"once More To See You" ; Aventurine

"once more to see you" ; aventurine

summary — to him, love was like a religion waiting to be discovered and he’ll find god in the way the sun looks on your skin; alternatively, aventurine thinks he’s rotten work and tiring to take care of but not to you, not if it's him (please get the reference).

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — established relationship (but aventurine wants to de-establish it), somewhat fluff, slight angst with comfort, never proofread never what?!!, 1.3k ; ficlet

note — 2.1 broke me (the whole quest knocked at the door of my house, shook my hands, congratulated me, and invited itself into my home before pouring water on my face, slapping me, throwing me around, and left with the door open, all the while, my family watched). this is day 1 of writing for aventurine until i have him.

“you have a lot of moles.” his voice, despite a gentle whisper, tears through the silence of the night like a drop of water that ruptured and disturbed the surface of the pond. “especially here.” he gently taps on your skin; they seem like stars, he swallows the words back down. 

you feel aventurine’s finger trace on the back of your neck and the curve of your shoulders, seemingly drawing—or connecting something. it was ticklish, the way he gently drags his hand and ghosts over your skin, a soft laugh slipping past your lips (you’ll capture his touch on your skin as if you were a sinner remembering how forgiveness tasted on your lips). there was something intimate that lingers in the air between you two as you lay in his bed with him, a fleeting moment that will be inked into your mind. 

(the both of you leave your titles behind, mixed together with the scattered objects on the floor, laid on the cold ground to be picked up and worn later like a shiny medal even if you weren’t proud to have them.)

“they say it’s where your lover kissed you the most in your past life.” you stir in your position as you speak, coming to face him and meet his pretty jewel-like eyes—how alluring it was, painted with vivid colors yet it never shines. the sound of mirth laughter bubbles from his throat, a pleasant melody to your ears.

he asks, curiosity tracing the tone of his voice, “and from where did you even hear that?” and you shrug, bringing your form closer to him as you seek for more warmth, “i can’t recall. perhaps i heard it from topaz or maybe from one of the members of the ipc? they’re the only ones i often see and talk to.”

“the doctor?” he wraps his arm around your figure, his hand settling on the small of your back.

“that man will only scorn at that idea and call it stupid. he’ll most likely say that ‘only fools would believe such concepts.’” you mimic the way the esteemed doctor spoke, from the serious expression that he always don on his face to the deepening of his voice. your seemingly successful imitation earned a chuckle from the blonde-haired man before you.

“i’m sure he will.”

silence falls between you two and you took this time to adore each and every line of his being. a few strands of hair fall over his eyes—beautiful, captivating, mesmerizing, you could list out every word to describe his eyes but it would never be enough. you had always wondered why he would hide it until you witnessed the reason why he does so. 

aventurine seems to study your expression at the same also, a soft look on his face as he did, and you can’t help but be curious. “what are you thinking about?” you ask him, breaking the silence that nurtured itself in the space between you and him.

you, he wishes to answer. how you look at this moment in his embrace: you were wearing one of his shirts, albeit, not exactly to your size but you insisted, saying that you liked it as it smelled like him. how gentle, loving, adoring, you were everything; he looks and thinks of you as if you were his everything (he doesn’t deserve you). but he doesn’t say it—the thought weighs too heavily on his mind, claws at his throat, and suffocates him—, instead he utters something entirely different that creates a shift in the air between you two. 

“i don’t think i can do this.” he turns his head to look away from you, staring at the ceiling instead. it seems to extend itself far and far away from him.

the horrible part of being human is the tendency for destruction that lies in your bones. stained palms, calloused pads, despite the gentleness of your touch and the comfort of your caress. the desire to devour flesh and bones, to understand the underlying thoughts and meanings behind words and unexpressed feelings by consuming them. to submerge and drown in the depths of one's despair and desire (too close that the line blurs into one). the horrible part of being him was his tendency to destroy—hesitation and doubt lies in his being and aches at his chest, tugging on his heart’s strings, and settles on his throat—, it’s not like he doesn’t want to hold you, it’s just that he can’t.

“do what?”

