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kyeomofhearts · 3 months

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Back For More | J.WW

+ summary: while adjusting to your new life in college, you couldn't help but attract the attention of wonwoo, someone you happened to share a history with.

+ pairing: badboy!wonwoo x fem!reader

+ word count: 4.5k

+ content: badboy!wonwoo, college au, mature language, jealousy, angst, suggestive, possessive wonwoo (yum), teasing, a lot of dialogue for sure, fluff?, please lmk if i missed anything tyyyy!

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

[ᝰ.ᐟ] glad you guys enjoyed part one!!! 🥹 i really appreciate the lovely comments you all left <333 i know this took forever for me to post but i swear i didn't mean to. currently writing part three as we speak so it will definitely come out within these following months or so... anyways, this wasn't proofread so please excuse any mistakes i may have made! as always, don't be scared to comment because i quite literally thrive on your guys' comments and reblogs! :)

Two weeks. Two full weeks of your torture.

Wonwoo was pretty shocked, to say the least. He wasn’t aware of the lengths you would take to ignore him. Sure, it was his fault for going off on you but he was sorry. He knew what he had said to you that day upset you, but he didn't know it was going to end up like this. And now he was at a loss, he wasn’t sure on how to navigate this 'predicament' between the two of you.

Wonwoo obviously knew that he had to apologize to you but he also knew that you needed space. Which is exactly what he did for those first few days after the ‘fight’ had occurred. He gave you space for a day or two but then, those two days turned into five... and before he knew it, two weeks had passed.

Of course, it’s not like Wonwoo didn’t try to talk to you but it was kind of difficult when you would run away at the mere sight of him. It also didn't help that any of his attempts for forgiveness were typically greeted with your indifference, it was as if you had walled yourself off completely.

To make matters worse, anytime that Wonwoo was able to see you, Hyunwoo was right by your side. It was troubling, to say the least. He couldn't quite put his finger on why the sight of you with Hyunwoo stirred such unease within him but it did and he hated it.

Out of everyone on this campus, you were giving Hyunwoo your time and attention? It just didn't make sense to Wonwoo. You barely knew the guy!

Not that he was jealous or anything but… there was something about Hyunwoo that he didn't trust. His easy 'charm' and 'magnetic' personality seemed almost too good to be true, and Wonwoo couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye. He was definitely hiding something.

And so, Wonwoo found himself in limbo, caught between the regret of his past actions and the uncertainty of what would happen between him and you. He hoped for the chance to set things right, to close the gap that had formed between the two of you, but he couldn't help but wonder if it was already too late.

Until then, all he could do was wait for another opportunity.

[...]

To say that you were bored was an understatement. Ignoring Wonwoo for two weeks was beginning to take its toll on you. Life had suddenly become only about your job and classes which was... exhausting.

Granted, you did make it your life mission to ignore him any chance you were given but there was no point in dwelling on that. It was quite easy going no-contact with him considering that you didn't share any socials with him. A small part of you did occasionally miss when you would get randomly bothered by Wonwoo, it was a nice distraction from whatever you were thinking about at that moment.

Other than that...

Life was pretty uneventful if you were being honest with yourself. Your days were usually filled with school assignments and work so there wasn't anything that could help you keep your mind away from Wonwoo. And it didn't help that your friends had gone radio silent on you either.

Some might say that you were taking your pettiness too far but you couldn't help yourself! Sure, you and Wonwoo were not at the level where you could practically share everything with each other but how else were you supposed to react to his obvious injuries? Like... did he want you to just ignore his bruised face and act like everything was fine and dandy? You despised how much this whole situation still bothered you even after a few weeks had passed since it occurred.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to hear Wonwoo out-

"Hellooo? Yn!"

Your head snapped towards the direction where you heard your name come from. Of course, it was Hyunwoo.

"I've been calling your name like crazy! Are you deaf or something?" His voice was laced with annoyance but you could tell that he was trying to play it cool.

You don't know if it was because you were always sleep-deprived but recently, Hyunwoo had been getting on your nerves. Hyunwoo was just too clingy for your liking, always feeling the need to be around you any chance he could. It was bothersome if anything.

“Sorry I was distracted, what did you need?” You tried to sound nice but couldn't help the irritation from slipping into your tone.

Hyunwoo scoffed. "Well, I just wanted to invite you to this party on Friday." He stepped closer to you, there was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He continued, "I know parties aren't really your thing but... please think about it at least?"

You hesitated, your mind automatically going through your schedule. You were definitely open on Friday, but the thought of going to a party wasn't exactly appealing to you. Especially not with the current state of your social life.

You mulled over his proposition for a few seconds.

"Uh, thanks for the invite, but I think I'll pass," you replied, trying to sound casual.

Hyunwoo raised an eyebrow, his playful demeanor turning into one of disbelief. "Pass? Come on, yn, when was the last time you actually went out and had some fun?"

Ugh. His words hit a little too close to home. You knew he was right, but the idea of going out without knowing anyone felt daunting. You knew that there was surely something better you could do on a Friday night but a small part of you was curious about the party. Maybe you should at least check it out, that wouldn't hurt, right?

You looked at Hyunwoo and exhaled.

"Okay fine, I'll go with you," you playfully nudged his arm before continuing, "under the condition that I can leave whenever I want."

Hyunwoo couldn't help but roll his eyes and scoff at your 'terms and conditions', but he accepted it either way.

"Sure, oh and trust me, you won't want to leave, I'll make sure of that," Hyunwoo said as he looked at the time on his phone noting that he had a few minutes left. He patted your back before bidding you goodbye to attend his next class.

You weren't sure if it was you but there was something off about his reply. But before you could dwell on it further, your phone suddenly buzzed with a notification, forcing you back to reality.

[www.onwoo requested to follow you.]

Oh.

Okay, now you have a lot of questions. How did he even find you? Was it through one of your friends? Why now? God you knew this was going to eat you up for the next few hours or maybe even days.

Nevertheless, you accepted his friend request and even went as far as to add him as a friend. That should be okay, right?

You slipped your phone back into your pocket as you got closer to your class. Surely your lecture would at least help you take him off your mind.

Wrong.

When you entered the classroom you noticed that the seating arrangement had been changed. There were a few students still standing at the front who looked just as confused as you. After a few more students came to the class the professor eventually got up to address the situation.

"For those that are coming in, I have changed your assigned seats for the rest of the semester! If you look at the board you will also see that I have grouped you into pairs, and to make it convenient I have sat you with your partner so you do not have to struggle with finding them. If you have any questions please do not hesitate to ask me!"

Okay, this was different but not necessarily bad. You looked towards the board to see who you had been paired with and you felt your stomach drop down to the pits of Hell.

[yn | wonwoo]

If you were going to be honest you completely forgot Wonwoo was even in this class in the first place.

If there was a God out there, then they for sure failed you today. This was very unfortunate for you, but there wasn't anything that could be done about it. So you begrudgingly made your way to your assigned seat, right next to Wonwoo.

You took a quick glance over his figure noting his dark attire. There wasn't anything special about it but just seeing him in a simple black shirt and sweats was doing a lot of things to you. Why was the room hot all of a sudden?

After getting yourself situated in your seat, you felt his eyes surveying your figure. Part of you wanted to turn to see if he was actually looking at you but that would just be another win for him so you decided to keep your gaze on the board. Just focus on the lecture.

"yn." Wonwoo said in a somewhat muted tone, tapping a finger on your arm.

Well, that didn't last long.

You hated how much of an effect his voice still had on you, that deep tone always giving you goosebumps. Surprisingly, you still managed to keep your eyes on the lecture, you wanted to see how far he would go to get your attention.

Though your silence didn't amuse Wonwoo, in fact, it annoyed him. He hated not being able to annoy you, maybe even going as far as to say that he missed talking to you. Of course, he wouldn't have been in this situation had he not snapped at you that day but he was really trying to earn your forgiveness. He was willing to do anything at this point. So he leaned towards you, his cologne invading your senses. God, why did he have to smell so good?

"Can you stop ignoring me? I gave you enough space already," he said in a hushed, irritated tone.

You looked at him, trying your best to not laugh at how desperate he was beginning to sound. His usually calm and collected persona was beginning to crumble down into a hopeless mess. Feeling playful, you decided to torture him just a little bit.

"I don't think I want to, it's been kind of fun not having you around," You whispered back, turning your gaze at the board so you wouldn't have to see his reaction. Just for the fun of it, you decided to egg him on a little further, "Maybe try again later."

As you focused on the board, you could practically feel the tension radiating from Wonwoo beside you. His irritation was palpable, his patience wearing thin as he struggled to contain his frustration.

But despite your playful defiance, a small part of you couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. Maybe you were being too harsh on him, too stubborn to admit that you missed whatever you had going on with him. Deep down, you knew that ignoring Wonwoo wasn't going to solve anything, that it was only prolonging the inevitable confrontation you both needed to have.

As the lecture droned on in the background, the weight of Wonwoo's presence beside you grew heavier with each passing minute. You could sense him fidgeting in his seat, his frustration simmering beneath the surface as he grappled with your stubborn silence.

Maybe it was time that you stopped pushing him away.

Finally unable to bear the tension any longer, you cleared your throat.

"Okay fine, I'll stop ignoring you but don't think that I have forgiven you yet." Your eyes lingered on his face, his cuts and bruises had noticeably healed but they were still evident.

Wonwoo's tense figure visibly relaxed at your words. Even though it was only a small step, Wonwoo felt as if he had already won the lottery.

After another hour had passed, the lecture had finally come to an end. You didn't have any plans after this so you were excited to just spend the day doing whatever. But just as you were about to slip out of your seat, Wonwoo's voice stopped you in your tracks.

"Wait for me," he said, his voice softer than before.

Seeing Wonwoo like this was quite... weird. His demeanor towards you was a complete contrast to his usual confident self. It was kind of unnerving.

After that, Wonwoo began to gather his belongings, even going as far as gently taking your bag from your hand. He slid the bag onto his shoulder, not caring about the fact that he looked ridiculous wearing his regular backpack with your tote.

"I can carry my bag," you said as you tried reaching for it.

Wonwoo quickly moved away before you could even land a finger on your tote. "Let me carry it for you, please." His tone was sincere this time, almost pleading if anything.

With a reluctant sigh, you began to make your way out of the classroom, allowing Wonwoo to fall into step beside you as you made your way out of the lecture hall. The hallway was relatively quiet, the sounds of footsteps echoing against the tiled floor as you passed by other students.

As you walked side by side with Wonwoo, you couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that gnawed at the edges of your thoughts.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you like a physical barrier. As you rounded the corner, you stole a glance at Wonwoo, taking in the uncertainty etched into his features. It was strange to see him like this, vulnerable and unsure, but there was also something oddly endearing about it.

"What's going on? You're acting really weird right now," you finally blurted out, unable to contain your curiosity any longer.

Wonwoo's steps faltered slightly at your question, his gaze flickering away before returning to meet yours. "Can't I do something nice for my friend?" he replied, his voice tinged with a tiny hint of defensiveness.

You blinked, taken aback by Wonwoo's response. "Friend?" you echoed, the word feeling foreign on your tongue. It had been weeks since you and Wonwoo had exchanged more than a few words with each other, but even before that, you weren't necessarily sure you could call him a friend. Sure you've known him for the majority of your life but that was really it, growing up your friend groups rarely interacted so it's not like you actually knew anything about him. He just always happened to be there.

Did he seriously consider you as a friend?

Wonwoo's steps came to an abrupt stop, he shifted uncomfortably beside you, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet yours. "Well, yeah. I mean, aren't we?" he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken implications and unresolved tension. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, searching for the right words to express the swirling thoughts and emotions that churned within you.

"I don't know, Wonwoo," you finally admitted, your voice quiet but resolute. "I get that we've known each other for a long time but... I wouldn't exactly call us friends."

His face flashed a hint of hurt before he looked away from you. The silence following between the two of you was almost suffocating.

"That's fair I guess." His voice returned to that stoic tone that you had grown accustomed to.

Wonwoo's response hung in the air for a second, thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. You could feel the weight of his disappointment pressing down on you, mingling with your own sense of unease.

"I didn't mean it like that," you interjected hastily, the words tumbling out in a rush. "It's just... weird you know? We've been around each other for so long but I don't know anything about you and you don't know anything about me."

His gaze remained fixed on the ground, his expression unreadable. "I know," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the footsteps of the people passing by. "But we can always change that." Wonwoo was now completely looking at you, his gaze filled with something you couldn't quite pinpoint.

He continued, "Look, I'm sorry I spoke to you that way. I was really irritated by what had happened but I figured that being with you would put me in a better mood," he paused for a second, "I know that it was unfair of me to do that to you and I'll make sure that it won't happen again." Wonwoo's eyes were soft and sincere as he spoke to you.

It was shocking in a way, seeing how vulnerable he was being with you. For someone who usually displayed himself on the 'cooler' side, he really did know how to be genuine with you.

It was also overwhelming. Everything about this felt too intimate for you. From the way Wonwoo was looking at you to the way he voiced out his apology; it was just too much for you.

You had to do something.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to accept his apology, it was about time anyway.

"Okay, fine. I get it, we all have our off days," turning to face his side, you made a playful jab into his ribs, "but if you ever do anything like that again I will kill you." You tried your best to maintain a somewhat serious face but couldn't help but let out a giggle as soon as you saw Wonwoo squirm from your touch.

And just like that, the tension that had once felt suffocating was now gone, as if it had never been there in the first place; or at least so you thought.

What you didn't know was that Wonwoo was completely aware of your little diversion tactic. He noticed the subtle shift in your eyes while he was apologizing to you, he just chose not to say anything. But he'll play along at least for now.

