket letting her hand dance above the spider. She presses her cheek into the blanket as the spider curiously lifts two legs up toward her dancing fingers. 

“Don’t be afraid,” she murmurs, touching the tips of her fingers to the spider's outstretched legs. She stays like that for a moment, a small smile appearing on her face. 

Maelor watches his mother, his thumb falling from his mouth. 

“Kill it!” Jaehaera demands as her mother scoops the creature into her hand. 

Helaena rolls onto her back, the rim of her hat getting crushed beneath her. Her knees are stained green. Maelor claps his pudgy hands together letting out a gleeful squawk. 

“Why?” Helaena asked, looking at the creature in her palm with the fondness she no longer gives her children, “For simply being here?”

“He’s ugly and I hate him,” Jaehaera insists, “Make her kill it, please.”

Helaena only hums, letting the spider climb down her arm. She sounds like Aemond when she does that. Warmth bleeds down your cheeks and onto your neck. You’d been missing him. The nights have been rather empty without your late-night chats.

Helaena turns on her side, ignoring her daughter’s pleas and releasing the spider into the grass. Once free, it takes off lost from sight almost instantly. 

“There,” Helaena says happily, “No need for violence, byka jorrāelagon.”

“Kepus would’ve killed it,” Jaehaera says, with her lower lip jutted outwards in a pout. 

There is a shift in the energy between mother and daughter.

“Why don’t you ask him then?” Helaena says, rolling onto her back once more and closing her eyes. 

“Kepus!” Jaehaera says, pushing away from your arms and running toward the house. You watch her run, following her gaze up the stone steps until you meet Aemond’s eyes. 

He’s back.

She throws herself into Aemond’s arms much like she did your own, and he reaches down, scooping her up in his arms and holding her against his waist. There’s a swooping feeling in your stomach as he approaches, the heat returning to your cheeks. 

“How are my girls?” Aemond asks as he moves closer. 

You move to the other side of the blanket, scooping Maelor in your arms as he begins to bang his fists on Helaena’s hat.

“We’re having a tea party,” Jaehara tells him, “Muña saved a spider. I said she should kill it.” 

Aemond chuckles softly at her pointed tone. 

“Your mother would never,” he says, setting her down on the blanket, “And you?”

You glance up at him, surprised he addressed you, “Me?”

Aemond nods, holding your gaze, “How are you?”

You can hear the blood rushing in your ears as he continues to stare, piercing gaze never leaving your face. 

My girls.

“I’m well,” you answer.

Aemond joins you as you sit back on the blanket, the spider no longer disturbing your peace. Jaehaera dotes on him, she loves her uncle dearly you can tell. You return Maelor to the bassinet as his eyelids begin to droop, rocking it side to side with your hand as he begins to drift off to sleep. 

Jaehaera places a saucer on Helaena’s stomach before balancing a teacup on top of it. Helaena barely raises a brow as Jaehaera wedges a lemon cake onto the plate as well. Though she doesn’t thank her daughter, she brings a hand to the corner of the cake, tearing off a piece and placing it in her mouth.

Aemond sits straight up, balancing a teacup on his knee as Jaehaera stands behind him, combing her fingers through his long, platinum hair and twisting small braids throughout. You hadn’t realized how long he kept it, it’s usually in a bun when you see him, but now silver waves cascade down his shoulders to the middle of his back.

“We should head inside,” Aemond mutters, “The clouds are gathering.”

“A storm is coming tomorrow,” Helaena murmurs.

“How’d you know?” you ask and Helaena’s mouth ticks upwards. All Targaryens seem to have the same smirk.

“She always knows,” Aemond says, smiling softly as his elder sister.

In sleep, someone speaks to you. Whispers in your ear, breath hot like flames licking against your flesh words you do not understand. 

A scream pierces through the night and you awake with a start. An ache begins behind your eyes and you press the heel of your palm against your forehead. You catch your bearing, sitting up and blinking as your eyes adjust to the darkness. Realization washes over you.

Helaena.

