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#Building snowmen with him daddy
gyeomsweetgyeom · 3 months
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(cw: a child, f!reader, "mommy", and "daddy")
[8:41 am]
"Are you sure she's warm enough?" Dad!Jeno asked nervously, adjusting the scarf on his toddler for the nth time.
"She's sweating Jeno, she's fine. Right baby?" You bend to ask the toddler to pull up her zipper.
She nods with an excited smile. You and Jeno had woken up to the excited squeals of you daughter while she jumped on your bed and babbled on and on about the snow. This would be her first year she could actually remember being in the snow and being able to play on her own. She was so excited, she talked the whole way through breakfast about how she couldn't wait to be outside and play in the snow until the sun went down.
Before you all went outside, after a lot of begging on your daughter's end, and many, many layers later, you were all heading down stairs to go outside.
Jeno had bundled her up in a thermal, sweats, gloves, a beanie, and a snow suit, the poor girl would be sweating outside. Jeno had made sure you were bundled up as well and led you all out of the house in his pajamas. Needless to say, you made him go in and get changed.
"Snow!" Your daughter cheered as she dashed out of the elevator. Jeno was hot on her tail, grabbing her hand and helping her over the icy sidewalk to get to the fluffy white snow.
You joined them outside right on time to see her plop onto her back, sinking into the snow to make a snow angel. She laughed happily, flapping her arms up and down through the snow. She stood up with snow stuck to her snowsuit and rosy cheeks, red from the cold and ran off to play some more.
You and Jeno watched her for a while, running around happily with the other kids of the apartment building. She made countless snow angels, snowballs, and just had fun in the snow.
Jeno smiled at her lovingly, "She really looks like she's having a good time- put the snowball down! Don't eat it!"
You laughed watching Jeno chase after her and the snowball she was going to eat. She ran straight behind you to hide, giggling like crazy and out of breath.
"Hey baby," You laugh, adjusting her hat, "Want to build a snowman with Mommy?"
She nods excitedly, beginning to gather up a pile of snow. Once it gets to the point where you need it to be taller you send her off to get some sticks and little rocks for the details. She comes back with an armful of twigs with happy laughs and beyond excited to show you some cool rocks she found.
Jeno joins you both to add his scarf to the snowman. Your daughter giggles happily, "It's daddy!"
Jeno laughs cheerfully and calls her over so they can start making more snowmen, one small one, and one more that was "adult size." The small one gets your daughter's scarf and the remaining one of course gets yours when your daughter waddles over to ask for your hat and scarf.
"Look at that baby! Who did you make?" You ask her with a smile.
She claps her hands, the sound muffled by her gloves, "It's me, mommy, and daddy." She begins to babble on and on about how she made them, how many sticks she found, her cool rocks, a dog she saw earlier, how she saw a snowman in a movie, and really- whatever else comes to mind.
Jeno comes up to you, wrapping his arm around your waist to tug you closer, "I think she liked the snow."
"So much she's trying to eat it again," you chuckle, watching her form a small clump of snow and lick it.
Jeno runs to her, "Not again! Leave it on the ground!"
-
tagging! @jaeminnanaaa17 enjoy more dad!nct dream :)
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multific · 1 year
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König with a Pregnant Wife Headcanons
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König x Fem!Reader
You used to be in the army
But after you and König got married you retired and looked for a new job
Both of you prefered it like this
Since your plan was to have a family rather quickly
You longed to have children and who was he to deny that from you
And he also wanted a daughter
So, you quit and started working for a big corporation
You managed to get pregnant rather quickly
And what a joy it was
König was on a mission when you got the results
And of course you waited until he would be back to tell him the news, over the phone it wouldn’t have been the same
You let him know by giving him a #1 Best Dad mug
„Darling... are you sure this is the one you meant to buy?” he asked with confusion written on his face
„Of course, you are the best dad in the world after all or will be.”
„Sweetheart, is this about that Daddy kink again? I told you it was in the heat of the moment you don’t have to call me-„
„No, silly. This was my attempt to let you know that I am pregnant.”
He froze.
Once he finally collected his thoughts
He started running around, yelling something in German you couldn’t understand
Oh yeah, he was happy alright
Extremely happy in fact
He nearly knocked you over when he ran towards you
He would not go on any missions
He wants to be there every step of the way
And once both of you went to the doctor’s and he got the confirmation he needed, things in him changed
Protective husband mode: ON
Overprotective husband mode: ON
Protecting you from every leaf and bug
If you are pregnant during winter:
He would absolutely not let you outside without being warmly dressed
Even if you tell him you are not cold, he would put another sweatshirt on you or a hat or gloves
He is basically a human heater so even if you are cold you two can just cuddle and he would warm you up instantly
Expect hot drinks even if you don’t ask for them
All the new Christmas drinks from every possible store
Expect him to try out all of the drinks you get
He would say “To make sure it’s not poisoned”
But you’d know he just wants to try them out
Would 200% build snowmen, One to represent him, one to represent you and a very small one for the baby
If you are pregnant during summer:
He would ask you if you are not too hot, if you need a cold drink
He would ask but he would also provide a cold beverage at all times
He wouldn’t let you out of the house
If you don’t already have an AC, prepare that he would get some into the main room and the bedroom
Although that one is mainly for you, he also really likes to have the AC on
Would make you go to the beach and would fully eye your changing body
Would hold you close in the water
And he would joke around that you are basically a human submarine
You can have the strangest cravings, he would always give you exactly what you ask for
Even if its in the middle of the night
Would also totally get something to eat while he is out
And of course you’d end up stealing what he got
If you are emotional he would know it is the fact that you are carrying a child not that you want to be mean to him
He would be extremely touchy
Would have to have you close at all times
Speaking to the baby while rubbing your belly
He would often speak in German
You knew that he has a soft spot but seeing him like this, an attentive papa bear, it did something to you
Your hormones were over the roof
You stared at him, made him walk around the house shirtless
And then in the next second you didn’t even want to see his face
“I told you to leave me alone!”
“B-But, Liebling…”
You could throw anything at him, he wouldn’t mind
He knows how difficult this is for you
So, he tries to be the best husband
Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart​​ @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports  @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa   @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow @crazzyter  @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79  @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @liveforkarljacobs @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​​ @paola-carter​​ @stunkbiggu
~Masterlist~
ˇAO3ˇ
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lionlena · 30 days
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Unforgivable mistake (JoelMillerxreader) Part 11
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Summary: Reader is much younger than Joel and is in love with  him. One night, after arguing with Tess and getting drunk, Joel spends  the night with a reader, but in the morning he breaks her heart…  She  runs away from Boston hoping that she will never meet this cold bastard  again in her life. But almost six years later, she unexpectedly sees  Joel in Jackson. She decides to hide herself and her little secret from  this asshole.
Warnings: age gap (reader is about 28 years, Joel 58),  strong language, swearing, past trauma, bullying, attempted rape, memories of sexual abuse, unprotect p in v,  dom!Joel, Joel is asshole, ANGST, hurt, sadness and heartbreaking, sexual harassment, women abuse, violence, injury, sickness, misunderstanding, breakdown
I'm sorry you had to wait for this new chapter for so long. I hope I will write 11 much faster ;) Sorry, I tried 🥺
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Part 11
You woke up and felt the cold take over your body. You wrinkled your nose. You were sure Joel had stoked the furnace before you went to bed, but you were too sleepy to worry about that now. You wanted to spend a few more minutes to sleep, so you snuggled into Joel's warm body, hugging his back. You heard him purr softly in contentment. Then you pressed your icy nose into the back of his neck and heard a hiss.
"Brat…" he croaked sleepily and you giggled.
"It's cold," you replied innocently.
You were about to ask him if he had actually put more wood into the furnace when your son ran into your bedroom happily shouting:
"Snow! Snow! There's snow everywhere! Lots of…"
Then you understood everything, it snowed overnight, and winter in Jackson had begun in earnest. You sighed with dissatisfaction and closed your eyes, burying your face in Joel's warm back. For your son, snow meant fun, and for you, it meant more work. You knew you'd have to go to the stables earlier to make sure there wasn't too much snow on the roof and that the horses were well secured.
Teddy jumped on your bed and started laughing happily. Joel pulled him to his chest and ruffled his hair.
"You say it's snowing, bear cub… Will you turn into a polar bear now?"
The little boy squealed happily.
"Yes… Shall we build a snowman, Daddy?"
Even though you weren't happy with the snow and cold, you couldn't help but smile widely. Joel and Teddy's interaction was always so sweet and adorable. And you knew Joel's chest would swell every time he heard the word "daddy."
"Sure! We'll build ten snowmen! But first… We'll eat breakfast and put you into something warm clothes."
Teddy was so happy he didn't even protest.
"I'll wake up Ellie and tell her it's snowing!"
Before you could react, the boy had already run to his adoptive, older sister. Joel chuckled to himself. He was sure that the teenage girl wouldn't be happy with this wake-up call, but at the same time, she would succumb to Teddy's charm and agree to build a snowman with him.
You sighed and hugged Joel even tighter, sliding your hands under his shirt. You felt his body react to your touches and heard his muffled growl. He grabbed your hands gently and moaned:
"Don't tease… Please…"
You felt remorse. You knew that sometimes your touch was unbearable for him. It wasn't that he didn't like the closeness. You just didn't realize sometimes how arousing your innocent caresses were. And at the same time, they were torture because they never led to anything more.
You removed your hands and sighed softly.
"Sorry."
Joel immediately turned to you. He pulled you to his chest and kissed your forehead. You could feel his bulge in his pants and it made you feel even worse.
"I'm sorry…" You said again, almost crying this time.
Joel immediately started caressing your face.
"Hey, hey… We talked about it. Don't apologize. I'm a big boy and… I can handle it."
You sighed and nodded. You didn't want to know the details of how Joel dealt with it. Although you had some idea.
"It's just that sometimes… I wish it were different…" you said with obvious disappointment in your voice.
Joel looked at you gently and kissed your nose.
"But it is what it is, and I love you no matter what."
His words filled you with warmth and you couldn't help but smile a little. You wanted that moment to last forever. The two of you in a warm bed, in your own little bubble of comfort.
"Joel! Your son is hungry and it is your responsibility to feed him and me!"
You both laughed as you heard Ellie scream from the hall. Joel rolled his eyes and you sighed. The peace is over. You groaned and got out of the warm blanket.
"I have to go to the stables early."
Joel nodded and handed you your warm sweater while he started putting on his jeans.
"I'll take care of everything. I don't start patrol until the evening."
You felt a slight twinge in your heart. You didn't like it when Joel had evening patrols. This meant he would come back late at night and you would have to fall asleep without his warmth. This day couldn't get any worse… . After three hours of work at the stables, you decided to go home for lunch and check how your boys were doing. But the closer you got to home, the faster your heart started beating and your brain began to go crazy. Joel stood and watched Teddy play with Rose, and next to him stood Emily, Tess's doppelgänger. You felt how your body instantly heated up and felt dizzy. And Joel seemed so… Happy?
The closer you got, the slower you walked, as if your feet were sinking into the ground. Your son saw you first. He smiled widely and waved at you.
"Hello, Mommy!"
Joel and Emily immediately turned around and you forced a smile and waved back to your little boy. Your baby boy didn't deserve your sour face. However, you couldn't be so relaxed when you stood in front of THIS woman. You murmured a greeting and really tried your hardest not to explode. It was so baseless, but… Emily was taller than you, more graceful, and… That damn face of young Tess.
"Are you having fun?"
Joel raised his eyebrows as if he didn't fully understand your question, so you added:
"With kids…"
Emily didn't seem to sense your baseless hatred because she smiled broadly and said,
"Oh yes, the kids are so happy and Joel builds great snowmen."
You wanted to imitate her: Oh, Joel builds great snowmen… But you bit your tongue.
"He was a builder after all."
God, You felt like the situation was getting more and more awkward by the second. You couldn't have given a better answer. Joel decided to save you because he chuckled softly and wrapped his arm around you.
"Finally, my skills from my previous life are useful for something."
You felt a little better when Joel showed you affection in front of 'Tess', but her next words ruined everything.
"Do you work in the stable?"
"Huh?"
"You have straw on your clothes."
You felt your blood boil. You wanted to strangle her. Maybe her words weren't meant to be malicious.
"Yes…" You muttered, then quickly added. "I just came for a short break. I'll eat something and go back to the horses. Have fun."
You walked away from them and had a hard time keeping yourself from slamming the door.
"You have straw on your clothes…" You said mockingly as you entered the kitchen.
Who was she to tell you that? At least your dirty clothes were proof that you worked, and what was she doing besides praising Joel's snowman-building skills?
"Ugh!"
You threw your jacket on the chair and opened the fridge, even though you had actually lost your appetite. You were about to stand in front of the living room window to watch Joel and Emily when he came back. He immediately gave you a worried look. He took off his jacket, hung it on the door, and walked over to you.
"It's okay, you seem kind of… Annoyed."
You nodded quickly and tried to swallow the bitterness you felt in your throat.
"Where's Teddy?"
"He went with Rose for a while… I'll pick him up in half an hour."
You couldn't help but groan in frustration, and with Joel's questioning look you replied:
"I don't like her. I mean, Emily… Not, Rose."
Joel seemed surprised by your answer.
"Why?"
"She said my clothes were dirty."
He couldn't help but giggle softly, but seeing your glare, he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around your waist.
"Babe, I think you misunderstood her. Emily is new here and she's curious. She noticed the straw, so… She wanted to confirm her suspicions."
You huffed, still feeling frustrated. Joel began to rock your hips, something he had learned to do when you were pouting. And you had to admit it always worked. Then he kissed your forehead and said in a calm, tender voice:
"I think you're tired. What if we do this? After I pick up Teddy, I'll go with him to the stables and help you with your work…"
You leaned against his strong chest and inhaled his scent. His offer was so tempting. Not to mention you'd be keeping an eye on him then.
"But you have your own duties… And patrol…"
Joel smiled to himself. He knew he already had you.
"It's okay. I can handle everything."
Of course, you felt a little guilty, but the feeling of happiness and contentment prevailed. . But nothing changed the fact that you felt uneasy every time you saw Emily close to Joel. It was like an icy spike was sticking into your stomach. You were afraid. Sometimes you tried to think logically. Joel loved you and did a lot to be with you again. You wanted to believe that he wouldn't break your heart again. But sometimes your obsession won.
And it wasn't like you didn't have the basics. Teddy really liked Rose, so your neighbor had plenty of opportunities to smile at Joel. In addition, Emily and Joel became patrol partners. When you found out about it, you thought you were going crazy, and you even tried to convince Joel that it shouldn't be like this.
"I can go on patrols with you," you said one night as you were going to bed.
"What?" Joel gasped.
"I thought I could go on patrols with you… I've had less work with horses lately and…"
"NO!" Joel interrupted you harshly, and upon seeing your hurt expression, he immediately grabbed your hands. "Honey… What about Teddy? If we're both on patrol, he'll must be under someone's care… Besides… If something happened to you…"
You huffed and rolled your eyes.
"Something can happen to anyone. Emily also has a small child and she goes on patrol."
Joel sighed heavily.
"But Rose, she's not my baby… And although I wouldn't want Rose to lose her mother, my worry for Emily is incomparable to what I would feel if I had you next to me."
You felt like you had already lost. You were obsessed with 'Tess' and he had valid arguments, but you kept going anyway.
"It wouldn't be so bad… I can handle it… I've been coping on my own for so many years."
Joel looked at you with a small smile. He brushed the hair away from your forehead.
"Honey, don't be offended, but last week you were screaming because you found a dead rat in the basement."
You pouted and looked offended. It wasn't fair.
"It surprised me!"
Joel couldn't help but chuckle.
"A dead rat? How could it surprise you if it wasn't moving? Did it speak to you from the afterlife?"
You crossed your arms over your chest and stuck your tongue out at him.
"And yet it surprised me."
Joel shook his head, placed his hands on your hips, and started rocking them. God! You hated him for it. On top of that, his voice became so soft that it wrapped around you like a warm blanket.
"Will you tell me what's really going on? Because I can't believe you suddenly want to freeze your ass off on patrol."
He hit the spot. But you couldn't tell him the truth, certainly not the whole truth.
"I… I just wish I could spend more time with you."
Joel cooed and pulled you to his chest. Then he kissed your head.
"Hey, you know, I'll talk to Tommy. In the spring, I can help build and repair houses. Then I'd be closer and I'd always be home before sunset. What do you think?"
You couldn't deny that you felt a surge of peace. His words and gestures made your anxiety melt away for a moment. You smiled and nodded.
"Sounds good."
Joel hugged you even tighter as if to assure you of his love.
"Then hold on for two more months." . Hold on… Don't go crazy. It was easier said than done. You didn't know if you were oversensitive or if Joel and Emily had really gotten closer… Standing by the window in the living room suddenly became your new passion. Whenever Joel went out on patrol, or simply left the house, you immediately stood by the window and watched to see if he had met Emily. You watched closely how they greeted each other. How far apart were they? What Emily looked like. Is she more, or less like Tess, today?
It became your obsession. You didn't even try to get to know Emily better. You immediately attributed all of Tess's traits to her: conceited, mean, resentful of you, and possessive of Joel. You felt like you moved to Boston.
"Y/N."
You jumped when you heard Ellie's voice. You almost forgot that the teenage girl was still at home.
"Hmm?"
"You're standing at the window again… It's about Emily."
You sighed heavily and nodded. Then you looked at the couch where the teenager's sweatshirt lay, the sweatshirt you were supposed to fix. You gave Ellie an apologetic look.
"I know what you're going to say, that I'm obsessed… And I guess you're right. I'm about to take care of the hole in your sweatshirt."
Ellie bit her lip and looked at you with a look you knew well. Something was bothering her.
"It's not about the sweatshirt, is it?"
The girl shook her head.
"The thing is… I don't want to say something that might ruin everything ."
You walked closer to her and looked at her carefully.
"Ellie, you better tell me. If you think something is wrong, then… It's better to face the truth because it can only get worse."
The teen nodded and you were honestly expecting some sort of teenage problem, but her next words shook you.
"I thought you were obsessed with this Emily because she looks like Tess… But yesterday… Yesterday I saw Joel and her walk into the bar and I heard her say, 'I can't believe I agreed to this date, it's crazy'…" Seeing the look on your face, she quickly added. "But maybe… I guess it's nothing, you know… Y/N… I don't want you to fight with Joel, but… I thought I should tell you…"
You took a deep breath and nodded. You didn't want to fall apart right in front of her. You didn't want her to feel worse. You understood her. She was like a child who wanted to remain loyal to each of her parents, but at the same time had to choose a side.
"It's good that you told me… I'll talk to Joel… Take it easy. I'll find out what it was about…"
Ellie didn't seem entirely convinced, but she nodded and you smiled softly at her.
"Don't worry…"
"Can I do something?" she asked.
"If you could pick up Teddy from the common room and leave him with Claudia before going to Dina…"
Ellie nodded and you breathed a sigh of relief. You didn't want any of the children to witness your confrontation with Joel. . When you were left alone, you began to pace anxiously around the house. You knew there were about two hours, until Joel returned and that in those two hours you would go crazy with all your thoughts.
First, you tried to control yourself and rationalize everything. You had a plan that when Joel showed up, you would just ask him about the situation and that would be it. But with each passing minute, your anxiety began to deepen and all sorts of thoughts filled your head.
You even got to the point where you started blaming yourself. It was finally clear what Joel was missing. It wasn't a secret.
And the truth was, part of you wanted to have sex with Joel. You wanted to get him into bed. Explore his body, feel him inside you, but… You were afraid that sex would awaken the old animal in him. Sometimes You looked at him from the side. You saw how gentle he was with Teddy and Ellie. You felt how gentle he was with you. But what if it all disappeared the moment he saw you naked and defenseless? When he feels he has power again. What if he decides you're not good enough and abandons you in the morning like he used to? You knew it was impossible. He wouldn't do it for his son's sake. And yet these thoughts haunted you. It was easier with Steve. He was a blank page, and the first time you had sex with him, he gave you full power. He knelt in front of you and begged for permission to touch you. Steve just liked it, being obedient. He didn't even cum without your consent. You didn't know if it was just his fetish and he was like that with all women. Or was he just doing it for you? But it worked. Steve was the only man after Joel you had sex with. Of course, you tried dating others a few times, but it ended the moment they touched you. It just seemed like Steve was the exception.
And now you had Joel again, and Joel was a man and he had needs. Your mind started going crazy. Maybe he didn't even like Emily, but she was willing to give him what you couldn't? Maybe he made some sort of deal with her… Something like: friends with benefits. You even started to have absurd thoughts that maybe you should let Joel do this. Before you knew it, you were so absorbed in your own misery that you were curled up on your bed, crying. Suddenly you felt the bed sag under the weight and someone's large, warm hand landed on your side.