“So…are we officially back to being besties?” Wonwoo decided to say teasingly, his eyes looking at you expectantly.

You stare at him momentarily with an unimpressed look before breaking into a smile. Although you've known Wonwoo for a while, you would have never thought he could joke around like this, especially with you.

And well... it wouldn't hurt if you played with him a little more.

“I’ll say yes if you buy me a smoothie from the stand over there.” You pointed toward the barely visible smoothie stand that was parked a bit farther from the window where you and Wonwoo stood.

It was the same smoothie spot from a few weeks ago only this time they were in a small cart. Although they did have their own shop near the area, the owners would occasionally bring a little cart around the campus to help bring more people in.

Wonwoo let out a low chuckle before asking you, "Do you want the same thing from last time?”

Last time? There was absolutely no way that he was talking about your order from two weeks ago.

You quirked your eyebrow up at him, "…And just how sure are you that you remember my order?"

Okay, to be fair, it's not like you had a complicated order, but it would be surprising if Wonwoo was able to remember it considering that he only heard you order that smoothie once.

Wonwoo looked over to you once again, a small smirk taking over his features. "I'll have you know that it also happens to be my favorite so don't get too excited now," he said in a provocative tone.

Ugh, he was so annoying.

Before you could give his response any more thought Wonwoo had wordlessly started walking toward the smoothie stand, effectively leaving you behind. But rather than following him all the way to the stand you decided to find seating, preferably under the shade. It's been getting hot, you noticed it's especially true when Wonwoo is around.

After finding a spot under the shade you begin to mindlessly scroll on your phone. It wasn't too long after you sat down that a notification got a hold of your attention.

[www.onwoo wants to send you a message.]

Oh god. What did he possibly want now?

[www.onwoo] why didn't you come with me? :(

Before accepting his message request you glanced over to the smoothie stand, the line was pretty long now but Wonwoo had made it just in time to get his order in before the rush. As you were looking at him, he turned his gaze toward you making you immediately look back down on your phone.

[you] it's only a one-man job. also you look ridiculous with my bag.

Wonwoo softly scoffed at your message and looked in your direction. You weren't looking at him anymore but he was still able to see a small smile on your face.

[www.onwoo] i'll have you know that i already had 3 girls compliment me on the bag 😼

You rolled your eyes before shooting back a reply.

[you] i have immaculate taste that's why.

A few chat bubbles popped in and out before they eventually disappeared altogether. It wasn't long after that you heard footsteps quickly making their way toward you.

Just as you lifted your head upwards you heard Wonwoo's confident voice announce his arrival.

“One large smoothie for my little birdy.” He smiled as he spoke, knowing that you absolutely despised that nickname.

You squinted at him in disapproval, “And here I thought that nickname was officially gone for good.”

Wonwoo chuckled at that. He then proceeded to take a sip of your smoothie before officially handing it off to you.

You stayed frozen for a second before grabbing the smoothie and wiping the straw with your shirt.

Absolutely no indirect kisses will be occurring today.

Getting up from your spot, you begin to mindlessly walk toward the closest pathway near you, the weather is pretty nice today. After a few steps, you turned around to see a rather puzzled Wonwoo looking back at you but he still followed nonetheless.

“You’re a little too chirpy today… what happened to the oh-so-serious biker? Hmm?” You playfully poked at him as you said it, enjoying the sweet flavor of the smoothie he had gotten for you.

Wonwoo scoffed softly, holding back his laugh, “He’s still here, he just happens to be in a good mood now that his little birdy is talking to him again.”

But before you can even think of a snarky response Wonwoo continued.

“But if that’s what you’re into then I can always play the part for you,” he said with a smirk, his words smothered in arrogance.

You scoffed, amused by the implication he made. “Ew it’s definitely not like that.”

“Oh, but it can be.” Wonwoo moved closer to you, effectively closing the space between you both. His cologne invaded your senses once again; this time, it was proving much more difficult for you to escape from his grasp. His gaze was unwavering as he looked at your face or to be more exact, your lips.

After what felt like an eternity, Wonwoo finally pulled himself away from you. He smirked at the very flustered state that he had just left you in. It was clear that there was a mutual attraction between the two of you, an attraction you were trying to reject.

It was a challenge that Wonwoo was more than ready to handle.

You cleared your throat, "As fun as it was hanging out after class... I think that it's about time for me to head back home," you said as you recomposed yourself.

Technically speaking, there wasn't anything waiting for you back at your place but you felt that if you stayed a second longer things would definitely escalate between the two of you.

And again, your little stunt didn't go unnoticed by Wonwoo but he also wasn't surprised, if anything, he expected you to pull away like this. That was one of the first things he had noticed when he initially started talking to you, always leaving before things could really develop. It was cute in a way, but he was eventually going to get you out of your shell, it was only a matter of when.

Wonwoo faintly smiled to himself, “Okay but before I let you go, we should come up with a day to start our project together.”

Fuck. You forgot about that.

He continued, “How about this Friday? I have nothing going on that day.” Wonwoo's eyes landed on your figure as you went on your phone to check your work schedule for the upcoming week.

“Ugh, I have to go out with Hyunwoo that day,” you said just as your eyes landed on Sunday, it was completely open.

“…but how about this Sunday? I don’t work that day.” You looked up toward Wonwoo's eyes, hopeful that it could work out.

A million thoughts raced through Wonwoo's head. You're going out with Hyunwoo? Like as in a date or...? No, he has to stay composed.

“That works for me,” he mumbled, his gaze went toward the ground, kicking a few pebbles before looking at you once again, “but what’s going on with you and Hyunwoo?”

You couldn't help but laugh at Wonwoo's question which earned you a scowl from him. God, you were going to have so much fun with this.

“Why do you ask?” This was the perfect opportunity to get back at Wonwoo for teasing you earlier so like the tease that you are, you decided to play dumb with him. “Are you perhaps… jealous?” You said with a loud gasp as a way to rile him up, your hands flying to your mouth for dramatic effect.

You continued, "Don't worry Hyunwoo is just a boy who also happens to be my friend." Wonwoo's face physically hardened at the idea of Hyunwoo being your boyfriend. He knew that you saw him on a regular basis but he had yet to see any real signs that you were actually dating him.

Patting his back in a comforting manner you then explained, "Relax, don't get your panties in a twist. If you have to know, Hyunwoo is just a friend." While it was fun teasing him you most certainly did not want him to get the wrong idea about you and Hyunwoo.

"But if I'm being honest it was kind of fun bullying you, I should do that more often." It couldn't be helped! You just had to add that last part.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes. “Oh wow, who knew you were a sadist.” His tone was playful, an evil grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he played along with your banter.

Your jaw dropped at his comment, huffing out a loud, “Wonwoo!”

He raised his hands up in a surrender, “I'm kidding! I'm kidding… or maybe not.” Which then earned him a slap on his bicep.

“You truly are shameless,” you muttered out loud for him to hear.

By this point, Wonwoo had taken the lead as the two of you walked away from the courtyard. It was only until you were at the school's parking lot that you realized that he had purposely taken you here.

There was a beat of silence before Wonwoo let out a soft sigh. "Would you look at that... my bike happens to be over there..." He nudged you in the direction of where he had parked his bike a few hours prior.

Wonwoo let out another pathetic sigh, "It would be rude of me to just let you walk back home you know?" This time he grabbed a hold of your hand as he led you directly in front of his bike.

Your eyes almost bulged out of your head at the implication that he just made. There's absolutely no way that you are getting on his bike.

"Uh... I'm not so sure this is a good idea Won-"

Wonwoo shushes you and hands you a spare helmet, a shit-eating grin plastered over his stupidly handsome face.

"Just trust me," he says as he slides your tote inside his backpack, "that should hold everything in place." Wonwoo then handed the backpack to you, waiting for you to put it on, his eyes landing on your terrified figure.

This was going to be fun.

Part Three: Coming Soon…

936 notes · View notes

anemos-orca · 7 months

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Zhongli's Dragon, Part 1: Geo's Call

◆Ah apologies if i get anything to do with tumblr wrong, i am very new to this platform so it will take a bit of learning qwq◆

◆cw: smut ft dom!zhongli x sub!reader, reader is half dragon, breeding kink (?), size difference, probably more qwq

◆NSFW under "keep reading" :0

series tag: #zhongli's dragon

◆◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◆

◆A/N: For reference, reader is a dragon girl :D you have little horns on your forehead that point up and back, long thin fluffy ears on the sides of your head, sharp teeth, clawed hands, little dragon wings, and a dramatically long fluffy tail with two rows of dorsal spikes similar to te scutes on a crocodile tail.◆

"Zhongli..?" you said almost silently, peeking your head into his office with a shy look smeared across your face. Hu Tao had informed you that your boss requested you to join him in his office for a chat, and while it wasnt an uncommon event, your nerves never ceased to tighten each time you stepped into his office.

You had been working for him as an assistant for a few months now without incident besides the occasional flirt or tease here and there- though, you had always assumed that they were nothing more than mere jokes. However, you had to admit, you found your boss quite attractive. But then again, who wouldnt? He was tall, very tall, towering over your little form as though he were Mt. Hulao itself looking down at a fragile little Qingxin flower. Not only that, but his alluring voice, his intoxicatingly good looks, his formal verbiage, his intense yet kind gaze- wait, you were here for a reason!

Zhongli looks up from his paperwork, gently settling his writing quill back into the pot of ink before crossing his arms over his chest and sitting back in his fancy leather chair, "Ah, (y/n), thank you for joining me. Please, have a seat." He said as his hand motioned to the empty seat on the other side of the desk, the same seat you found yourself in each time he summoned you to his office. You nodded, nervously clasping your clawed hands together and wrapping your flowing tail over your lap before settling down in your familiar spot.

"Thank you, Sir. How may I assist you?" You asked quietly, your silky ears perking up in quite the adorable manner. A faint smile tugged at the corners of Zhonglis lips and he opened an arm over the desk, offering for you to take the pre-poured cup of tea if you so desired.

"Please, there is no need for such formalities this evening. I have merely summoned you as your friend, not your boss." Zhongli said, his voice buttering you up as always.

"As a friend, Sir?" You asked, your head cocking to the side and your wings tightening against your back in confusion- he had never said such a thing before. You gingerly sip your tea, graceful as ever. Zhongli nods slowly, his eyes momentarily shutting.

"Yes, my dear. I could not help but to have taken notice to your stress levels recently, so i decided it would be best to ask if you would like assistance in any way to ease your mind." He explains, his fingers pressing together as his piercing eyes open once more to meet yours. "Stress can be difficult to manage, especially for dragons. Although you are only half dragon, it is advisable to manage your stressors in order to avoid the dangerous, unwanted side effects."

You cant help but to blush a bit and begin to nervously fidget with the tail of your fur. Your ears push back in anxiety and your heart skips a beat. Had your stress really been that noticeable? You considered his sentiments for a moment, shyly looking down to your lap.

"I-I mean, i guess ive... been a bit more stressed than usual as of late..." you stammered, meeting his blazing gaze, "B-but its nothing to worry about, really! I-I... guess my human side mitigates the, er... side effects." You lied, shrinking back a bit.

Zhongli sat back in his chair once more, his arms crossing over his chest as a brow knowingly raises.

"Tsk tsk, my dear (y/n), you must know that I can tell if you are lying. You might as well turn green from spewing such heedless equivocations. There is no hiding such things, especially from your own kin." He lightly scolded you, your ears further flattening against your head as your cheeks blush brighter against your will.

You had known from the day you met him that he was also a dragon- after all, a dragons sense of smell is far better than that of a humans, so picking one of your own kind out of a crowd of hundreds was a walk in the park. It was something the two of you bonded over, being the only dragons in Liyue Harbor, and it was the reason you sought him out in the first place. After having job application after job application turned down due to the dragon features that graced your body and your vehemently quiet nature, you gathered the courage to ask Morax himself if he would hire you. He did so without hesitation.

Because you were both dragons, Zhongli knew what such high levels of stress could do to you- angry outbursts, heightened hoarding instincts, feral, animal like reactions to the smallest of inconveniences- and he knew that it would soon become a serious issue that would take a long, long break from work to fix, which he couldnt have. Despite having worked as his assistany for only a few months, you were his right hand- his most valuable peer within the work force of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor- all due to the fact that you two could understand one another without so much as a word. It was common sense: dragons knew dragons best.

"(yn)." Zhongli cooed, snapping you back into reality and out of your flustered thoughts, "While I can not force you to take my advice, I highly suggest that we work together in order to find a way to manage this stress. There are several methods known to help with quick stress relief, though i believe there is a particular activity humans participate in on a regular basis to see the immediate relief of high levels of stress, and, from what i have seen and heard over the years, i can confirm that it is quite effective. In fact, I believe it to be the most effective method when dealing with such intense stress." He explained, lifting his hand to hold his chin in thought. "Though, i do realize that this activity is... something humans consider to be a sacred, private act."

Was he really saying this? Was this real? You were convinced this must be a dream or some kind of stress-induced hallucination. You knew what he was talking about, you knew what he was implying, and it made your cheeks flush a demeaningly bright red as your heart tried to escape the confines of your chest. "Sir- uh, Zhongli, I-I..." You tripped over every word, not able to get out a single coherent thought before being silenced by Zhonglis stern gaze. "It is not a requirement of you, as I do know how touchy this topic tends to be within the social conventions of humans, but if it is something you wish for, i may be able to lend a helping hand in this stress relief." He offered, his brows raising as he awaits your response.

You felt as though you were going to die right then and there. Did he know what he did to you every day? What his gentle touch and soothing voice put you through each time you interacted? He must, how could he not- he could read you like an open book considering the way your ears and tail reacted so strongly to each emotion you felt. They might as well be a string of lanterns hung up in the night sky with how well they spelled out each of your feelings.

