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Syzoth swore winter did something to you.
Maybe the cold altered your brain chemistry. Maybe the snowflakes carried some mind-rotting enchantment. Whatever it was, the moment the temperature dipped, you became ten times more affectionate.
…Which was very convenient, because he was ten times colder.
“Syzoth,” you cooed, gliding over to him with all the stealth and intent of a heat-seeking missile. You looped your arms around his shoulders and tugged him into your warmth.
He shivered instantly, breath catching slightly as his body leaned into yours before he had the dignity to stop it.
“…Hi,” he said quietly, voice embarrassingly soft.
You tilted your head, brushing your nose against his cheek. “Are you okay, dear? Do you want your blanket? I can get it.”
He shook his head a bit too fast. “I’m okay for now…” he mumbled, though his hands were already creeping toward your waist like you were the only radiator within a hundred miles.
His attention drifted to the box by your feet. “What is that?”
You instantly lit up.
“Christmas decorations!” you giggled. “We gotta make it festive!”
Syzoth stared at the ornaments suspiciously, like they might attack him. Or worse—require him to participate.
But then you snuggled into him again, and his brain shorted out.
“…Oh,” he murmured, voice dropping into that soft, shy register he tried so hard to hide. “Festive.”
“Mhm,” you hummed, “we’re gonna make the house look as cute as you.”
Syzoth’s entire face went pink. His pupils dilated as his tail almost flicked into existence, yet he recovered with the dignity of a man who absolutely did not just short-circuit.
“I am not cute,” he grumbled. “I am fearsome.”
“Yeah, sure,” you giggled, pretending to not hear the complaint as you slipped out of his arms.
Syzoth’s hands hovered where your waist had been before he realized what he was doing and snapped them back to his sides.
He watched you sift through ornaments like you were selecting weapons for a war. Holding one up. Squinting. Rejecting it with a wrinkle of your nose. Repeating.
Syzoth didn’t get it.
Humans chopped down trees and decorated them? With tiny shiny objects? On purpose?
Was this a ritual for good harvest? A protection spell? A seasonal transformation rite?
His brow furrowed.
He leaned a little closer, whispering as if afraid of offending you.
“…Is this something all humans must do? For… survival?”
You paused mid-ornament and turned to look at him.
He was dead serious.
He blinked at you.
You burst out laughing.
Syzoth’s ears turned red.
He hissed softly, cheeks puffing out in embarrassment.
“You’re adorable,” you cooed.
“I am not,” he said, voice cracking, which absolutely did not help his case.
You stepped closer, cupping his cheeks gently.
And you watched, in real time, how his pupils widened, his breath stilled, his eyes grew soft.
Then you leaned in and kissed his nose.
A soft, exaggerated kiss.
Mwah.
Syzoth froze like someone pulled the plug.
His nostrils flared, body flinching, as his hands flexed helplessly at his sides.
His ears?
Bright. Crimson. Glowing like Rudolph got reincarnated as a lizard boy.
“…Do not do that,” he muttered, voice so soft it sounded like he was asking instead of warning. “It… it does things to me.”
You only smiled, thumb brushing along the sharp line of his cheek, feeling the subtle heat blooming beneath his skin.
“I know.”
You kissed him—light, slow, sweet—before pulling back just enough to whisper, “Your nose was red. I had to kiss it.”
A tiny, helpless squeak slipped out of him. An actual squeak.
Syzoth immediately stiffened like he hadn’t meant to let that noise exist, then melted right after, hands sliding to your waist and tugging you closer.
“You reminded me of Rudolph,” you teased, looping your arms around his neck and kissing his nose again on purpose.
He scrunched it, flustered. “Rudolph?”
“Mhm,” you cooed, leaning in to nuzzle his nose with yours. “A little red-nosed reindeer with a very shiny nose.”
Syzoth blinked at you, eyes narrowing like he was trying to determine whether Rudolph was a threat he needed to hunt down or some kind of human folklore cryptid.
“…A reindeer,” he repeated slowly. “With… a glowing nose?”
“Yes,” you giggled, “and it was cute, just like yours.”
His entire body jolted.
A full-body, tail-stiffening static shock reaction, like you’d just hit him with forty volts of affection.
“I— I do not…” he tried, voice wobbling. “My nose is not— I mean it is functional, not… aesthetically— it is not—”
You kissed his nose again.
He made that tiny squeak again.
Then promptly buried his face in your shoulder to hide the way his ears were absolutely betraying him.
“…It is unfair,” he mumbled into your collarbone. “Humans should not be able to fluster others with such ease.”
You smoothed your hands up his back, feeling the way he instinctively leaned into your warmth. His grip tightened on your waist, protective even while flustered.
“It’s part of my charm,” you teased.
He groaned softly, resignation and affection bleeding through it.
“You are dangerous,” he whispered. “Far more than any foe I have met.”
You tilted his chin up gently, brushing your lips along the bridge of his nose.
“But you like it.”
Syzoth swallowed hard, eyes shining with something warm and a little shy.
“…I do,” he admitted quietly. “Very much.”
You pressed another tiny kiss to the tip of his nose just to watch his ears flare red again.
And oh, they did.
Burning red and glowing.
Rudolph could never compete.