"Y/N… Baby, what's wrong?"
Joel's voice was clearly concerned, close to panic. You turned around abruptly and simply blurted out:
"It's about sex?! Right?! You don't feel anything for her, but you can fuck her!"
Your voice cracked and Joel looked like someone had thrown him into ice water. He wanted to shout: 'What the hell?!' But he knew better that he must stay completely calm. He had no idea what had happened to you, but you were clearly in a bad emotional state and having a breakdown. He took a deep breath and replied:
"Baby, I have no idea who you're talking about. Who would I be having sex with?"
"With Emily!" You growled.
Joel moved away from you as if you had hit him. Of course, you were in such a state that you considered his reaction as confirmation of your theory.
"So I'm right!"
Joel couldn't stand it anymore and his scream was like thunder.
"NO!"
You started to tremble and he felt remorse, but at least he had a moment to speak to you.
"No, honey…" His voice was calm again. "You're absolutely wrong. I don't know what happened or what made you think that, but I only love you."
Joel tried to pull you into a hug, but you pulled away from him and sobbed.
"So what… that you love me… But… But you can't have sex with me, so you found someone else to do it… It doesn't take love for that…"
Joel couldn't stand your tears and despite your protests, he pulled you closer to him and wiped away the tears with his thumbs.
"Y/N we talked about it and my mind hasn't changed… I understand you and I respect your decision. And I want to be with you for the rest of my life, even if it means no sex. And I will have sex either with you or with nobody."
His hands rubbed soothing circles on your back and you took a shaky breath. You were still in despair, but you wanted to believe his words.
"And Emily?"
Joel raised his eyebrows and looked surprised.
"What about her? I don't have any intimate relationship with her if that's what you're asking."
"But… Apparently, you went to a bar with her, and she… And she said something about going on a date…"
Joel chuckled softly and grunted.
"Okay. I won't ask who your spy was, but… Yes, it's true. I went to a bar with Emily and talked to her about a date… In fact, I even asked her out on a date, but not with me… with Claudia…"
"What?!"
These revelations were so shocking to you that you couldn't find the words.
"But… but… Claudia… Emily…"
Joel gave you a funny look.
"You don't mean to tell me you didn't know your best friend was a lesbian."
You rolled your eyes. Of course, you always knew that.
"I mean Emily… She has a baby and… She got along with you so well and…"
You felt completely lost. On one hand, a wave of relief washed over you that everything was just your imagination. On the other hand, you felt ashamed that you fell apart and let your emotions get the better of you.
But Joel, as usual, tried to be understanding. He smiled as he saw that the crisis was over. He kissed you on the cheek and replied:
"You know very well that a child doesn't always have to be the result of love… I don't know who Rose's father is and I don't want to push Emily… And yes, we get along, but I don't feel anything for her and when she told me that she likes Claudia, but she's very ashamed and afraid that nothing will come out of it, I wanted to help her."
Finally, all your anxiety left you. Joel simply had a good heart, even though he sometimes hid it behind grumpiness and whining.
"Sorry."
He shook his head and waved his hand.
"I'm glad we cleared it up. And tomorrow you'll be able to talk to Claudia about it, because today, after two weeks of my efforts, is their first date."
When you heard this, your eyes widened.
"Oops…"
"What?"
You immediately got out of bed and started dressing. Joel watched you in shock, wondering if he had done something wrong.
"I told Ellie to drop Teddy to Claudia."
Joel immediately jumped off the bed and grabbed your hand.
"Come on, before you ruin my entire elaborate plan!" He groaned miserably and you couldn't help but laugh.
"Aren't you getting into the role of Cupid too much?"
He made another grumpy noise and you smiled widely. This was your Joel. And only yours. .
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Taglist: @casa-boiardi @noisynightmarepoetry @ihavetwoholesforareason @sloanexx @creedslove @orcasoul @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @i-workwithpens @milla-frenchy @liatome @jojo-munson @pascalislove @goldenhxurs @elliaze @aestheticangel612 @cheyxfu @prestinalove @stevengmybeloved @faith-alons26 @harriedandharassed @this--is--music @joeldjarin @elliaze @ajeff855 @anislabonis-love @quality-lust @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @misshoneypaper @simplyreading96 @ilovetaquitosmmmm @softstarlite @missladym1981 @heartpascalispunk
Part 10
Part 12
Ok, so I hope it's not that bad after not writing this story for so long. I know Emily turned out to be quite a twist plot. But I couldn't make Joel an asshole again.
Now an important announcement. So far this story has been devoid of any strong NSFW elements, apart from the beginning. So now I would like you to take the survey and decide. Should there be a description of the sex scene in the next chapter, or would you prefer it to be an addition to a chapter that you don't have to read?
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autistichalsin · 7 months
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Imagine all the moments of Halsin playing with the refugee children after the epilogue.
He jumps in giant piles of leaves in autumn. He splashes in puddles after rainstorms. He gets into snowball fights, he makes snow angels (snow BEAR angels). He plays hide and seek with the kids and uses his wildshape to cheat- turns into a bird and then hides in the treetops. He makes snowmen and pretends to be mad when the kids use his clothes to decorate them. He lets the kids make him flower crowns. If they ever find a beach he lets them bury him in the sand and helps them build the tallest sand castle imaginable (which he concedes is much more fun than his sand mandalas, though he does still make them as well). The kids make little crafts in school, things like bead jewelry, to give to him and he wears them with pride because they thought of him.
Once there's no more Shadow Curse or Absolute to think about he gets to be Daddy Halsin to an entire village and he is just the happiest bear in the fucking universe okay?
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Tickle Traditions
Request: Can I request a Clint x family x Kate fic, maybe it’s set when Kate comes home with Clint for Christmas and she learns all about their traditions specifically their Christmas tickle fight? 🥰 (if you don’t want to write this prompt that’s totally ok!! Xo)
Note: To the person who sent this prompt, I am so sorry it took so long to get to. However, I think this was a good time to write it! It was a really cute prompt, and I hope you enjoy! Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!
Word Count: 1077
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It was cold and snowing outside, as a familiar car pulled up in front of the Barton household. Kate hopped out of the passenger side, helping Clint unload all the gifts for his family. 
“So where’s my present?” Kate asked jokingly.
“Me bringing you here is already a gift,” Clint replied, knowing that by now Kate understood his sarcasm and snarkiness.
Kate smiled to herself, eager to spend Christmas with the Bartons for the first time in a while.
“Hello Kate, it’s so nice to see you again,” Laura said sincerely, opening the door for the two archers.
“DADDY!” Nate cried out, running over to hug his father. Clint set the presents down and picked up his youngest son, who was giggling with excitement.
Cooper and Lila came over, both giving Kate and Clint hugs. 
After the hugs and greetings, they all sat down in the family room, drinking hot coco. 
“So Kate, I know you haven’t been here for many Christmases, so I haven’t been able to teach you all of our traditions,” Clint said, breaking the silence.
“I’d love to learn all of your traditions!” Kate said excitedly.
“We like to build snowmen!” Nate cheered excitedly.
“No, the best part is the snowball fight!” Cooper chimed in.
“I like baking and decorating cookies the best!” Lila said, as Clint nodded in agreement.
“Me too Lila. It’s the least rowdy of them all,” Clint said, as Kate rolled her eyes playfully.
“What should we start with first? Kate, why don’t you choose?” Laura suggested.
“I think I want to start with making cookies,” Kate said, as Lila high fived her.
A few hours later, there were delicious cookies cooling down on the table. A mix of chocolate chip, sugar, and peanut butter cookies awaited. They each took a sugar cookie and began decorating it, with a variety of colored icing and sprinkles.
After decorating their own cookies, they sat down to enjoy them with glasses of milk to go with it.
“These cookies are delicious!” Nate shouted, sporting a milk mustache with crumbs on his face.
Kate giggled at the messy boy, ruffling his hair to add on to the cuteness.
After enjoying the cookies, the six of them went outside to build snowmen.
Kate made hers an archer, after herself, and was proud of her work.
“You forgot something on your snowman,” Clint said flatly.
“First of all, it’s a snowwoman. And second of all, it’s perfect,” Kate replied, turning her nose in the air.
“No, if it’s made after you then you forgot the goofy grin on its face,” Clint replied with a smirk.
“I don’t have a goofy grin!” Kate exclaimed, as she was hit in the stomach with a snowball.
“OOF!” The archer doubled over.
“Who threw that?!?” Kate questioned, with the silly, goofy grin that Clint was talking about.
“See, there it is. All you need to do is add it,” Clint said while laughing.
“Oh that’s it,” Kate said, throwing a snowball at Clint, as Cooper declared a snowball fight. 
Snowballs were fired, as everyone tried their best to dodge them. Kate snuck around, hiding behind a bush, waiting for her chance.
She saw Clint was distracted, so she quickly snuck up behind him and dumped snow down his back.
“AAAHHH,” Clint yelped, as Kate quickly ran towards the kids to protect herself.
“Oh you’ve done it Kate,” Clint said, shaking his head with a smile. 
“You guys are on my side, right?” Kate asked the kids.
“No!” Nate shouted bluntly.
Kate’s eyes widened, as she was then chased inside of the house, where the three kids tackled her onto the couch. 
“What are you—AHAHAHAAHAHAHA,” Kate laughed, as she was now being tickled by all three Batron children.
“We forgot to tell you about our traditional Christmas tickle fight,” Lila said, as they tickled all over her upper body.
Clint eventually came inside, helping pin Kate while the kids continued to tickle her.
“NOHOHOHO THIHIHIS IHIHISN’T FAHAHAIR,” Kate yelled out.
“Hey this is on you. You put snow down my back,” Clint replied, now letting her up and temporarily having mercy.
Kate now got her revenge, tickling the kids worse than she got. 
Their laughter rang out throughout the house, mixed with squeals and lots of shouting.
“Clint, you’re the only one who hasn’t been tickled,” Kate said teasingly.
Before Clint could escape, Kate and the kids pinned him, as Kate began to tickle his armpits.
“KAHAHAHTE NOHOHOHOHO,” Clint cried out, unable to squirm away, as his children were stronger than he thought.
“Awwww the big bad archer can’t handle a little tickling?” Kate asked, now tickling his stomach and sides.
Clint was lost in laughter, as Kate switched off with the kids so they could also torture him.
They eventually let him go, as he lay there panting.
Kate quickly tried to run away, but Clint caught her foot, causing her to trip and fall facing downwards.
Clint quickly pinned her, digging into her ribs and sides, causing the poor girl to squeal with laughter.
“CLIHIHIHINT STAHAHAHAHAHAP,” Kate screamed, squirming to get away unsuccessfully. 
“Welcome to the family tradition!” Clint said teasingly, as Kate was still hysterically giggling and laughing.
Clint began to tickle her armpits, while the kids got her sensitive feet.
“OHOHOKAY MEHEHEHERCY PLEHEHEHEASE,” Kate cried out, as they eventually let her up.
“That was fun!” Nate said, as Clint pulled him into his lap to give him a few more tickles, making the little boy squeal with laughter. 
Kate threw a playful glare at Clint, as he just shrugged.
“I think we all know Kate’s favorite Christmas tradition,” Clint said, as Kate rolled her eyes playfully.
“You’re lucky I’m nice,” Kate said, giving Clint a look of warning.
“Nice? You’re the one putting snow down my back,” Clint retorted.
Kate pouted in defeat, knowing that if she said the wrong thing, she would get tickled to pieces again.
After a few moments of silence, Kate spoke up.
“Thank you for having me over for Christmas. I really enjoyed all the traditions,” Kate said shyly.
“Anytime Kate. You’re always welcome here,” Laura responded.
“And she makes a great tickle target,” Lila teased, as Kate reached out to tickle the younger girl.
With that, round two of the traditional Christmas tickle fight resumed, filling the air with laughter. Kate knew that she had finally found her place, and Clint knew that he had just gained an extra child.
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bearcubstory · 7 months
Note
dark cacao cookie carer :)?
🐻 hi again moppy!!! hehehe this has been sitting in the inbox for a while. i finally tackled it whilst you were sleeping 💤...
🗡 carer!dark cacao headcanons
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🗡 he can be a firm and rigid carer and he puts a lot of emphasis on structure and routine. that said, he still genuinely cares about his regressor
🗡 dark cacao often takes his regressor out into the snowy grounds to release energy. he'll stand by diligently, watching them build snowmen or make snow angels
🗡 his chosen nicknames for his regressor are prince (including other versions applicable to gender or preference), little knight/warrior and little one
🗡 his regressor has playdates with dark choco and caramel arrow, and/or these are also their siblings! dark cacao is a very tired father of three 😓
🗡 dark cacao allows his little one to sit on his lap or nearby whilst he works on important kingdom duties
🗡 he lets the other ancient cookies look after you when they visit, but he is super sceptical about it. hollyberry, in his words, has some 'eccentric parenting methods' that earn her the dark cacao side eye
🗡 his carer nicknames are the very basics; dad, father or daddy. being called king or any titles by his regressor makes him very sad
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madame-wilsonn · 1 year
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Midnights: Chapter 13
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MASTERLIST — MIDNIGHTS MASTERLIST
Summary: Tommy finds himself in his office in the middle of the night, again. He survived, he came back from the grave and life might not be such a burden anymore.
Warnings: mentions of death, angst and some fluff (you’ve read that write)
Word count: 2,031 words
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The clock in the corner of the room rang three sharp strokes, Tommy didn’t look up. He had sat down in his chair at a quarter to midnight, listening to the quiet movements of the night.
A few years ago, he would have used his insomnia to work and prepare speeches and plot expansions of the business. He didn’t have any work to do anymore. But the insomnia didn’t leave.
Almost every night, he would give up the idea of more than a few hours of restless sleep and go to his office. He would sit in his chair, hands rubbing his tired eyes and ruffling his hair. He found himself being tortured with thoughts and ruminations but he could never pinpoint what troubled him. Sometimes, he thought his body had just gotten accustomed to the nauseous rush of worry immobilizing him.
Sometime around four, his muscles began to ache after being still for so long. Tommy reached for a cigarette. He grabbed one in the cigarette holder, placed it between his lips and dampened the tip like he had done countless times. The small ritual seemed to appease him, it felt natural, familiar.
One glance at his desk, his eyes fell on the small portraits and family pictures. He didn’t have as many anymore. He took most of them before Arrow House was destroyed but he used to have immense paintings and pictures in every room. He only had a few left. One with Grace, in New York. One with Lizzie, Charlie and Ruby. One of Charlie and Ruby together. Then a few individual portraits. It was all he had left of his old life. A few proofs that once, he had a family.
He tried to mend his relationship with Charlie and Lizzie. It was a long and difficult process, especially with his son.
The same night after he learnt about Mosley’s twisted plan, he found Lizzie and told her everything, like he promised. She believed him— he wasn’t so good at lying anymore— but it didn’t change much. She lived in the house he bought for her and Charlie and he got to see them, often. Tommy tried to build a relationship with his son, spend weekends with him, go horse riding and attend his violin recitals. It was still hard for Charlie but he seemed to forgive his father the more they spent time together.
Tommy missed Ruby the most. He tried to honor her memory. He tried to live. But the wound in his chest had never healed, it never would.
Her birthday was coming up, he dreaded that time of the year. She used to love her birthday. She would wake up and skip down the stairs, waiting for everyone to sing at the breakfast table. She loved her birthday because it meant having Tommy home, even just for dinner. That’s all she wanted. Whenever he would ask her what gifts she desired, she would hug him and whisper “I want you to help me blow my candles, daddy.”
So he intended to respect her wishes. He took Lizzie and Charlie to Charlie’s yard—Ruby’s favorite place— and they blew her candles, together. He could feel Ruby with them, watching over her mum and brother. They tried to enjoy the day because his little girl wouldn’t want them to be sad. She was a joyful child, always beaming. Her happiness was contagious, her bubbly laugh enough to make anyone smile— even Tommy.
She would have been eleven in November. He tried to imagine what she would be like today. Would her hair still be as long? How tall would she be? Would she still ask him to build her snowmen?
Questions that would stay without answers.
Often, Tommy sat in the office and he felt a gap, he felt cold. Ruby used to sneak in in the middle of the night when he worked. She would quietly tiptoe to the study downstairs and sit on his lap. She didn’t speak, she knew her daddy was busy working but she enjoyed his presence and allowed him to enjoy hers. Tommy missed those nights. He missed the weight of carrying her.
Even the office wasn’t the same. It was smaller, just like the rest of the house. There was no point in buying a manor. It would have been too big, too empty. Here, he felt somewhat at ease. He felt home.
“Tommy?”
He looked up from the pictures, his gaze falling on you, standing by the door.
“What’s going on, love?”
Tommy shook his head as you made your way towards him. “Nothing.” Your arms wrapped around his bare shoulders, you gently dropped a kiss behind his ear. “Can’t sleep?”
He was a troubled man, your husband. It was rare for him to stay in bed, you couldn’t even remember a time he actually slept through the night. But he didn’t like waking you up, no matter how many times you asked. You hated the idea of him struggling with nightmares and those awful voices alone.
Truth was, Tommy felt guilty. He used to be a burden to those around him, he didn’t want to be a burden to you. He tried to be quiet at night, to come back to bed before you could realize he was gone but you always seemed to know. And he hated seeing your tired eyes in the morning after you had to calm him down because of some nightmare.
He wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t enjoy your presence. Even when you didn’t wake up, he would sometimes lie next to you and watch you breathe. There was a calmness about you. Something in the way your hands fit in his, how your eyes seemed to gleam at the sight of him that made his demons cower with shame.
Tommy’s hand wrapped around your wrist, your lips trailed down his neck, resting on his shoulder. You felt him shiver under your feather-like touch and a soft smile appeared on your lips. Your face nestled in the crook of his neck, you stood behind him, silently. Tommy reveled in your gentle embrace, cherishing your warm breath fanning over his skin. He just wanted to stay there, let your touch repair the broken pieces.
“You should go to bed, love,” he finally whispered. It wasn’t fair to you to let you fix him. You didn’t have to wake up for him, you shouldn’t have to. “I’m alright,” Tommy added, hoping it would soothe your worry.
“Do you want me to leave you alone?”
Alone. He knew alone all too well. He had been alone. Alone for so long. And loneliness…Loneliness was cold. Loneliness was painful.
Tommy didn’t want to feel the lonely sting he had been so accustomed to. Not when he had tasted the warmth, a golden feeling seeping through the cracks and somehow making him more than just broken pieces. He didn’t want to be alone anymore. Not when he could be with you.
“I’ll go to bed, then,” you misinterpreted his long silence for a sign to leave. You kissed his cheek and added: “You can come whenever you want, alright?”
But as your hand left his warm skin, Tommy grabbed your fingers and squeezed them lightly. He kept quiet. He didn’t really know what to say. Maybe he did know, he just had no idea how to say the words. So he sat there, fiddling with his fingers and twisting his jaw nervously. You quickly picked on his quirk. He always did it whenever something was bothering him, when the thoughts in his mind became louder than the world around.
Leaning on the edge of the desk, you took his shaky hand, holding it tightly and bringing it to your lips.
“It’s okay, Tom,” you brushed the hair falling on his face, fingers trailing over his cheek. Tommy stared at you and for a moment, wondered if this was real, if you were real or if his demons were yet again torturing him with deceitful illusions. He observed your face, trying to find a clue, any indication that he was dreaming and that soon, you would disappear. That soon, he would be alone. Again.
“You’re too good to me, love,” he finally mumbled, reaching for you. The words had left his mouth without him realizing. But it was true. You were too good. He often looked at you and couldn’t help but ruminate how somebody as gentle as you could have been sent to him? For all his deeds and all his sins, he should be punished. Not given some other chance. Not after all the chances he had wasted.
“I’m not too good to you, Tommy. I’m the good that you deserve,” your voice was so soft, it almost made him cry. It was a funny thing. You handled him with such care, such kindness he could feel his lips wobble and his eyes burn with tears. Tommy didn’t understand why your love made him feel that way, why the simplest gesture of affection made him want to get on his knees and weep. And he knew that even if it happened, you would embrace him and kiss him and tell him you did love him and repeat it until your voice got sore.
“And anyone trying to make you believe the opposite is wrong” you put a finger under his chin, tilting his face up and added with a sly smirk “because I am always right.”
Tommy felt his chest rumble, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. He didn’t recognize his own laugh anymore but one time, you had told him it was your favorite sound and Tommy swore he would try and laugh more. He quickly realized he never had to try.