You sheepishly looked up to him, your heart thumping as though it was on fire and your mind slightly fogged with apprehensive thoughts of both want and need, and you nodded.

"Ah, very well. I am pleased to know that you hold this level of trust with me. I shall do everything in my power to keep it that way." He gives a small smirk, lifting his head a bit as he looks you over. "Tell me, my dear (y/n), do I assume correctly that you have never been with a mate?" He asks.

You nod, fervently fidgeting with the silky fluff of your dramatically long tail. "I-I..." you stutter, gulping hard. "Ive never done this before, s-so would you mind leading the way? I-I trust that you to know what t-to do..." you quietly coo, looking up to him with doe-eyes. Zhonglis small smirk turns to a sly grin as he oh-so majestically lifts himself from his chair and walks around the desk to stand in front of you.

"Is that so, (y/n)? Are you sure of this?" He asked, wanting to confirm that letting him take control was what you wanted. You lifted your gaze to meet his, your pupils blown out in arousal, and you nod a number of times. Unsatisfied, Zhongli reaches a gloved hand down to hold your jaw and force you to truly look up at him, "I must hear a verbal agreement in order to continue. So, my dear (y/n), tell me..." He slowly leans down, his mouth hovering dangerously close to your long, fluffy ear as his hot breath caresses your neck, "What is it, exactly, that you trust me with doing?" He teases. Without even seeing it, you can feel the devious smirk on his face.

You gulp hard, your breath hitching in your chest as you feel the fog of need shroud your mind- and you liked it. You slightly squirm in your seat, the heat and tension in your core becoming far more than noticeable as your wings begin to shiver against your back. "I-I trust you with my body, I... I trust you to mate with me."

Satisfied with both your response and the way you writhe under his breath just from talking alone, he hooks his arms under your knees and lifts you against his chest, earning a surprised yelp as your arms clamber to wrap around his shoulders. He sits you down on his desk, standing between your spread knees with your legs dangling over the edge. "I can confidentley promise you that once we are finished, you will not have the slightest clue as to why you were stressed in the first place."

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◆A/N²: I hope it was not too bad to read qwq i will continue this very soon :D◆

#zhongli #zhongli smut #zhongli x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #◆zhongli's dragon

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 1 year

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Studious V (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

Aemond reads your notes, and you both finally come clean. After he introduces you to his best friend, you invite him back to your chambers.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: OOH BOY ITS TIME! We got tiddy suckin', we got fingering (f receiving), we got oral sex (f receiving), and we got p in v sex (finally), and of course, Aegon!

Author's Note: Bone apple teeth, y'all

Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here - Read Part III Here - Read Part IV Here - Read Part VI Here

My Masterlist

Taglist will be done via reblogs (there are simply too many of you to fit here)

Studious V

Only a few minutes later, you sat across from Aemond at the small dining table in his chambers – obviously only ever intended for one. He had to drag one of the chairs by the hearth across the room just so you could sit with him. For he had insisted you stay while he read your notes, assuring you that it would not take long.

“I read very quickly,” he explained. “I have to, if I hope to read everything I want to.”

Now, you sat silently across from him as you watched him read. He held your diary in his right hand while his left held open his own where it rested on the table. While reading, he would often look between the two, cross-referencing what you had written about with his original entries.

It was quite amusing, being able to watch his reactions. Subdued as they were, you still caught him, on various occasions, both smiling and frowning. He even blushed once! You smiled as you recalled him doing the same to you – watching your face as you read in the library. Perhaps you were more similar than you had once thought.

For a long while, Aemond said nothing. He hardly even looked at you – only glancing up a few times and shying away when he noticed you looking back.

Until once, he did not look away. Though he did blush quite deeply.

“I apologise,” he whispered, “I did not realise how… detailed I was in some instances. You should not have had to read such depravity. Please, forgive me.”

So, he reached the library entry. And you had not written anything in response – a stark difference from every other entry. It was no wonder that he thought you offended. But you were most certainly not offended, and you had heard enough apologies from him to last you the rest of your lifetimes.

You reached across the table – hardly difficult, as it was so small – and brushed your fingers against his. The urge to fully take his hand was strong, but you did not want to push too far before the two of you had settled everything.

“There is no need to apologise,” you said, your first words since you gave him the diaries. “It is perfectly natural for a man to… think about his wife in such a way. Didn’t Septon Eustace tell you that so long as we were married, lust is not a sin?”

Aemond smiled a little at that, but his brow was still furrowed in concern, as if he did not believe you entirely.

“I actually –” you began, laughing a little as you spoke to relieve the tension. “I actually found it quite… interesting.”

“Oh!” Aemond’s mouth fell open, and his eye widened in the same expression that had once made you think he looked like a freshly caught fish. This time was perhaps even more satisfying than the first, as a flush quickly spread across his face and climbed all the way to his ears, until he was as red as his family crest.

“I… um, I am glad,” Aemond’s statement sounded curiously more like a question as his eye darted from you to the table to the diaries. “I thought that… I suppose… I was just… I still – I am still sorry.”

And with that, he turned back to diaries.

Judging by the position of the sun – which you were never very good at, so your estimations were far from precise – it took less than an hour for Aemond to finish reading. You had passed nearly all the time by surveying his rooms.

His rooms were immaculate, which was no surprise. Everything spotless and precisely arranged. Each tapestry, of which there were few, was hung perfectly. The vases on a table near the hearth were spaced so evenly that you could not imagine how it could have been without a measuring stick. And the books on the many bookshelves were well organised.

But as well as it was kept, it did not feel like Aemond. The tapestries were finely made, but the subjects – one hunting scene, one depiction of the Red Keep, one of the Seven, and one of a dragon that did not look like any of the ones you had heard described – were very standard. The vases were well crafted, but they, too, were plain. Two in varying shades of brown, one brass, and one in a simple pattern of brass and black. Even the bookshelves seemed impersonal. They were filled to the brim with leather and linen tomes, each as pristine as they must have been when they were first bound.

There were no little trinkets, personal items, or anything else that would identify Aemond as the occupant. If not for its position at the heart of the Holdfast or the fact that you could see Aemond’s sword and dagger leaning against a wardrobe in what must be the bedroom, you would think these were guest quarters.

How was he content with living in such an impersonal space?

You had filled the walls of your rooms until you could hardly see the stone, cluttered your tables with crafting supplies and reminders of your home and family, and stuffed so many of the small items you had collected over your lifetime in your shelves that there was hardly room for books. And while Aemond had been fascinated by the decoration within your rooms, he had still chosen not to make his own a home.

Perhaps you could help him fix that.

But before you could start considering how to do so, you looked back to him and immediately became mesmerised. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his eye snapping between the two diaries with dizzying speed, and his lips slightly pursed. It almost seemed as though he was studying rather than simply reading.

He cared about this – very much so. He was almost… desperate.

Did he still think you would ask to be separated from him? After you had read his diary, as he asked? After you returned to him and offered your own? After you had assured him you were not repulsed by what he had written?

Had you really been so cold to him that he could still believe you would run away?

A chill settled over you at the possibility. Perhaps several days ago, you may have accepted his offer to return to your home. Now, the thought of leaving him made you almost nauseous, though you were not entirely sure why. You wrapped your arms around yourself and cast your gaze down to the table surface.

“I’ve finished,” Aemond said merely a moment later. You looked up to see him setting your diary down next to his, then turning the pages of each back to the beginning of your shared story.

You sat up straighter in your chair, first placing your clasped hands on the table, then in your lap, then unclasping them so you could bunch the skirts of your dress in your hands – both to try and calm your nerves and soak up the moisture that had begun to form the moment Aemond spoke again. After you gave him a short nod, he began.

He laid his clasped hands atop the diaries, then separated them to grip the edges of the table on either side of the journals, then finally deciding to keep one hand on his diary while the other picked up his quill pen, which he began to fiddle with restlessly.

“I, um… I should like to start by thanking you for reading this,” he said, his voice less sure than you were used to. He did not meet your gaze, instead looking straight down at the books before him. “And I wish to apologise – again. First, for being so incompetent that this was the only way I could express my feelings, and secondly, for the admittedly humiliating things you read.”

“Aemond,” you interrupted before he could continue. When he looked at you in near panic, you scoffed and shook your head slightly. “If you apologise to me again, I might scream.”

He looked shocked by your words, then nodded gravely. “I did not realise how often I was doing so. I ap… shit, no.” He shut his eye and heaved a great sigh. “I will endeavour to do so less in the future, though I cannot promise I will not have to, on occasion.” The corner of his mouth quirked in the shadow of a smile as he winced slightly. “We both know how often I have cause to.”

“That is acceptable,” you whispered, “thank you.”

Both of you smiled at each other, your gazes locked. The moment lingering a bit longer than it would have with a stranger or even a friend. Then Aemond turned back to the diaries and frowned.

“I don’t quite know…” he trailed off, shaking his head slightly. “Forgive me, but my first reply to your notes was to be an apology for the careless and mean-spirited remarks I made about the merits of embroidery. I don’t know what to say if I am forbidden to apologise.”

You blinked, unsure of what to say. Yet it pleased you greatly that he was taking your request that he stop apologising so seriously.

Aemond did not wait for you to give him an answer, speaking with both urgency and sincerity. “It was thoughtless of me to write what I did. I was exhausted by the day and unhappy with how my grandsire chose to conduct my betrothal and marriage. And admittedly, I know little about the craft, and therefore underestimated it.”

“I am touched by your words,” you whispered, flustered by the intensity with which he regarded you, as if whatever you said next held the power to either destroy him or build him higher. “Perhaps, instead of apologising, you could tell me how you intend to make amends?”

“Of course,” his face lit up when he realised you were not upset with him. “I… I will learn more about embroidery so that I may truly appreciate it. Could… would you be willing to teach me?”

Based on the moment of panic that you saw come over him, you knew your shock at the request was rather poorly concealed. Bashfully, Aemond looked away. “After seeing the beautiful things that you have created – or I assume you have, as they were in your rooms, and depicted your home and interests – I truly wish to understand how they are made.”

Gods, he was serious. He truly wanted you to teach him how to create embroidery! The very idea was so amusing you could not hide your smile. “That is a wonderful solution, Aemond,” you said with all the reassurance you could muster. “I look forward to seeing what beautiful things you will make.”

“Oh, I am certain that compared to you… I mean, your own works, my attempts will seem quite poor. Laughable, even.”

“Well, I have had many years of practice,” you replied, “and a true love of the craft. It gives me an advantage over you. Although having seen you fight, I believe you have great potential as an embroiderer.”

Aemond’s head tilted slightly. “I don’t understand how the two skills correlate.”

“You fight with precision,” you explained, feeling yourself flush at the memory of him in the training yard. “Your movements are controlled and exact. The same skills are required in embroidery.”

“Then perhaps learning embroidery will further improve my fighting skills,” he said, almost jokingly. But any hint of a smile faded quickly, and he ducked his head, looking up at you as he continued. “I… I would like it if you could continue to come and watch me. When I practice. Not every day if you don’t want to, but every few days? Only if it would interest you, of course.”

“It would interest me very much!” you said, probably too quickly. But you had thought about Aemond wielding his sword so many times in the days since you actually saw him, and you were eager to see it again – and more of it. Up close, preferably.

He blushed again, though he reined it in much faster this time and resumed his cool, almost bureaucratic demeanour. “As for your list of books – some I have read, some I have heard of, and others I know nothing about. I would like to sit down with you and discuss them all. We could do that now, if you’d like?”

“I appreciate the thought, but today, I think we have more important things to discuss?” Indeed, you hadn’t anticipated this much discussion. You hadn’t even thought he would want you to remain with him while he read. But here you sat, not in your own rooms, in a carriage on your way home, or – as you had half-hoped for – in a bed.

Every moment you spent with Aemond was another agonising moment you spent not knowing what would happen between you. You were so eager for an answer – a conclusion.

But it was only fair that Aemond be allowed to respond to your comments and questions, so you bit your lip and prepared for more. After all, your husband was quite thorough. That much was clear from his research.

“Indeed we do,” he said as he flipped over a page of his diary. “I would be more than happy to take you to the Grand Sept. The family attend service there instead of the Royal Sept at least once per moon turn, but we can certainly go sooner if you prefer. It wouldn’t have to be for a service. We could just… go.”

“Choose a day,” you said, “and I will be with you.”

“I can’t wait for you to see it,” Aemond said with a smile. “It is truly…”

“Grand?” you offered.

“Yes, it has been named well,” his smile grew wider. “I am beginning to think that I, too, need to create a list of all the times you’ve made me laugh.”

You cocked your head, perplexed. “But… you didn’t laugh.”

“Oh, um…” Aemond looked away and grimaced, tapping his pen against his diary several times. “I don’t, often, laugh. Not aloud, at least.” After a deep inhale, he faced you again. “I assure you though, I felt like laughing! But I will try to do so in future, so it will be easier to know when I am amused.”

“No, Aemond,” you chided softly. “I don’t want you to change yourself for me. Now that I know what you look like when you ‘feel like laughing,” I will be able to recognise it. And, based on how extensive my list was, I believe I will laugh aloud enough for the both of us.”

He flipped to the page where you had made your list – throughout reading his diary, you would often return and add onto it, until it took up most of the page. He stared at it for a long moment, running his fingers over the words as if he could feel them. “I am immensely glad to have made you laugh, for there is nothing I desire more than to see you happy.”

Heat spread over every inch of your skin as you flushed, both from his words and what you were about to say. “There is ‘nothing you desire more?’” You bit your lip as you pointed to his diary. “Some of your later entries suggest otherwise.”

Aemond’s flush quickly grew to match your own. “I… there are things I desire nearly as much, but your happiness remains the greatest of them all.”

