summary: dragon!sylus attempts to court you but you, not being a dragon, are not accustomed to this and find it a little odd. sylus takes this as rejection from you.
notes: sylus x reader, a little hurt/comfort but mostly fluff, kinda crack (3.2k words)
sylus pov
he had watched you for months before ever daring to draw close.
you were human, small and soft, living in the cabin by the end of the forest where the river slowed to a quiet hum. he had first seen you when you carried a bundle of herbs in your arms, skirts brushing the moss, humming something light and wordless. you were unguarded, yet cautious in the way of humans who lived alone. that contradiction had fascinated him.
it had started as curiosity, but something else had crept in â a pull that left his chest tight and his wings restless. dragons did not court lightly. they chose once, and for life. sylus had not thought himself capable of choosing until he saw you.
so he began with what his kind always did. he hunted. he brought down deer, boars, once even an elk whose antlers tangled in his claws. he laid the bodies near your door each dawn, proud of his offerings, the air still warm from his breath.
but then came the confusion.
the next morning, the carcasses were gone. not eaten. not cooked. only dragged away, discarded deep into the woods. the scent told him it was you who had moved them. his heart, built of scales and fire, ached. he had wanted you to feel safe, fed, cared for. instead, you seemed afraid.
he stopped for a few days, brooding atop the cliffs. the forest wind tugged at his horns as he wondered where he had gone wrong. perhaps his gifts had frightened you. perhaps he was foolish to think a human would understand dragon courtship.
but he could not stay away.
your pov
it had started weeks ago, maybe longer. every few mornings, you found something dreadful by the door. a hare, a pheasant, once even a deer with its throat cleanly slit. at first you had thought it was the work of some wild beast, but the kills were too neat, too purposeful. someone â or something â was leaving them for you.
you had buried the first few, uneasy. you didnât like the idea of something hunting so close to your home. the villagers told stories about the woods, about creatures that could take human form, about dragons nesting in the mountain caves to the north. you tried not to listen.
then one afternoon, you saw him.
he appeared near the edge of the clearing, tall and broad, white hair swept back from curved horns that caught the sun. his crimson eyes glowed faintly gold, the color of molten metal. he wasnât human. you knew that instantly. yet he didnât look dangerous â just⌠different. his tail moved behind him slowly, a deliberate, careful sway.
he spoke softly, voice low like gravel shifting underfoot. âyou should not walk alone so far from the village.â
you wanted to ask what he was, why he was here, but his tone wasnât threatening. it almost sounded⌠protective. still, you kept your distance.
after that day, the strange gifts continued. meat. jewels. one morning, a silver bracelet carved with a dragonâs eye. you placed it on your shelf, too fine to wear. you assumed he was just trying to be kind, or that he was testing some human custom he didnât quite understand.
sylus pov
he thought perhaps jewels would fare better. dragons prized beautiful things, and he had seen how humans adored the same. he found gemstones buried in old hoards, polished them until they gleamed like captured stars, and left them where you would find them â on the window sill, beside the well, near the path you walked each day.
you took them, yes, but you never wore them. he noticed. his eyes always found you when you stepped outside, his senses following every glint of sunlight off your hair, every breath you took. but no trace of his gifts touched you.
he wondered if you thought them cursed. he wondered if you simply did not care.
dragons did not handle rejection well, but he tried to understand. maybe he had come too soon, before you trusted him. maybe his gestures were too grand.
so he tried smaller things.
he carved a charm from bone, something simple, meant to guard you. he left it on your doorstep, bound with leather. when you found it, you smiled faintly and hung it by the door. that small act eased something inside him, like a hand pressed gently over a wound.
he wanted to do more. he wanted to speak to you again.
your pov
sometimes, you caught glimpses of him. he always appeared near the treeline, never closer unless you called out first. his presence was strange but comforting now. you didnât feel fear anymore â only curiosity.
you had noticed his eyes, the way they softened when he looked at you, and you wondered what he was thinking.
you began to notice small things too. he left polished stones that matched the river pebbles you collected, baskets woven from reeds, herbs bound neatly by clawed hands that somehow never tore the stems.
it was⌠sweet, in an odd way.
but you still didnât understand. dragons, if thatâs what he truly was, had their own ways, and you were just a human living too close to their world. it didnât occur to you that all these gestures meant something deeper.
one evening, after a storm, you found your roof repaired. you hadnât done it, and no villager would trek this far through the rain. the thatch was patched neatly, almost perfectly. you looked toward the forest and thought of him again.