Sighing, Tommy remembered the question you had asked when you joined him. “I don’t know what’s going on, Y/N.” he looked at you but all he could find in your gaze was comfort. “I can’t sleep and I don’t know why.”
You leaned in, your lips softly resting on his forehead— kissing the troubles away. “You’ve always allowed people to depend on you and never allowed yourself to depend on anybody.”
Sometimes—most of the time—your heart broke for him. You had never admitted it out loud before, it would only make him feel terrible but it did. You didn’t know him during all these years, you weren’t there for him like he needed. He told you stories from his past, bits and pieces whispered in the dead of the night—secrets from your lover that he entrusted you with, that you protected and kept close to your heart. But all these stories, all these events made you realize how alone he had been all this time. And it made you ache. He was far from being perfect, you knew his faults and recognized his flaws but there was so much to him: so much kindness, so much love. So much light that even decades of pain and suffering couldn’t even put out.
As the sun rose on the quiet land, gently painting your faces in golden hues, you brought your forehead to his. Your hands brushed against his neck, caressing the back of his head. You whispered an ultimate promise, embodiment of your love and devotion, for all these years spent alone. “You always carried the weight of the world on your shoulders but you have me now, Tom. We can carry the weight together.”
Tommy stared at you, bewildered. He had never realized how much he craved to hear those words until you spoke them. And strangely, Tommy believed you. He never thought such simple words whispered to him could have that effect but there was something…something about how you cradled his face and how earnest you seemed that made him believe you. That made him feel safe.
His arms wrapped around your waist, he brought you close to him. Tommy held onto you, embracing your form as tightly as he could.
All these years, all this time he thought only death would free him, only death would bring him peace. But he was wrong. It was you.
You were his armistice.
Taglist: @aaskoct @cillmequick @dandelionprints @edmundo-diaz @forgottenpeakywriter @huntingingoodwill​ @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake​ @jokim @julkaamazing​ @lili12356 @look-at-the-soul​ @lyarr24​ @midnightmagpiemama​ @milkshakelol @notyour-valentine​ @rangerelik​ @salvatoremeanssavior @thesoldiersminute​ @emotionalcadaver @zablife​ @shelbydelrey​ @peakypolly 
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lfc21 · 1 year
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Family snow day - Day 2
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TW : Fluff
Summary : As the snow fell down there was only one thing you and your family could do. So much fun, so much laughter and lots of cold shivers.
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Snow. It was a wonderful and magical experience for any child to experience. The small white orbs fell from the sky and left a blanket of safety on the roads and buildings of the city. Since you where a little girl the moments spent in the garden with your family picking up and making small snowmen where moments to remember. The world fell quiet when the snow fell down and winter was there to make the most magical wonderland. It was days like these where you knew family was something to cherish, the many memories made where memorable, beautiful and unique - the perfect mixture of love.
"Mummy! Mummy!" Your children shouted in unison as they raced down the stairs in fits of excitement. The sun had just risen and the dogs where barking in a song as they admired the white pieces of bliss dance through the sky. You often woke up much earlier than everyone else as early morning starts where always your favourite, especially with three children.
"Yes darlings?" you asked with a smile as you turned around and noticed the three children in matching pyjamas and huge white grins with sparkling eyes.
"Snow!!!" Myles screamed back as he pointed towards the large glass with his small hand looking out onto the huge garden with gathering snow and ice. Your two girls raced over to the dogs with giggles as they itched to get outside.
"What's all this shouting about?" You heard Jordan ask whilst wiping the sleep from his eyes and letting out a huge yawn. You looked over at your husband with dully lit eyes and a messy bed head, you couldn't help but laugh at the man before you.
"It's snowing daddy!" Elexa shouted back to him making his eyes jump open at the raised voice and current status of the weather. He walked over to the three children and picked Myles up into his arms.
"Do you want to go outside?" Jordan asked as he tickled your sons stomach with a laugh. The room was filled with screams of yes and fits of giggles bouncing off every object possible. "Get some coats and wellies on then" Jordan ordered with a smile as he let Myles and the two girls run out off the room and back upstairs.
"Good morning to you as well" you said with a laugh as you dried your hands with the kitchen towel and offered your husband a smirk.
"Hmm good morning babe" he softly replied back as he snaked his arms around your waist and pressed his chin onto your shoulder. "I woke up too no one in bed" he added with a laugh as he remembered himself searching for you in the cold winter air and fresh sheets. Jordan would never admit it but he was extremely clingy and constantly wanted your love and attention whenever possible.
"I know the dogs where going mad so I came down" you stated with a laugh as you kissed his cheek. "Did you not hear them?" You added with raised eyebrows and a laugh at the fact he had no idea about your naughty dogs and his terrible hearing.
"No" Jordan simply replied.
"Oh my god! You really are getting old. Are you loosing your hearing?" You asked with cheek as you checked his ears with a laugh. He gave you a glare as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips.
"You would hate me to get old" he mumbled onto your lips with a smirk as you felt his lips turn up onto yours. His accent could of sent you to your knees with every word he spoke and every breathe he took. You kissed his lips one last time until you heard the sound of little footsteps running down the stairs accompanied with giggles.
"Come on!" They shouted to you both as they ran straight past you both and opened the wide patio doors. You looked at the three of them helping each other out into the outside blanket. You and Jordan both looked at each other bursting out with laughter at the enthusiasm from your children.
"Mummy! Daddy!" Alba shouted to you both as you pushed each other towards the cold white snow. You where both as reluctant as one another whilst you both fought to the door until someone was out first in the cold bleak weather. As Jordan leaped out of the patio door with reluctance written all over his face he started to see just how special today was going to be. You quickly grabbed your coat and made a beeline. Your eyes looked out noticing your three children create snow angels on the floor whilst Jordan chased your two dogs around. You weren't sure whether it was the small puppy prints on the floor or the constant movement of your children's tiny bodies across the snow but your heart was doubling with every second. You quickly grabbed your phone and took pictures of your little family before running over to them.
Hours went by and more and more snow danced down the floors of Liverpool. You all took it upon yourselves to make snowmen of your very own and have as many snow ball fights as physically possible. As the cold night fell upon you all the idea of a warm blanket and a hot mug of tea was something you couldn't pass upon. The heating was turned up and the candles where firing red as they let out the scent of festive cinnamon. Your arms where tangled within every one of your children including Jordan who had himself attached with all your there little bodies. Their small youthful eyes where left heavy as they admired the Grinch on the tv. You knew there wasn't much more excitement in the three of them left but you couldn't help but take this memory in for just a little bit longer.
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I hope you enjoyed day 2 of my advent calendar!📅 Another Jordan imagine!🥰 Please leave feedback and requests as they are greatly appreciated and they make me smile so much😋. Have the best day ever and merry Christmas🎄! Thank you all so much for the support.😇 @prettylittletrent @cornertakenquicklyyyy @trentalexanderarnold @robbo38 @robbothegoat @kostasstsimikass @chelseamount @chloereddy @tsimikasfamily @avenirdelight @blueathens @jordanhendersunshine @mrs-henderson @thatonesexycancerian @hendersons1truelover @nyctophilic0vitnir @peekapeaches @tsimikxs @tsimikostas @trentalexarnofan @leddows @moneymasnn @superkittywonderland @virgilvansike @virgilvandickmedown @hopefulromantic1 @robbo-trent-fanfiction26
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nerdasaurus1200 · 3 months
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Because it’s still winter I’m thinking about the Padare kids in winter so here’s some little nuggets about them playing in the snow.
Luna LOVES the snow. Has been a little snowbug ever since her first winter. When she was little she used to fall into snowbanks a lot and Varian would scramble outside to “save” her forgetting how freezing it was outside.
At first Jericho was wary of the snow but as he grew older he loves it. He especially loves building snowmen with Luna
If Varian and Cass thought Luna loved the snow….they weren’t prepared for Diana. Everytime it snowed she’d try to run outside in her pajamas and play in it not quite registering how cold it was
Amber doesn’t mind the snow, but it’s definitely not her favorite. Everytime Mama Cass set her down in it she would just look at her and shake her head no until she was picked back up
Atlas HATES the snow. He hates the idea of being freezing cold and snow getting in your clothes and your hair getting wet. It’s not for him, no thank you.
Orion will occasionally play in the snow and help build the perfect snowman, but he prefers to stay inside with Daddy sipping warm cocoa
Just like her sisters, Carina also loves the snow. You can’t pry her away from snow to save her life
Because of his leg, poor Ronnie couldn’t really play in the snow like his siblings could, so he settled for rolling around trying to make snow angels. When he got older Luna and Jericho would pull him around in their sled.
Whenever the Padare kids build a snowman, they’re very particular about it. Being Cass’s ocd spawn, the snowballs have to be a perfect sphere. The coals have to be the same size. The stick arms have to be the right length
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Merry Christler, part 2 electric boogaloo
I made him into a actual card.
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I made a official looking card for @bunnwich event. Thank you for the templates : )
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And him groovified!
voice lines and junk under cut
Summon
Christmas shopping has never been so chaotic!
groovified
BWWWAHAH! You caught me. No presents for you.
set home
want to help with wrapping presents?
home idles
I love this time of the year, it reminds me of my mom and step mom when they visit.
Hmm… what gift do you get for people who have everything?
Wanna build a pillow fort, I’m thinking of adding two stories. What do you mean that’s not possible? Watch me.
groovy home idle : What type of wrapping paper should I use, cute or cool? Does it even matter?
Home login
Got a big day coming up? I’ll be with you every step of the way… oh yeah! I also made cookies! Come see!
Home taps
It’s snowing cats and dogs out there! Hope those snowmen I made are doing ok. I gave them cat ears! :)
I am going to bake all the holiday treats. I hope you aren’t cheating on me with Trey. Only the loyal people get my treats.
Santa baby~ slip a sable under the- oh wait is that copywrited? Can I sing that?
Cold season means cuddles, so it’s obviously my favorite. No one gives cuddles like me! I’m super warm!
My plants are doing really good for this season. They are strong like their daddy!
groovy tap : Hey….. it’s too late to go do anything right now. Wanna watch crappy holiday movies until we pass out?
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Extra. They are in love :)
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changingplumbob · 4 months
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New Goth Household: Chapter 3, Part 1
In this part Milton struggles with nightmares, the household discuss their Winterfest plans and there are cats eating on the table... Sorry if there are typos in here, I'm setting it up while watching a livestream of a cat birth way past when I'm normally awake.
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Back to Willow Creek for the holidays! I love how beautiful this lot looks when it snows. The Halloween decorations have been exchanged for some light up snowmen and inside some Winterfest wreaths have been hung. How awesome is it that this household (which includes a toddler) got spun for Winterfest! I’m not sure how much story will actually go on this chapter as my brain has trouble handling so many sims at once but I’ll give it my best shot.
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Joey is still here for now. He finished his computer science degree last rotation. Well, technically he failed the last course due to a bug that stops my sims progressing with their uni coursework but luckily for me cheats helped me get him his deserved grade. He took the time to do homework, did an excellent presentation and took notes every class so there’s no way he did not deserve to pass.
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Keira is in her final year of university, that biology degree will be complete in no time. Her girlfriend Marta works as a barista and spends time practicing on the piano outside their room. I have doubled the delay in skill building as it doesn’t make sense to me how some of my YA’s can have level 10 anything so we will see how that goes. Also, against my better judgement, I have increased how hard it is to build and maintain relationships as some of my sims maintain a full relationship bar by calling each other once a week. It’s helpful but probably not too realistic.
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And in the newly renovated third floor we have Gertrude and Hamlet. Hamlet is no longer a kitten but a young cat. Also I swear I’m a responsible pet owner and Gertrude is spayed, I don’t know why she’s still making calls of love to the universe…
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Newlyweds Alexander and James are adjusting to Alexander’s youngest brother Milton living with them. They tried offering him his own room but it didn’t take. After the death of his father and the disappearance of his mother Milton wanted to sleep where he could see Alexander. He is understandably having a few nightmares. It might make it difficult for the couple to have any kind of woohoo life but both Alexander and James are determined to put Milton first.
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Sure enough Milton wakes up early and distressed. Climbing out of bed he bursts into tears, waking the slumbering couple.
Milton: Father dead! Mummy is dead! I’m dead! *wails*
James: It’s alright Milton, you’re safe now
Milton: I a flat pancake *wails*
Alexander: I’m coming buddy. Tell me what happened
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Milton: Rock that killed daddy fell again and killed mummy
Alexander: It was just a dream Milton, we don’t know that she’s dead
Milton: Then rock roll to me and I try run but I not fast and rock squish me flat. I dead!
James: That sounds rather terrifying
Alexander: You’re awake now Milton. You’re alive, you’re safe. How about some breakfast huh
Milton: I... I can has cereal?
Alexander: Of course
Alexander scoops up his brother to carry him down the two flights of stairs.
Milton: Silas at daycare say he best brother but you best brother
Alexander: *laughs* You’re pretty good to buddy
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Joey: So glad the watcher decided to give us a thermostat
James: I’m pretty sure I decided that
Joey: Sure. And you decided to rip out all your fireplaces for fun
Keira: I don’t mind, I’m still afraid of fire
Joey: Because now, we live in a green neighbourhood, go us!
Marta: A what
Alexander: He means it’s clean
Marta: Why not just say clean then. You simlish speakers
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Alexander: I’m so hungry. I can’t wait to-
Hamlet: *meows* what’s this
James: Hamlet you really shouldn’t be on the table
Hamlet: *meows* bite me dad
Alexander: Okay I’m starving, why does he have to rub eating in my face
Marta: Why is he eating human food? Do you not feed him. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he wakes us up through walls
James: We have several bowls and litter trays all over the place
Alexander: Hamlet, leave some for me!
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Milton tucks into his cereal happily eating the nightmares away. Keira begins her homework while Alexander manages to wrestle a plate of fruit salad from Hamlet.
James: Hamlet you really should not eat human food. It’ll mess up your insides
Hamlet: *hisses* Fight me
Marta: Any Winterfest plans
Joey: I’ll probably head to Tartosa, spend time with my parents
Marta: Keira was thinking we would visit her family too, spend some time in the sun
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Milton: We have guests and presents
Alexander: That’s right. Cassandra and Rahul are going to visit with their kids
Milton: Savannah meanine
Alexander: She’s spirited Milton, just remember you’re older
Marta: I might see if there’s any odd jobs I can swing today. I told them I could cover weekends but that hasn’t worked out
Keira: Their loss
Marta: Thanks carino, good luck with the homework. Remember, almost done
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Alexander: I need to start on mine but I have to get rid of this awful goatee first
Keira: Oh it is you. I thought it was a sasquatch using your voice
Milton: Sass- sass… sass catch
Gertrude jumps on the table and begins to eat.
Alexander: What the heck. Gertrude, you’re meant to be the older responsible one
Gertrude looks at him and pats the fruit salad questioningly
Alexander: Food is not a toy
Milton: *babbles to self about toys*
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James: You all finished eating
Milton: Cereal good and Joey snuck me juice
James: Of course he did
Milton: What we do today uncle James
James: Well we need to get ready for Winterfest but you’re a bit small to help with that. How about a nice hot bath
Milton: With… bubbles?
James: *laughs* bubble bath it is. Up we go mate
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It was here that I completely gave up battling the action queue cancelling and had my run of testing mods. Bjorn was super excited to help (not). But back to the actual stars of this story. Alexander began to shave off the goatee while Marta did daily yoga. Joey heard back from the job agency and he scored a role as an Ace Engineer in the Tech Guru path. Since he wants to be a start-up genius rolling in simoleons when not rolling in the ladies he gets to work polishing off his mobile app.
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Milton has a wonderful time splashing in the bath. I can’t really see the bubbles but the moodlets assure me they are there. When he’s chucked a decent amount of water from the tub James gets him out and into his day clothes. Milton uses the potty since he’s near it while James works on cleaning up all the bathtub overflow.
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Milton: Good kitty cat, good kitty
James: Hey Milton, do you want to go play? I need to do more cleaning
Milton: By Alexander please
James: I think he’s in the library working on his project
Milton: Can I have lift uncle James
James: I suppose your legs are still very short. Okay, hold on tight
Milton: *giggles*
James: Special delivery, one prince of the bubble bath
Alexander: You do make a great parent sweets
Milton: Alexander play?
Alexander: I’m a bit busy now buddy, maybe later. I’m sure someone will have time though
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Gertrude takes the time to sharpen her claws on an especially plump ottoman while Milton decides to have a play with the toy cars.
James: And what do you think you’re doing
Gertrude: *meows* who me? Being a cat
James: There is a lot of old furniture in this house Gerty, we can’t just tear it all to shreds
Gertrude: *meows* pretty sure I can actually
James: Now where has Hamlet run off to
James finds Hamlet in the downstairs bathroom and negotiates him leaving the room so he can vacuum up the puddles from the broken sink. Hamlet begrudgingly agrees.
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Marta: Hey tesorito, you doing okay
Milton: Want to learn more before birthday
Marta: Oh, I can help with that. Shall we go over your numbers
Milton: Flashcards? Flashcards!
Marta: I can see you’re excited. Okay, what’s this one
Milton thinks and tries to peer around to the back of the card
Marta: Hey, no peeking
Milton: Mummy let me
Marta: Oh I doubt that very much
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Alexander tends to his homework after doing a draft of his presentation. Following a workout Keira goes to find Marta.
Keira: What do we have here
Marta: Cheating
Milton: I not cheat
Gertrude: *meows* he would if he could
Keira: You can’t learn if you cheat and peek buddy
Milton: Oh, I want to learn... so maybe I not peek
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Having enough of flashcards for now Milton heads to the dollhouse but he doesn’t want to play alone. Keira joins him and the two make up a life for the doll characters. Milton can’t old back his love of books forever though and soon asks Keira for a story. She gets one and begins to read but Milton is so excited to hear it that he won’t even sit down.
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wily-art · 3 years
Photo
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“You did good, kid.”
37K notes · View notes
moodymelanist · 2 years
Note
nessian prompt request for your consideration, thank you! “I read our kid a book about the things snowmen do at night and now we’re taking a walk at two in the morning to show them the actual snowmen don’t do anything.”
this is so 🥺🥺🥺🥺 taking a quick break from studying for finals to bang this one out, I hope you all enjoy 💙
Cassian could feel his wife’s death glare on the back of his hand like a brand, but it didn’t stop him from continuing to lace up Seraphina’s snow boots.
“You really promise the snowmen don’t do anything?” Sera whispered, her hazel eyes slightly wide with worry.
“I promise,” he replied. He finished tying her shoes and stood up, reaching for her much smaller hand before turning to look at Nesta and Nasima with a wide grin. “And we’re all going to prove that they’re regular degular snowmen, princess.”
Cassian had made the mistake of telling his daughters a story about what snowmen did at night, and considering they were both under ten, their imaginations had ran rampant. After a few hours of their terrified questions, he’d announced that they would go out in the middle of the night to prove the snowmen were innocent. Nesta had been pissed, but after a few rounds of Mommy, please, she’d eventually relented.
“We are making this quick,” Nesta hissed, angrily shoving her coat on. She was much gentler with Nas, taking her time to help their youngest daughter bundle up, and he couldn’t help but smile even harder at how adorable they both looked.
“Very quick,” Cassian agreed. He examined everyone to make sure they were adequately covered before moving towards the door. “Let’s go look at some snowmen, ladies.”
Sera found his hand quickly once they were all outside, practically gluing her small frame to his much bigger one as they walked outside. His heart almost burst out of his chest from how much she trusted him to protect her, and he had to stop himself from picking her up and pressing kisses to her adorably round cheeks and dark curls.
“We’re doing one lap around the block, and that’s it,” Nesta said from next to him, her cheeks already pink from the cold. “I love you kids, but I’m not freezing my butt off any longer than necessary.”
“Relax, Nes,” Cassian replied with a grin. “You know I’ll warm you up when we get back inside.”
His wife just rolled her eyes. “You’re insufferable.”
“Daddy, I thought we were gonna look at snowmen,” Sera whined, pulling on Cassian’s hand to get his attention.
“Daddy can multitask,” Nas chimed in loudly. “He tells Mommy that all the time.”
“Let’s focus on the snowmen,” Nesta interrupted, her cheeks flushing as she avoided looking at Cassian. “Keep walking, my love.”
They continued walking around the block, the girls becoming more and more relaxed as they realized they weren’t in danger of any snowmen attacks. By the time they looped back around to their house, any thoughts of killer snowmen had completely vanished, and Cassian was regretting going on any kind of stroll at two in the goddamn morning.
“Mommy, can we build a snowman before we go inside?” Nas asked, blinking her gray-blue eyes up at Nesta.
Cassian held back a laugh at how quickly his wife crumbled under those puppy dog eyes. “Yes, but a small one.”