She’d been taking a second dose of her sleeping medication ever since Aemond spoke with her psychiatrist. Had she missed a dose this evening? You quickly rise from your bed, not bothering to grab your robe and flinging open your door. 

The hallway is dark, and no moonlight spilling through the windows tonight. You reach out, holding onto the wall as a guide as you move further down the hallway. 

A shuffling noise behind you makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Your breath hitches and you turn around, staring into the dark behind you. You can’t see anything, just pitch black. You should’ve left a light on in your room, something to anchor you. Your hands begin to tingle as adrenaline speeds the beating of your heart. 

There’s nothing but darkness, you assure yourself, the dark can’t hurt you.

But you can’t shake the feeling that as you look down the hallway, someone….or something…is looking back.

You release a shaky breath, turning back around. Something moves toward you, this time you’re certain. And suddenly a hand covers your mouth blocking the scream that rises in your throat and slamming you into the wall. It's not too hard, just enough for your shoulder blades to make a solid thump against the wood. 

Aemond catches your fist in his opposite hand as you attempt to strike him, pushing your wrist back against the wall above your head. Your eyes widen when you realize it's him, cheeks blazing with rage and embarrassment, your body sagging with relief. 

His hand remains on your mouth, though for a moment you’re sure it’s your scream tearing through the halls. Your stomach drops at the agonized wail and you squeeze your eyes shut. Aemond’s hand slides down until your chin rests in the space between his thumb and forefinger. His fingers are pressed so tightly against your throat you’re sure he must be able to feel your fluttering pulse. 

“Hela--,” you begin to speak but are cut off by the return of his hand over your mouth. 

“Shhh,” Aemond insists, as your eyebrows crease with confusion.

You mumble incoherently against his palm, lips pressing against the calloused flesh. Aemond presses closer, his tall slender frame towering over you. You cease trying to talk, your thoughts muddled as the warmth of his body presses against you. Aemond dips his head so his lips rest against the shell of your ear. 

“That’s not Helaena.”

It would be intimate, sensual even, if it weren’t for the words he spoke in that low whisper. A feeling of dread washes over you like a bucket of ice water. 

“Shh,” he says once more, his lips grazing your ear, “Close your eyes. Stay very, very still.”

You don’t dare move, you don’t dare speak; you simply do as you’re told, squeezing your eyes shut. Trembling against him your fingers dig into his arm while the other remains trapped in his grasp over your head. Fear burns in your belly, so hot it's as though someone is stoking a fire right in front of you.

Aemond presses closer, your breasts press against the hard planes of his chest, nipples hardening at the stimulation through the thin material of your tank top. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so frightened. Your heart is beating like a rabbit’s foot, and you try to listen to the sound of Aemond’s breathing in your ear as some way of grounding yourself. 

A groan echoes from down the hall. 

Your grip on him tightens.

“It’s alright,” Aemond murmurs, his voice barely audible, “We’ll just let them pass.”

Your breathing stops.

Let them? Let what? Let who?

The heat intensifies around you, colors bursting behind your eyelids as though someone is shining a light on the pair of you, though you don’t dare open your eyes. You cling to Aemond’s command like a life raft despite your morbid curiosity. 

You don’t know how long you stay like that before the light begins to fade, the warmth leached from your skin as whatever passed you moved on. The hall is silent, your ears are ringing and all you can hear is each shaky inhalation of your breath. It’s not enough. It feels like all the air has been sucked from the hall like you’ll never breathe again.

“Y/N.”

What was that?

“Open your eyes.”

His voice. Aemond’s voice. The only thing that makes sense.

You open your eyes.

The hall is dark and you blink, adjusting. Aemond releases your hand and your arm falls, slightly sore and tingling with pins and needles from being held above your head for so long. He uncovers your mouth as well, taking a step back.

“Are you alright?” he asks, the concern evident in his voice. 

You don’t answer, frozen. Aemond cups both of your cheeks in his hands, thumbs smoothing away tears that fall. You hadn’t realized you’d been crying. Aemond’s brows knit together and you bring your hands to his wrists. 