he was taking care of you...?
sylus pov
the night he fixed your roof, he almost let himself believe it would be enough â that maybe you would understand what he was saying without words. dragons didnât confess love with speeches; they proved it through acts of protection, devotion, consistency.
but the next morning, when you passed by him in the forest and only offered a polite nod, his heart fell again.
he had done everything he knew â hunted for you, built for you, brought wealth and safety. and still you smiled like he was a stranger.
he began to wonder if you simply didnât want him. perhaps you were kind, but uninterested. dragons could not force affection. he had promised himself never to be like those in old tales who took rather than earned.
so he decided to stop.
for days he stayed away from your clearing. no gifts, no visits, nothing. the forest grew quiet around your home, and his absence left a hollow ache he tried to ignore.
but he couldnât.
your pov
you noticed right away when he stopped coming.
no more gifts, no glint of scales between trees. the air felt heavier somehow, emptier. you told yourself it was better this way â you didnât really know him, after all â but that small ache in your chest said otherwise.
you missed him.
and thatâs when it began to click.
you thought back to the meat he had left, to the jewels, the careful protection, the fixed roof. the pattern of it all. he hadnât been threatening you or showing off. heâd been⌠courting you. in his own way.
the realization left you stunned. your hands trembled a little as you held the silver bracelet again, running your thumb over the carved dragonâs eye. it wasnât just a gift. it was a promise.
you felt foolish. all this time, you had turned away what was meant to be affection.
so you decided to find him... how do you even find a dragon. do they answer callings? prayers?
sylus pov
he was perched on the ridge above the valley when he smelled you. rain-washed air carried your scent, familiar and soft. then your voice â faint, calling his name.
he almost didnât believe it at first.
when he landed, the ground trembled slightly. you stood there, soaked from the mist, holding something small in your hands â the silver bracelet heâd given you.
âyou stopped coming,â you said quietly. âi thought maybe iâd done something wrong.â
his throat tightened. âit was i who did wrong. my ways are not yours. i thought you knew⌠what i meant.â
âi didnât,â you admitted. âbut i think i do now.â
you stepped closer, enough that he could see the drops of water clinging to your lashes. âthe animals. the gifts. even the roof. you were trying to⌠court me, werenât you?â
he exhaled slowly, the heat of his breath curling faintly in the air. âyes.â
for a heartbeat, neither of you moved. the forest around you whispered with the wind. then you lifted the bracelet and slid it onto your wrist.
âthen let me accept properly this time,â you said. âi was only afraid before. i didnât understand. but i do now.â
something inside him broke open â relief, joy, disbelief all at once. he reached out, claws retracting to gentle fingers, and touched your cheek as if you might vanish.
âyou would have me, then?â
you nodded, smiling. âif youâll still have me.â
his touch was warm, almost burning, but soft. you could feel the careful restraint in every movement, as if he feared hurting you.
âi have watched over you for so long,â he murmured. âi wanted you to feel safe before anything else.â
âyou did,â you said. âeven when i didnât realize it.â
he let out a sound that might have been laughter, low and rough, and pressed his forehead gently against yours. his horns curved around your head like a shelter.
for the first time, you saw the true depth of feeling behind his eyes â not just admiration, but devotion carved deep, unshakable. dragons loved rarely, but when they did, it was eternal.
and so you reached up, resting your hand over his heart, feeling it thunder beneath your palm.
âthen stay,â you whispered. âno more misunderstandings.â
his wings shifted slightly, curling around you both like a cloak.
âno more,â he promised.
later, when the stars rose and the forest quieted, he stayed beside your cabin, guarding while you slept. he didnât need to announce himself anymore. he was part of your world now.
and when he looked through the window and saw you still wearing the bracelet, glinting faintly in the moonlight, his heart finally eased.
you had accepted.
all his instincts quieted â the dragon and the man in him both at peace. he would hunt for you again tomorrow, but this time he would bring the meat dressed and cleaned, as he had seen humans prefer. he would still bring jewels, but he would offer them with his words, not silence.
he had learned, and so had you.
two worlds, bridged by patience and the slow unraveling of fear.
he smiled to himself, tail sweeping gently across the grass.