Sera whooped loudly and ran off to join her sister, the two of them giggling furiously as they gathered fresh snow to make a snowman with. Cassian made his way over to Nesta and threw an arm across her shoulders, both of them sighing happily as they watched their daughters have the time of their lives.
“Thank god for winter break,” Nesta muttered. “Their sleep schedules are so fucked.”
Cassian hmmed his agreement and leaned in to kiss her temple. “They’re lucky they’re so goddamn cute.”
“They learned from the best,” she said, snuggling into his warmth as they kept watching the girls. Sera was showing Nas how to pack the snow properly so they could form a proper base for the snowman, and Cassian couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the obvious love between the two. He’d been so worried about starting a family all those years ago, that he wouldn’t know how to raise them considering his turbulent childhood, but seeing his daughters like this had long erased those fears from his mind.
“I love you,” Cassian told Nesta after a minute, the words bursting out of him.
“I know.” Even if he wasn’t looking at her, he would’ve known she was smiling. “I love you too. Now let’s help these two build this stupid snowman so we can go the fuck back to sleep.”
“Aye aye, captain,” he agreed.
tag list: @iddragyouwithme | @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @nestaspegasus | @a-court-of-valkyries | @angelic-voice-1997 | @rowaelinismyotp | @live-the-fangirl-life | @sv0430 | @brieq | @positivewitch | @sayosdreams | @confusedfandomslut | @talkfantasytome | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @vidalinav | @swankii-art-teacher | @heartless--aromantic | @that-little-red-head | @secretlovelybeauty | @hellasblessed | @starksravings | @dustjacketmusings | @katekatpattywack | @the-red-reading-hood | @claralady | @hellasblessed | @duskandstarlight | @arinbelle | @gwynberdara | @mrs-shadowsinger04 | @houseofcalores | @imsointobooks | @silvernesta | @planet-faerie | @teagoddess99 | @champanheandluxxury | @catplayinvioline | @flora-shadowshine | @nerdperson524 | @story-scribbler | @vasudharaghavan | @dealfea | @snickerdoodlechittybangbang | @charming-butt-insane | @highqueenofelfhame | @julemmaes | @oversizedbats | @spoilersteph | @readingismyonlyhobby
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atozfic · 3 years
Text
a touch of frost.
pairing. park seonghwa x fem!reader.
synopsis. when the lonely prince had his heart broken, a winter so cold overcame the kingdom of arendelle. decades later, the cold remains, the townsfolk wondering when they’ll see the sun again and the lonely prince longing to feel a touch of warmth.
warnings. lovers to strangers to lovers, frozen au, royalty au, soulmate au,   jackfrost!seonghwa, prince!seonghwa, immortal!seonghwa, witch!reader, misogyny, a messy magic system but just go with it, blood, death, mentions of war and famine, stupid references to frozen. smut ( dom!seonghwa, sub!reader, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, possessive sex, jealous sex, description of male genitalia, bulging, marking, praising, nipple play, clit play, a singular example of name calling, breeding kink- it’s seonghwa, wtf were y’all expecting?, thigh fucking(?), seonghwa has a thing for thighs, temperature play but with a fun and new twist, implied daddy kink, basically a bunch of shit that’s getting me sent to hell )
word count. 23.8k
hyde’s input. she’s finally here and it only took a couple of mental breakdowns. there is a moment in the fic where the reader briefly mentions the way male genitalia looks and she speaks not so nicely (i swear it’s nothing horrible) but this is just where i want to quickly remind everyone there is no correct or best way for any of our genitalia (or bodies in general) to look. we all come in different shapes and sizes and that’s more than okay! also, if anyone can guess who the wolf is, i will give you a mf kiss or something, idk.​​
watch the fic trailer here !
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no one knows why the cold arrived.
it simply did, on a day destined to be warm and lively, and the very peak of the summer season. anxious children had fallen asleep dreaming of frolicking in the water down by the beach, just like adults had dreamt of basking in the summer heat. when the kingdom awoke, however, a collective cry of hysteria would ring out as everyone opened their curtains to find the ground covered in a layer of snow.
they were all so quick to call it a miracle, a once in a lifetime opportunity, a gift from mother nature. they traded in their swimming costumes and sandals for fur coats and woolly gloves, running out the door to play in the snow instead of the sand, building snowmen instead of sandcastles.
by the end of the bizarre day, each head fell to rest on it’s pillow and drifted off into a land of dreams, thinking of how the next day they would feel the refreshing feeling of waves crashing into them.
they would awaken to snow once more.
the kingdom’s people were never one to dwell on things, however, and decided to continue making the best out of this unexpected splash of white that had painted their land seemingly overnight. children of all ages flooded the neighbourhoods, joining together in a harmless fight made up of snow balls and obnoxious laughter. adults crowded together to gossip about the weather and the recent scandals in the land: who’d been caught cheating on who, what couple was having trouble conceiving, the upcoming coronation.
when king park had announced he was officially stepping back from leading the land of arendelle, the people weeped. decades were spent under the gentle ruling of his fist, decades in which the small kingdom had seen itself flourish into something truly magnificent, a nation envied by all those in it’s surroundings. everyone understood, though, that it was his time to say goodbye. the passing of the years aging him and the passing of his wife breaking him beyond repair.
while the people still mourned the end of his reign, they could all feel a tug of excited nausea at the thought of their next ruler, the eldest of king park’s two sons.
on the third day of snow, folks slowly began to grow tired of it. they’d already made it through the harsh winter, which had eased it’s way into a gentle spring and left them craving the skin-licking heat of the summer.
by the time a week had passed and the chill in the air was beginning to strengthen it’s roots, clamping down and draining the kingdom of it’s nutrients, the people began to demand answers from their royals.
they would receive nothing but silence, the castle doors shutting completely and all forms of communicating with them being cut off.
a whole year passed, in which the kingdom had all prayed for the warmth to return, at least come the next summer. it did not and this alone seemed to confirm people’s greatest fear: the cold was here to stay. it was as if summer had died- in fact, that’s exactly what some people claimed.
answers as to why this had happened would vary from person to person.
the scientists claimed it was inevitable. nothing more than a necessary and unavoidable phase of the earth’s life, who had a pattern of dealing with ice ages in the past. the one thing these scientists could never explain was why the cold only affected arendelle.
the religious claimed it was a punishment sent by the gods. angered one too many times, ignored even more, they’d extracted vengeance on killing the crops and forcing the people into a period of starvation. the religious could never explain what arendelle had done wrong, however, given it’s fairly short history and lack of war crimes.
and then there were the myth believers.
if you asked them, it was like opening up a can of worms, filled with different conspiracy theories. some believed a witch had cursed their land, commissioned by a neighbouring kingdom who had grown a little too envious of their flourishing land, while others believed the ancient myth of the son of winter and the daughter of summer, two lovers ripped apart by death.
come the second year, the castle doors reopened at last, inviting it’s people in to discuss the state of affairs and help calm their nerves ahead of the lack of crops. but, as the people feasted on the sight of the throne room for the first time in years, there was a silent yet collective agreement. 
the man sat upon the throne was not king park’s eldest son.
even in your dreams, it is cold.
you were only six years old, a child filled with wanderlust, when you began to realize there was something not quite normal about you. the realization hit you in the school playground, as you and your friends struggled to build a snowman. you all began to talk about the dreams you’d had the night before. the next day, you all done the same. and the day after, and the day after that one too. 
your friends had new tales every day, dreams of fighting ferocious dragons and rescuing knights in distress. of feeling the sun’s warmth and watching a field of flowers bloom. your dreams, however, never changed. day in and day out, you had retold the same event. you stopped talking about it once you noticed they’d all stopped listening, having heard it so many times they could recite it themselves.
since then, you never told another soul about the dream you were plagued with every night for as long as you can remember.
a gust of wind has you pulling your coat around you tighter as a howl rings out in the distance. somewhere past the rows of trees, buried deep within the forest, you picture a lone wolf. hungry, tired, lonely and crying out for it’s pack. you don’t linger on the thought for too long, there’s still a few steps left for you to take.
the lake is the same as always: uninviting, terror inducing, frozen. though you should already be used to it, you still feel like a frightened little kid each time you come across it.
it takes you longer than usual to rest your sight on the man.
he stands across the frozen body of water, back turned to you like always. if it wasn’t for the black hair upon his head, moving softly with the cold air, you would have guessed he was a statue.
perfect build, perfect posture, perfectly still.
you know there’s no point prolonging the inevitable and take your first step onto the lake. the ice cracks beneath you with each cautious step, the fragmenting lake giving you no choice but to continue forward, towards the tall stranger. turning back will only lead you to the fate of plunging into the water, something you only needed to experience once to know you never want to again.
he’s either taller up close or you’re shrinking in on yourself, it doesn’t make much of a difference when you reach your hand out slowly, landing a soft tap against his pristinely dressed shoulder. you brace yourself for what always comes next, the man turning around painfully slowly and his voice, steady and present and warm when it reaches your ears.
“yeoleum?”
your eyes snap open, the familiar four walls of your bedroom greeting you as your father’s calls of your name ring through the small house. outside your window, the snow falls a little heavier than the day before and you sigh, swinging your legs off the bed and rising to stretch your body.
year twenty one and, still, you awake without seeing the man’s face.
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stood within the grand hall of the castle, surrounded by all kinds of noble people in lavish dresses and tailored suits, the air filled with the sweet scents of perfumes and pastries, the finest of musicians gently playing their instruments of choice to give people a rhythm to move to, there is only one thing on your mind.
your corset is two seconds away from crushing your lungs.
this wouldn’t usually be a problem, if you were literally anywhere else in the world. because right now you’re more than sure of the fact you look short of breath, lungs struggling to pull in a breath of air. you haven’t danced once in the whole evening, unlike most of the people surrounding you, who all easily partnered off with lovers and strangers alike. all you’ve really done is sip expensive champagne, nibble on weird platters of food far too fancy for your taste palate and observe your surroundings. there’s always been something about the royal castle that, despite only having been inside of it a handful of times, has felt like home to you. it’s comforting, familiar, warm.
like a place you once knew, a touch you once felt. 
from across the room, you feel your father’s eyes burning a hole into the back of your head. he wants you to go over to him, while you want to do the complete opposite because, if you have to listen to him tell you to put yourself out there one more time this evening, you’re more than certain you’re going to commit arson. the fact he’s only encouraging you so much because he thinks it’s about time you be married off only infuriates you more. it’s the king’s husband’s birthday party, for heaven’s sake.
this isn’t husband bingo or the find-your-perfect-suitor gala!
still, you give in to his incessant staring, knowing it’s unlikely he’ll give up without a huff or a groan. the skirt of your gown makes your steps awkward from how much you’re focusing on not tripping over your own two feet or getting tangled in the rich blue material. you’d already slipped and landed on your ass at every other royal event you’d attended, it's about time you put an end to the embarrassing tradition.
though, as you smack face into the solid chest of a man, you find yourself missing the old tradition.
“i’m so sorry! i was so busy focusing on my own footsteps that i must have-” as your mind registers just exactly who stands in front of you, you feel your face pale as the blood drains from it and your mouth dries up all at once. “your highness!”
there he stands, in all his glory, golden crown resting upon his greying hair and a passive look on his face. against his shoulders rests the royal robe, a deep, blood red and carrying so much history, having been worn by every prior king of arendelle.
including his own father, king park.
if you were to be asked to list everything you know about king felix, you would be at a loss for words. because, the truth is, no matter how many historical texts you’ve read nor how many times you’ve spoken to your grandmother about him, there is little anyone knows. at best, you know he isn’t the rightful king. or, at least, he isn’t who was originally intended to take over the throne after his father stepped down. his elder brother was the rightful king, until the cold came and he disappeared, leaving nothing but questions in his wake. your own father, a loyal general to the kingdom, even speculates if the current king is involved in his brother’s absence.
though no one would ever flat out say it, it has been widely believed king felix had killed for the throne.
the very same king felix who is now stood very openly staring at you. his eyes are wide, unblinking, his gaze unwavering from your face. he looks like he’s been faced with a ghost, rather than just plain old you. it takes a few waves of your hand in his face for the royal to finally regain his posture.
“there’s no need for apologies.” his voice is far deeper than you’d been expecting, such a contrast to the polite smile he wears. “i probably should have watched where i was going.”
you want to deny him, to tell him there is no universe imaginable where he, the king of arendelle, needs to make way for anyone. much less a titleless daughter of a general, a daughter cursed by the touch of mother nature. the sound of him speaking again stops you. you’ve already bumped into him, you aren’t about to interrupt him too.
“your necklace.” he speaks with intrigue, a satin covered hand raising in a gesture towards the pendant dangling above your chest. “it’s very beautiful.”
as if on reflex, your hand flies up to grasp it between your fingers and your eyes drift down, catching sight of the familiar silver snowflake. “this? thank you, your grace, but it is just an old family heirloom. it was passed down from my mother.”
he nods in agreement to your words but his eyes hold a certain look of denial. for the second time this evening, his eyes bore into you, staring you down as if you hold the key to some locked treasure. it’s unnerving, even more so than normal because he’s the king. and he’s staring at you like a crazed man.
perhaps madness really does run in the royal bloodline.
“pardon my staring.” so self-aware, he excuses himself. who are you to deny him of his pardon? “you resemble an old friend of mine, that’s all.”
you go to reply but your father’s moving figure in the distance, squeezing between dancing couples and gossiping nobles, piques your interest. it seems he’s taken it upon himself to approach you, rather than failing to demand you go towards him. the only logical next move is to avoid him, no matter the costs.
the king takes no offence as you politely smile, glance once more at your father and excuse yourself to the lavatories, all under the veil of freshening up. then you make a dash for it, almost tripping as someone’s foot catches your dress under it. two tugs and you rip yourself free with a tear in your skirt, sliding into the hallway right on time for the next dance to commence and sweep your father up amongst the crowd.
it isn’t long after that you decide to head home, heels beginning to make your feet ache and corset long ago suffocating you. fearing the walk to you and your father’s house, you’re lucky enough to bump into a familiar family, who live only a few blocks away from you and are more than happy to let you catch a ride back in their small cart. during the ride, they tell you all about how their daughter had danced the night away with a foreign duke and you tell them all a fake tale of eating yourself sick from all the bites of cake you had.
a part of you wishes you could tell them about your strange interaction with the king, from bumping into him to the way he stared at you with the utmost interest, but something is stopping you. it feels wrong to say out loud, like you’re the one making the interaction weird and making mountains out of mole hills. for all you know, the king is just eccentric and treats all his subjects that way. you’d be foolish to think yourself an exception to any rule.
even in your dream that night, you can’t forget the way he’d looked at your necklace.
something feels off from the moment you feel yourself sink into the dreamscape. there’s no blistering cold, no howling wolf, no frozen lake. in it’s place, there is an artificial heat, emitting from the burning fireplace that crackles in the corner of a grand bedroom. the first thing you really notice is how high above the ceilings are, and then the size of the grandiose, white doors that are brimmed by a gold too shiny to not be real. along the white wood lies delicate, hand painted flowers. the four walls that make up the room are a welcoming beige colour, amplifying the feeling of comfort and belonging.
the bed you lay upon is softer than any cloud, your weightless body feeling like it’s melting into it’s softness. a duvet encases you from the waist down, exposing your naked chest. the pillow your head is resting on is warm, breathing, naked. the chest of a man.
you’re so far from that lake you’ve seen every other dream, but this doesn’t frighten you. it feels right, like you’re reliving a memory from long ago.
“come back to me.” a voice calls from above you. you can’t see the owner’s face but you do feel his chest vibrate along with each soft spoken word.
“what do you mean, my love?” the words leave you against your own will, rehearsed and ready from before your conscious even slipped you into the dream. “i’m right here.”
“you’re lost in your own head again.” the man hums in approval as your finger begins to trace patterns on his naked chest. “i told you, there’s nothing to worry about.”
“i know, i know,” it’s hard to not smile when you feel how his own hand tangles itself amongst your hair. you hardly find the time to dwell on the fact this voice, this man is the same who stands across that lake every dream. “but i’m nervous. i’ve never had my portrait done.”
“a fact which is truly disappointing. it’s illegal that no one before has tried to put your beauty onto a canvas.” his hand appears at the level of your eyes and, after zeroing in on how elegant it is, perfect porcelain skin encasing blue veins and sharp nails pointed at the end, you notice something peculiar. a single snowflake, as real as the heart beating below your head, hovers over his palm. “but no worries, we’ll just have to get you used to it, especially now that you’re going to be a queen.”
the silence between you and the man is incredibly intimate as he brings his hand closer to your face. the command for you to open your mouth is soft yet powerful, giving you no choice other than to obey him and let your jaw fall slack, tongue peaking out in anticipation, like you’ve done this a million times before. relief floods your soul as he let’s the snowflake drop onto your waiting tongue, where the cold beauty slowly melts.
“not just any queen, but my queen.” his voice is filled with pride and love, and the utmost devotion, like he’s more than ready to lay down his life for your safety.
his hands are even softer than you expected, clasping your jaw and tilting your head back, your own eyes closing on instinct and welcoming the kiss he lands on your mouth, sighs of contentedness leaving both of you in sync before your eyes flutter open and-
“y/n!”
you fly up in bed, eyes blinded by the sunlight creeping through where your two curtains meet.
your curtains.
you’re awake, back in the disappointingly plain room you call your own, laying upon a lumpy mattress and heated by nothing but your own disgruntled anger. not once have you felt unhappy by the life you live, with both you and your father earning enough to pay your way and live comfortably in your home, but, right now? it’s the most disappointing thing you’ve ever experienced, to live and sleep in this room compared to the one in your dream.
you want to spend more time thinking about the dream and it’s bizarre nature, but you don’t get the chance when your father barges into your room and tells you to get dressed quickly, for no other reason than he has someone waiting in the living room that he wants you to meet. the fact he doesn’t even take the time to chastise you for avoiding him last night, or leaving the event without notifying him, tells you all you need to know. 
whoever stands in your living room is more important.
you scramble out of your sheets and pull your closet doors open, reaching for the first dress that appears clean and comfortable. the green fabric fits your torso like a glove, before loosening out at your hips and draping down your body with ease. there’s no overly tight corset or ridiculous amounts of unnecessary fabric beneath the skirt like the dress you’d tore off yourself the night before.
the wooden stairs creak while you make your way down them, alerting your father and his guest of your approaching presence before you can do so verbally but it’s easier this way, because as you take in the sight of the blonde haired young man, chest decorated with an array of honour badges and an expensive looking pocket-watch, you’re unsure you would be able to speak properly.
your father’s next words do nothing but further that feeling. 
“ah, y/n! this is who i was telling you about,” he pauses, ushering forward to grasp you by your forearm and pull you down the final step quicker before thrusting you in front of him, just about sending you stumbling into the stranger’s arms. “meet prince taeyong of the southern isles.”
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the past two weeks have been filled with prince taeyong’s affection driven actions.
after your less than expected meeting, first thing in the morning, your father had been more than eager to tell you all about the young royal, whom he met while him and his squad of cadets were stationed in their kingdom, serving as aid to them in their war against the northern isles. according to your father, he’d been attempting to introduce you to the prince the night before but you had “gone home earlier due to a stomach bug”, which was code for your father was too embarrassed to admit you’d successfully avoided him the whole evening. 
thankfully, the prince had left no more than a few minutes later, his royal duties calling for him.
it would be three days later that your paths crossed again, as you stopped by the military training grounds. it was your routine, every wednesday visiting to watch your father training the younger troops. you’d bring by encouraging words and an apple pie as a treat, though your father had always joked that your pretty dresses and friendly smile were the real treat for the men. you found your father wasn’t alone that afternoon, surrounded by prince taeyong and a few of his brothers.
it had been your father’s idea for the two of you to take a ride around the kingdom grounds together, an excuse to force you to spend time with the prince that had been hidden under the false pretence of him needing a tour of the place, like there aren’t members of arendelle’s royal staff who’s sole purpose is to provide such a thing.
from then onwards, not a day had gone by where the prince hadn’t infiltrated your life in some way. whether he was stopping by your place of employment- a corner shop that’s walls are filled from top to bottom by all kinds of herbs and potions. it’s owned by an elderly woman who always tells you about her youthful days of being a spring witch exploring her earthly powers while doing her best to guide you in your own magical misadventures, despite you being another season of witch.
or if he was coincidentally passing by just as you left to go home for the evening, giving you no choice other than to allow him to escort you through the darkened streets. more than once, he’d tried to drape his expensive fur coat over your shoulders, and every time you’d rejected it by reminding him you’d grown up in this cold kingdom and were far more used to it than him and his southern siblings.
during this time, the prince had also been consistently sending gift after gift to your front door: bouquets of flowers too exotic and colourful to have bloomed in arendelle, chocolates too sweet and expensive to be eaten by you, dresses too soft and detailed to be made by any local seamstress. it all served as fuel to the fire in your father, who was already insisting on telling you over and over how amazing it would be for your family to marry into royalty.
which brings you to now, sat at your dining table and enduring what can only be considered the most painfully awkward dinner of your life.
you’re seated next to your father, with prince taeyong sat across from you and seated next to one of his siblings, who’d very curtly introduced himself as doyoung when you’d greeted them at the front door. the three men have done most of the talking so far, bouncing back and forth between topics of war and politics while you’ve simply picked at your food, finding so much intrigue in the slice of venison resting upon your plate.
it’s either stare at that or risk looking up and making eye contact with one of the princes.
through your listening you discover just exactly how the southern isles are set up. your eyes almost dropped out of their sockets when you heard your father ask about how the other twenty one princes were doing, only for your surprise to be immediately dulled when prince taeyong assured you they weren’t all siblings, but rather cousins.
their kingdom is divided between four pieces of land, each having it’s own royal castle that houses it’s own set of princes. the two princes sat at your table belong to the same isle, meaning they truly are brothers.
