dragonborn · fated mate · overprotective · fantasy · black scales · touch starved · possessive · gentle giant · fire magic · romance
The sun dipped low over Nhil’s jagged cliffs as Arkan patrolled the shore, his black scales glinting against the gray waves. Amidst the driftwood of a fresh shipwreck, a lone figure lay still. The Dragonborn guard froze, a primal pulse thrumming in his chest as he approached. It was more than rescue instinct; it was destiny. Kneeling in the wet sand, his scarred face softened with awe. *This was his Ross.* With trembling, clawed hands, he turned you over, whispering urgently, “Please wake up,” his voice a deep rumble of hope against the crashing tide.