“What was that?” you whisper, voice hoarse.

Aemond’s expression is pained. 

“There are things I haven’t told you about Harrenhal,” he says softly, releasing your face.

“What kind of things?”

“Unpleasant ones,” he continues.

You hold his gaze. If there was ever a chance to run from the manor screaming, this was it. Aemond watches you as though he expects you to run, his hands clenched into fists at his side. You know him already, know that if you chose to leave he wouldn’t follow you. He’s used to doing things on his own. It’s all he’s ever known.

It’s your choice.

Aemond lifts his eyes to meet yours as you reach for his hand. His fingers release automatically at your touch and you weave them through your own, holding tightly, anchoring yourself to him.

“Let’s get some tea then,” you tell him, “I want to know everything.”

note: hope you enjoyed this chapter! as always, comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated but never expected (though you will receive a forehead kiss from me if you do any of them).

if you would like to be tagged in this series, please let me know!

ACP taglist: @aebi12 | @lokiofasgard12 | @darkenchantress | @echos-muses | @kaelatargaryen | @zenka69 | @heavenly1927 | @boofy1998 | @snh96 | @zillahvathek | @minttea07

bold means I could not tag!

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[luckylucerys]

I will be thy priest, and build a fane

Summary:

Aemond has just had the day from hell. Lucerys has been preparing a surprise.

It goes, more or less, according to plan.

*

“Aemond, I was going to make dinner—”

“Later,” he growls, pulling back now that he’s got his hands free, herding Lucerys towards the den, stopping suddenly when his questing hands finally brush up against the plug sitting between his ass cheeks, and then he’s pushing Luke to the floor right there in the hall.

He yelps as he goes down, whining again, “No, that’s for later!”

“Don’t worry,” Aemond breathes against his neck. “I intend to have you later, too.”

[outerbanksoftargtower]

Modern Targtowers :

Imagine your invited to the Targaryen summer house from your best friend Helaena . One morning you decide to go for a morning jog . The sun is slowly rising , the most beautiful part of the day , well that and sunset according to you . It’s decently warm . You wear leggings and a sleeveless top , air pods in , hair braided down your back. On your way back to the house you see Daeron on the tennis court .

Your sweaty and gross but ……

Also: thinking of maybe making a series of modern targtower imagines ,possibly short fics if anyone there is enough interest or feedback

[dragonsbabe]

https://at.tumblr.com/dragonsbabe/imagine-modern-au-but-dilf-aegon-he-cant-stop/938ua6si5ig8

Omg that was so good

what do you think abt aemond as a dilf? I think he would be more discrete tho🤭

Awww thank you, mi amor. I'm glad you liked it 🥺💖

tw. infidelity

And yeah, Aemond would be for sure. I feel like he would have an affair with his new young assistan at his work. He is always looking at her legs, brushing his firgers against hers when she offers him coffe. Having heated dry hump sessions whenever he feels stressed, or asking her to suck his cock under the desk. Staying late at the office just to take her on his desk, next to his family photos. And he would introduce her to his wife and kids at some work event. He never gives his wife a reason to suspect what his doing.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

A Perfect Score | Series Masterlist | FigureSkating!AU | modern!Aemond x reader

COMPLETED

Summary: Striving for a place in the Olympics, Aemond desperately needs to find another partner to step in when his becomes injured. With little experience in couples figure skating as well as Aemond’s closed-off and antisocial nature, it will be a challenge to work with him.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, some angst, competitiveness, toxic parenting, smut, NSFW 18+

Chapter 1: Ice Cold 

Chapter 2: Sub-Zero

Chapter 3: Goosebumps

Chapter 4: Thin Ice 

Chapter 5: Ice Princess

Chapter 6: Winter is Coming

Chapter 7: Avalanche

Chapter 8: The Fallout

Chapter 9: Thawed Out

Chapter 10: A Song of Ice and Fire

Epilogue

Lovely fanart <3