“-yet to be discussed properly with the royal’s here, but our own king, lee taemin, certainly thinks it’s a deal that would benefit both parties.” prince doyoung’s voice enters one ear and leaves through the other, your distracted mind not focusing on the conversation.
“then i see no reason as to why king felix will disagree,” your father chimes in, sounding pleased with himself. as smug as the cat who caught the canary. “taking into account our kingdoms long existing alliance.”
“and what about you, y/n? how would you feel about our unification?” that certainly captures your attention, eyes snapping up from your plate to find all three men staring at you intently, awaiting your response.
“what?” you inwardly cringe, knowing your father will be displeased by the lack of manners in your reply.
“ah, perhaps i should do this the proper way.” when prince taeyong’s seat scrapes backwards against the floor and he rises to a stand, every fibre of your being is begging you to tell him to sit back down, to not do what you suspect he’s about to. but you’re paralysed, your heartbeat pounding in your eardrums as you watch him sink down onto one knee and take one of your hands in his. “will you do me the honour of marrying me, y/n?”
the world comes to a halt and comes crashing down, all at once. your heart is jackhammering itself within your ribcage, trying it’s best to jump out and escape. your brain is in meltdown, the prince’s question replaying over and over in your head like a taunt. the snowflake resting on your chest burns your skin, weighing more that it ever has.
everything is wrong.
“yes!” your father answers on your behalf, unknowingly adding fuel to your rage.
the fire burning in your veins is begging to be released, to lay waste to all your surroundings till nothing remains but you and a pile of ash.
your boss and mentor had told you all about this very feeling before, how the summer witches were persecuted for it. every other season of witches were welcomed, needed, loved when it came to the elements their powers were rooted in, yet the summer witches were considered too volatile, too dangerous. it wasn’t completely baseless, as the fire in their magic is so much harder to control than the elements of earth, wind, or even water.
and right now, you’re struggling to get a hold of it. never has the feeling been so intense, the enchantment on your necklace typically enough to help the heat simmer down yet now it’s almost working with the fire inside of you, lusting for the lick of heat teasing at the tip of your fingers.
all it would take is one snap to ignite it, to have the flame dance between your palms and light up anything it touched, including the puny little prince staring at you with expecting eyes and clutching your hand a little tighter. yes, he’d be the perfect first victim, to get your point across of just exactly how this proposal made you feel and to-
“y/n?”
the calling of your name echos in your head, tugging at your self-control and begging you to get a hold of reality. shocking even yourself, you stand up abruptly, not even registering how your father catches your chair and stables it before it can topple onto the floor.
“i...” your eyes meet taeyong’s, who’s looking up at you almost bored from where he’s still kneeling on the floor. how romantic, truly. “i need to use the bathroom.”
you can hear your father’s voice even after you close the bathroom door, sheepishly apologizing and claiming you’re simply so overcome with joy, you’ve forgotten how to act. and so, as the three men begin to discuss the plans for your upcoming wedding, your plan of action begins.
step number one, climb out the window.
thankful for all those times you snuck out to play as a child, you slip out of it in no time, coming face to face with the frozen ground you and your father call a back-garden.
step number two, reach the front of the house.
a little more complicated, with your back beginning to ache as you crouch past the windows around the side of the building, briefly picking up on the conversation still happening at the dinner table. prince taeyong mentions something about housing arrangements but you couldn’t care less.
step number three, flee the scene.
it’s exactly then, as you swing your leg over the horse and seat yourself upon it’s saddle, that the three men come barging out the front door collectively, each reacting differently to watching you charge off on the animal, galloping away from them and their ridiculous proposal.
prince doyoung shows nothing but disinterest, prince taeyong seems falsely apologetic and your father is attempting to scream after you.
you ride blinded by your own rage, not taking in to consideration exactly where the horse is taking you. all that matters is the constant smacking of the hooves on the cold ground, a reminder of how you’re growing further and further away from your father and his guests with each passing second.
the thing is, you know your reaction may seem unwarranted to some. a prince had dropped down to his knees, asking for your hand in marriage. it’s not even like taeyong is unpleasant to look at, with his sharp facial features and his bright hair. his company isn’t bad either, as reluctant as you were to be in it, he still managed to rouse a laugh from you every now and then. but it’s the way your father is so eager, after only two weeks, to thrust you into marriage with a stranger, a man you hold no affection for, all so he can see himself be elevated in status, becoming the father to a princess.
you come to your senses as a gust of sudden wind hits your face, the coldness of it doing wonders to dim the rage burning within you. you find yourself among rows of frost coated trees, deep in the heart of the forest. one hand drops from the reigns, moving to clasp the pendant around your neck. you close your eyes and take two, three deep breaths as you feel yourself take control once more. and, just as your body begins to calm itself at last, the horse pulls to an abrupt stop, neighing as it stands up on it’s hind legs.
you fall to the floor after failing to keep a footing on the saddle or to grasp the reigns. a noise rings in your ear as your head takes a pounding against the forest floor only to watch as your stallion runs off.
undeterred, you pull yourself up onto your feet again. the first few steps you take are wobbly. you hiss as you grab onto a tree trunk for stability, retracting your hands immediately and finding them all scuffed up from your fall. both of your palms are bleeding, with all kinds of dirt stuck on them.
in the distance, a lone wolf howls.
something feels wrong in the pit of your stomach but your head and hands hold too much pain for you to pay it any mind. the muscles in your leg are screaming for rest as you venture further through the woods, passing tree after tree, eyes shifting around for any sign of a wolf.
you come to an abrupt halt, a gasp escaping you before you can stop it, eyes glued on the frozen lake in front of you. the sinking feeling increases and you’re sure, had you eaten anything, you’d be throwing up just about now. you want to think this isn’t real, that you’re actually passed out from falling off the horse and are now stuck in your twisted dream, but the wind is too cold against your skin, the air smells too fresh, the wolf howls too loudly.
his presence is too real across the body of water.
you step onto the frozen lake before you fully comprehend what’s happening, body moving by what it remembers from all those nights. all you really know is you need to reach the other end of the lake, you need to see that man’s face. the cracking of the ice beneath you isn’t something you don’t hear, rather something you don’t care for. you need to push forward, to end the mystery once and for all.
his back is broader than you remember, covered in the whitest material you’ve ever seen, a contrast to the dark hair resting upon his head. just like in your dream, you reach out to touch his shoulder but he turns around before you get the chance.
his face is like no other you’ve seen before, angled perfectly. his lips are red, inviting, like they’re unaware of the blistering cold. his eyes are sharp, powerful, staring back at you like he’s done so a thousand times before. every little detail, every feature, is too perfect, too beautiful to be real.
his lips part and your head begins to spin, knowing exactly what’s coming next.
“yeoleum?”
with a gasped breath leaving your lungs and the wind knocking the air from under your feet, your eyes roll backwards before your head can smack against the forest floor once more.
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your corset doesn’t feel as tight this time around.
that shouldn’t be the first thing you notice, really, stood in the familiar ballroom of the royal castle. the ballroom looks more dated than when you’d last stood within it. the marble walls are shinier, newer, but everything about the party is old fashioned. the decorations, the orchestral music playing, the gowns draped on the slender frames of women you can’t recognise for the life of you.
it’s like you’ve stepped back in time.
but your body, and your heart, seems completely at ease as it confidently carries itself through the crowds of waltzing couples. you throw the occasional smile which is met with waves and greetings. as you pass by a server carrying a tray of champagne flutes, you swipe two off of it and storm ahead, out into the familiar hallway. this time, you head down the opposite end of it, finding an open door with a few twists and turns in your path.
you feel confident, despite the unfamiliarity, when you step out into the night. there’s no snow laying on the ground or cold bite to the air. instead, there are patches of beautiful greenery and flowers more colourful than any ballgown sprouting from the soil. there’s a warmth in the air, that wraps around your waist and tugs you along with it. you seem to have wandered out to where the royal stables are located, if the large steeds poking their heads out to stare at you with beady eyes are any indicator.
a particular horse catches your eye, at the farthest end.
it’s the colour of the kingdom you grew up in, white, and you find it comforting. though you know many in arendelle would kill to experience a season other than winter, there’s something unsettling as you stare out at the hills and bask in how alive they are with the warm climate. this white horse is a reminder of normality, of the snow topped roofs and the frozen grounds you’ve gazed at since the day you were born.
you only manage to run the back of your hand down it’s muzzle twice before you’re interrupted.
“he must like you.”
you spin on your heel, mouth ready to speak yet it falls silent at the face you find a few steps away from you. it’s him again, the man from the lake. only, this time he’s covered in a blue velvet suit that’s littered in all kinds of silver ornaments, a testament to the wealth he must possess.
“i know i’m quite handsome, but do close your mouth.” when he got so close, you have no idea, but suddenly his slender fingers- the same ones you watched conjure up a snowflake dreams ago- clasp your chin and gently push your mouth shut. “we don’t want you catching flies, my lady.”
“why must he like me?” the you that’s conscious, watching the scene unfold through your own two eyes, wants to say so much more. from scoffing at the man’s egotistical words to demanding why he’s moved on from not just plaguing your dreams but now appearing elsewhere too. the you of this moment, this dream, this memory, however, had other plans.
“he’s quite a wild card, very picky with those who he let’s close to him.” the man repeats your earlier actions of stroking the horse’s muzzle, to which the steed leans into his touch and you pick up the way it’s tail swishes a few times. “the fact he let you touch him means something. you’d be surprised with the number of serv-” he halts for a moment, something flickering behind his eyes. “people who complain he’s tried to bite them.”
you can only nod and sip from one of the champagne flutes you’d cramped into your hand. the man notices, taking in the way you seem to cringe at the taste of the alcohol, yet still insist on taking another sip before carefully placing the glass back into your other hand and allowing your free one to stroke the horse’s mane.
“are you expecting someone out here, my lady?” there’s an unspoken insinuation behind his words, that current you doesn’t quite understand yet the you from the moment is utterly mortified by.
“no!” you gasp, almost dropping one of the glasses before you deem it best to hold one in each hand. “what type of woman do you take me for, sir?”
“i only jest, darling.” the way his tongue curls over the word shouldn’t light such a primal feeling within you, yet it does, and you’re suddenly more than thankful for the gown that obscures from his eyes the way your thighs squeeze together. “but you do carry two glasses, it’s not so far fetched for someone to assume you and a partner would be meeting out here for some late night rendezv-”
“they’re both for me.” you snap, the fact somehow feeling less embarrassing than having to endure the man’s insinuations any longer.
“ah, i see.” he nods, that irritatingly handsome smile still plastered across his face as he loads up his next reply. “well, alcoholism is a disease. but do as you will, i suppose.”
“has anyone ever told you you’re rude?” the words fly out of you and you suddenly need another sip of champagne, cheeks heating up with the irritation sprung upon you by this man.
“no. i often find myself surrounded by yes-men, you see.” he openly drags his eyes over your figure, drinking in the way the bodice of your gown perfectly rests upon your torso, accentuating the swell of your breasts before the lace sleeves lay on the top of your arm, leaving a barren exposure of your collarbones and shoulders that he’s basking in. “i take it you’re out here because you’re not much of a dancer, then? and that’s why you’re making friends with a horse, rather than planting yourself in the middle of the ballroom.”
“i can dance!” there’s a need to defend yourself, though you fear he enjoys the whine in your voice. “i just don’t enjoy it.”
“i find people often dislike that which they are not good at.”
you’ve heard tales of women, offended by sleazy men or dishonoured by their partners, who throw their drinks in their faces as the final punch in an argument before stomping away in victory. it’s always seemed ridiculous and, truthfully, overdramatic. yet here you stand, gripping your glass so tightly you’re afraid it may snap in two, as you try your best to not wet his expensive suit.
“i assure you, sir,” you grind your teeth as you address him, jaw clenched in frustration for your failed time of peace and quiet out in the stables. “my dancing skills are more than adequate, i simply do not-”
“then prove it.” he cuts you off.
“what?”
“you heard me.”
“prove it? what are you, a child?”
“i guarantee there is not an inch of me that is childish, my lady.” there he goes again with that tone of voice, sending a pool of warmth down your abdomen. “prove it by sharing a dance with me. just one, and then i promise to allow you to return to your hoofed date.”
“i don’t dance with strangers.” at this point you’re just flat out lying, this beautiful stranger bringing out a side of you you’ve never seen before.
“then let’s fix that.” the man wastes no time in plucking the untouched glass of champagne from your hand, clinking it against the other one in a silent toast before throwing back the drink into his waiting mouth. he empties it in one go, pink tongue darting out to swipe the excess of the bubbled drink from his lower lip. “my name is seong-”
you gasp awake.
candles burn all around you, their wax shamelessly dripping all over the place. you have to wonder if perhaps you’ve died and wound up in some form of an after-life, because the bed you lay upon is too comfortable to be your own, like nothing you’ve ever felt before. the fluffy blanket you’re tucked under carries a weight to it, enveloping you in a reassuring hug whilst you’d dreamt away.
the room’s structure is white as snow: the walls, the floor, the ceilings. it’s unnerving, forcing you into an up-right position as your head darts in every direction. the furniture in the room is dated but expensive, made of lots of dark wood and gold detailing.
an urge to stand up hits you suddenly. you push the blanket off of you and carefully place both feet on the ground. in spite of your unfamiliar surroundings, you find comfort in the fact you still wear the same clothes you’d left the house in. while you slip your shoes back on, your mind betrays you and wonders just what is waiting for you back in your home, where your father likely remains awaiting your return to scold you and then plague you with wedding details.
every step you take echos and kills your plan to sneak out into the hallway quietly. there’s no time to dwell on it, however, as your eyes begin to take in the building around you. the floor running through the hall and down the stairs is adorned by a plush royal blue carpet. the ceilings are so high, they could touch the heavens above. the most eye catching feature, by far, is the chandelier that hangs from the centre of the ceiling above.
it’s large and looming, something you’re incapable of ripping your stare from even as you begin your descent down the staircase. while you want to believe it’s made purely out of diamonds and crystals, something feels off. you must still be dreaming, because you can almost swear the chandelier is made up of ice.
the gentle playing of a piano catches your attention as you step off the stairwell. you follow the sound, past the grand entryway and through a small corridor, all the way to a door that lays wide open, as if daring you to step inside. never one to turn down a challenge, you do so and gasp as the sheer size of the empty ballroom. it’s nearly two sizes bigger than the one in the royal palace.
“you’re awake? good.” the man from your dreams speaks from where he is seated on a piano bench, gentle hands no longer traveling over the keys in a  hypnotic pattern.
“i... where am-” for all the years you’d spent seeing his face when you slept, never once had you imagined you’d see him in the flesh, staring at you with so much disinterest. it wounds your pride, for reasons you can’t quite understand. “why are you here?”
“uhm, this is my home?” he’s confused, rightfully, but he’s misunderstanding the meaning behind your question.
“no, why are you here?” you emphasize the word as your hands flail around rather embarrassingly. if you try hard enough, you can picture your mother looking down at you from the heavens and sighing in shame of the mess you’ve become. “like, physically. real.”
“you must have hit your head worse than i believed.” his response only angers you, a different kind of anger to the one he’d made you feel in your dream. he rises from his seat and cautiously takes a few steps towards you.
you take one step back.
“stop avoiding the question!” perhaps you’re beginning to overreact, but the tightness in your chest is only growing and you’re becoming more overwhelmed by not just this but the whole day you’ve had. first a proposal, then falling from a horse, and now dealing with the man who’s face you’ve waited your whole life to see, who’s staring at you like you’re a speck of dust: meaningless, removable?
“i’m not avoiding the question, i just don’t have an answer.” the man, this seong, scowls. he pinches the bridge of his nose as you repeat your question, this time a little louder. “look, you hit your head and you’re obviously quite confused. i’ll have my,” he pauses, searching for the right word. you hear footsteps approaching you from behind, the hairs on your neck beginning to stand as you begin to battle between glancing backwards or keeping your glare fixed on the man in front of you. “friend take you back to the town. it’s unsafe for a lady like yourself to travel alone through these woods.”
right on cue, a cold hand taps you on the shoulder. you turn around and your jaw drops open as you stare at the tall boy. his skin seems to shimmer under the light of the room and you think maybe you really did hit your head too hard, because he looks like he’s made of glass or... snow?
“hi,” his voice is far too deep to the childish smile that appears on his face. “i’m mingi and i like warm hugs.”
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the only current relief in your life is knowing you aren’t the only one rolling your eyes at everything prince taeyong says.
at the head of the large dining table sits king felix, head adorned by his heavy crown. you can’t help but wonder if it's a show of power against king taemin, who is sat at the opposite end with a much smaller crown. it seems every prince in the southern isles decided the engagement between you and taeyong was a call for celebration and brought themselves over to arendelle in a matter of days, ships filling up the dock.
you father is present too, seated by your side and wearing a smile so wide it might just split his face. after mingi- who you quickly realised was nothing but a child trapped in a man’s body, with how he giggled shyly when you grabbed his hand after almost slipping on a puddle or the kindness behind every reassuring word he spoke to you- had returned you to be border of the forest, and refused to move until he saw you reach the first set of houses laying in the distance, you arrived home to the scene you were expecting: your father waiting for you, arms crossed and face scowling.
instead of igniting a screaming match, he simply told you your engagement ring had been left on your dresser and you were expected to be wearing it as of the next morning. anytime you tried to bring up how unfair the marriage was, or voice your discomfort with how he expected you to marry the prince in a month’s time and up-end your whole life to move to the southern isles, your father walked away and left you talking to no one but the wall.
now, a week has passed and the ring around your finger still feels wrong, as you play with it and try your best to get through this luncheon with the two royal families, all in honour of your unwanted union.
“which brings me to my next point,” you hear the king of the southern isles speak all of a sudden, your mind forcing you out of your thoughts and back into the grand room within the castle. “are there any specific requests you have, felix, ahead of this marriage?”
it’s amazing, really, how everyone’s opinion on the marriage has been taken into account, except for the bride’s.
“now that you ask, yes. i do.” king felix’s voice is far deeper than anyone else’s in the room, matured with age. it sends shivers down your spine from the sheer power it holds. “i would like to request that miss y/n take up residency in the castle, until the wedding.”
the entire room falls silence scarce for you, who clumsily drops your fork onto the ground. you bend to pick it back up but your actions are forced to a halt by your father’s firm grip on your arm and his disapproving eyes.
“i think it’s our safest option,” the king begins to explain when he gains no real response other than wide eyes and gaping mouths. “prince taeyong is a highly desired bachelor, i fear the people may not react too kindly to hearing he has chosen a bride. i believe i speak for us all when i say miss y/n’s safety and comfort should be the top priority.”
if anyone disagrees with the king, they’re thankfully not dumb enough to voice it and soon, once you yourself nod in approval of the arrangement as his majesty stared at you with that same look in his eyes from the ball, the lunch returns to it’s usual flow of mindless conversations of politics and the little spider in your brain starts to spin a web of plans.
the living proposition is something that could completely work in your favour. for starters, you’d get a break from your father’s incessant need to be breathing down your neck at every hour of the day, and there would be less occasions of prince taeyong stopping by unannounced. secondly, and most importantly, it could give you the perfect chance to talk the king into not blessing your marriage. with the king’s disapproval, no wedding would take place no matter how much your father whined and demanded it of you.
hours later, when the unwarm sun slowly begins to set and the guests all shuffle their way out of the hall, king felix pulls you to the side to announce your residency within the castle is to begin this very same evening.