“this.” you know exactly what he was referring to, know what he’s afraid of. he has laid himself bare and vulnerable in front of you countless of times that you have memorized the constellations that adorns his skin. you know him, you have known him enough to recognize the fear that tugs on his voice and see the walls that he tries to build up in front of you. you know him enough to know what thoughts are plaguing his mind.

“why do you think so?”

“don’t you think i’m too much to take care of?” he tries not to choke on his words and bite his tongue, careful not to let his voice crack lest he crumbles underneath your caress. i am undeserving of it. worthless. failure. selfish. discarded. coward. loser. nothing. you are bound to leave. 

“not for me.” you caress his cheek and guide him to look at you—instead of the ceiling that seems to appear farther than it originally was in each passing second as the walls glean over him like a shadow—, to meet your gaze and see the sincerity that lurks deep within. “never will i get tired of you. so, let me carry your burden.”

he takes a few seconds to answer, uncertainty lingering in his tone: “it’s not yours to have.”

“it may not be.” you answer with no hesitation, “but it doesn’t mean that you must shoulder them alone.”

he opens his mouth to speak but unable to find the words to say, he closes them. there was a moment of stillness shared between you two. comfort, relief, assurance seeps into the ache of his bones and you say something too heavy even for this steady and silent night to hold, the words too much to be held—light spills in like a flood as if it was pouring out from the sun itself.

“i love you.”

“you utter such words as if it’s something easy for you.” as if loving him was just as simple as waking up in the morning and adoring the way the honey-light hugs your form as the dust settles in the corner of your room. when he’s stripped of everything and left with nothing, would you still love him the same? would you still kiss him as gently as you did? would you still hold the shards of his form even if it makes your hand bleed? 

you spoke in a gentle yet firm croon, gaze unwavering, “because it is.”

you see the falter in his expression: his face, that once was crumpled, relaxed and so did his gaze soften. and you smile at him with only adoration in your eyes—like a devout follower to a divine being. “are you still afraid?”

“i don’t know.” he whispers.

“it’s alright. you have all the time in the world.” your hand weaves itself into his own, fingers lacing with one another, and you gently squeeze. it was a form of reassurance, a way of telling him that you’re here with him through all of it.

the warmth has settled in your being and you spill yourself into the cracks of his vulnerability. “i love you.” you say once more and you kiss the mark on his neck—lingering and soft as if you wish that it would take all his hurt away. the way he shudders underneath your touch, the hitch of his breath soon followed by a gentle sigh as he cradles you closer to him tells you everything that you wish to hear.

for once, he sleeps as if he had nothing to carry, nothing that shackles him to the stars that forsakes him.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

Hwei calling you his muse

Taking the utmost care when portraying your visage with his features portraying a stern focus laced with fondness, the colors swirling in his eyes and onto the canvas were layered in rosey hues with scatterings of gold. Painting you in the shades of his adoration and infatuation in the lavish peaceful life he thinks you deserve

His starlight serenity

Because you're the one who brings light to his darkest of hours

The way you feel him almost melt into your embrace as you catch him on the brink of another downward spiral of torment

Your hands smooth over the back of his shoulders trying to offer a means to comfort him as his head buries deeper into the crook of your neck, his body hunched over yours. The visionary practically glues himself to you as you feel his shakey shallow breaths begin to steady in your soothing presence.

"Even when my world seems as black as ink.. y/n you are the single brightest light that illuminates my way back home.. my way back to you.. my starlight.."

scribbled hearts.

premise. alhaitham learns to stop falling asleep in places that isn't his bed the hard way. (alternatively, in which the librarian doesn't follow the script to wake sleeping beauty.)

Kaveh finds Alhaitham furiously scrubbing his face in the bathroom.

At first, he's absolutely ecstatic. For all that Alhaitham refuses to practice skincare, he's never gotten a zit on his face. An earth-shattering revelation to Kaveh, who maintains a strict nightly skincare routine—he's never gone to sleep without a moisturizing facemask. It's not the most infuriating thing about his roommate, but it annoys him that a guy who only washes his face in the morning has clearer skin than he does.

Is this it? Is Alhaitham receiving retribution at last? Is he finally suffering the consequences of his carelessness?!