âmine,â he whispered softly to the night â not in possession, but in awe.
and from inside, even in your dreams, you seemed to hear him. your lips curved faintly as you slept.
in the morning, you woke to sunlight and the faint scent of wildflowers on the table â his newest gift, simple and human this time. you laughed softly, touched the petals, and whispered into the quiet, âi understand now.â
from the woods came the low hum of dragon wings, steady and sure, and you smiled, heart full.
the last dragon sylus fic did crazy well ty for all the notes guys :(
if i were attracted to someone i would ignore them and if someone were interested in me i would ignore them and if someone cute asked me out i would say no #myimpenetrablefortress
the five hottest things a fictional man can be are 1. highly intelligent 2. terminally ill 3. emotionally unavailable 4. full of trauma and regrets 5. lying about their identity
Imagine handing divorce papers to your arranged marriage husband Zayne because the past 3 years of this marriage have been nothing but a farce and you're tired of chasing scraps of affection from a husband who's almost never home.
You leave the documents (signed from your end) in his office at Akso and skip on your way home, treat yourself to a luxury dinner, self care, a good soak in the bath all while humming under your breath. You go to bed, relieved that you'll be a free woman by the end of the week.
Except Zayne shows up in the middle of night still in his hospital scrubs kneeling by your bed (the first time he's entered your bedroom in a long while)
He clutches your hands in a death grip, tears in his eyes, begging you, "please don't leave me."
Heâs half-awake, voice thick with exhaustion when he answers his phone. âSpeak.â
For a moment, you donât say anything. Just let the tinny static brew between you, your mouth forming around words, but nothing comes out.
He sits up in his bed, the sheets sliding down his naked torso and puddling around his hips. âWhatâs wrong, sweetheart?â he dotes after pushing his hair back from his face.
You sigh, shaky, warring with yourself before putting on your grown-up pants and justâŚsaying it. âSylus. Iâm sorry. I know itâs late.â Or early for him.
He chuckles, the sound of it thick and syrupy. Had you not been fighting for your life in your bed, youâd be up for some guided masturbation. Butâ
âItâs alright, sweetheart. I was just about to get up, anyway. Whatâs wrong?â
You worry your bottom lip between your teeth. Pull on some loose skin. âMy periodâs on.â
Fabric rustles on his side. He sits up, alert, elbow propped on his knee, spine rigid. âIs it?â
âYep.â
âWhat do you need me to do?â
Your chest warms. You smile all wobbly, eyes wateringâstupid hormone imbalances.
Sylus is always so eager to care for you. Always a life preserver, a buoy when youâre sinking. âI could use some company. Maybe a heating pad and some chocolate.â
Heâs moving before you can fully articulate your thoughts. Tugging a shirt over his head, shimmying into some sweats. Keys jangling, shoes clicking over the floor. The phoneâs wedged between his shoulder and cheek as he starts his motorcycle, his sleepiness thrown to the wind.
âAny particular brand of candy bar youâre craving? Or should I surprise you?â
You smile. Chuckle. âAs long as it isnât that gross stuff with the cherries in it, I donât care what you get.â
âBe there in twenty,â he soothes, soft as velvet.
âTake your time.â
Heâs punctual, as always. Kind enough to remove his shoes upon entering your homeâspare key, courtesy of being your doting and trustworthy boyfriend. He flows into your bedroom like smoke, brows furrowing up at you cocooned like an emotional, pained burrito in your bed.
You shimmy away from the wall to face him, your cat poking its head out from your restraints before leaping out to greet him with a nudge to his shins and an affectionate brrrrp.
Sylus smiles, crooked, rueful, holding up a crinkly bag of confectioneries in one hand and an adorable Menstruation Crustacean in the other. His peace offering. His passcode for entry.
You wiggle away from the edge of the bed, closer to the wall, wordlessly signaling for him to join you. He snorts, shaking his head. Crosses the space between your door and bed in three measured strides. Shrugs out of his jacket, neatly dropping it onto your rolling chair. Plops his keys, phone, and wallet on your nightstand before crawling into your castle.
He props himself against your headboard, flanked by marshmallow-y pillows. Smirks at you, spreading his arms after patting his chest, grabby hands.
You worm your way towards him, curling against his body like a content little feline. His chin finds the crown of your head. Hand smoothes over your back, chest vibrates with mollifying humming as he lures you back to sleep.
i think thereâs actually nothing better than being randomly told âI love youâ after doing something characteristically stupid. Like what do you mean Iâm a lovable person and I just did something silly and you thought âof course you would do that. I love you.â. No better feeling
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