You both stayed there for a long moment, blushing and smiling at each other. All the while, you willed your racing heart to calm and your burning skin to cool. But beneath Aemond’s gaze, there was no hope for either. He looked at you with not only a lustful hunger but with admiration, longing, and a kind of reverence that made you at once bashful and confident.

If you stayed that way for much longer, you felt as though you would combust.

“I believe you skipped ahead a few entries,” you said. Even the whisper sounded like a shout in the silence that had descended upon you.

“Indeed I have,” he half-laughed, returning the diary to where he had left off. “My ap… I will begin again in the proper place. Please, inform me if I stray again?”

“I will,” you assured, nearly laughing yourself.

His eye lingered on you for a moment before he actually began again. “I wish I had danced with you all night,” he said, his smile fading as he looked at your next note morosely. “It had been my plan, actually. But as you read, I feared that if I remained so close to you, looking as radiant as you did, I would have done something untoward and inappropriate. Worse, I feared doing something you would not want.”

He would not meet your eye, but still, you spoke. “I admit, had you started ravishing me on the dancefloor, I likely would have reacted poorly,” you said with sombre humour. Aemond didn’t acknowledge it. “But I wanted to dance with you, talk to you. To begin to understand the man with whom I would spend the rest of my life.”

Aemond pursed his lips, his lone eye blinking furiously.

“If you had kissed me then,” you continued, though you doubted it was a good idea, “I would have welcomed it.”

You swore you saw a flash of tears in his eye before hanging his head so low his face was hidden. “I swear to you that, from this moment on, I will dance with you whenever you want,” Aemond whispered, his voice low and crackling with emotion, “wherever we are, and whether we have music to accompany us or simply the rhythm of our own hearts.”

He raised his head to face you, his eye flicking back to the diary once before again fixing on you. “I also swear that you will never again fall asleep without my first wishing you goodnight. Even if we are parted and far from each other, I shall wish it upon the wind and pray that it carries my words to you.”

The vows settled on your heart with more weight and meaning than those he had sworn to you in the Sept. For these were not of words written by a Septon long ago and repeated by countless men and women in their own marriages. These vows were not shared – they were only for you.

It would only be proper for you to swear your own vows in return, but you did not know what to swear. Despite having read his diary, you did not know him so well as he knew you. Guilt threatened to overwhelm you, and you could only say a quiet thanks before signalling for him to continue.

You were silent for a while, offering only small smiles and nods as Aemond promised to not damage his finely made diary any further, told you that your wedding presents were being catalogued in the Royal Vault and would be returned to you soon, and that he had confirmed with Lord Jasper that Coryanne Wylde – his ancestor – was indeed the author of ‘A Caution for Young Girls.”

With each of his explanations, you only gave him half your focus, as the other half was occupied trying to figure out what you could swear to him. Perhaps that you would only ever wear nightclothes he found attractive?

For a moment, you were sure he could read your mind, as the moment after the thought came to you, he turned a page and began, “Your robe – ”

“What about it?” you asked, louder and more defensively than you originally intended.

Aemond stared at you, shocked by the sudden outburst. “I was going to say that I do not, in fact, hate it, I swear.”

“Oh,” you said, sinking slightly into your chair as your cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

“It is a very fine robe, well made and quite beautiful,” he continued, graciously ignoring your current state. “It just… it is so large that I feel as though you are hiding, and I don’t ever want you to hide from me. Or even feel like you must. I never meant to offend something you hold so dear.”

“Oh,” you said again. After correcting your posture to something decidedly more ladylike, you took a deep breath and gave an explanation of your own. “I wasn’t hiding, I promise. But that robe is one of the few things that makes me feel…” you struggled to find the right word. “Safe.”

Aemond’s face blanched, and while his eye hardened, his brow raised in concern. “The Red Keep – and the Holdfast especially – is the safest place in the realm, perhaps the world. No harm will come to you, I swear. I will – ”

You held up a hand to stop him, and despite his furore, he quieted at your command. “That’s not what I mean by ‘safe,’ Aemond.”

“Then I am afraid I don’t understand.”

With a sigh, you looked up at the ceiling, searching for a way to explain the complex feeling. “I don’t mean ‘safe’ in a physical way. I don’t fear that I will be harmed or killed. I mean safe in a… in my heart. Perhaps my soul too.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed, but he said nothing, so you continued. “Since my family has left, I have felt very alone – painfully so. I hardly know anyone here, nor do they know me.” At that, your husband seemed ready to protest, but you did not let him. “From reading your diary, I do believe you know me. Better than I would have ever thought in the short time we have known each other. But even then, I have seen you so little, and spoken to you even less.”

He nodded, “Another failing I must atone for.”

“Well, I suppose I could have approached you myself. But after our wedding night…” Aemond flinched at the reminder but remained silent. “I was confused. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t quite that. And I know some of it is my fault! Please don’t blame yourself entirely. Still, you never spoke to me, not at court or at dinners. You never asked to see me or even escort me back to my rooms after dinner. I thought I had disappointed you, but I could not summon the courage to ask you how.”

“I never meant to abandon you,” Aemond murmured, “I just didn’t want to frighten you further. I was trying to – ”

“I know,” you smiled, inclining your head toward the diaries. “I understand now. But my understanding does not mean that I do not wish we had both made different choices.”

“As you said in your apology,” he said, almost to himself. Silence fell over you as he turned the page and traced his finger over your words again. “The robe is your reminder of home, where you are safe and loved, not scared and dreading the life ahead of you.”

“Yes.”

“And in my idiocy, I took that from you.”

“It was a shared idiocy,” you mused, grateful when Aemond’s tense shoulders dropped at your forgiving tone. “You were very kind to me that day, and yet I took the first opportunity to assume the worst of you.”

“I am afraid I gave you ample cause to assume the worst of me.”

“Maybe so, but I won’t do it anymore,” you felt meek saying the words, like a child promising their parents to stop misbehaving.

But then Aemond smiled, his cheeks tinged with colour again, and under his warm gaze, you felt… safe. “And I will not give you any more cause to.”

You smiled back, holding a girlish giggle, the origin of which was unknown to you.

“That reminds me,” Aemond said with a wicked grin. He tapped your open diary once, twice. “I like it when you scrunch your nose because of the delicious contradiction. Such an unpleasant expression upon the loveliest of faces.”

You pouted, then immediately realised your mistake when his grin grew wider and moved to cover your now-scrunched nose with your hands. Aemond only laughed at your embarrassment. “I cannot decide whether that is a compliment or not,” you said, causing another round of laughter.

“I assure you, it is meant entirely as a compliment,” he assured, still coming down from his amusement. He took a deep breath and then went still. “None could ever insult your appearance, for they could find no faults. And if they did… I would assure they were properly punished.”

Your flush was so great you could feel its heat when you dropped your head into your hands. “I suppose I should ask, how fares the painter who made my miniature?”

Another grin, this one positively lupine. “He has not been harmed, but I doubt he will ever again be commissioned by the noble families. If he does not flee across the Narrow Sea, he will be fortunate to find any amongst the smallfolk who can pay him more than a silver piece for his work..”

Such a severe punishment, just for a painting that had not shown your beauty? You didn’t know whether to be horrified or flattered. Or impressed that he held such influence. Judging by the fluttering feeling that filled your chest, you knew you were flattered more than anything. And the look on Aemond’s face, a look of pure confidence and power, stirred such powerful desire within you that you had to grip the arms of your chair to stop yourself from planting yourself on his lap – precisely as he had written about.

Your hands remained clutched to the chair as Aemond told you that he would be more than happy to study Valyrian history with you, and that he did not pick all the dog roses from the garden, for those he left were promptly collected by the Maesters. He expressed his desire to visit your home, but with the caveat that you would protect him from your brothers. And he assured you that he would not take a vow of silence so that you could hear his voice whenever you wanted.

Finally, he came to your last reply.

He read it again, silently, and slower than you would have liked. Then, he faced you but kept his eye focused on the wall past your shoulder. “I do not know if this is correct,” he said, almost bashfully. “But, I find myself… glad? That you missed me. That you worried for me. I did not know you cared for me that much, or that you cared for me at all.”

“Honestly? Neither did I. Not until that night.” You reached across the table – a short distance which yet felt like the length of the world – and took Aemond’s hand. He gasped, and his hand twitched, but then he sighed in relief. It was almost like the sound he had made when he released his seed within you. The very thought of it made you tighten your grip. “But I do care about you, Aemond... husband.”

To what extent you did not know. But you were very close to finding out.

You did not know how long you stayed there, holding hands and saying nothing. Minutes, perhaps. Or hours. In either case, the sun was still up when Aemond suddenly dropped your hand and stood.

“There is… there is something else I should show you,” he said, stumbling over his words as he had the first few times he actually spoke to you. “If you truly want to know me.”

Though you felt a tinge of apprehension at his vague words and that you could not imagine what else there was for him to show you after giving you his diary. Still, you nodded. “I do – want to know you.”

He stood, his back rigid as he extended a hand toward you. “Come, I will call a wheelhouse to take us.”

“A wheelhouse? Where are we going?”

“To the edge of the Kingswood.” At the look of confusion on your face, he clarified, “It is where Vhagar resides.”

“Vhagar? Your dragon?” You took his hand and let him pull you up, your shock at his request momentarily replaced by the strength you felt in the motion – the same strength that had enraptured you in the training yard.

“Well, she is not my dragon,” he clarified. “It doesn’t work like that. There is no ownership one way or the other. It’s more like… a partnership. I am her rider, and she is my mount.”

It took you a moment to collect your thoughts as Aemond began to lead you – still holding your hand – out of his rooms. He whispered briefly to the first guard you saw, who immediately ran toward the stables. When you were alone, he turned to you. “It… might be cool. Would you like to fetch a cloak from your rooms?”

You did, and you didn’t. While you didn’t want to endure the cold, you couldn’t help but think about what would happen if you felt cold and didn’t have a cloak. Would Aemond offer you his or perhaps invite you to share his?

“Yes,” you answered breathlessly. “I would like that.”

He smiled and led you back to your rooms. So far from his own, yet with him leading you, the distance seemed to pass far faster than when you ran to him earlier that day.

Aemond stopped when you came to your door, lingering for a moment. “Would you… should I come in?” He turned to you with pleading eyes that you could tell he was trying to conceal. “I can remain outside if you wish it.”

He moved to drop your hand, but you held firm. “I would like you to come inside,” you said. “You know better than I what I will need, so I should like your assistance in selecting a cloak.”

Aemond gave you his fish look again, utterly dumbfounded. As if going into your dressing room was somehow more intimate than him fucking you. Fortunately, he regained his composure quickly and bowed his head. “Of course, whatever you wish.”

He opened the door and allowed you to lead him inside, past the couch where he had given you flowers, past the bedchamber where you had lain together, and into your dressing room. When you turned back to him, he was looking around as if he were just led into a room full of grand tapestries and works of art rather than clothes and shoes.

“What is it, Aemond?” you asked, suddenly worried that he may have seen something that offended him.

“It is just…” he laughed lightly before looking back to you, “I didn’t think anyone could actually fill their dressing room – especially not one this large.”

Though he smiled, you were yet filled with worry. “I promise I am not vain!” you pled, holding his hand to your chest. “My mother believes that a lady should always… and since I was to marry a prince, she – ”

You were silenced when Aemond pressed a kiss to your joined hands. “You have married a prince, and he does not think you vain, I swear. Actually, he is rather excited to see how beautiful you look in each and every item here.”

For a moment, you strongly considered leading him into the bedroom and leaving Vhagar for another day. But you had other plans for how you wanted that reunion to go. So, you reluctantly dropped his hand and pointed to the room’s far corner. “The cloaks are over there.”

Being a royal bride and one of only two daughters of a wealthy house meant that your trousseau was extraordinary. As such, you had more than a dozen cloaks, at least one for every colour of the rainbow.

Aemond went first to a black cloak – your warmest. While its wool was sparsely decorated, it was lined with the exquisite striped fur of a shadowcat. But after running his fingers once through the fur, Aemond pushed it aside.

He went next to a red cloak, intricately embroidered with gold and black dragonscale patterns (although the designs were somewhat abstract). It had been specially made when the match was announced, to honour the colours and sigil of your new house. But it, too, was rejected.

The green cloak – the one of dark emerald, not the light sage – was considered as well, longer than the other two. It was made from rich velvet and decorated with pearls. But Aemond let it behind, as well.

After quickly sorting through the next seven, he, at last, stopped to examine another. This one was made from a gentle pink jacquard, the pattern difficult to spot from a distance but absolutely lovely when near. The inside was lined with a light layer of undyed wool, and the edges with a thin strip of sable fur.

It was your favourite.

And it was the one Aemond chose.

“Wear this one,” he whispered as he brought it to you, holding it as though it was the most precious thing he’d ever held. “It suits you… very well.”

The flush on his cheeks gave you a rush of confidence, enough that you lifted your hair and turned around. Looking at Aemond over your shoulder, you dropped your eyes to the floor in a show of shyness. “Will you put it on me?”

Aemond’s gaze never left the skin of your exposed neck as he approached and laid the cloak over you with the gentlest whisper of a touch. He was close enough that you could hear his breathing quicken and feel the heat roiling off him. After the excessive amount of time he spent assuring that the cloak fell correctly, he finally stepped in front of you to fasten the front.

He tried, so very hard, to not look at your face as he did. But you caught every time his eye looked up at you – your eyes, your cheeks, your lips.

Kiss me, you willed silently, not yet brave enough to ask for it aloud.

The wish went unfulfilled. Once he had fastened the twin brooches of your cloak, Aemond smoothed it over once more, then offered you his hand. “The wheelhouse will be waiting for us,” he said.

You took his hand and let him lead you away.