But when Kaveh cranes his neck to get a better look at Alhaitham's face, he doesn't see any of the sort.

“Dude...” Kaveh can't even laugh due to sheer incredulity, staring at Alhaitham with a pitying look. Alhaitham thinks it would be less irritating if he just laughed in his face. “Did a third-grader pick on you?”

Alhaitham grits his teeth, wiping the remnants of ink on his face. He's mostly gotten rid of the sparkly anime eyes you drew over his eyelids, but it still looks like a fading black eye. The blush lines on his cheeks are a work in progress, but they'll disappear with some effort.

“They have the maturity of one, at least.”

Alhaitham has met his fair share of librarians—there's the stern, no-nonsense kind he's gotten forehead flicks from every time he's caught dozing off on his thesis paper; the introverted bookish type who stutters as they nervously but firmly tell him off for hogging all the books a certain class needs for a report; the motherly sort who smuggles him coffee in his all-nighters when he looks like death itself...

And then there's you.

Cheekier than his brat of a roommate, you somehow manage to annoy him like nobody else can. He'd rather have you scold him for treating the library as a second bedroom than clip ribbons to his hair whenever you catch him sleeping. Hell, he'd take a skull-shattering forehead flick over doodles on his face any day. But even if he preaches his troubles to anyone willing to listen, they're never sympathetic.

Because for some reason, you're never like this to anyone else.

If anyone at campus were asked to describe you, they'll say you're a model student. Scholarly, courteous, standing tall with dignified grace; you're the perfect picture of a goody-two-shoes. Nothing like the childish brat who terrorizes his nap schedule on a daily basis.

People who have a vendetta against him is nothing new. What he doesn't understand, however, is what he did to be the object of your wrath.

“Maybe [Name] likes you. Kind of like how boys bully the girl they like,” is the ridiculous answer Kaveh gives him, dropping those words like they weigh nothing with a nonchalant shrug. Alhaitham would think it more likely for the reverse to be true; your insistence to dedicate your time into ruining his day is nothing short of admiration—surely a testament to just how much you hate him.

...Okay, so maybe Alhaitham could guess a few things for why. There's been a handful of times (read: it happens at least thrice a week) he kept you stationed at the library longer than you had to be because he fell asleep until closing hours, and he has a tendency to forget returning the materials he borrows for his thesis to the library...

So. Perhaps this was a consequence of his actions after all.

He argues that there are far more mature methods to resolve this issue, though.

Alhaitham stares at the crudely drawn portrait scrawled on his arm, deeply unimpressed. Although he's not one to boast about his looks, he's rather sure he isn't as much of an eyesore as you drew him to be, his nose an exaggerated point (a literal triangle) and his lips wide open as he drools, dangerously close to the rectangles he guesses are supposed to be books. Don't sleep on the reference books!! You'll get drool all over them >:(, reads the scribbled letters beside the portrait, an angry face scrawled haphazardly next to them.

(Still, by the corner of his eye, he spots a cup of his usual order of coffee, a neon pink sticky note pasted on the lid: Wake up and finish your report quickly, I have a show to catch at 8 :>

It would be easier to hate you if being bratty is all there is to your personality, really.)

You scribble all over your notes.

It's a fact Alhaitham has known about you since long ago. Everything else about you is neat and orderly, but every page of your notebook has some sort of doodle on the corners. They range from meticulous side-profiles of whoever sits beside you that day to meaningless hearts and smiley faces akin to what a five-year-old child might make.

If you've chosen to be more artistic for the doodles you draw all over him, perhaps Alhaitham might not mind as much. It's unfortunate you much rather prefer drawing exaggerated tear streaks on his face.

“I'm quite certain this is a form of harassment,” Alhaitham grumbles, rubbing his face with makeup remover. As pointless as it is to express his woes to the cause of said woes, he finds himself seated before the reception desk to keep you company anyway. “I don't understand why you're still doing this.”

“It's a punishment for falling asleep and keeping me holed up in here to guard the library until it closes,” you drone, fixing the library cards. “And yet you still refuse to stop. Is it really so hard to go to the dormitory instead?”