“are you sure, your highness?” your father is quick to interrupt and it takes every bit of self-control to not roll your eyes. “she hasn’t even got a change of clothing, nor sleepwear. how about we return home, pack and she’ll begin her stay to-”
“thank you for your concern, general, but my lovely staff already have that under control.” it’s then that the king looks at you again. his eyes travel down to the pendant and your hand shoots up to clasp it. “if you’d like to bid your father goodnight and accompany me to the room you’ll be staying in, you’ll find the closet is already full. though, you’re more than welcome to have your own things collected, if that would make you more comfortable.”
the only thing that would bring you real comfort right now is taking off the damned ring from your finger. and, maybe, some answers. answers like why the king looks at you like you’re a ghost, why your father can’t take a second to consider what you want, why prince taeyong had to turn up in the first place.
why had your dreams stopped. why had that man plagued your dreams your whole life, only to disappear after you saw his face.
“goodnight, father. i hope the roads are dry enough for you to ride home safely.” you really do mean it. despite his recent behaviours, your dad was still the man who had raised you, who’d been there for you when both of you lost your mother.
he pulls you closer into what you expect is going to be a hug but is, instead, a kiss on your forehead. the same he used to give you every night that he tucked you into bed. you feel him mumble a couple words of affirmation, more than you hear him, before he steps back, bows his head to the king once and follows after the rest of the guests.
“if you’ll follow me, miss y/n.”
you can hardly believe you’re currently being escorted down the halls of the castle by none other than the king himself- and two palace guards who walk a little ahead of you both. it’s like a fever dream, so strange to hear him speak your name and make lighthearted conversation while you both make your way through the lavish castle.
you can only imagine this is what it feels like to open pandora’s box, this insight you’ve gotten into the king as a person. less than a month ago, you’d known his  name and his unplanned claim to the throne. now, he’s allowing you to stay in his home and doing his best to take your comfort into all accounts.
lately, he’s the only one doing so.
“the room comes with two sets of keys, which only you and i shall possess.” he explains, holding up his hand. the jingling of the keys echos ever so slightly and you can only giggle at the older man’s antics. “which is my way of telling you you will have complete privacy. if you do not desire to be visited by anyone,” his words seem innocent but you sense he has a certain prince in mind. “you simply don’t have to open your door. ah, here we are.”
once he unlocks the two large, ceiling-high doors and steps back, signalling you to enter with his hands, you swear you could knock out cold.
because there’s a fireplace burning dimly in the corner. because the back of the door is laced with hand-painted flowers and brimmed with gold. because the walls are a familiar beige colour. because the bed looks softer than a cloud.
because it’s the very same bedroom you’d dreamed of the night of the royal ball.
“it’s a beautiful room, isn’t it?” you can only nod in agreement to the king’s question, too stunned to speak. “i thought you’d find it very homey.”
you step further into the room and it begins to hit you like a train, flashes of laying upon the man’s chest, of him feeding you a snowflake, of you both kissing on that very same bed sending your mind into a frenzied state.
if king felix notices anything, he does not care to acknowledge it.
“i’m free first thing tomorrow morning. i shall come fetch you and give you a tour of the place, help you find your bearings in this obscene castle.” he chuckles and you attempt to mimic him, only for the noise to scratch at your throat. “after all, this is your home. from now on, i mean.”
falling asleep that night feels harder than ever before, as you toss and turn under the sheets. at one point, you begin to overheat and kick the blankets off of your body. it’s not enough, so you stand and rush over to the fire, throwing a glass of water over it and successfully killing it. then, you begin to pace the room, mind a complete mess of what ifs and how comes.
when you do eventually fall asleep, it’s from sheer exhaustion, your body shutting down on itself despite how badly your anxious brain wants to keep you up longer.
for the first time since the forest, you dream.
of hushed confessions and whimpered words. of soft touches and hard kisses. of mornings spent under the intruding rays of sunshine and nights of passion overlooked by the moon.
of him and his cold touch.
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mingi wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or laugh the whole way through walking you out of the forest.
when seonghwa had burst through the castle doors, with panic laced in his eyes and you in his arms, mingi had been left paralyzed. seeing your face came as a complete surprise to him, in spite of remembering how father jongho had promised you would return some day.
mingi had always thought he’d have to wait longer for that day to arrive.
seeing you, being around you, speaking to you and having to accept the fact you didn’t know him brought him a pain completely unimaginable. the whole time, he’d been itching to tell you about how much he’d missed you, about how miserable seonghwa had been all those decades without you.
he’d even tried to trigger some form of memory in you, with his introduction, but you’d only met his smiling face with disinterest before snapping your attention back to the prince, demanding one last time that he explain why he’d been in your dreams.
alas, things weren’t exactly like jongho had predicted. you’d been reborn but all those years of making memories had been turned to dust.
now, a week later, mingi has tried his best to forget about the small interaction.
his scatterbrain usually dumps out memories by the gallon- a trait which seonghwa has always cursed himself for not perfecting upon mingi’s creation- yet, this time, the memory is stubborn. it’s lingering, swimming around his conscious and urging him to shed a few tears each night, as he lays in his room and tries to sleep.
today in particular, he awakens on both the literal and figurative wrong side of the bed. with not a proper wink of sleep in the whole night, he stumbles down the halls of the ice palace, one destination in mind.
the door slams against the wall as he forces it open, startling a sleeping seonghwa awake. if mingi were his usual happy self, he’d be teasing the older man over how he’d been clutching against this chest the pillow you’d briefly used.
“what’s wrong?!” seonghwa croaks out, letting the blanket slide off his torso as he sits up.
“you, that’s what.” mingi storms over to the bed, not even asking before he sits himself down on the end of it, glaring at his creator. “why are you just sat in bed, doing nothing?”
if seonghwa was confused before, he’s even more so now as his eyes flutter over to the grandfather clock in his bedroom.
“it’s six am,” he fails to sit cross legged and opts for swinging them over the edge of his mattress, a hand smoothing over his bed-head. “what else should i be doing?”
“you should be out there,” the anger in mingi is becoming too much. his head aches, something he didn’t know was even possible. there’s a sense of urgency, like if he doesn’t get his point across and words out now, they’ll consume him, swallow him whole. “wherever the hell y/n is! that’s where you should be, you imbecile!”
it’s now seonghwa’s turn to get heated, standing up from the mattress in a frustrated state. he’s not even sure who he’s more angry at: mingi, for interrupting his rest and hitting him with the harsh reality, or himself for being too much of a coward to admit his icicle of a friend has a point.
it’s not like he wasn’t expecting this outburst at some point. he could see it in mingi’s whole demeanor the moment he returned from walking you out of the woods. the way he wouldn’t meet seonghwa’s eyes, the way his shoulders slumped, the way he no longer wore his smile. everything screamed confusion, because why hadn’t seonghwa just confessed? given you the truth when you’d demanded it from him?
“what would you have me do, mingi? huh?” guilt springs forward when he sees the man flinch from where he sits on the bed, seonghwa’s voice booming with rage. “would you have preferred i kept her here? is that what you wanted of me, to stoop so low i keep a stranger hostage here?”
“but she’s not a stranger,” mingi stands to spit his words in the man’s face, towering over him ever so slightly. “ she’s your wi-”
“she may as well be a stranger!” seonghwa cuts him off, yelling becoming the only thing he can do to hold back his own heartbreak, to stop the flood of tears from breaking the dam he’s built up in his eyes over the years. he can’t cry over this, over you, again. too much time has been wasted on empty whimpers. “the only thing her and my yeoleum share in common is a name and a face. that’s it.”
“jongho told us-”
“yeah, well, jongho was wrong.” his chest heaves with each breath he intakes. his fingertips burn with coldness, the gift nature had cursed him with itching to be unleashed, as if it hadn’t already served to condemn the precious land of his kingdom into a frozen state. “did you not see the way she looked at me, mingi? she looked at me like i was her enemy. or, even worse, a stranger, a nobody in her life. how is that fair? he promised me she’d come back just the same, that she’d remember me the second our eyes met.”
a resounding silence has taken over the room. mingi can’t bare to look at his friend, red in the face and teary eyed. it’s painful enough to listen to the tremble in his voice, seeing it is a whole new level of torture.
with a clearing of his throat and a few deep breaths, the emotionless facade he’s been running around with finally returns and seonghwa finds it within him to compose himself.
“she’s a stranger, mingi. we do not know her, just the same as she does not know us.”
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had you ever felt such a desire to punch someone before?
you’re unsure but, as you take in the drunken men around you, you’re more than willing to find out just how good your right hook is.
life within the castle has been interesting, to say the very least. the first few days were an array of trials and errors. taking the wrong turns, getting yourself lost in the expanse space of the building. almost losing your bedroom key, only for king felix to kindly hand it to you before you could make your way out of the dining hall.
the king had given you that tour he promised. he’d walked you through the castle, pointing out room after room, sharing what they were used for. he’d taken you down to a familiar set of stables, but no white horse stood in it. you’d even been honoured enough to meet his partner, chan, a prince from a neighbouring island. he’s a rare sight in the kingdom, often opting to skip out on any royal duties his husband has and, really, you can’t blame him.
who wants to sit still and look pretty next to a king for hours on end?
by far, your favourite room within the entire castle is the library. it’s the kind you step into and it instantly envelops you with a need to escape in some written adventures. most of the walls are comprised of books upon books, stacked within the dark wooden bookshelves. as if that weren’t enough, the centre of the room houses more books, with row after row of them, all with different coloured spines and ranging in age and genre. there’s even a small fireplace at the furthest end of the room, where two red leather armchairs rest.
you discovered it’s a great place to avoid prince taeyong in.
unfortunately, you weren’t able to sneak your way in this evening, with said royal spotting you as you made your way in from the gardens. you’d protested, trying to insist you were much too tired, but he eventually roped you into joining him and his brothers for the night.
“you must be excited to join us in the southern isles, y/n!” a prince who’d introduced himself as xiaojun suddenly appears next to you, his arm throwing itself over your shoulder as the other one brought up the tanker of beer to his lips.
“yeah!” another of the boys chimes in- jaehyun? their names were hard to keep track of. “i don’t know how you do it!”
“do what?” you ask and are met with a bunch of eyes on you, looking at you like you’ve grown a second head.
“survive the cold!” your fiance is the one speaking this time around, joining his family in staring at you.
“i’ve been here a couple weeks and the sight of snow already makes me feel sick.” the tallest, and calmest, of the princes interjects.
“i literally dreamed about feeling the sun’s heat the other day!”
“our weather is reason enough for someone to be dumb enough to marry taeyong, especially if you’re living in this shit hole.”
“yeah, at least that way you’ll be miserable but in the heat.”
the boys seem to be passing around a figurative ball, each taking their shot at the kingdom you’ve grown up in, the place you call home. and, while you’ve never felt very patriotic, a part of you feels the need to defend the land.
to defend the cold that encompasses it.
because, while there are days where the weather outside is blistering cold and nights where you need at least three blankets to keep yourself warm in bed, you still can’t deny the beauty in the snowy hills or the glassy lakes.
“i guess our weather isn’t for the faint hearted.” you shrug, feeling a little smug with how a few of them begin to puff out their chest, scoffing and mumbling about how they didn’t mind the temperature. “must be why the cold’s never really bothered me.”
the only thing that got you through the rest of the evening was reminding yourself that you’d be free of their obnoxious company once you headed to bed. clearly you were wrong, since prince taeyong is now walking you to your chambers despite how many times you’d denied his offer.
he’d been quiet the entire walk, thankfully, though he did insist in linking your arms. it’s a pity, really, that you two find yourselves in these circumstances because, if your father hadn’t condemned you to a loveless marriage, there's a world where you could see yourself befriending the prince.
he’s kind, always offering to walk you places and bringing you gifts each time you meet. he’s handsome, with a perfect build and a chiseled face. he’s intelligent, teaching you all about his kingdom and how their customs differed to arendelle.
but he lacks something, and you can’t quite put your finger on it.
“are you sure you’re ready to say goodnight so early?” he questions you as you unlock the door to your room and you nearly freeze, feeling his arm suddenly wrap around your waist.
“i woke up too early this morning,” the nervousness is too noticeable in your chuckle. “so i’m just feeling really tired.”
“we don’t have to go back to my brother’s, darling.” his hand gives your waist a squeeze before he pulls you against him, nose nuzzling itself in your hair. it’s the most intimacy the two of you have ever shared and it’s beginning to make your skin prickle. “we could spend some time alone, in your room.”
“taeyong, i really don’t think-”
“young man, i suggest you take your hands off of her and take several steps back.” a familiar voice cuts you off, growing louder the more he approaches you both. “this instance.”
the prince pales with fear and you’re finally able to breathe again, hands no longer stuck to your body. your lungs grow lighter the more distance taeyong puts between you both. this isn’t what two engaged adults should be feeling, suffocated by the other’s presence.
“apologies, your highness. i simply got caught up in her beauty.”
“then see to it that you never do that again.” king felix rolls his eyes and that feeling returns to you, that maybe you’re not the only one who dislikes the situation you’re stuck in. but, what could a king care for when it came to your marital state? “perhaps you do things differently in the southern isles but here, we respect our partners. not only do we respect them but we do not try force our way into their beds, before nor after marriage. now, run along before i decide to ban you from my castle.”
you could cry.
in fact, you’re pretty sure your eyes are filling with tears as you watch your fiance stumble back down from where you’d both came from, head bowed in embarrassment and hands in his pockets. like a child scolded, he leaves your line of sight and you let your back slump against your bedroom door, hand clutching the handle.
all you manage to get out are repeated cries of gratitude, thanking the king for getting you out of that situation. for letting you live in his home.
for being the only one caring about you.
“it’s no trouble, really.” his smile is sincere. when he glances at your necklace, you think back to the first time you two had really spoken, on the dance floor. how he’d been nothing but an unknown monarch, an enigma no one could help you decode. looking at him now, with the long greying hair on his head, the small smile on his lips, the sincerity in his eyes, you can’t believe that what the people say is true.
there is no way this man could kill his own brother, not even for the throne.
“your highness-”
“please, call me felix.”
“felix,” you accentuate, the name feeling new on your tongue. look at you, living in a castle and getting on first name basis with the king. “if you have the time, i’d like to talk to you about something.”
“hmm, i’m a little busy this week,” his answer leaves you feeling a little defeated. of course he was busy, how could you assume otherwise? he didn’t have time to hear some poor girl beg him to unbless her engagement, an engagement that benefits him and- “but i have a few hours free next thursday, if you can handle the wait. we’ll discuss whatever you like over lunch.”
with that in agreement, you bid him farewell for the night and make sure to lock your bedroom doors after entering the room. it doesn’t take long for you to collapse on your bed, body freed from the dress you’d been wearing all day and comfortably free in your flowing nightgown.
no matter how tired you are, however, you can’t seem to fall asleep. there’s an itch inside of you, begging to be satisfied. you need to move, to stand up, to take yourself somewhere.
you need to read.
in no more than ten minutes, you find yourself carefully pushing the door open to the library, and cringing when it creaks ever so slightly. you’d hate to be caught in such a comprising position, wearing nothing but a robe thrown over your nightgown, completely bare footed, hair sticking up in a few different directions.
the usual smell of books welcomes you as you light a candle and begin your venture down the rows of bookshelves. there’s no particular book you’re searching for, you just need something, anything, to steal your mind away for a few moments and remind you that happy endings are possible, if you work hard for them.
something glimmers in the corner of your eye and you halt, the candlelight flickering slightly. a book with a wrinkled spine and a faded blue colour sparks your interest and you reach for it, tugging it out of the shelf. the title alone makes you nauseous.
“the tale of yeoleum and gyeoul.” you scoff, fighting an eye roll. “you’ve got to be kidding me.”
you doubt there isn’t a single person, neither old nor young, in the whole of arendelle who doesn’t know this story. so famed, some even believe it to be true. 
it had been the first thing you learnt to read in school, a classroom full of children squealing over yeoleum and gyeoul, the child of summer and the child of winter. two soulmates, destined to fall in love since the creation of time, stitched together by mother nature when bearing the responsibility of controlling the seasons became too much. the two of them birthed two children: autumn and spring, a perfect blend between them both. autumn carried more of their father’s traits, while spring took after their mother.
and then disaster struck, when something not even mother nature had predicted happened. yeoleum died- or, rather, she was murdered. though the hand that sealed her fate had been none other than gyeoul, the one to blame was an unnamed enemy, hellbent on putting an end to the abomination that was the summer child. ever since then, gyeoul has stewed in his heartbreak, freezing the kingdom till the day his beloved returns to his arms.
if anyone were to ask you, it's a load of shit. the fact anyone over the age of seven believes it to be true is baffling.
with that in mind, you slip the book back into it’s place and decide maybe you are ready for sleep after all.
tiptoeing your way back down to the door, you’re startled when your foot catches on something and trips you over. the candle flies out of your grasp and the light flickers out, leaving you consumed by the darkness. it’s creepy and spine chilling, and you scramble to relight the candle.
only to regret it the moment you do.
the light reveals what you’d tripped over, an old tarp, and what exactly it had been covering.
a portrait stares back at you, old and frayed at the corners but beautiful nonetheless. it depicts a man and a woman, sat on their respective thrones and with crowns resting at either of their sides. by the clothes they wear, there is no need to ponder on their social status. their hands are intertwined and, even though they are nothing but painted figures, the emotions between them are real, palpable, bleeding through the canvas.
it’s the painting’s title that has you retching on the floor, the anxious feeling returning full swing as you scramble out of the library as quickly as possible, tears threatening to spill.
king-to-be park seonghwa and his wife, park y/n.
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it takes three days for you to finally take action.
after slamming the door shut to your bedroom and throwing up your dinner from that evening, you crashed onto your bed and fell into a, thankfully, dreamless sleep. and in your bed you remained for the next few days, wallowing in your own twisted feelings and out of control thoughts.
if your thoughts were stars, then they were beginning to align and instead of bringing answers, they brought more questions.
on the second day, a knock came to your bedroom door and you’d been less than impressed to find prince taeyong along side four other men, who proceeded to serenade you with some cheesy song as the man you were to marry soon held up a bouquet of roses.
he got two seconds into his apology for his drunken behaviour before you slammed the door shut on his face.
at the very least, you thought a few hours later, it had given you a moment to take your mind off the issue at hand. even if it really had been just that: a moment.
because, how the hell were you supposed to just carry on after seeing that painting?
how does one just waltz right back into normal life, acting like they didn’t just find a portrait of a set of monarchs that not only included the man that had been in your dreams your whole life but your own self right next to him, named his wife and everything?!
the simple answer: you don’t.
instead, you lock yourself up in a room for three days before waking yourself up at the ass-crack of dawn, dressing yourself in the most fitting attire- not some puny dress, but a pair of leathered trousers and a long sleeved shirt, all wrapped under a coat- and storming your way down to the stables.
committing horse-naping is far too easy, you decide as you easily hoist yourself up onto the back of the brown steed, hands clutching the reigns before you command it forward. unlike the last time you sat upon a horse, you have a very clear destination in mind.
the forest.
the trek takes longer than you expected, which simply aids you in divesting further into your spiraling mind. the only realization you’ve managed to come to is that this man, seong or seonghwa or whatever his damned name is, is somehow connected to everything.
he holds the answers.
this time around, you’re glad to watch the horse take off, back in the direction of the town. and you, you tighten your coat around yourself and take your first step back into the forest. with every step, you try to recall the path you’d traveled down along side the overly friendly boy, mingi.
as you pass what you swear is the same tree for the fourth time, your plan is beginning to seem more hopeless. you’d been almost concussed when you were in the palace, how on earth did you expect to find your way back there? and, even if you did, you’d likely be turned away at the door.
there’s a distinct feeling one gets when they’re being watched- stalked is likely a better term here.
first, there’s a shift in the atmosphere, from safety to danger. then, the heart picks up pace and the body screams for more oxygen, as if to throw itself into a state of panic. the hairs on the back of the neck stand to attention. lastly, the need to move faster kicks in, that fight or flight instinct taking over with no hesitance.
you have no such luck, to run, for your stalker is already too close, too hidden in the trees for you to make a proper dash for it. the growls it emits are low and serve as a warning and it gives you the chance to pinpoint, more or less, where your follower is.
the growl turns into a snarl as you turn around slowly. a gust of wind smacks into the back of you and you're more glad than ever of the heavy coat you’d slipped on.
you finally spot them, the two honey dipped eyes staring at you from between the trees. it’s big, bigger than any wolf you’ve seen before. if it’s size isn’t peculiar enough, the marking on its fur certainly is: brown fur stained with white over one side of it’s face. at last, your eyes meet the wolf’s.
you begin to run.
faster than you ever have before. each time your foot meets the ground, there is a pounding in your ears and you’re more than sure the sheer force of the impact is enough to shake the floor of the forest.
the wolf is hot on your trail, growling, snarling and snapping it’s teeth and serving as ammunition to keep moving, keep running for your life. you whizz through trees and leap over fallen trunks, glancing backwards at your opponent every so often. when you see the familiar frozen lake in the distance, you don’t overthink things and continue running across it.
completely ignoring the way the ice is cracking under the weight of your footsteps.
the ground gives way beneath your feet and you drop into the water with a drowned out scream. not even the fire in your veins will conjure itself up, the magic freezing alongside every other part of you. the water is cold and heavy, soaking through your clothes and dragging your head under. you flail your arms, kick your legs, thrash your entire body but none of it is useful. in a kingdom where all bodies of water are frozen over, who learns to swim?
you’re drowning.
it’s a sad reality to accept, that your life should come to an end in this very lake, which you’d stared at every night. when you begin to give in to the ache in your muscles, a cynical voice in your head reassures you that, at least this way, you don’t have to marry any prince.
a hand thrusts itself under the freezing water as you begin to shut your eyes and give in to the lake. it tries once, twice, thrice before, on the fourth try, it succeeds at getting a grasp on one of your arms, slowly pulling you closer to the surface and a second hand joins too, both wrapping themselves around your upper body.
you’ve never felt a cold so intense, your soaked body meeting the cool air. but, at the same time, you’ve never felt a warmth so comforting, your body pulled into someone’s waiting arms, head against a solid chest while strong hands rub up and down at your arms, trying to bring what little heat they can back to your body.