The journey to the edge of the Kingswood passed quickly, the time filled with idle conversation about the city as you raced past it. You had questions about every statue, alleyway, and building; for the most part, Aemond had answers. The city’s history was inexorably tied to House Targaryen, and so he had taken it upon himself to learn everything there was to know about it.

It was enough to soothe your fears about meeting the largest dragon in the world. Until that is, you passed through the city gates, and the Kingswood appeared on the horizon.

“Why does Vhagar live in the forest?” you asked, peering through the curtains of the wheelhouse. “Why does she not live in the Dragonpit with the others?”

Aemond raised his brows proudly, “She has grown so large that she can no longer fit in the Dragonpit.”

The very idea was at once awesome and terrifying. You had seen the Dragonpit in the distance from your windows at the Red Keep and some dragons flying around it. That Vhagar could not even fit inside…

“So Maegor did not build it large enough? Even when he rode Balerion?”

“Well,” Aemond shrugged. “She could fit in the Dragonpit if it was necessary. But it would not be comfortable. It would stifle her. I do not want that.”

Just as he did not want you to be alone and trapped in the castle – enough that he would set you free of it if you asked. “You care for her very much, then?”

“I do, yes,” he answered, his eyes becoming contemplative while his lips still curled in a smile. “She is… I have told you that the relationship between dragon and rider is like a partnership, yes?”

“You have, yes.”

“It means that there must be understanding between the pair,” he explained. “Common ground, or even a shared soul. I know it may seem illogical or insane, but Vhagar understands me. She cannot speak it, but I know that she does. For most of my life, it has felt like she is the only one…” he trailed off as his eye came to rest once more upon you.

Until you, you could hear the words as well as if he had shouted them. Rather than a pit of fear, it created a warmth within you. Aemond understood you, and you were beginning to feel as if you understood him as well.

“Then I very much look forward to meeting her,” you replied. It was the truth, though you still possessed a healthy tinge of fear at meeting a dragon said to be now larger than Balerion had been during the conquest.

Aemond lifted the curtain from his window and looked back at you with an eager grin. “You will not have to wait much longer, my dear. We have arrived.”

When the porter opened the wheelhouse door, Aemond lept out. But you remained frozen in your seat. Had he not realised what he had just said?

“My dear.”

It has been said with such ease as though it was something he called you often. But that was the first time. Those two simple words had struck you like a thunderbolt and left you feeling as though you had run the distance from the castle for how fast your heart was racing.

After a moment, Aemond reappeared at the door, his arm extended to you. “Come,” he bade. “There is no reason to fear. She will not hurt you.”

You almost laughed at his misinterpretation of your state, but not wanting to explain the truth of it, you merely stood and took his arm. “Forgive me, but meeting a dragon is not an experience granted to many.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” he said, squeezing your arm and pulling you closer to him. “There never has been.”

“None of that now,” you begged. “That is all behind us. Let us just enjoy our new present.” You turned away from him, ending any argument he may have put forward.

You were expecting to be greeted by the sight of the great Vhagar, but all that was before you was the forest’s edge. A clearing of sorts, where the ground was tamped thoroughly flat, and nearly all the trees were missing their tips.

“Where is she?” you asked, surprised to find yourself disappointed that she was not there.

Aemond gently dropped your arm and stepped forward. “She must be off hunting. I will call her.” He walked to the edge of the clearing, then raised his hand to his lips and whistled louder than you had ever imagined a person could. “Vhagar! Māzīs va nykēlā !”

The forest fell silent once more, but he did not move to call again.

“Was that Valyrian?” You moved closer to him, but not all the way into the clearing. “The words you just said. ”

He turned back to you with an amused smile. “It was. It means ‘Come to me.’ That is how I call her back when she is away.”

You came even closer to him, your curiosity getting the better of you, until he was only a step ahead. “And she can hear you? Even if she is all the way across the Kingswood?”

“She can hear me if she is near enough,” he said as he held out his hand for you to take, “but the calling is more than just words. She can sense that I want her to come to me, even if she can’t hear me.”

“That is – ”

You were cut off by the loudest sound you had ever heard. A roar which seemed to shake the very foundation of the earth and the thunderous pounding of wings. Gods, how large were her wings to make such a sound?

Without realising it, you had thrown yourself into Aemond’s arms. Your face was pressed to his chest while your hands gripped the leather of his coat. He did not laugh or push you away. Of course he didn’t. He only wrapped his arms around you and whispered soothing reassurances.

It was so warm in his arms, and with the music of his calm, steady voice, you could have easily fallen asleep then and there.

That is, if the wingbeats weren’t coming nearer.

As the sound of them grew overwhelming, then stopped, you allowed Aemond to turn you to face none other than Vhagar, Queen of All Dragons.

She was enormous.

Her body filled the clearing entirely, her tail snaking through the trees beyond until the end of it – some 100 feet away- wrapped around the broad trunk of a great oak. You followed the tail up, over aged green scales that climbed higher and higher until you were looking at a torso taller than the two-story cottage your grandmother lived in. And though her wings were tucked in to allow her to fit in the clearing, you could easily guess that they measured even longer than her body when extended.

Even her head was so large that you had to turn your neck up to see her eyes – bright orange eyes that glowed like a roaring fire as they looked down upon you. Her lip curled as she rumbled a low growl, revealing teeth as long as your forearm, and you stepped back into Aemond’s chest.

“Lykirī, Vhagar,” he commanded, wrapping one arm protectively around your waist. “Dohaeras.” You could feel his hair shift against your back as he turned his head to look at you. “Ziry ñuhon ābrazȳrys issa.”

Vhagar ended her growl but continued baring her teeth as she tilted her head to better examine you. After a moment, she narrowed her eyes at Aemond.

“Ziry sepār nyke izūgilen issa daor,” he said with a distinctly reassuring tone. “Nyke jorrāelan zirȳla. Olvie nyke jorrāelan zirȳla.”

Finally, the dragon hid her terrifying teeth and, with a huff of steam from her nostrils, extended her neck to come closer to you.

“Aemond…” you whispered, near cowering as Vhagar came close enough for you to smell the brimstone on her breath.

“It’s alright,” he replied. His lithe fingers began to trace lines up and down your sides. Whether it was as a distraction or a comfort, you did not know. “She just wants to get your scent, so she can know you better.”

You tried to calm yourself, not wanting Vhagar to smell your fear – if that was something a dragon could smell. When she finally brought her snout almost to touching you before sniffing, each inhale sucking all the heat out of the air around you. After a moment, she withdrew slightly and made a noise that, had you not been merely thankful she hadn’t eaten you, you would have described it as a purr.

“She likes you,” Aemond said into your ear, pride dripping from each word. “She likes you very much. Would you like to pet her?”

A nervous laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “You want me to pet a dragon? Like she is a dog.”

“She enjoys it, I promise.” He lifted his hand from your side to take yours and guided it to the scales between her nostrils. “This is her favourite place. That’s it. You don’t have to scratch, just stroke her scales – be sure to follow their natural direction. She won’t like it if you tug on them.”

Vhagar continued to purr as you stroked her scales, only making contact with the downward motion. Your smile grew so wide your cheeks ached, and you could not help but laugh. “She’s like an old cat! A very big old cat.”

Aemond laughed with you, again hugging you to him as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Be glad she can’t understand you, for she is a very grumpy big old cat.”

“I feel almost foolish to have been afraid,” you confessed as you ever so slightly bumped your head against his.

“We like to keep people – most people – afraid of the dragons. It makes them a more effective deterrent.” He nuzzled into you and sighed happily. “But I am glad you are not afraid. Would you like to ride her?”

“What?” You froze, looking up at Vhagar’s saddle high above you and the sky even higher still. “I, uh…”

Aemond shushed your frantic attempt to find words. “If you don’t want to, I won’t force you. It is a unique thrill to fly, but I understand it is not for everyone.”

You turned in his arms. “I would like to, eventually. But today, I believe I have already used all my bravery.”

Well, not all of it. But you only just had enough left to get you through your plans for the night, and you were determined to keep it.

“Then we shall return to the Keep,” he said, not a hint of disappointment on his face, “and wait for a day when your bravery has returned. It is approaching sunset, and I will be expected at dinner.”

You nodded, and Aemond said a farewell to Vhagar in Valyrian before leading you back to the wheelhouse. The two of you rode in comfortable silence back to the castle, until he again helped you out.

“I would like to come to dinner with you,” you told him as you walked through the doors of the Red Keep. “And then, after dinner, I would like you to wait an hour and then come to my rooms.”

Aemond blanched, then flushed, then let out a shaky exhale. “Of course,” he breathed, “whatever you want, my dear.”

When Aemond arrived in your chambers after dinner – during which he nearly jumped out of his chair each time you spoke or laid your hand on his thigh – you were sitting at the vanity, finishing with your hair. He puttered around in the solar for a moment before coming into the bedchamber, where he looked first to the bed and, upon not finding you there, began to glance around the rest of the room. When he finally turned your way, you met his eyes through the mirror and gave him an overly innocent grin as he took in your attire.

“I… what…?” His babbling continued for a moment before he quieted. For a long while, he just stared at you with an open mouth and a wide eye. He only composed himself again when you stood and approached him, stopping just before you were in arm’s reach of each other. “What are you wearing?”

“Don’t you like it?” You asked with a mischievous pout, glancing down to survey yourself. “You liked it well enough the first time you saw it.”

It took a moment for your words to sink in. You saw the moment he finally heard your words and immediately began to fumble over a reply. “Of course I like it! I more than like it, I adore it. You must know that I do. I just… why this?”

You took two steps forward, until you were close enough that Aemond had to look down to meet your eyes, and you had to look up to see his. Teasingly, you ran a hand over the neckline of your gown, across each pearl and jewel that adorned it. “I thought since you didn’t like my favourite nightclothes, I needed to find something else to entice you. This seemed a good option.”

Aemond murmured something so softly you couldn’t hear it, even as close as you were.

Another step had you standing chest to chest with your husband. You could feel him struggling to calm his breathing as he looked at you, entirely captivated and at your mercy.

Standing on your tiptoes so you could press your cheek to his, you took a moment to smile at the way his breath caught at the contact, and his hand hovered just above your waist, still unsure if he really could touch you. Then, you whispered gently in his ear, “I know you had plans to take this off me yourself, so I thought I’d give you the chance.”

Without giving him a moment to respond, you took several steps back to allow him the best possible view of your wedding gown.

Your maids had been perplexed when you asked that they retrieve it so you could wear it tonight, but they had not argued. Their only complaint was that it was not possible to replicate the braid from your wedding day in such a short amount of time. So, they simply arranged it as nicely as they could before the deadline you gave them and tucked each of the gold and pearl pins you had worn then back into the braids and curls.

With only a few minor differences, you looked precisely as you did on your wedding night.

But now you weren’t afraid of what Aemond would do. Now, you were eager to find out.

“I, uh…” he wrung his hands together as he stepped forward. “I believe we should begin with your hair.”

“Very well.” You flounced over to the vanity and retook your seat, watching him through the mirror as he cautiously approached.

He lifted a shaky hand and ran his hand slowly over the braids. “How do I begin?”

“Start by removing the pins, then brush out the braids.”

“And how many pins are there?”

“Forty-seven,” you answered smugly.

Aemond’s eyes went wide, “That many?”

“Why do you think it takes women so long to dress in the mornings? And undress at night?”

He laughed slightly, then took one of the pearl-tipped pearls between his fingers and gently pulled it out.

On your wedding day, you had thought the pins inordinately large. But seeing one in Aemond’s hands – his very large hands, they seemed miniscule.

“That’s one,” he said, depositing the pin on the surface of the vanity.

With each pin he removed, he kept count and laid each one in a perfectly straight line. But you could not be too amused by it, for each time you were, his hand would brush your neck, cup your head, or tangle into your hair. It had never felt like this when your maids tended to you.

Aemond was a dragon, and his touch was fire.

Each passing brush of his fingers burned within you, building into a raging fire or desire. By the time he finished, and laid the forty-seventh pin on the table, you were well flushed and practically panting. And as he looked to you for further direction, he could see it all. Your only consolation was that he looked as ragged as you.

“Now comb through the braids with your fingers to separate them,” you instructed. You did have a wide-toothed comb specifically meant for separating braids, but you were certainly not going to pass up the opportunity to have his hands in your hair again.

He reached for the first braid – the largest – and hooked his fingers into its base. “Please, tell me if I hurt you.”

“You won’t. I know it.”

“Your confidence is all I need,” he laughed, and began to pull his hand away. The braid spilt past his fingers with an ease you had rarely been fortunate enough to see before. So did the next, and the next, until your hair was once more free to spill down your back.

“Now I brush it?” Aemond asked, reaching for the silver-backed brush on the vanity.

But you stood before he could reach it, turning to him and pushing him slightly away. “You did well enough with your fingers that brushing is unnecessary. And… I know you are eager.” You had felt the hard evidence of it against your back as he stood behind you.

“I am,” he said, “but there are other things I must do first.” He cupped your face gently, his thumb slowly swiping over your cheekbone. His eye was focused solely on your lips but filled with apprehension. And as you watched the slight pursing of his mouth, the tightening of his jaw, and the slightest furrow of his brow, you were confident that you understood exactly what he was thinking.

Funny, he had been reading your thoughts for so long. Now, it seemed you had finally caught up with him.

“You don’t have to ask,” you whispered. “You may kiss me – I want you to kiss me.”

There was a flash of elated surprise, followed by a moment of anxiety, fueled by his desperate desire that tonight not be like before. The last time he had done this, you had shied away from him, asked that he not do the one thing he had been most desperate to do.

You could read it all on his face as clearly as the words in his diary.

So, you decided to ease his anxieties yourself. Seizing the lapels of his doublet, you pulled him down to you and kissed him.