Alhaitham shrugs. A sigh inevitably escapes your lips.

Eventually, you run out of stupid things to draw on his skin whenever you catch him sleeping.

You start to write your shopping list on his arm instead.

“Why on earth would you need three cartons of eggs?” Alhaitham leans against the desk you're stationed at, reading the bulletpoints on his skin.

Eventually, Alhaitham gets used to scrubbing off your vandalism too. It's his personal brand of skincare.

“They're on sale today,” you reply, signing the papers requesting new stocks of books. “And I was planning on baking, so it's better I have plenty of ingredients for trial and error.”

“Sounds heavy,” he hums, eyes scanning the rest of your list. “Want me to come with?”

At that, your pen stops moving. “...Why?”

“I need to buy cereal.”

(No he doesn't. Kaveh went on a grocery run yesterday.)

“Sure, I guess...?” It's an unexpected development, but you wouldn't turn away an extra pair of hands. “Should we get going, then?”

“Yeah.”

You raise an eyebrow. “...But you didn't borrow a book today yet. Aren't you getting anything first?”

Alhaitham looks around. “The book I wanted isn't here, so I suppose I still have to wait a few days for it.”

“What is it?” You click your pen, reaching for your notepad. (You already have one of those, Alhaitham seriously sees no point in you writing down your grocery list on his arm.) “I'll tell you when it gets returned.”

“...No, it's fine. Let's go, the eggs you wanted might be all gone if we take our time getting there.”

You jolt up in alarm, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “You're right, we should hurry!”

For all it's worth, you're pretty gullible.

“You're still keeping that up?”

Alhaitham looks up from his laptop, fingers halting in their movement. “What do you mean?”

Kaveh scrunches his nose, pointing at the scribbles on his palm. “Your weird mating ritual. Can't you two communicate like normal people?”

Alhaitham glances at the mess you've made of his arm, full of little messages and doodles you wrote back and forth to each other during Biology period. Alhaitham had been, perhaps for the first time, not feeling drowsy. Regardless, you've taken to treating his skin as paper (“Save the trees,” you told him once, ignoring the disbelieving expression on his face), and Alhaitham has already accepted that you won't stop doing it as long as you still find it amusing.

“We do talk. Normally.”

“And if you do, why are you still doing... that.”

Alhaitham doesn't have anything to say to that. He did think it was inconvenient to wash all the messages off, and there are far more practical modes of communication.

But for some reason, he can't find it himself to say that he outright dislikes it.

And maybe he traces the shapes you draw on his skin, in the private confines of his room where no one can see him. Maybe he admires the smooth strokes of your penmanship, the adorable curls of your letters, the bubbly font that always makes him chuckle because it's just so like you.

There are hearts sometimes, or even flowers when you feel like drawing something more detailed. The ugly sketches of him sleeping are somewhat annoying, but he still finds himself endeared. Though some things are appallingly inaccurate—you've done his nose a horrible injustice more than once—he notices the correct placement of beauty marks on his face, the sharp edges of his eyes, the meticulous dimple that faintly appears when he smiles.

A thrill runs through him when he thinks of you paying attention to him, more than you've ever given anyone else.

And, well. Alhaitham's certain he's been doing plenty of that for you.

“Don't you think you're being unfair?”

You pause in your typing, averting your eyes from the computer monitor to glance at Alhaitham. “Unfair in what, exactly?”

He mindlessly spins a pen with his fingers, staring at the blank canvas that was your arm compared to the sketchbook you've made out of his. “You're the only one who writes on me.”

“What, you want to write your shopping list on me for a change?” you arch up an eyebrow, unperturbed. “I thought you said it was impractical.”

“I never said I wanted to write my shopping list.”

“What else would you write, then?”

Alhaitham reaches for your arm. “Give me your hand.”

You blink, not quite unwilling yet confused all the same. You offer your hand and he uncaps his pen, scribbling on your palm. You've never been on the receiving end of this little game, so you're not sure what to expect from him.

“There.” Satisfied, he lets go and stands up. “I'm going home for the day. Good luck with the rest of your shift.”

