#is she slightly unhinged? yes… should Aemond be with one of his fans he knows worships him? no

[dulcewrites]

Paparazzi

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x groupie!reader (modern rockband au)

Summary: Loving Aemond is cherry pie

Warning: unhealthy power dynamics, some manipulation of both parts

A/N: HAPPY V DAY YALL. I wanted to post something sort as a surprise and gift to all the nice people who have supported me. I love all the cool art and edits I see of the Targaryen/Hightower kids being in a band. It suits them so well. So in this Aegon is a drummer, daeron is a guitar player, Aemond is a bass player, and Helaena is our leading lady on vocals. I also like the idea of momager Alicent. This is of course inspired by the incredible song by lady gaga. Sorry if there are typos. I just wanted to get something out for y’all 🫶🏽

Blog masterlist

Leather and jeans

Garage glamorous

Not sure what it means

Aemond was always deeply conscious of his surroundings and life; almost painfully so. Alicent jokes that he came out with the weight of the world on his shoulders. It has only gotten worse as time has gone on.

There was syrupy guilt that sat deep in the pit of his stomach about it. He lives a good life all things considered, a very good life. He had money, his health, and a job that revolved around him art and his family. His head should be clearer than ever. Aemond fears his knack to overthink and over process will never leave. A thought enter his head, often a morbid one, and it stays there till the next rotates in. Or until he is distracted enough to forget.

Alys sends him a simple text when they land in New York.

I can’t do this. I’m sorry

He had stared at the text for a few minutes. Even went as far as turning his phone off and turn it back on, deluding himself into thinking it would magically unsend the message. He had asked her to move in before they left for the American leg of the tour. Admittedly, he had seen the apprehension in her eyes, but that was to be expected. Alys was older, and lived a quiet life. Aemond’s life was anything but quiet. It was as brash as the music his band made, but it never seemed like an obstacle for them.

He never prepared himself for this. And maybe that was the problem…. He always prepared for the worst. So, now he must pick himself up and move on. All that writing about heartbreak should come in handy.

“Marty, please tell me you have that Chateau d'Yquem I like,” a warm timber breaks Aemond out of staring at the deep, rich wood of the bar. A strong whiff of sweet perfume engulfs him as someone sits next to him.

“Marty, please tell me you have that Chateau d'Yquem I like,” a warm timber breaks Aemond out of staring at the deep, rich wood of the bar. A strong whiff of sweet perfume engulfs him as someone sits next to him.

“Marty, please tell me you have that Chateau d'Yquem I like,” a warm timber breaks Aemond out of staring at the deep, rich wood of the bar. A strong whiff of sweet perfume engulfs him as someone sits next to him.

Cartier watch, YSL bag, leather trench coat that would have Daeron, vegan and proud, furrowing his brows. Aemond didn’t realize he was staring till a perfectly arched brow was raised at him. He swallows embarrassed.

“I would have recommended something stronger,” she gestures to the beer in his hand. It comes out more like a soft purr than anything.

Her attention goes back to the bartender. Aemond does not think himself a nosy man, but he can’t help but perk up at the sound of a girly voice. Like an invisible tug is making his ears spring up. He makes out certain words. Dad, NYU, and hopelessly bored.

“I like your ring,” the voice permeates through him again. He blinks surprised, hoping he wasn’t making his snooping obvious.

He looks down at the ring on his finger. Valyrian steel ring with Fire and Blood engraved on it, the name of the group. His siblings have matching ones. All he can give is a appreciative smile, not trusting his voice at the moment.

Aegon’s voice booms through his head. Rich girls are the best to fuck, trust me. The statement received a slap in the back in the head from Helaena.

“I like your shoes,” he says eventually. They are strappy, and look entirely too hard to walk in but he’s always liked the way heels made a pair of legs look. “And your eyes.”

He fights back a grimace after saying it. Flirting is not his thing. Nonetheless, he gets a lovely smile in return; one that makes him forget why he was even upset. The kind of smile where someone’s eyes brighten and glimmer.

The conversation starts light, and eventually dissolves into soft whispers as the drink changes from wine and beer to something stronger. A hand becomes permanently situated on his thigh, soft squeezes pulsing through when his lips brush close to her ear.

Aemond doesn’t remember how they ended up in the elevator. He does remember latching lips latching to his, and pulling her into his room. The deep awareness returned for a moment. Is this too soon? Is this the way to get over someone? But he doesn’t stop; it was nice to be wanted so desperately like that.

He woke up to an empty room. Sheets askew and a note being recollections of the previous night’s actions. Under the note was a black lacy thong.

To remember me by

I'll be your girl backstage at your show

Velvet ropes and guitars

Yeah, 'cause you're my rock star in between the sets

He doesn’t see her again till months later. They are finishing their American leg of the tour in Los Angeles. The tour had went off without a hitch. Their mother tells them to celebrate, but not too hard. Wheels up tomorrow afternoon.