It was far from perfect. You had been overzealous and pulled him with too much force, causing your teeth to clash together as your lips connected.

Neither of you was deterred. Aemond’s hand wrapped around the back of your neck, holding you steady as he kissed, and kissed, and kissed you.

It was like you were dancing – he led, and you followed. When he pressed forward, you allowed him to do so, leaning back to give him the room he needed while still holding him close. When he softly urged your lips to part with his tongue, you offered no resistance. And when he slid one arm around your waist to pull you flush against him, you ran your hand up his chest and into his hair, tugging slightly as you tried to draw him ever closer.

At that, Aemond moaned.

Instinctively, you pulled back, breaking the kiss. It was probably due to end soon anyways – both of you were panting and out of breath.

“What happened?” he asked, his face flashing between confusion and hurt. “What did I do wrong?”

“You did nothing wrong. I did!” You ran your hand out of his hair and held it up as though he could see the evidence upon it. “I hurt you; I apologise.”

Aemond smiled broadly and pulled you in for another kiss. “You did not hurt me,” he whispered when he pulled back. “I made that sound because I enjoyed it.”

“Oh!”

“I assure you,” he said as he guided your hand back into his hair, “you have my enthusiastic permission to continue.” Then he pulled you back in and kissed you again, and again, and again.

You decided that you very much liked kissing your husband, even when he slipped his tongue into your mouth. It was not the most pleasant of sensations for you but one you were willing to become accustomed to so long as it brought him pleasure.

It would have been very easy to stay like that all night, but you had endured putting this complicated gown on again for a reason – for Aemond.

So, with no minor difficulty, you pulled away from him, smiling when he moved to follow you.

“No, no,” you scolded playfully. “Before we continue, I insist you help me out of my dress.”

“Of course,” he answered, his voice nearly breaking with desperation. “Anything you ask of me, I will do.”

You turned slowly away from him and lifted your hair over one shoulder, exposing the lacing on the back of the gown. “Then I ask that you untie me, husband.”

He said nothing, but you felt him approach. Felt the heat of him just behind you and the ghost of his fingers at the base of your neck. You felt the light pressure as he gripped the white satin ribbon with one hand but not the other…

The other he wound around your waist to pull you closer, so that he could plant a chaste kiss against the side of your neck. You shivered at the sensation – the warmth slowly fading as he pulled back.

“I know we are both impatient,” he murmured against your skin, “but I want to savour this moment. Please, allow me to take my time.”

You raised an arm to draw him back to your lips. This kiss was not as hungry as the others. It was soft, sweet, and slow. “Take however long you need, Aemond. I am not going anywhere.”

And take his time he did. With every eyelet he unlaced, he kissed your neck again. As he lowered the sleeves one at a time, he kissed a path from your shoulder to your hands. When he untied your stockings, he rubbed the same soothing circles on your thighs that had once made you desperate for his touch.

Then suddenly, you were only in your shift, the chill of the night air prickling against your skin.

Aemond stood and began to fiddle with the hem of your sleeve. “If you don’t want… If you want to keep this on, I won’t mind.”

“I want this, I promise,” you guided his hand away from the sleeve and down toward the hem, ensuring he came quite close to the space between your thighs. “It’s easier to remove from the bottom.”

He seized the hem and lifted, before pressing his forehead to yours and kissing you again. “I love you. And I ask that you only say it back should you really, truly mean it. With all your heart.”

You knew he wanted to hear it, despite his words. His eye was too pleading, too filled with hope. And though you wanted to say it, just to make him happy, you couldn’t. Not will all your heart, at least. Aemond deserved for it to be true.

So instead, you kissed him, lacing your fingers with his to finally remove the shift and bare yourself to him.

If he minded the diversion, he did not say. In fact, given that you then watched his eye dilate as he looked down at your body, you were fairly confident that he didn’t mind at all. And you were very confident that he loved your breasts, as they were where his gaze always returned to.

“May I…?” he asked breathlessly, his hand floating just above your heart. But at this moment, it was not your heart he wanted, but what lay just beneath it.

Aemond didn’t hesitate to cup your breast in his large hand, covering it completely. Though his touch was warm, your nipples went taut as he slowly massaged one breast, then the other. He tested several different ways of holding them, of applying pressure to them, and even experimented with pinching your peaked nipples – for which you quickly put a limit on how tightly he could do so.

After a moment, he licked his lips and looked up at you for permission. A nod was all he needed to bend down and take your breast into his mouth, laying sloppy kisses all over their surface before rolling his tongue lazily over your nipples.

You had enjoyed all his ministration thus far, but that?

That had your head lolling back as you moaned his name, a moan you were not given the chance to finish before his mouth was again on yours – possessive and wanting.

“Get on the bed,” he panted, a far more passionate entreaty than it had been on your wedding night, and you were far more confident.

You resisted his attempts to pull you closer to the bed, and when he leaned in to try and ply you with more kisses, you countered by nipping the tip of his nose – lightly, but hard enough to get his attention.

“Please,” he begged, ‘please get on the bed.”

“I will, Aemond.” He whined at the breathy way you said his name, tightening his grip on your hips. “First, let me remove your clothes.”

His eye was so dilated you could hardly see any purple and more than half-lidded with lust, but he obeyed, taking a single step away after giving your soft flesh a little squeeze. “Start with the belt, then the doublet, then – ”

“I am fairly confident I can figure out how to remove your clothes,” you teased. Though it soon became clear your confidence was unfounded.

Just undoing the knot on his belt took far longer than you expected. He only laughed when you frustratedly asked why he needed to knot his belt when it already had a perfectly good buckle. Fortunately, the buckles on his doublet were far simpler, though they were small enough to still delay you.

When at last you were able to throw the damned doublet and belt aside, you took your frustrations out on his neck, kissing it with such enthusiasm that you nearly pushed him over. After that display of lust, Aemond was quick to assist you with his shirt and trousers.

The moment he was as bare as you, he tried to pull you onto the bed, but again, you resisted. You had only once seen him nude, but you had not been in the mood to admire his form then. Now, you were mesmerised by the sight before you.

A long neck leading to powerful shoulders, long arms that ended in long fingers, a long, lithe torso with many divots you longed to explore, and long, slender legs corded with muscle. Every single part of him was long. Especially…

“In your diagrams, you only included the female anatomy,” you mused as you approached him, eyes locked on his flushed, hard cock. “I feel I am at a significant disadvantage, since I don’t know – ” You shrieked as Aemond grabbed you by the waist and carried you to the bed, depositing you squarely in the middle before crawling over you and peppering your face with tender kisses.

“Believe me, it is far simpler with men,” he laughed as he descended down your chest. “I doubt you will need any formal instruction.”

Formulating a witty enough response was nearly impossible as he trailed his mouth down and down. Between your breasts, over your stomach, and then –

Then nothing. Aemond sat between your spread legs, lifting your hips to rest slightly on his knees. The grin he flashed was nothing short of pure evil. He held your gaze as he took his thumb briefly into your mouth before bringing it down to that little button at the top of your sex, only long enough to bring you a moment of pleasure before he slipped it further down to part your slick folds.

“Gods,” he sighed, swiping his thumb over your entrance to collect as much fluid as he could before bringing it back to circle your pearl agonisingly slowly. “I’d hoped you’d be wet, but… I never expected this.”

You bucked your hips, trying to get him to go faster, press harder, something. Until now, you had only ever had the briefest tastes of pleasure, but now you craved more. You craved him.

“Please, Aemond!” you squealed as he finally pressed his thumb down harder.

“Give me a moment, my dear,” he said smugly. “I thought it would take longer to get you to this point. I’m having to reassess my plan.”

“Fuck your plan!” you shouted, more helplessly than you intended, judging by Aemond’s answering laugh. “Please, just do something – anything!”

“I am doing something!” he countered, emphasising his point by quickening his movements. “And it looks to me as though you’re enjoying it.”

Damn it, you were. But still, it wasn’t enough. You squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back against the pillow, moaning incoherently.

“Oh, my poor darling,” Aemond cooed, “you really are desperate, aren’t you?”

You felt tears prickle in your eyes as you nodded furiously, only managing to again say “please.”

He slowed his thumb to a stop and crawled back over you, until your faces were level. “Open your eyes, love.” You obeyed, and were rewarded with a soft kiss on your forehead. “Good girl. I’m going to give you more now, but you must promise that if it hurts or if it gets to be too much, you must tell me. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” you squeaked pathetically.

Aemond kissed you one last time before he retook his position between your legs, once more gathering your slick on his pointer finger before slowly – so, so slowly – pushing it inside you. It was a different feeling from his cock; not quite as pleasurable, but the discomfort on entry was far less.

“Is that alright?” he asked, and you nodded. “I’m going to move it now. Please tell me when I’ve found the correct spot.”

You didn’t have a chance to respond before he crooked his finger and found that ‘spot.’ The one he wrote about in his diary, the one that brought nearly the same pleasure as your pearl.

Aemond’s studying has undoubtedly paid off.

Your back arched so dramatically that he had to anchor you to the bed with his free hand on your hip. “There it is,” he crooned, utterly prideful, “do you want me to keep going?” You answered with a slew of yeses that blended into a happy hissing sound, then turned into a loud moan as he inserted another finger into you, crooking it along with the other to massage that magical little spot. “You’re doing so well, my love.”

You were too engulfed in your pleasure that you hardly even noticed the new term of endearment. All you knew was his fingers inside you, stoking a fire that burned brighter, brighter, brighter.

Everything felt hot, and soon a sheen of sweat covered your skin. You took a deep breath, angling your hips almost unconsciously, but in a way that somehow heightened your pleasure enough for your body to shake. There was tension in every muscle, a delightful tension that had you clenching your fists in the sheets and curling your toes to try and relieve. It built and built, focusing on where Aemond was touching you, where his fingers went in and out and pressed and stroked.

It was too much. Your body couldn’t possibly endure this. This was where you had always stopped when you were exploring on your own – this was past that point, and Aemond was only taking you further and further.

“Aemond, please,” you begged. What for, you didn’t know. You didn’t want him to stop, but you were afraid to discover what would happen next.

He sped his movements, watching your face with a heart-stopping intensity in his eye. “Don’t hold it in, love,” he said, splaying his free hand across your stomach. “Give into it, let it go, release.”

The word may well have been a command, for the moment he finished speaking, you let go. Lightning coursed through you, and all your limbs froze and went numb for a moment that felt like it lasted a whole year. The tension dissipated, and all of a sudden you could breathe again, feel again, think again.

“Was that…?”

Aemond’s thumb stroked your belly, the delicate touch making you realise that he had removed his fingers from you and now held them just before his lips. “It was your peak, my love.” Never looking away from you, he took the fingers that were inside you into his mouth, sucking on them as if they were the sweetest candied lemons. “Forgive me, but I think I’d like another.”

It happened so quickly. One moment, he was kneeling between your legs. The next, Aemond had pushed you further up the bed so he could lay on his stomach and drape your legs over his shoulders, his hands holding your rear as he pulled you up until your cunt was pressed to his mouth.

Your hands flew into his hair, simultaneously tugging at it and yet trying to pull him closer. His tongue was surely some kind of miracle. How else would it feel so wonderful as he licked up every drop of moisture between your thighs before pressing into your core?

More miraculous still was his nose, for every time he pushed deeper, it pressed against your pearl, rubbed against it each time he angled his head. He quickly noticed what, exactly, was driving you wild, and took to shaking his head back and forth to make you scream – and scream you did.

“Gods, Aemond, please!” You cried as the delicious tension returned, still crackling with electricity. This was far more intense than his fingers had been, and far faster to take you to that place where you had nearly no control over your own body.

Nearly no control. Some instinct deep within you, which had no purpose but to seek animalistic pleasure, took hold of you. Your hand in his hair tightened so hard he again moaned, sending vibrations through you that nearly pushed you over the edge of your pleasure. But what finally sent you tumbling over was when he allowed you to pull him up until his lips latched around your pearl, and after several long, lingering licks of his tongue, he hummed, and you screamed anew.

When you opened your eyes again, Aemond was once more hovering above you, looking at you as though your reddened, sweaty face was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. You were certain that guards would come streaming into the chambers at the sound, swords drawn, but none did. It was still only you and your husband. He seemed entirely content, but when you glanced down at his cock, you found it so flushed that you were sure it hurt.

“I should…” your voice faded as you reached down to touch the heavy length of him. “I don’t know how, but you could show me.”

Aemond smiled softly, his half-lidded eye seeming to glaze over for a moment. “Another time, I would like nothing more. But tonight…” He leaned down to press a slow, lust-filled kiss to your swollen lips and rested his forehead against yours when he finally withdrew. “Please don’t make me wait any longer, my love.”

Eagerly, you nodded. You were absolutely resolved to learn how to pleasure him – with your hands and mouth–. Still, it seemed a daunting task, and your body was aching to find out what Aemond could do once he was inside you.

So, you did not argue as he reached down to align himself with your entrance. But he did not yet push forward. Supporting himself with one arm, he gave you another short kiss and stroked your hair.

“I promise,” he whispered, “it will be better this time.”

You leaned into his touch and shifted your hips to try and draw him closer. When Aemond hesitated again, you looked into his eye and raised a hand to cup his cheek. “I know it will. Now please, I don’t want to wait either.”

Then he buried himself inside you in one powerful thrust.

There was still a slight pinch of uncomfortable pressure at the start, but it did not last long. And compared to the pleasure it brought you, it was entirely inconsequential. You felt full in the most wonderful way, as if you had been missing something your whole life and finally found it. Warm, like he had lit a fire within you that would burn for the rest of your days. Safe, as though nothing could ever harm you again.

You felt right.