“See you tomorrow, I guess...?” you wave at him in farewell, but he's quick to spring on his feet and dart out the door. “What's his deal...”

You turn over your hand, seeing a string of numbers written in neat font.

“Oh.”

Alhaitham feels silly for anticipating a text like some lovestruck teenage girl who exchanged numbers with her crush.

The blinking cursor on his blank essay document almost looks mocking, and as time passes by, the only word he's managed to type out is “The.” Even so, his attention is completely locked on his phone, devoid of any notifications.

If it weren't for Kaveh being nosy the other day, he wouldn't have gotten the idea of giving you his number. He did think something had to change, but he didn't know how to get there. But now that he's gotten this far, he can expect a little bit, right?

At last, his phone chimes its long awaited notification. Alhaitham is quick to ditch his laptop and shuts it closed, reaching for his phone where it sits on his desk. He swears he's never typed his password so fast before in his life.

Unfortunately, the text he's been anticipating for a good portion of the day is nothing but a disappointment.

Unknown number: eggs milk whipping cream flour

Unknown number: baking powder cocoa powder vanilla extract sugar

What was he expecting anyway?

He sighs and leans back on his chair, solemly pushing his laptop open. He doubts this message requires a response back.

Another notification lights his phone.

This time, Alhaitham doesn't even have the energy to unlock his screen. He squints at the notification preview.

Unknown number: wanna come over when I finish baking the souffles?

He doesn't quite drop his phone in shock, but it's a near thing.

You: I'll go carry the groceries too.

Unknown number: thanks! 💖

✦—How do they show that they trust you?✦ SFW

✦How do my favourite League men show you that they trust you with their whole hearts.

✧ prompt: ✧ nothing special, just pure stream of words. Fluff.

✧ champions: ✧ Zed, the Master of Shadows; Shen, the Eye of Twilight; Kayn, the Shadow Reaper; Thresh, the Chain Warden; Pyke, the Bloodharbor Ripper.

✧ reader: ✧ gender neutral.

✧ author’s note: ✧ I love grumpy men having soft spot for the reader hshshshs. Please ignore any mistakes.

masterlist

✦Zed, the Master of Shadows; taking his mask off.

Only with you Zed doesn’t mind taking his mask, that usually stays on him, off. In every long and exhausting mission that he participates in, in every training with adepts of the Shadow Order, he prefers to keep his mask on. He does that not only to appear more professional for his students nor to stay quite anonymous, but secretly, deep inside, what only you know, he does not desire to be identified with the majestic yet murderous figure he has created. His armor is both his shield on the bloody battlefield where many dies, but also something distancing him from other people. He is there for them physically, but offers none of his simple humanity. But with you and only you, he - with a lot of effort (a little help with opening up from you was always appreciated by him) - lets his guard down. Though he seldom does that, mostly when all his problems eventually overwhelm him. The moment is always intimate, in his private room, when he takes his mask off, his sharp gaze fixed on you or the floor. That was not the first time you saw his face, but you couldn’t help but admire him. You gently took his face in your hands with a delicate and slow move, as a hidden for so long tear rolled from his eye. Besides his mask, in those rare moments, Zed tends to take off his armor too, so you can see his bare back, sculped with scares and black, sinister-looking tattoos - a painful memory of his past and the power that the unmerciful shadows wield in themselves.

✦Shen, the Eye of Twilight; devoting his time to you.

Shen is a kind man to everybody. With his esteemed reputation as a defender of Ionia, the keeper of balance that everyone lurks for in this land, everyone respects him. He is a patient teacher to every person, his student or not, and he is always there for them. That’s why he is a trustworthy leader that everyone can find comfort in - and you know exactly about this. As much as he is an anchor for his loved ones, you are so, so special for him, that he obviously treats you with a different kind of respect than others. Shen tries to be always by your side, usually sliding a reasurring hand on your back if you are comfortable with it, to make you feel that he is there for you, ready to both protect and give himself fully - either to open up or just comfort each other, rest and appreciate the others’ company. Shen lets his small moves that he only gifts to you slid when you are both alone or when he thinks nobody sees you two - not because he wants to keep your relationship a secret, but he feels like these moments with you are only for you two. Nobody should bother or distract you - that’s the irreplacable time he dedicates to give you his full attention.

