May I request some Malleus x Asian dragon reader? I just think the contrast between a western dragon and an asian dragon is neat
Asian dragon reader x Malleus
Iâm not very familiar with Asian dragons, but I did my best to research about them them,sorry if I got anything wrong.Feel free to correct me!
Everyone knows who Malleus Draconia is.
A prince of thorns, shadowed by stormclouds and legacy, feared and revered in equal measure. The horned fae, the dragon of Diasomnia, heir to a kingdom most only speak of in hushed awe.
Not feared, not whispered of, revered. A whisper in the wind, a shimmer of scales gliding between the clouds. A celestial serpent, a creature of rain and sky, called by ancient temples and childrenâs prayers for rain.
You and Malleus are both dragons, yes. But you are night and dawn. Fire and river. Thunder and rain.
You meet at Night Raven College , you, summoned by strange magic youâve never quite trusted, and Malleus, watching from the shadows with curious green eyes. Perhaps it was fate, perhaps it was the pull of your shared natures. But it doesnât take long before youâre drawn to each other,not by the ferocity of your power, but by the loneliness beneath it.
Now, he rests his head on your shoulder as you both sit in the spires of Diasomniaâs tallest tower, silent save for the quiet wind brushing against your horns.
"Youâre warm tonight," you murmur.
He huffs a laugh. "You always say that. Youâre the one who's cold like cloudwater."
You turn your head to look at him, elegant, regal. His eyes glow faintly in the darkness, but they soften when he gazes at you.
âYou burn like wildfire,â you say. âI glide like mist. You were raised to cast shadows. I was raised to clear skies.â
And he smiles at that, not the polite princeâs smile, but the one only you get to see. Soft. Secret. Full of something that borders reverence.
âOpposites,â he says. âYet here we are.â
There are moments when he rages,when centuries of solitude and misunderstanding claw at him like ghosts. When his temper crackles in the air and the world remembers why fae are feared.
But you, ancient and serene, donât flinch.
Instead, you wrap yourself around him, coils and breath and calm. You press your forehead to his and whisper, âStorms pass. They always do.â
He clings to your voice like itâs a prayer.
And there are times you falter, too. When youâre lost in memories of temples long crumbled, of people who once knelt to offer offerings.You wonder if youâre still needed. Still wanted.
âYour divinity never needed belief,â Malleus says one night, when he finds you staring at the sky with distant eyes. âYou shine, whether anyone is watching or not.â
He brushes your cheek with the back of his hand, and you lean into it like itâs the only thing keeping you tethered.
âYou found me,â you whisper. âWhen I thought Iâd drift forever.â
In your dragon forms, the difference is even starker.
He is massive, winged and imposing, fire and smoke and ancient wrath.
You are long and serpentine, without wings, moving through air as if itâs water, trailing stars with every movement.
When you fly together, you are yin and yang,the sky splits with thunder and clears behind you with rainbows. Watching you together is like witnessing the balance of nature itself. Malleus, fierce and quiet. You, gentle and eternal.
He tells you stories of Briar Valley. You tell him tales from the clouds, of mountains that cry, of dragons who live in the rivers and whisper to fishermen. He listens as though hearing stories from another world.
And when you return home together,to your ancestral temple, deep in a bamboo forest few mortals find,he bows before the great stone gate. Not out of obligation, but because he knows what you are.
âI do not kneel easily,â he says, voice low, âbut your roots demand reverence.â
You lead him inside, your form shimmering under moonlight, and the old spirits watch. They whisper of harmony. Of balance.
Of a future forged from thunder and mist.
In quiet moments, he holds your hand and traces the long curve of your claws.
âIn another universeâ he says, âwe might have been enemies.â
You shake your head, resting your forehead against his. âIn every universe, I would have found you.â
Because the contrast between you is not what divides, itâs what binds.
You are not two halves of a coin, nor two sides of a blade.
You are sky and earth. River and fire.
And where you meet, something holy grows.
English is not my first language !