During that moment of stillness, where you both adjusted to the feeling of joining, you buried your face in Aemond’s neck. There was nothing but him, his silver hair blocking the rest of the world from view as his scent enveloped you. Perhaps you could just stay like this forever. That was a delightful thought. You nuzzled further into him as you let out a sigh of contentment.

Aemond tensed and whispered your name. “Does it hurt? Did I not prepare you well enough?”

“No,” you replied, still not pulling away. As the desperate need for even more closeness began to well up in your chest, you wrapped the hand that was cupping his cheek around his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin for how tightly you held him. “It just… it feels – you feel amazing. I wish it had always felt like this.”

“It will now,” Aemond replied, turning to place a kiss atop your head. He, too, sought to bring you closer. He brought his hand down to your waist and pulled you up so that your chests met and moved together as you breathed together. “I promise it will always feel this good. Perhaps better, once we practice a little more.”

“Oh yes!” you squeaked, finally dropping your head back to the pillow so you could look at him. “Let’s do lots of practice!”

With a laugh, he raised his brows in mock questioning. “Might I suggest we start now?”

Words escaped you for a moment, and all you could do was nod vigorously, like a child that had just been offered a whole tray of cakes. Your agreement and excitement seemed to delight Aemond, causing him to smile so wide his eyes crinkled. You instantly decided that you wanted to see that smile every day. Every hour. Every minute. For that smile was brighter than the sun itself.

“Put your legs around me, love,” he instructed, curling his hand around your thigh to guide you. Once you were positioned exactly how he wanted you, he pulled himself slightly closer to the headboard and leaned in for one last kiss, stopping just above your lips. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you breathed against him, “so very ready.”

Aemond stayed in your bed all night, continuing to pleasure you until it was all you could do to keep your eyes open. Then, he stroked your hair while assuring you he was not leaving, which did not calm your panic when he got out of bed. But he soon returned, carrying a carafe of water and a damp towel. He murmured praises in your ear as he cleaned you and then himself, and commanded that you drink at least one full glass of water before you fell asleep.

You obeyed and afterwards fell asleep tucked into his chest. The next morning, you did not remember your last words to your husband before you drifted off, but he certainly did.

“I’m sorry I can’t say I love you,” you’d whispered, only half-awake, “but if you give me some time, I’m sure I can.”

Those words echoed through his mind as he slept, dreaming of a life where he would not have to walk halfway across the castle to reach his separate rooms. Where he could sleep like this, with his arms around you, every night. Where when he told you he loved you, you would respond in kind.

A dream he hoped he could live very soon. But until then, he would give you all the time you needed.

Waking from that dream was nearly a nightmare in itself, until he looked over and saw you still in his arms, still fast asleep. Your hair was a mess, and your nose was scrunched as you dreamed, but he loved every bit of it. He told you as much when you finally awoke.

When you insisted on following him to his rooms so you could attend the morning meal together, he did not protest. He loved watching you look around each chamber, your mind racing as you imagined how you would decorate the blank walls. He loved that, too.

What he did not love was that when you walked into the dining room, hand in hand, Aegon instantly perked up in his chair. His eyes darted between you and Aemond with dizzying speed before he raised his brows and mouthed, “Did she come?”

Aemond only glared at him, but you smiled and nodded, then held up seven fingers.

Begrudgingly, he loved that, too.

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wisheslost · 4 months

Text

The white-eye warbles, the camellia blooms.

As a writer of Yae Publishing House, you have to visit the shrine for work purposes quite often— and it is on these shrine visits that you came to be even more acquainted with the yashiro commissioner, of whom you were previously known to only as that writer he had bumped into at the Irodori festival, in his sister's words; the most cliché way possible.

cw : mutual pining, friends/strangers to lovers, fluff, reader gets screamed at but its fine its not by ayato, no use of y/n, reader is technically an oc but is never referred to with a name. pls lmk if I should add more!

a/n : ive been meaning to post this but i kept stalling😭 sorry

wc : 5.4k

Kamisato Ayato is a smart man. The revered head of the Kamisato clan knows all there is to know about what's going on amidst the different commissions in Inazuma, but not a single clue does he have about the feelings you harbour for him, and who knows when he will?

You seldom had the opportunity to go to the shrine, and so, everytime you came down from the shrine, everytime you hurriedly made your way through Chinju forest, you did with the same intention in mind— to see Ayato. It didn't matter if he didn't notice you, just a glimpse of his face made your day better.

One of these very days, Ayato saw you pass, and much to your surprise, invited you in to have tea. In an attempt to be polite, and since you were done with work at the time, you accepted his sweet offer.

And so it continued — each time someone of the estate saw you passing by, they'd invite you in and offer you tea, while you tried your best to decline most of the time, sometimes it was just… not doable. Convincing Thoma was a hard job, but to persuade Miss Furuta to let you go was even more difficult.

Now, Ayato wasn't always there, sometimes he was out for a meeting or was doing work in his chamber ( the same chamber you found yourself too unimportant to enter, the chamber that felt almost suffocating to you the one time you went in there. ) but even when he was, if he heard of you having came, he'd offer you to tea with the condition that you had to wait till his work was done. You loved his company, so who were you to deny it?

And perhaps that love you had for the time you spent with him turned into the love you had for him.

You two weren't strangers. No, not at all. You bumped into each other during last year's Irodori festival, and in the most clichesque way ever, all your documents had fallen down, and being the gentleman he was, Ayato helped you pick them up ( obviously !).

Ayato found himself writing you a letter ever so often, and your reply to it that laid there among his official documents was the last to be opened of the day—but not the least, no, it was a way for him to conclude his day positively, or so he had told you. And as you two grew closer, you only found it easier to share your work with him, snippets of something you wrote that you were somewhat proud of , but that didn't make it into the published version of the story, a verse from a poem you gave up on writing, anything you thought he would like— you sent him, and eagerly waited for his reply.

You'd read him some of your poetry time to time— each time you came by his castle of a house, and each time he simply stared at you until you finished, and would then ask you why you used a certain metaphor to describe a certain thing, to which you'd happily answer, or commend you for having thought of something in such a different way, and at the end, he'd pass a rather funny comment, even if unintentionally, such as one like "I want this framed on my wall." to which you could do nothing but laugh, while he simply gazed at the beauty the sky harboured, seemingly deep in thought. Why he always did that, you did not know, and you could only wonder, what exactly did he think of each time?

Is showing your unpublished work to someone outside the Yae Publishing House breach of contract? No... Well, not exactly. You had agreed to abstaining from showing anyone anything that has to do with your unpublished literary pieces, but you knew the publishing house wasn't ever going to publish the poems you wrote on your own. They would say things like the topic's too vague, the metaphors don't make sense, and that the writing didn't flow, whatever that meant. So, what you wrote for the publishing house was what they demanded from you— quite different than what you actually wrote. Alas, they don’t understand your words when they're not catered to them. But it's fine, Ayato did, and what more could you ask for?

Actually, if given the chance, you would definitely ask for something more.

Kamisato Ayato understood social cues quite well, or atleast one would think he would, as that was a big part of his duty. So why he couldn't comprehend your feelings for him, was a mystery to you. But I guess understanding if someone likes you or not isn't really something listed in the skillset a Yashiro commissioner requires.

Now, what he could and couldn't understand was not your problem, and would no longer be, not after you confess your feelings to him. You figured it would be easier to do if you just played it out like one of your usual interactions, and so you wrote a poem. A poem you'd innocently read out to him one of those days you happen to stumble upon his house, and with it, he'd finally understand. Finally understand you liked him.

Something else popped up. A question much unappreciated. The worst outcome possible. “But what if he didn't like you back?” Well the poem isn't even for him then! It's from the point of view of one of my original characters— yes, that excuse is good enough.

But then the day finally arrived, you were finally there, sitting in Kamisato Estate's courtyard eagerly waiting for Ayato to be done with his meeting that had started just as you came, it was not often Ayato had meetings in his chamber, so it seems you just happened to have bad luck today. Sitting on the cushion, waiting for Ayato to be done, you found yourself making multiple revisions to that poem of yours, and in the middle of that, you were suddenly reminded of the meeting at Yae Publishing House you had this evening, but the thought soon slipped your mind as you thought of another line for the poem.

He had promised it would not take too long, but one hour had gone by just like that, and before you knew it, you were barely keeping awake, you couldn't help it, running on 2 hours of sleep from having worked all night, your mind was starting to shut down. Resting your head on the table was probably the first mistake you made that day— but one could argue there were plenty other mistakes made before that, such as not having slept in the first place.

You usually came to meet Ayato around the evening, not only because his workload was lighter that time of the day but also because the publishing house's important meetings and discussions of the sort were held most often, if not all the time, early in the day. And that was precisely why you had forgotten about that meeting you had this evening. Was it the two hours of sleep or the anxiety from the whole confession thing? whatever it was, it was just making your day harder and harder.

It had been an hour and a half since you arrived at Kamisato Estate, the hour spent waiting and scribbling, and the half spent peacefully sleeping as no one bothered to wake you up. It wasn't that the staff of the estate couldn't care less about you, in fact, everyone around noticed you having succumbed to slumber. But who dare to awaken you, Clan Head's possible significant other?

It's true that Ayato was unbeknownst to your feelings towards him, but those at Kamisato Estate weren't. It was easy to tell you had a thing for him, much too obvious that every time you saw him in the eye your heart skipped a beat, and practically every one of the estate's staff thought you two were together, and just trying to hide it. To them, the way you looked at Ayato, was the way he looked at you. His, a loving gaze that never lets go of your frame, and a soul that so desperately wants to tell the whole world how much he loves you(— but hell, he couldn't even fathom telling you) and Yours, a stare that quickly tries to focus on something else when noticed by him, a heart too heavy with emotions— emotions that cannot find their way through speech, and are expressed only through words.

And that serene and loving gaze was the first thing you saw being woken up, because in that whole house, no one except Clan Head himself would have the courage to wake you up.

It's not until Ayato's voice echoes in your ears accompanied by the faint pitter-patter of the rain that you realise your noses are barely inches away from touching as he knelt down to your level.

“Oh, my writer, it seems you've slept most wonderfully in my absence, and on Thoma's jacket, huh?” his tone had a bit of sneer in it, as if he was jealous of the fact you had used Thoma's jacket as a pillow. And there was that— “my writer”, it stemmed from an inside joke, wherein once when he was transcribing a poem you wrote, you called him ‘my personal calligrapher’ which warranted the “That would make you my writer, hm?” and you knew it was a joke but goodness, he called you that only when people weren't around, and the way he said it everytime, Oh Archons!

But wait— You weren't supposed to be swooning over Ayato right now! You should be at the publishing house, attending that meeting— and so you rose up frantically to leave, apologies leaving your mouth rapidly,

“Lord Commissioner, I'm so sorry but I must go, I had an important work thing and I- I'm sorry! I should hav-'' and that is when you get cut off by Ayato's forefinger upon your lips, if that was an attempt to shush you- it worked. “Just go. I understand.” he said, and the reassurance in his voice and the slight smile on his face brought you right back to your senses.

And so you hurriedly put on your shoes to make a run for it, uttering one final ‘sorry’ to him, much to his dismay. And as you made it out the door of the estate, you heard Ayato's voice calling to you- “Take an umbrella!” to which you could only respond— “I'll be fine! The rain's not that bad!” because right now, saving face at the publishing house was far more important than a few drops on your clothes.

Except it wasn't a few drops, you had greatly underestimated the power of the Hydro Archon, because by the time you reached the doors of the publishing house, you were completely wet from head to toe— and saving face was no longer present in your dictionary. In fact, you never even wanted to show your face again- and god, how many and who even were the people attending that meeting? because you were going to embarrass yourself in front of all of them right now.

The second you entered that room where the meeting was going on, as if your bad luck wasn't bad enough, you saw a figure too striking, bright pink hair.. fox ears.. and those eyes, those eyes that didn't take even a full two seconds to notice your presence and announce it to the whole room.

“Oh, look who's here! did the Yashiro Commission- er, reject you, my dear? or did you finally realise where your priorities should lie?” and right after she had said that, you could feel that theories about you and the commissioner had already began floating in the air of that room— whispers of a mixture of words like yashiro commissioner, head of the kamisato clan could be heard, and among them was that name a bit too familiar- Kamisato Ayato. How she knew about your yashiro commission shenanigans, you had no idea, but you weren't about to question her— Guuji Yae was no god, but people were convinced she definitely was omniscient, the way she never lacked information about the people she worked with.

You could swear on your life that the stutter after the words ‘yashiro commission’ was done on purpose, and you'd live. What she was trying to imply wasn't too obvious, in fact, the way she said it, it could easily be interpreted as something entirely different— but what was also true, only it wasn't something you were comfortable with everyone in that room knowing. You couldn't manage to respond to that, ‘tleast not in a way that would allow you to keep your job. And so Guuji Yae's lips spoke again, this time out of pity for you.

“But hey, better late than never.” she said, gesturing for you to come sit next to her.

And so the meeting went on like normal. You were trembling terribly from the cold, dripping wet still but there wasn't anything you could do about it, and as the guy sitting next to you took notice of that and offered you his jacket, you could feel watchful eyes throughout the room landing upon you two, waiting for your response. With the amount of writers present in this room, you knew this interaction was making its way into a light novel soon. Thinking of a response was hard, accepting it would give birth to more conspiracies, but not accepting it would blatantly prove Guuji Yae's previous comment about the yashiro commissioner right. And before you could think of a response to that awfully nice gesture, you were snapped out of your thoughts by your editor, who was currently explaining something on a whiteboard, something you failed to understand because of the preoccupations your mind currently had. “(Name), are you even paying attention !?” were his words, and as if enough people weren't already staring at you, now the whole room was. A nervously spoken ‘sorry’ was all you could let out, and it wasn't even a proper answer to his question.