✦Kayn, the Shadow Reaper; letting himself be vunerable around you.

As the successor of the Shadow Order and Zed’s mightiest student, Kayn carries on his back expectations of both his surrounding and himself. And, in addittion, the Darkin, a curse that lives in him. But when alone, only you two, disturbed only by Rhaast and his presumptuousness, he lets himself be just him. Gentle and quite lazy, as he tends to lay with his head on your lap while taking almost all the space on his own bed. Kayn secretly enjoys you taking care of him, letting you see his vunerable and sweet side. When far from ubiquitous gazes, where you can get some privacy, the Shadow Reaper feels no longer like being forced to challenge everyone in his sight or proving them that he is worthy of becoming the next Master of Shadows. You put no pressure on him, you understand him as no one else does, and he appreciates your every move, when you show him how comfortable he can be around you. And you, the only person that treats him gently, see him as a normal human being he is. So even when you stroke his silk, dark hair with slow moves and soft hands, that next slide down to hold his face in them, he is not disturbed by Rhaast muttering about Kayn’s weakness. Because he is not weak when with you. He is just himself.

✦Thresh, the Chain Warden; sharing his story with you.

Because how obsessive Thresh is and how he can push himself to manipulate everyone and everything for his beloved one, some might think this man is actually not capable of love, at least not a healthy kind of it. And maybe it is true; maybe the connection between you two is none of an exemplary illustration portrayed by others, but there’s one thing that assures you Thresh’s intentions are clear and, actually, lovely. This man of course would never admit this willingly, maybe only to make you flustrated, but he has showed you his gargantuan collection of souls not only to impress you. He wants you to understand why are they trapped there, where he can toy with them, forcing them to face their merciful owner. They are in here not only because he is a sadistic soulkeeper - which was a surprise for you - but because they heve to suffer like he did. You are the only one, only one alive, who has been priviliged with the knowledge of his past - how the whole Blessed Isles betrayed him and how he has sworn to bring retribution on those who dared opposing him. He shared his story with you while walking past the cages, countless souls screaming inside for justice. Thresh appreciates what a good listener you make and how you seem to not judge him, based on the person he was long way before.

✦Pyke, the Bloodharbor Ripper; assuring you with simple words.

This man knows better than anyone else how is it like to be betrayed by others. Well, he paid his life for understanding that trust is a powerful weapon; that it should not be given so easly to people. Pyke struggles with something that you might call trust issues, though he would never admit that something so trivial might affect him so much. Neverthless, you were the first person after his, well, death, to hear from him that he truly trusts you. As straightforward as he is, Pyke frequently mutters to you something about how much he trusts you and how important it is to him. It would be almost adorable to hear such words from a ruthless killer with a soft spot for you, if it wasn’t just upsetting how a betrayal can break a man. Eventually, nothing says more than simple and particular words which come with honest intencions; he does not hide that he wants you to feel special about being able to read him like a book. You earned this man’s trust and he show that in such simple acts, like just letting you around him, which is not a priviledge every mortal may possess, as Pyke is know for his… strong reputation in Bilgewater.

oooh what if vidyadhara reader with draconic feature just like dan heng (or feng) who's trying to hide the fact that they're jealous but the tail just gives it away by thumping on the ground like it has a mind of it's own and no matter what the reader does it just won't stop unless you grab it

but like, if the tail didn't exist they would actually believe it cuz their expression is actually very convincing

i was thinking of blade, dan heng and jing yuan back when they were still a high cloud quintet cuz i believe they were so popular back then

With a Vidyadhara Reader

✧ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: thank you for the request! i went with present time for this because i feel like i still don't know enough about their past to feel confident in portraying them accurately.

✧ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: dan heng, jing yuan, blade

✧ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: obvious — taylor trensch

✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: none

Dan Heng, being a Vidyadhara dragon himself, immediately knew what was up with you when your tail started indicating exactly how he made you feel. Yet, because he wasn't open about his past with the other members of the Astral Express Crew yet, he kept silent, simply observing you and wondering what would become of your friendship if one day you decided to be honest about your feelings.