“you’re an idiot.” his voice is low, so low you wouldn’t have realised he was talking if it weren’t for the way his chest vibrated with each word. “i told you it wasn’t safe for you to travel these woods alone.”
“at least,” you’re interrupted by your own heaving lungs, gasping to get more oxygen. “i caught your attention, right?”
seonghwa may roll his eyes but you’re both more than aware of the hint of a smile on his face.
it’s alarming how easily your body melts into the warmth his body is providing you with, fingers cramping up as they grip his cloak and you force yourself closer to him, till you’re sure he can hear every breath you take and feel every beat of your heart. you’re so at ease here, soaked to the bone and in his arms, that you hardly register him struggling to shrug off his cloak or him draping it over you in an attempt to protect you from the cold morning air.
seonghwa tucks an arm under your knees and another by your neck before he slowly rises to a stand, readjusting you once he’s fully stood up, tall and proud and gripping you like you’re a piece of fine china. when he takes his first step, you panic, staring up at him with widened eyes.
“please don’t make me go home.” even if he wanted to, after hearing the vulnerability in your voice and seeing the dimming of the light in your eye, he could never do such a thing.
“i wasn’t planning on it.”
true to his words, the two of you begin a journey of silence through the snowy forest. the only sound are his footsteps, your chattering teeth, the occasional questioning from seonghwa- which you suspect is his way of making sure you’re still with him- and, strangely enough, the padding of the wolf’s paws on the ground.
he must notice you tense as you both approach the ethereal palace and he struggles out a laugh when you gasp.
“why’re you so surprised? it’s hardly like you haven’t been here before.”
“yeah but i was probably half concussed and too angry to really take in this... whole thing.” you can’t tear your eyes away from it, the solid ice building. it almost looks unreal, like an overgrown sculpture someone had carved into the side of a glacier, but the open doors presenting you with a view of the perfectly furnished home are a give away sign that he truly lives in an ice palace.
at least you hadn’t been imagining the chandelier made of ice.
a whine rings from behind you both and seonghwa spins, forcing you both to come face to face with the wolf. it’s head hangs low and it’s tail is tucked so far between it’s legs, a complete display of submission and so different to the wild animal that had chased you all the way to the frozen disaster, snarling and growling at you, like it was ready to stain it’s teeth with your blood.
“i don’t know what you’re whining for, i told you to be nice to guests and look what you ended up doing.” the wolf let’s out a low howl at seonghwa’s words, cowering itself down onto the ground outside. “you’re lucky i have more pressing matters to attend to than giving you into trouble. piss off before i change my mind.”
the wolf whines once more before running off, back into the same woods it had chased you through. he continues his way through the hall, and up the staircase. your eyes watch the chandelier once more, marveling in the way the light shines through the crystalized ice. it’s not long until he’s carrying you back into a familiar bedroom, sitting you on the bed before barreling over to the wardrobe.
“how did you...” you begin, wrapping his coat around you tighter. you’d began to feel warmer a while back but the fabric smells like him.
“talk to the wolf?” he finishes your question, a hint of amusement in his voice as he sifts through the clothes, picking out a random shirt. “change into this. those wet rags are no use if you want to heat up.”
you take the shirt from his hand and he turns his back to you instantly, giving you the privacy you need to disrobe. you’re reluctant to remove his cloak until you realise the shirt he’s handed you smells even more like him. your wet clothes drop to the floor in a puddle and you quickly pull it over yourself before quietly announcing you were done.
“he wasn’t always like that.” is the first thing seonghwa says, when he manages to ignore the initial feeling in his chest at seeing you in his clothes, hair a mess, shivering. he wants to say his only intentions are to take care of someone, that he would be doing this for anyone he found harmed or drowning in the cold of the lake. but he knows it’s not true, that it’s because it was you drowning in the lake. “a wolf, i mean.”
you watch him stride past you, over to the unlit fireplace in the room. wherever he goes, you angle your body to follow his movements. he piles up some fresh wood and places it in the pit. it’s only then, when he’s struggling to light a match, that you carefully shuffle over.
you can hardly stand to face him as you let your body take control, that familiar ripple of warmth rushing down the side of your arm and meeting at your fingertips, in the form of a beautiful dancing flame. you blow on it and it floats down off your hand, landing on the wood and striking an instant fire.
“i’ve not seen you do that since-” your head snaps to seonghwa, who’s face is painted in his own form of shock. shock that he’s almost said too much, shock that, really, he might have already done too much by bringing you here in the first place. 
“what did you just-”
he cuts you off nonverbally, hands clasping both your forearms and turning you around before giving you an albeit gentle yet poignant shove towards the large bed. 
“get some rest. you’re going to need it.”
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rest you needed indeed.
you’d woken up a few hours later with a pounding headache and your skin on fire, though this time for reasons far different than when you had lit the fireplace. seonghwa was sat on the floor, back against a wall as his head lay resting on his bent knees.
as if sensing your eyes on him, his own opened to meet your stare.
in a muted state, the two of you had grazed your eyes over one another. minds fresh from sleep and still a little exhausted, there was no energy to be self-aware, to hold yourselves back from staring at the other. he was the first one to break the eye contact, turning his head to the side. he pushed himself to a stand and carefully approached you. his hand reached out yet never touched you until you nodded affirmatively.
“you’re burning up.” he mumbled to himself, hand resting against your sweaty forehead.
“isn’t it funny how they call it catching a cold, but our bodies burn up?” you replied as you rolled over to lay on your side, forcing his hand off of you.
“that’s your body fighting the virus,” he informed you and, though your eyes were closed, you could already imagine how he’d rolled own or how that tease of a smile lingered on his lips. “but sure, i guess it’s a little ironic.”
you’re not even vaguely sure how many days have passed by with you laying in that bed. had those days not been spent with you working up a sweat and burning in your own skin, you would have found the time to feel guilty for the way seonghwa had been sleeping sat against the wall every night.
you do have to wonder why he didn’t just use one of the other beds in his palace.
but you don’t question him, nor do you protest to the ways he seems hellbent on being your own personal nurse. from making you soup to fluffing your pillow, he’s been at your side any time you need him, not allowing you to so much as lift a finger.
except for lighting the fireplace. that, he let’s you do.
strange as it may seem, even to yourself, you’d come to learn a lot about seonghwa in these few sick days. for starters, he makes excellent tea. it’s perfectly smooth and soothing, trickling down your throat that once burned with pain each time you attempted to speak.
he’s a bit of a clean freak. you have to admire it, really, the way he keeps such a tidy and clean home when it is so large and lived in by no more than him and mingi.
he’s compassionate, much to your surprise. the man you’ve been taken care of by was nothing like the one who first brought you here, all those weeks ago after you’d ended up in the forest by sheer blind rage. you’d woken up at some point, from one of your many naps, and overheard him talking to what you imagined to be the wolf, reassuring it it wasn’t in trouble.
you’ve seen mingi a few times but he seems to be someone who can’t sit still, who needs to go out and do something every day, since he rarely is around. which is how your morning begins today, with mingi popping his head through the doorway and finding only you awake, seonghwa in his usual spot on the ground. the boy does his best to speak quietly, telling you he’ll be back in a few hours before bidding you goodbye and disappearing out of the palace.
rolling onto your side, you watch the sleeping man. he seems younger in his sleep, without that stern look tattooed on his face. you still have so many questions to ask, answers to find but you’ve yet to find time. you could blame it on the fact you’ve been ill but it’s more likely that you were enjoying letting him take care of you a little too much.
an idea appears in your head, forcing you up and out of the large bed. you feel much better, no longer getting lightheaded from simply standing up. grabbing a blanket, you tip toe over to seonghwa’s sleeping form and prepare to drape it over his body, crouching down to do so.
his eyes snap open and he grabs your wrist before you get the chance to.
“sorry...” you whisper, worrying over the fact you’ve woke him up from his slumber. the worry increases by tenfold when his hand let’s go of your wrist and shoots up to cup your cheek. “i never meant to wake you, i was just giving you a-”
“i’ve missed waking up to your face.” his words catch you off guard, just like the way his thumb starts to smooth over your cheek.
and suddenly it all feels like a now or never situation, like you have to take advantage of his vulnerability. you highly doubt another chance will come along sometime soon, where you’ll be able to do this. soon, you won’t even be able to enter the woods, much less this palace, after you’re married off and sent to spend the rest of your days in misery down south.
“who are you, seonghwa?” the thumb on your cheek stops moving. “who are we to each other?”
silence has never felt so nauseating, heavy, cold. you half expect him to shove you away or scream at you. return to the him from the piano bench, telling you you’re nothing but a crazed girl with a head injury.
“i don’t think you’d be asking me that,” he speaks lowly and it’s hypnotizing. every part of him is: his eyes, his lips, his voice. his hands. “if you didn’t already know the answer, y/n.”
the gap between you is lessening with every breath you take, his hand leading you down, down, down till you’re almost sat in his lap and every one of his exhales become your inhales.
his answer is far from the one you wanted it to be. you wanted reassurance, to be told verbatim that everything your pretty little head was thinking was the truth. that the fact you’re inside this palace, under his care is not one of life’s great coincidences but, instead, fate. that everything was falling into it’s place, starting from the moment you finally saw his face at the lake.
because, if he isn’t park seonghwa, the disappeared king of arendelle, and you aren’t park y/n, his supposed wife, you’re unsure that you won’t go insane.
“seonghwa.” you breathe his name out, eyes begging to close while his own are focused on staring down at your mouth, watching the way they moved to speak his name.
no amount of dreaming or reminiscing feels as good as actually hearing you say his name in person.
the past few days were filled by him living in denial, that you were nothing if not an ordinary married couple. him, the dotting husband taking care of his beloved wife and you, the beautiful wife bed ridden from her own misadventures.
“who am i to you?” you’re begging at this point, hands scrunching up the shirt he wears to keep yourself stable, as level-headed as you could possibly be with him so close while your body wants to do nothing but lunge itself into his warmth, let him ruin you in ways you’re beginning to doubt he hasn’t done before.
“you’re the only woman i’ve ever loved.” there is no hesitance in his voice, only assertiveness, confidence, love. like he’s never doubted it for a moment.
“how? we don’t... we barely... we just met!” you’re pretty sure your lips just brushed against his own as you spoke, the buzz of the contact sending shivers down your spine. seonghwa must mistake this for you feeling cold, because he wraps his free arm around you and pulls you fully into his warm lap, bodies flush together.
“yes, we did just meet.” he nods, lips pursing together as his hand tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “in this lifetime. but, trust me, my love, there is not a universe in which i do not love you. it’s my fate.”
in a moment driven purely by the mix of emotions swirling around in your chest, your lips crash against his own. the kiss is feverish, filled with a longing that’s finally being fulfilled, even if only for this short moment. you feel your heart lurch in your chest as he takes control, hand trailing to hold the back of your neck and keep you in place, flush against him.
he dominates your mind and body, tilting both your heads to deepen the kiss being exchanged between your mouths. in this moment, you can’t help but let your mind drift off to every kiss you’ve ever shared before.
the first one, technically, was when you were fourteen years old. you and a close friend, tired of being the only ones to yet have felt someone’s lips against their own, decided to share one between each other. it was nothing but a peck, but from that moment on nothing was the same between you and her. every time you caught each other’s eyes, she’d quickly look elsewhere, a red tint on her cheeks.
the next time it happened was with your first boyfriend, or the closest you’d ever come to one. he was the son of one of the military troops your dad commanded, you’d known him for most of your life thanks to parties and trips organized by your own father. you don’t quite remember when you decided to start a relationship, it just progressed naturally. kissing him was like kissing a snail. in other words, slimy and with the occasional poke of his tongue trying to infiltrate your mouth. childish and afraid of confrontation, you opted for the easiest option of avoiding him to end things.
kisses three, four, five and six were at royal balls. a few champagne flutes thrown back- possibly even a few stronger liquors too- and you’d wind up pressed against a pillar, or pressing someone against it. it’s fair to say they were fun but unmemorable.
yet here you are now, in the lap of a man who should be a stranger to you yet the way his lips mold against yours feels like the only thing that’s ever made sense to you. it’s the first kiss that’s ever felt meaningful.
as if he feels you thinking, about past kisses and ex-lovers, seonghwa’s hips grind up into your own. it catches you by surprise to feel how solid his body is beneath you, hard muscles flexing underneath the rough material of his trousers. he repeats the movement once more, taking advantage of the gasp you let out to slip his tongue into your mouth.
melting into his touch, you give him free reign to explore you to his heart’s content. hands trailing over your body, tongue tasting you, hips grinding into you.
“y/n.” he pulls back, eyes staring into your own. all you can do is stare back, lips swollen from his kiss and heavy breathing, fighting back the urge to grind down on him, to get that sweet friction one more time. “we shouldn’t do-”
“shut up.” you pull his lips against your own again.
you’re tired of being told what to do, tired of no one caring about what you want. your dad, prince taeyong, the entire royal family of the southern isles. you’ll be damned if seonghwa does the same.
thankfully, he doesn’t.
securing you against his body, with his arms wrapping around your back and your legs around his waist, he gives you no warning other than to hold on tight as he rises to a stand, using the wall behind him as leverage.
lips messily moving against one another, he blindly takes a step and wobbles, nearly tripping over and dropping you. you opt for trailing kisses down his jaw and onto his exposed neck. you’re dying to rip open the buttons of his shirt, to see if he’s as toned as you remember from those dreams, those memories.
“i need you to tell me you want this before i put you back down because,” seonghwa breaks off in a strangled moan as you suck your mark into him, hands tightening their hold on you as he comes to a stop. “i don’t think i’ll be able to walk away once i put you down on this bed.”
“well that’s what i’d hope.”
“answer me. properly.”
“geez, old man.” you squeal when his hand slips down to pinch your ass, unintentionally pressing your crotches together. when you feel his length, semi-hard in his trousers, rub against you, you're far from complaining. “i want this. i want you.”
a flip switches within him and his whole demeanor changes. you can see it the minute he drops you onto the bed, eyes darker and more predatory while he casts his gaze down at you. hair spread out, chest rising with every breath, wearing nothing but that shirt he’d leant you.
for what feels like an eternity to you and your impatient, hormone driven brain, seonghwa observes you, with a glint in his eyes and an obvious tent in his trousers.
“what are you waiting for?” you ask, propping yourself up on your elbows as you spread your legs, enticing him to finally make a goddamn move and touch you.
you couldn’t care less if it’s his hands, mouth or cock, you just need to feel him.
“you’re...” he’s caught up in a daydream, that’s all he can think right now. this is nothing more than one of his fantasies of you being there, with him. the lonesome ice has finally driven him to delusions. “so beautiful.”
“thanks.” you cock your head, widening your eyes as you stare up at him in a silent pleading. isn’t this what all your friends had talked about, how they’d seduce men so easily? it seems unfair that he, your supposed husband- ex husband? soulmate? who knows at this point-, is remaining so composed, instead of being already half way through ravishing you. “now can you stick your cock in me or something?”
“huh,” he tsks and leans his hands down on the bed. when his tongue runs along his bottom lip, you think about how it should be you doing that. “you haven’t changed one bit, my lady. still,” his hands slide up the bed. “so,” they wrap around your naked ankles. “desperate.” he yanks you forward before diving down, head first.
much to your displeasure, his lips land on the inside of your thigh. it’s not that it doesn’t feel nice, to have his mouth and tongue coaxing marks onto your skin, but he’s being nothing but a tease and you both know it. 
it’s more than embarrassing how wet you already are, still not even properly touched. as degrading as it feels to you, it’s ego inflating for him, to stare right down at the patch of wetness forming in your underwear and know it’s all for him.
“baby,” he coos as his head retracts from your skin, staring up at you while his hands wrap themselves around the meat on your thighs. he’s proud of himself, for keeping his composure despite the fact he’s ready to cum in his pants just from feeling your luscious thighs in his hold once more. god knows how he’s going to endure having them squeeze around his head. ��look at the mess you’ve made.”
a fingers trails over your clothed slit and you’re more than eager to react, hips bucking into the little bit of touch he’s allowing you. it sends electricity up your spine and your mind is clouding over, utterly consumed by seonghwa, seonghwa, seonghwa.
you want him in every way, every inch of him on every inch of you.
a tear in your eye is threatening to fall from his teasing alone when he finally grows impatient and shoves the cotton of your panties to the side before his skin is against yours, quenching some of the fire burning in your abdomen. he coats his finger in your essence, eyes fixed down on your soaked pussy the entire time, like a man hypnotized.
“hwa.” the nickname floats out of you with complete ease in a whine, and that seems to do the job, because his digit finally breaches the walls of your crying hole.
his teeth clamp down on his lip as he gives a few experimental roles of his wrist and all you can do is let out a pathetic moan of his name, gasping when another finger soon joins. he scissors them with each thrust they give into your walls.
“you’re so tight.” his comment is more of an observation, like it’s some kind of problem only he can solve. “we’ll have to change that, hmm? get you nice and stretched out around my cock?”
“yes, god, that-” you cry, head throwing back and arching when his thumb begins to rub over your clit. “sounds really good.”
“yeah? you want me to fuck you dumb with my big cock, baby?” seonghwa’s voice is full of mockery, humiliating to a degree that you’re afraid to say is turning you on. never once would you have thought of letting any man nor woman treat you this way, to talk to you like you were incompetent but, there’s something about him being the one doing it that is sending your body into a state of euphoria.
though, that could easily be because of the third finger he’d just added into the mix.
you become so caught up in the way his fingers deliciously stretch you open, how they perfectly curl inside of you and brush against a certain spot that has your legs turning to jelly. in the perfect rhythm of his thumb rubbing over your sensitive nub, like he’s an expert at working your body up into whatever high he’s going to make you feel. in the way his lips have returned to trailing over your thighs, tongue darting out to rub at the flesh every so often, making you wish he’d put it to use on your throbbing cunt. 
it distracts you from the mischievous look in his hooded eyes, catching you by surprise when you feel a jolt of cold inside of your hole, leading to a squeal echoing around the room and your walls clamping down on him as an unexpected orgasm ripples through your body.
“you’re still so sensitive, baby.” seonghwa smiles innocently, rolling his tongue over your clit as his fingers continue working at your core, his cold touch guiding you through your pleasure. “how cute.”
“let’s see if you still think that,” his fingers leave you, still soaked with your cum as they grip your thighs to push your legs open for seonghwa to lap up the remaining wetness with his tongue. “when i burn your dick off.”
“believe it or not, that’s not the first time you’ve threatened to do that.”
“oh, i believe it.”
seonghwa crawls up your body and you welcome him with open arms, meeting his lips in another heated kiss. this time, your tongue is the one intruding on his mouth, and even you’re surprised with the effect the taste of you on his tongue has over you. eyes rolling back, moaning into the messy kissing, a whole new rush of wetness spreading over your sensitive core.
you’re displeased to see him pull back from you but, any complaint that would have left you dies as soon as his mouth is on your neck. your fingers tangle themselves in his hair, tugging at the roots while his mouth works you over. his hard on is pressing into you teasingly, the weight of it against your hip heavy on your mind while seonghwa continues the abuse of your neck, pulling back every so often to admire the artwork he’s painting onto you.
so possessive, he can’t help but roll his hips into you, pleased with the marks he’s leaving upon your body.
but you’re both impatient, growing more and more needy with each grind against each other, so seonghwa decides it’s time to put you both out of your misery and detaches himself from you. he kneels up, starring at you on the bed as his hands tug the shirt over his head, exposing the healthy array of muscle on his chest and abdomen.