The meeting dragged on for another 15 minutes— 15 dreadful, cold minutes. And when it was finally over and people were getting out of their seats and as if your luck wasn't already the worst, it only got worse-r as your editor called out to you right as you got up, “Not you. I still have to talk to you.” Did he not see you shivering? Looking like a sopping wet cat? Did he not have an ounce of sympathy?

As everyone else exited the room, you were forced to sit until who knows when. Guuji Yae was the last to leave, and before she stepped out the room, she called the editor over to speak to him, uttering something along the lines of what you thought was “Go easy on the poor thing, ok?” and was that poor thing in question you? most likely, yes. And good for that— he shouldn't think to disobey the owner of this whole establishment right?

But he did. Or atleast, the words that followed after she left did not seem like him ‘going easy on you’ at all.

The way he had his arms on the desk, the way his figure loomed over yours, that expression on his face… oh, you were about to be scolded big time.

“You, tell me. What exactly is your problem?”

“I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again, I apologise.” You couldn't even make eye contact with him as you spoke, and while your attempt at an apology was well delivered, it was terribly timed.

“If you were so fucking sorry as you claim to be, tell me, what the hell has been bothering you so damn much to arrive late to an important meeting when i had reminded you so many times the previous day!?”

Oh. That was a first— never before had you heard him swear like this, and you're pretty sure it probably falls under top 10 things you shouldn't do if you don't want to lose your job, but who were you to say? your job was being held together by a single thread made of miracles.

“I'm really sorry sir, it was just something personal- I can guarantee you, it won't ever happen again.” Ah yes, the infamous personal issue: the inability to manage a schedule.

“Did someone pass away?”

“..No.”

“Someone fall gravely ill?”

“..No”

“Family issues?”

“No-”

“Then WHAT the hell’s been bothering so much you show up late to a meeting with GUUJI YAE? Do you seriously not understand how fucking embarrassing it is? For the writer I had to practically beg for the higher-ups to not fire even though you kept being late and crossing deadlines, to show up late again?” He had yanked you out of your seat with his right hand midway through his speech out of the anger he possessed as of current, becoming physical when angry wasn't uncommon, but for someone who you always saw as calm and cool, for someone who always put up with you no matter what, the breaking point had arrived, and it was wholly your fault.

But you understood. Understood the reasons behind his furious reaction, for he was right, it was truly embarrassing, because that thread made out of miracles that was holding your job in place wasn't made out of miracles at all— it was made out of your editor's continued efforts to keep you in this organisation.

When you didn't, well, more like couldn't respond to him, and he realised the outburst he had just made, he let go of your upper arm, and his hand went back to the desk with his other arm, and as he regained his senses, looking down at the desk realising what he just did, he tried to apologise-

“I didn't mean to-”

“I-it's fine. You don't have to say anything.” Cutting him off was usually not something you would do, but at this moment, it felt right.

“I'm sorry, Please leave. And please, please don't tell anyone about this.” You could see the regret in his face as he sat down on his chair, head in hands refusing to make eye contact with you and instead choosing to stare at the hardwood floor instead, and you knew if anyone found out about this you both would be kicked out the publishing house together.

“I won't. Good night, sir.” and as you exited that room, you could hear a faint “good night” from your editor, who was too ashamed to even speak any louder.

And as you left, you failed to notice the bright pink figure of the Guuji beside the entrance of the conference room, who had eavesdropped on that entire conversation.

________

It had been 11 days since then. 11 days of Ayato wondering whatever it was that you wanted to tell him that day, hoping you would at least write him a letter. But no letter came, and neither did you.

While the Kamisato's days went by quite peacefully and ordinarily, yours were much, much different.

Back at Yae Publishing House that day, the Guuji held your editor back to tell him to get you to write some sort of romance novel around this plot– A careless writer who has amazing skill in writing, but barely manages to keep her job due to the troubles caused by her family, and her editor who has to beg the higher-ups to let her keep her job, who's also hopelessly in love with her.

While the plot is good, you weren't too happy having it recommended to you in that way. Does the Guuji think you have romantic feelings for your editor? or is it vice versa ?

Whatever it is that the Guuji thought, it didn't matter right now, because she demanded the first volume of the comic book that was about to be serialised be done in 15 days. With 11 days already gone by, and everything done on your part, you finally had some leisure time to enjoy, leisure time you were spending laying on the floor in front of the fan sipping cold lavender melon juice peacefully, almost on your way to dreamland.

That is, until you heard a knock on your door. When you went to open it, no one was there, or so you had thought, not having noticed the little kid dressed like a mujina at your doorstep at first, looking sleepy as ever.

“Oh, hello! What is it that brings you here to my doorstep, little one ?” as you bent down to greet the sleepy child, you felt a muscle in your back ache. Ah, the consequences of having the worst sleeping posture known to man.

“I'm not ‘little one’. My name is Sayu. I'm from the shuumatsuban, and Mr. Yashiro Commissioner sent me to relay an important message to you.” as she finishes her sentence, she hands you a little paper from her back pocket that says “I have something important to speak to you about. Come meet me. -your personal calligrapher”

Oh. You're done.

What could it possibly be about !? What could Kamisato Ayato, Clan head of the Kamisato Clan and the Yashiro Commissioner have to talk about that would be important to you !? Whatever it was, it was scaring you.

“Do I have to go right now?” as nervous as you were, you were also curious, what the hell was this man upto? and actually, was he even upto something, or was this just something to get you to come to the estate as quickly as possible?

“Yes, that's what he said anyway.” as she said this, Sayu sounded so, so done with you and Ayato that you couldn't really do anything. It seemed like if you didn't go right now, as soon as possible, Sayu would fall asleep right on your doorstep.

“Alright, then, let us leave. But wait- just one thing-” and so, you went to your bedside table to pick up that diary you always took to Kamisato Estate, the one you wrote that damnee confession in- but, it wasn't there? surely you placed it somewhere else when under the influence of fatigue and forgot.. Well, with Sayu's patience running thinner- you should probably just leave finding that diary to your future self.

Sayu was not at all interested in whatever it was that went on between you and Ayato, she kept quiet the whole way from your house to the Kamisato Estate, except for a yawn or two in the middle.

Your attempt at distracting yourself from whatever it was that Ayato wanted to talk to you about by looking at the flowers and the trees as you made your way to the estate was not quite successful.. for as the dew drops fell off from the roses, you could feel yourself perspire as well.

When you finally stepped foot in Kamisato Estate, you saw him, Kamisato Ayato, simply leaning on his balcony ledge gazing at the horizon, unaware of your resence and all he made you feel. You were quite sure this amount of sweating could submerge Jinren Island.

Jinren Island being submerged aside, no one was there at the estate except Ayato. Miss Furuta wasn't standing at her usual place, Koharu wasn't busy cleaning something that doesn't even look like it needs cleaning, and even Mr. Madarame was nowhere to be seen.

As you were busy analyzing the current state of the ground you were standing on, Sayu's voice spoke—

“Mr. Yashiro Commissioner, I brought them.”

Ayato turned around, his eyes finally meeting yours after what seemed to be an eternity to him.

“Oh, thank you Sayu. You may go now.”

As the man came to sit down, he signaled you to sit near him as well, contrary to how you would usually sit, on the opposite side of the table. “Sit here, you sure look like you need to.” his voice beamed, and you could feel your heart burst into eight thousand pieces upon hearing him talk to you again.

While you were most delighted to finally talk to him again, you couldn't help but wonder where the staff went, therefore naturally, you asked him as he poured his tea from the kettle into his little cup,

“So… where's all the staff gone?”

“Disappointed no one's here to give you free snacks, huh? Don't worry, I'm quite generous when it comes to my food, Here, want a sip?” and as his sentence came to an end, he offered you a cup of tea by raising it to your lips, which you pushed away as politely as you could. “You know I don’t drink tea, right? You asking me multiple times isn't going to change that..”

“Well, it was worth a try.”

“But seriously, where are all the staff? in all my days spent procrastinating here, I've never seen it so empty..”

“I told them to take a break as I was going to have an important person over to discuss some very important, urgent matters, and for that discussion, I need some privacy.”

“But then why not have the meeting in your chamber? Enough privacy there, no?”

“Of course, of course, but you see, this client of mine, they think my chamber is really stuffy and feels suffocating. So naturally, I decided to have said meeting here.”

“Oh, so uhm, when is this meeting of yours? considering the staff are already gone..It must be soon, yes?”

“Oh yes, yes.. Infact, for the staff, the meeting has already started.”

“Wait.. Am I..?”

“Go on, you're almost there.”

“Jackass, I'm the ‘super important’ person you were meeting, huh?”

“See, this is exactly why this meeting is being held. The way you address me, the way you talk to me.. it's not exactly the usual way I'm addressed.. Not even my friends behave this way with me.”

“You have friends?”

“Of course I- See ! that's my point, you talk so nonchalantly to me, what do you think people would think of you as when they see you acting like this in public ?”

“Disrespectful? Discourteous? Rude? Impolite? Ill-mannered?”

“My beautiful Oxford dictionary, that's not what I meant. Don't you think people would look at us joking around and think of us as lovers ?”

As soon as you heard that “beautiful”, oh goodness, you were done for. you had fallen so deep in love with this man it was beyond any find and rescue team to help you. you couldn't make an answer to that statement, no, you were busy in dreamland wondering if all these people at the estate saw you and Ayato talk to each other and thought, “oh, these two definitely have something going on.”

Snap. one snap of his fingers in front of your face, and you were thrown right back into reality.

“So?”

“Uhm, we don't go out much, actually, we've never gone out together, so that's not a problem as far as I'm concerned.”

“The way you say it.. it's almost like you're mad we never go out.”

“Well, we don't. I've never even stepped foot on the east side of the estate.. let alone go anywhere with you.”

“Hm? Let's go there then.” near the end of his sentence, he placed his teacup down and got up, walking to the same place he was standing before you came here, and so you followed.

As he leaned on the ledge of the balcony, his body facing the horizon, he looked at you, hands crossed, yours facing him.

“So? What do you think, are we qualified to go out now?” he spoke, turning towards you, and as he turned, he looked up at something and then smirked, his eyes returning to you. Goodness, he looked so hot— but wait, what was he staring at? before you could fully turn your head to face behind you, his left arm quickly got hold of the side of your neck that you were about to turn, “Why are you-”

“Answer my question first.” throughout this exchange, his hand was still there on your neck holding it from turning around.

“Yes, we can go out together, but what the hell is behind me that you don't want me to see?”

Leaning in towards your ear, he spoke. And to say his lips were one breath away from touching your temple is an understatement. “You remember the thing i told you about the staff, right? Well, they've all gathered near the first window of the second floor, and are currently looking at us, waiting for something to happen.” while he said all this, he was staring daggers into Thoma's soul, who, being the one who accidentally spread the rumour that Ayato was going to confess his feelings for you today, was awkwardly smiling at the slightly pissed off clan head, whose confession of love was about to turn into a source of entertainment for his staff, and of course, something to tease him about later for his sister, also present with the staff. Finishing his sentence, he finally pulled away from you.

“But.. waiting for what to happen..?” trying to get the butterflies in your stomach to calm down from what just happened, you focused back on the conversation.

“Waiting for me to confess.”

Stop the clock. He didn't mean confess his love, did he? Surely there's no way.

“C-confess what!?”

“That- ah, I can't believe I'm saying this in such an ordinary way, but listen, I'm not a man of poetry, or atleast, writing it. I tried to, believe me, but it just looked so awkward to me, nothing compared to what you wrote for me in your diary-”

“YOU READ THAT POEM?”

Ayato put his hands on your shoulders, and in an attempt to calm you down, spoke forth.

“Hey now! Let's calm down, alright? I didn't read anything beyond the 9th line because Ayaka snatched it away from me, so please, don’t be mad. I should have realised I was in no place to open someone else's very personal diary, and I don't even know if that poem was meant for me, but I just-”

“No.. Ayato, you're.. You're too sweet. I'm sure you had no ill intentions, I only freaked out because it was so surprising, and since it was indeed meant for you. And you can read the whole poem afterwards, but for now, please, please go on about what you were telling me.”

“I can't just go on like this, not after you've told me you wrote about me- Me, of all people! Me, after you've written about the sun, the seas, the sky, the surreal- after all that, you wrote about me. And so beautifully, too, I can't go on, not with my life, not with whatever it was I originally wanted to say.” his expression was one you had never seen before, so full of innocence, he looked like a wet puppy in the rain, like he'd die of a cold if you didn't shelter him right away, and you could swear you saw tears welling up in his eyes, and all this because you wrote about him, all this because his feelings were returned, all this because he finally felt loved.

You couldn't even respond, hell, you couldn't even choke back tears, and so as you were processing his words, you wrapped your arms around his torso and went in to hug him, sobbing into his chest. He returned the hug, one arm around your shoulders, and one running over your head, a tear dropping on your head as he did.

When you both pulled away from the hug, it was just laughter and wiping away each others’ tears, until you both were staring at each other fondly. And then Ayaka's voice could be heard from the back— “I told you they wouldn't kiss!” followed by a subdued Thoma, “my mora..”

“You know we can hear, right? And betting on my love life? Seriously?” As Ayato turned to reply to his sister, the staff scurried away, not wanting to be noticed by him, and as amused as you were, you didn't join in on the conversation, instead choosing to pull Ayato's collar towards yourself and pulling his lips onto yours. Before Ayaka could respond, Ayato leaned in to the kiss, cupping your face with his hands, and you could feel him smirk a bit.

He chuckled while pulling away from you, turning to a very surprised Ayaka and Thoma, mouths open in bewilderment,

“So... I guess Thoma wins?”

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