Dan Heng loves you too, but he's hesitant about putting you on the spot and forcing you to share something about you, that you weren't ready to share with him yet. And besides, that would mean bringing up the whole High Elder thing and he wouldn't know how that would affect your opinion of him. His memories of the past are hazy and he doesn't know who you were back then and what that would mean for you now. Whether it would make you see him with different eyes.

So when he comes back from the Xianzhou Luofu with dragon horns and a tail; the resemblance to High Elder Dan Feng undeniable; your eyes fall on him and you immediately know there's quite a lot for you to talk about

At first it's all about what happened on the Luofu and how Dan Heng felt about the whole thing. But he eventually decides it's time to talk about how your tail had been giving away your feelings for him for months now.

You're understandably flustered, still a little shocked from the realization that he likely knew the whole time. You had always brushed your agitated tail off as "things your nerves just do sometimes" so finding out Dan Heng was always aware you were lying about it was quite awkward

However, Dan Heng is happy the cards are finally on the table. He confesses that he feels the same for you and you decide on just burying the past for a while and enjoy your life together now.

You receive a text message from him the next day to enter his room and you find that he has built something akin to a dragon nest / pillow fort for the two of you to cuddle in. Dan Heng lays down with you in his arms and he places a kiss on your horns; a silent promise to stay by your side and love you forever; his tail intertwined with yours.

Blade is... hesitant about falling in love with a Vidyadhara dragon considering how his last close bond with one went.

Blade actually is completely oblivious to your tell-tale signs of having a crush on him. He'd be entering the room and your tail would swish back and forth and he's way too caught up in his own head to notice. His thoughts are spiraling around what happens if you want him to be immortal too and what it means when you reincarnate or whether you will bring ruin to his life like his friendship with Dan Feng did.

Meanwhile you're just like,,, happy to see him

Kafka actually has to slap some sense into him by telling him about your feelings for him and your desire to love him and take care of him that is obvious to literally everyone BUT Blade. This man is DEEP in denial and half the time he spends with Kafka is her trying to convince him that you're not out for making his depression 10 times worse and that since he feels the same; he should just give the whole thing a chance and enjoy your time together

But these interactions made you wonder whether Blade wasn't into Kafka instead.

So your tail smacks onto the ground in an unnerved motion and Kafka chuckles, leaning over to Blade and whispering in his ear about how you're obviously jealous and he should just give in to his feelings already.

This in turn makes your tail act up even more.

This continues until Kafka one day decides to put you out of your misery and just tell you that Blade has a huge crush on you that he's trying to deny and that he mumbles your name in his sleep while snuggling a pillow, which makes you almost choke on your cereal.

Blade enters the room not long after that, finding your tail completely still from the shock of the information you just received. He turns his head to Kafka, speaking in a slow but annoyed tone. "What. did. you. do?"

This incident ultimately marked the moment you two got together but Blade still thinks Kafka is a horrible wingwoman.

Jing Yuan is the only one out of these three who is not conflicted in the slightest.

Rather, he's having the time of his life watching you talk to him with a completely straight face while your tail is having a solo dance session behind you; something you were unfortunately very aware of. You try desperately to stop it from moving while Jing Yuan just stands there with a subtle smile on his face.

He'll subtly tease you about it as well. Asks you if everything is okay whilst he knows full well what is happening here.

When your tail thumps on the ground out of jealousy, Jing Yuan leans close to you and tells you that you have absolutely nothing to worry about. Yes, this is before you start dating. He knows what he's doing to your poor heart by teasing you about this. He hopes it finally prompts you to be honest about your feelings.

Even after you get together, the tail is definitely a big help in showing Jing Yuan how you're feeling at the moment, so he can reassure you when he needs to and give you attention when you crave it.

He often pulls you into his lap and runs his fingertips over the tail, marveling at the scales and how you react to his touches. When he notices your tail is sensitive, he chuckles lightly and presses a kiss to your forehead.

Everytime he sees jealousy or a need for attention in the movements of your tail, he makes a mental note to take some time off to spend with you and pamper you with affection as soon as possible.