They all break open a bottle of champagne in Helaena’s dressing room, even letting Daeron have some. Eventually, Aemond excuses himself to his dressing room. While changing, he gets a knock on the door. Criston pokes his head through saying there was girl here for him. Aemond’s heart starts to thud. He had sent Alys tickets to multiple stops in hopes she would eventually want to talk this out in person. Instead, a pair of legs covered by thigh high boots walks in. Paired with daisy dukes, and red lace covered by a white linen shirt that looks all too familiar.

He doesn’t know what to say, or what to ask. More so how to ask them. The questions are clear in his head. How did she get in? How did she get back here? She knew? The band never came up that night.

Never fuck fans.

Another one of Aegon’s suggestions. He said it said it as if he knew from experience.

There was a casual nonchalance in the way she came in. Smile coy, and flowers in hand. Panic does him no good, not in a situation like this. So, he smiles and accepts the kiss on the cheek. The flowers are blood red roses and match her stained red lips. She gushes about how well the band played. About how good he looked, and how talented he is.

Harmless, he thinks. She’s sweet and harmless. Sleeping her maybe was not a good decision, but she fawns over him in a way that takes the edge off. Like a hit of a blunt or a shot of top shelf liquor. Sincere in a way he’s not used to. He selfishly sits and soaks it in. He makes half-hazards attempts to stop everything when she kisses him, and when her hand ends up in his pants. He cums feeling with guilty and pleasure mixing in his stomach.

Aegon eventually comes by. A sly smile comes on face when he sees Aemond’s companion. He nudges Aemond whispering to him it’s good he has gotten over Alys… Alys. Alys. Alys.

The name pangs around his head in a volatile way. He invites her to the late dinner the crew goes to. She’s tucked under his arm, and giggles with Helaena over drinks.

The impulses only get worse when he takes her back to the hotel. Things are just as good as that first night. She taste just as sweet, and scratches the same itch left by heartache. Perhaps her being around isn’t so bad. At least, it is what he thought in the moment

Caught up in the heat of it all, he didn’t even notice the white shirt he took off of her was his.

I'm your biggest fan, I'll follow you until you love me

Papa-paparazzi

Baby, there's no other superstar, you know that I'll be

Your papa-paparazzi

Promise I'll be kind

But I won't stop until that boy is mine

You love hard. At least that is what your mother told you. Your love is intense and warm, but who wouldn’t want that? To be loved so deeply and wholly. She tells you to be careful, that not everyone will read your love as the gift it is. Not everyone deserves it, and not everyone is receptive.

Your father didn’t. Your exes of yours didn’t, but that was all ok. Because it was all leading up to meeting Aemond.

Your darling Aemond.

His presences in your life blurs the hard edges, and makes things syrupy in the best way. He love you. You know it.

It’s why you have to steer him in the right direction. Not everyone has the best intentions the way you do. Including his ex.

“I just don’t understand why you have to go,” you mumble watching him pick through suits. His eye flicks to you then back to the suits.

“Her dad and brother died in an accident,” he sighs softly. “I met them before, and she asked me to be there for the funeral.”

All you do is hum before a thought pops into your head. “Maybe I can go too.”

Aemond gives you incredulous look then lets out a bark of laughter.

“Baby, I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s a funeral, not a party. I can’t just bring a plus one.”

An anxious feeling crawls up your throat. You try to repeat the words in your head. Her family died, her family died. No reason to be jealous or upset, he just wants to be sweet; one of Aemond’s best traits was his kind heart. Underneath that hard exterior is someone soft… and moldable.

Aemond tends to believe the best in everyone. Who’s to say that he won’t get there and she won’t bat her eyelashes to get him to completely fold.

An idea swirls into your head suddenly.

“Yeah, you’re right.” you go behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and burring your face in his back. Taking in the smell of soft linen and woodsy cologne. You had become so use to his scent. You can’t let it go now.

“How about I send her flowers? Something nice for when she gets back.”

He turns around in your arms, giving you a quizzical look before smiling softly.

“I think she would love that,” he kisses you on the forehead before going back to looking for something. “Have you seen my cuff links?”

You go into the bedroom, flopping down on the bed.

“Maybe check in the bathroom.”

You scroll through your phone looking for a certain contact. Tyland Lannister (P.I) finally comes up.

“Hey, can you send me her address so I can make sure the flowers get to her,” you call back.

The ease in which he calls out our her address makes you pause. An annoyed feeling only compounds when he tells you to send over a bouquet filled with carnations, daffodils, and forget me nots… her favorite flowers. The hesitancy you had swims away instantly.

I think I have a job for you

After you hit send, you lay on your back staring at the mirror on the ceiling.

Your love is intense and warm, and all Aemond’s.