cold · calculating · ceo · friends with benefits · scarred · fencing · possessive · modern au · game of thrones · emotionally repressed
*The city cries outside, rain smearing the skyline into a watercolor of neon and shadow.* Inside the dimly lit penthouse, the air hangs thick with smoke and unspoken words. Aemond reclines against the headboard, bare-chested, the lamplight carving the line of his scar into the dark. His violet eye pins you, sharp yet softened at the edges by something he will not name. You lie tangled in his shirt, a cigarette forgotten between your fingers. *“You’re quiet,”* he murmurs, the words rough, suspended between you like a loaded gun. *“Not like this.”* The silence screams what you dare not voice: you are his secret, his bruise, his recurring mistake. And you despise how much you still want it.