“close your mouth, darling.” there’s a smirk evident on his face as you quickly do so, not even aware of the fact you’d been openly gawking at him. “you’re beginning to drool.”
“you would too if you had my view.” there’s an air of confidence around you, one you’ve never really felt before. things come so naturally with him, there’s no need to overthink your actions or question the things you want to say.
“something tells me it’s nothing compared to mine.”
as quick as he was to remove his shirt, his trousers are soon disposed of too. in no time, you find yourself staring at the naked glory that is this man, who’s kneeling at the bottom of the bed, hand clamped around his own cock as he begins to give it a few experimental thrusts to alleviate the pent up frustration.
from everyone you’ve ever known, and your own personal experiences too, you’ve gotten nothing but bad rep for the way the male reproductive organ is set up, countless stories of foreign, disfigured looking things. yet, seonghwa’s is nothing like that, with it’s more than adequate length, mouth-watering girth, a pair of glistening balls, a vein the faintest shade of blue that runs down the length of it. all this is topped off by the cute tip, that’s currently an angry red and dripping with pre-cum as he runs his thumb over it.
you lick your lips, thighs clenching at the sight of him.
as if reading your mind, seonghwa removes his hand from his cock and, instead, uses it to grip one side of your panties, already half-shoved aside from his earlier fun.
“as cute as you look in this cum soaked thing,” he murmurs lowly, voice having dropped several octaves long ago as his dialect threatens to make an appearance. “it’s getting in the way.”
without another word, a tearing noise rings in yours ears and your skin stings from the pain of how he’d ripped them off of you. but it doesn’t matter, not when you feel him place himself between your thighs. you watch as he forces your legs shut, knees touching, and almost question him, until you feel him thrust his hips forward. his length runs over your slit, coating itself in your wetness. it drags over your clit deliciously and then you see that pretty tip appear between your closed thighs and the most intoxicating sound leaves seonghwa.
three, four, five more times he fucks himself into your thighs and you find he quite likes it when you clench them as he does so, squeezing his aching cock even harder.
“you ready to take me, angel?” he needs to fuck himself into you already, otherwise he’ll end up emptying his balls all over your shirt covered stomach.
on your queue, seonghwa aligns himself with your hole and slowly begins to push inward. the first thing you feel is burning and you panic, thinking you accidentally had gone through with your earlier threat, until you quickly realise it’s from the pain of your walls being stretched to fit him. he keeps apologizing softly, giving you words of affirmation as he continues to add inch after inch, a hand on your hip while the other one finds your own, intertwining your fingers.
“sweet mother of...” he trails off, now fully inside you and needing to try centre himself, to not lose his composure for your sake. the hand on your hip moves, leaving a cold feeling in it’s absence as seonghwa uses it to support his weight, leaning down to burrow his head into your neck. “you’re doing so good for me, baby.”
“hwa,” you let out a shaky breath, hooking a leg over his waist to pull him deeper into you at the same time his mouth goes back to imprinting marks onto your skin, down your collar bone. “move. please. need you to-”
“shh, shh, i know, baby.” he retracts his mouth from you, holding himself higher to stare down at you. a kiss lands on the corner of your mouth, brief and chaste and making you miss the feeling of his lips on yours. “but let’s not go making demands like you’re in charge, okay? i really don’t want to have to teach you a lesson today.”
despite his words, seonghwa gives an experimental thrust. it’s small, with him barely moving an inch, yet it’s enough to have your toes curling. 
“besides, you’ve already angered me once, my lady.” his hand returns to yours. instead of lacing your fingers together this time, though, you feel him grasp your hand and yank it up to his eye level.
the blood drains from your face and you swear the world around you feels ice cold as you watch him inspect the ring on your finger. hot, heavy and intruding, it sits on your skin like a wart. without a drop of hesitance, he pulls the ring off of you and flings it over his shoulder to some unknown corner of the room.
“your fiance is cheap, getting you such a tiny, meaningless rock.”
“he’s meaningless, seonghwa, i swear!” you feel need to reassure him, your heart threatening to break under the weight of his cold, dark stare. “my father forced-”
“oh, it makes no difference to me either way.”
slowly, he’s beginning to pull his hips back only to thrust right back into you, his length dragging over your velvety walls. his hand releases yours and grabs at your thigh, tightening your leg’s hold around his body to drive himself deeper inside of you. “you’re mine.”
from there, all hell breaks loose. which, of course, means seonghwa has thrown the idea of self-restraint out of the window, building up the most unforgiving pace as he fucks into you. his nails dig into the flesh on your thigh, leaving crescents behind as yet another mark on your body.
at one particular thrust, where he pulls your body down to meet his and the tip of his cock brushes over that same spot from earlier, your back arches. eyes caught up on the way his shirt rides up your midriff, he sneaks a hand under the material, groaning in pleasure when he makes contact with your bare breasts.
a shiver runs up your back while his cold finger trails over one of your nipples and you can’t help the way your body reacts to his magic, clamping your walls down on him tighter and causing his hips to stutter for a moment.
“do you see this, baby?” seonghwa rasps out, a hand soothing over your lower abdomen and forcing your attention down there. he thrusts and there you see it, the faintest outline of his cock inside of you, thrusting up and bulging against you. “your little hole takes me so well, like your pussy is made for me.”
you’re thrown back into a moaning mess when he picks the pace back up. soon, the intensity of it becomes too much: his cock fucking into you, his hips slapping against your skin, his nails dragging over you, his cold touch lighting a pool of heat within you.
you crumble when his thumb finds your clit again, his magical touch melting against the heat of your throbbing core. wave after wave of pleasure, your orgasm floods over you like a waterfall while seonghwa fights off his own, to guide you through yours.
you have different plans.
“cum in me!” it’s nothing but a cry at this point. you do your best to roll your hips in time with his thrusts, clenching around him. “please, hwa.”
“huh? you’re still my little cum slut?” his head cocks to the side, humour dancing around in his eyes. his tongue runs over his bottom lip for the millionth time. “used to sit and beg daddy to cum in you, like the filthy little angel you are.”
“please.” you’re begging, pleading him to spill his seed into you.
“want me to breed you? fill you full of my cum till that little fiance of yours understands that you’re mine?” you nod eagerly. “what my angel wants, she gets.”
that wouldn’t be the last time he empties himself inside of you because, when that session died down, it didn’t take long for another to commence, this time with you on top. till the early hours of the morning, the two of you rolled around in the luxury of the large bed- and once up against the wall-, moaning into each other’s mouth and rutting against each other’s bodies, the years, decades, lifetime spent apart finally being made up for.
poor mingi returned home only to decide he needs a new roommate.
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life was going too good, you think, something like this was bound to happen.
it’s thursday by now, at last, which lead to you finally forcing yourself to detach from seonghwa to go have your talk with the king. he wasn’t exactly pleased, taking you against the wall by the front door of the palace because he needed to “remind you who you belonged to before he let you go back to that male infested castle.”
things had been good, really good.
apart from the more than pleasurable sex you’d both been engaging in- on just about every surface in the building, much to mingi’s displeasure. nothing could help him unsee the sight of you, naked as the day you were born, bent over a grand piano as seonghwa took you from behind.- the two of you had spent time catching up: on life before your death, on the decades spent without you, on your reunion that had been so heartless and anti-climatic it had sent seonghwa into a state of depression.
it wasn’t hard to tell how difficult it had been for seonghwa to isolate himself completely, to leave his own little brother, the boy he’d cherished and grown up with his whole life, thinking he was dead. he confessed to you how, at the beginning of his isolation, he’d sneak down to the border of the forest, in hope of catching a glimpse of his brother, newly thrust into kinghood and trying his best to deal with the loss of not only his sister in law but his older brother too.
“i wanted to be there for him, i did.” he’d said, head resting on your naked shoulder as you traced patterns over his skin. “but i couldn’t be there without you. that castle, it... everywhere i looked, i saw you. arendelle was better off without a ruler like me, my love. they didn’t need some heartbroken man who’d frozen their lands and left them cropless. they needed a king, someone strong and capable of taking care of them. they needed my brother.”
that’s when your plans changed.
initially, you’d requested a meeting with the king to finally convince him to disapprove of your marriage. it made sense, with how he looked at the prince with disgust and how he seemed to care for your opinion, that he would at least hear you out on this offer. now, knowing the relation you two share, knowing that a part of him must realize you were truly reborn, like father jongho had claimed, you had no doubt he’d agree.
your new plan was to tell him seonghwa was alive, no one deserved to know more than him.
“i must say, i’ve missed seeing your face around the castle.” the man across from you speaks with amusement, bringing the dainty cup of tea up to his parted lips and sipping loudly. “i originally thought you were avoiding me.”
“me? avoid you? never.” there’s a bite to your tone, no longer caring for politeness nor niceties. he’s getting in your way, with this unprompted tea he forced you to share with him.
“i apologise, once more, for my actions that evening.” he sighs, like the evening had been a bother for him and not you. “but i would appreciate it if we could cast it aside. we are to be married, after all, next week.” your stomach churns at the thought of marrying prince taeyong. “it would be a horrible way to begin our marriage.”
if you have things go your way, there will be no beginning.
“it’s fine, taeyong.” you settle for saying that instead, taking your own sip of the sweet beverage. “soon, it’ll all be behind us and done with.”
“exactly my thoughts. now let us discuss some wedding details you missed out on during your trip.”
you tune most of his speaking out, the odd mentions of a dress or a cake flavour drifting past your conscious mind. your eyes are plastered on the door, willing it to open and have someone interrupt the two of you, to give you the perfect escape plan to get out of this conversation.
you need to get to the king, no time for this man’s nonsense.
you catch sight of a clock against the wall and your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. three hours. three whole hours he’s had you sat in this room, sipping at cold tea and hearing him talk circles around you. enough is enough.
“forgive me,” you feign a yawn, hand covering your mouth to maintain face. “but i’m rather tired. the trek back was arduous, i’m sure you understand.”
“oh!” the prince is quick to stand from his chair, standing aside and signaling for the door with his hand. there’s a smile on his face that you think aims to relax you but it makes your stomach twist. “go get some rest, please, i insist.”
placing your cup on the table, you stand up and smooth over the front of your dress. it must be that your corset is too tight, that’s what’s causing your uneasy feeling. you bow your head at him as you make your way past, feeling your insides relaxing as your hand wraps around the door handle, twisting it and-
“you’ve got guts, i’ll give you that.”
the room grows colder.
the uneasy feeling grows bigger.
the prince grows closer.
hands wrap around your waist and it makes you feel sick, your mind incapable of stopping itself from comparing his touch to seonghwa’s.
the bile rises up your throat hauntingly slow. taeyong settles himself against the back of your body, his unwanted mouth latching onto your neck. a gasp, brought on by pain instead of pleasure, escapes you as you feel him bite down hardly on your neck, enough to have you wondering if he broke skin, drew blood.
“showing up without your engagement ring in sight and your neck littered in another man’s marks. now that,” he pauses, running his tongue up the expanse of your neck till his lips are right by your ear. “that takes courage. bravo.”
there’s a tug at your neck. and then another one, harsher this time. and one last final pull, filled with rage and a bitter laugh from the prince as your feel the snap of the necklace, his fist encasing the snowflake.
“no, please, i need-”
“you know, i really used to think it was a silly little myth.” he begins to talk so calmly, malice dripping off of every word like a deadly venom. you struggle to turn around and stare him in the face, ready to plead for your necklace, plead for your life. “some bullshit adults fed to children, only to laugh at them behind closed doors for believing it. but, god, meeting you? i just knew it had to be true.”
the prince begins to stroll around the small room, hands behind his back. you watch the pendant in his grasp, swing from side to side and you try to follow him but you’re already growing dizzy.
the room is heating up, or is that just you?
“do you remember when i proposed?” he has the audacity to laugh, a single hand reaching to draw the curtains shut and cut off your view of the snowy courtyard below. “you almost snapped, didn’t you? nearly showed the true kind of abomination you are. kind of disappointing that you didn’t. it really would’ve been an honour to see the yeoleum in action.”
your knees are growing weaker and you stumble, collapsing on the floor next to a sofa. you try push yourself back up with the seat but it’s no use. the warmth is overwhelming. tiny little fibres in your body are ripping apart, the fire nature has cursed you with burning you from the inside out.
“it’s quite beautifully poetic, don’t you think?” you want him to shut up. to leave. to give you that goddamn necklace back. “the very thing that makes you special is the very same thing that will kill you.”
the skin on your arms is beginning to crack, tiny lines of reds and oranges visible as the magic spirals out of control.
“for good this time, of course. no comebacks, no resurrections.” you’re trying, you really are, to channel the power out of you, to make sure that, if you’re about to crash and burn, he’ll be following right after you. “my one regret is that your dear gyeoul won’t be witnessing this. i read he was quite the mess during your first passing, it would’ve been wonderful to see it with my own two eyes.”
“you’re a monster.” tears stream down your face, quickly evaporating at the heat of your own skin.
“now now, let’s not call each other names. i’ve been good to you, my lovely fiance.” that thing he’s always lacked, that stopped you from falling for his charms, finally hits you in the face. sincerity. there is not an inch of it in his whole body. “and you still managed to choose some frozen old freak over me.”
you watch in complete horror as he throws the necklace into the burning fireplace, another one of his heartless laughs cackling out of him. he begins to stalk over to you and you scramble as far back as possible, back pressing into the sofa behind you while your insides continue to burn.
“the only thing that can save you from yourself now is an act of true love,” he scoffs at the word. you’re too far gone to fight against the hands that grasps at your chin, letting him force you to stare right into his eyes. “what a shame in a few hours there will be nobody left who truly loves you.”
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“what makes a hero?”
the question had been given to him for years from his own father.
at dinner tables, in tournaments, on trips. his father made it a repeated point to have his sons ponder over the question. they’d both attempt to give him answers: a sword, a steed, armour, courage.
they were always wrong.
“sacrifice.” his father whispered one evening. it was the first dinner they had shared as a family since their mother’s passing, and their father was but a shell of the man he was before. “that is what makes a hero.”
there were many different types of tears exchanged that night: tears for the dead queen, tears of laughter at the silly memories they shared, tears of love as their father promised them both he’d always be there for his sons, tears of admiration as he announced his plans to step down form the throne, tears of honour when he offered his place to seonghwa.
in all his life, he’d yet to have been faced with any true sacrifice.
he couldn’t sit still from the moment you’d left the palace. there was a horrible feeling in his gut and a tugging at his heartstrings, begging him to follow after you, to keep his eye on your retreating figure. he managed to ignore it for a few hours, until mingi made a single comment about feeling uneasy and then he was up, commanding his friend to get dressed.
it was shocking how easily his legs carried him to the doors of the castle. the sight of it alone was enough to send a pang of emotions through his guts, memories of growing up there, of his mother singing him and his brother to sleep, of his father letting them win in fake duels against him, to boost their young egos. memories of you.
of meeting you in the stables and marrying you in the hall. of kissing you in the gardens and loving you relentlessly, unforgivingly.
a man caught his eye, up by a window on what he imagines to be the second floor. they held eye-contact for nothing but a few seconds but it was enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand. the man shut the curtains, but not before seonghwa managed to spot a familiar piece of jewelry dangling between his fingers.
mingi easily agreed to head up to the room, not needing convincing when the possibility of you being in there, in danger, was brought up. and seonghwa waited, his father’s question replaying over and over.
what makes a hero?
seonghwa finally met that sacrifice.
everything had happened quickly: his mythical name being bellowed across the courtyard, the man from the window calmly making his way down the steps of the castle, the sword in the man’s hand swinging freely as he began to talk, the uneasy feeling in seonghwa growing more intense as his knees began to cave in on him and the blood in his veins began to slowly freeze over.
and now the sword is buried in his chest.
“why are you doing this?” seonghwa manages to ask, voice shaky as he coughs up cold blood.
“finally! someone interested in what i have to say!” the man cheers, kneeling down to come face to face with seonghwa. there’s a smile on his face but iy holds no kindness. “your little lover really is stupid, you know? all she could do was stutter over her own words and throw playground insults. i guess that’s what your brain being on fire does to you.”
“if you layed your hands on her, i’ll-” seonghwa groans as the man turns the handle of the sword ever so slightly, the blade in him moving with it.
“you’ll what?” a heavy snow begins to fall down but seonghwa feels none of it, too consumed with the way his insides are turning to ice. “i didn’t need to lay a hand on her. you two are deadly enough all by yourselves, pathetic little abominations destined to die without the balance of one another.”
a rush of footsteps can be heard, the view of mingi appearing, you in his arms and a group of other men at his back. they halted in their path, watching the scene unfold before them, of the blood pouring onto the horrifically white ground and the way the prince has his hand around the handle.
“i always knew you were garbage, taeyong.” a voice, distinctly deep and familiar to seonghwa, rings out. it’s a little satisfying, among all the pain his body is in, to see the man’s eyes widen in fear, truly a coward and nothing like a hero. “ but i had no idea you were also pathetic. and treacherous. and insane. guards, seize that man.”
seonghwa can’t keep himself up any longer and, as the hand on the handle disappears when it’s owner stands and bolts out of the courtyard, the royal guards hot on his trail, he let’s himself fall on his back. he stares up at the sky and welcomes in the way the snow is falling onto him.
he thinks he could die quite happily like this.
“hwa!” your voice calls out softly.
but not yet, not now.
your face appears above him and he doesn’t need to touch you to feel the heat radiating off of you. it pains him to watch you remove the sword from his chest, and not because of the way it cuts him up some more but because you carelessly wrap your hand around the blunt blade and pull it out with no regard for how it slices your fingers open.
you try to speak again but you crash down on his chest, burning body against his icing skin. neither of you pay mind to the eyes on you, the king in disbelief of the fact his brother is there, not a single sign of having aged one bit and forcing him to witness the death of his sister in law all over again.
a deathly silence rings in the courtyard as the two lovers, soulmates knotted together by the red starring of fate, lay completely still: him on the cold ground and her on his cold body.
a moment passes and their chests no longer rise with any breath.
then another.
and another.
a gasp, faint but there, reaches the king and mingi’s ears and hope lurches forward in both their chests. they take a few steps closer, just in time to see the reopening of seonghwa’s eyes.
the man sits up, cradling his beloved to his chest, where no wound lays any longer and only stains of his blood remain on his clothes. his hands are desperate with how they claw at you, crushing you against his beating chest as he slowly begins to rock you both back and forth.
“come back. please. please don’t leave me again.” his words are getting tangled together as fresh, warm tears run down his face and a sob, violent, painful, alive rips through his chest. “you can’t- i just got you back- please- i love you.”
king felix feels his heart bleed for his brother, who’d been nothing but strong and permanent and there for him their whole childhood, now breaking down for the second time in his infinite lifetime over the loss of his one true love. a broken man, begging the gods and mother nature and anyone who will listen to bring you back to him.
“seonghwa...” mingi speaks with pity, leaning down to place his hand on the man’s shoulder. his movements halt when a strangled sob takes over the man as he burrows his head into your warm neck.
it’s painfully heartbreaking.
it’s viciously gut wrenching.
it’s tears and sobs.
it’s broken and brutal.
it’s an act of true love.
your eyes open.
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everyone knows why the warmth returned.
the children of arendelle had rejoiced, awakening to see a single flower had bloomed from the ground and the sun, high in the sky, sharing it’s warmth with all the kingdom, melting the cold away and heating up everyone’s heart.
there was no need to wrap up in layers upon layers of clothing that morning, no cold wind to smack against their skin, no snow to soak through their clothes.
they were so quick to worry it was a once in a lifetime occurrence.
after two, three, four days of blistering heat everyone began to relax, to trust that the warmth was here to stay. families went to the beach for the first time in their lives. they felt the searing pain of sunburn and heat stroke yet still, the smile would not fall from their faces.
to feel the sun’s warmth was to feel alive.
the reunion was heartfelt.
a simple dinner, hosted by felix and his partner, chan, and welcoming only three guests: you, seonghwa and, of course, mingi.
the night was a much needed relief to you all, after the weeks of explaining to the town that yes, the myth had in fact been true and gyeoul had finally gotten his yeolleum back in his arms. now, the children were running around believing every myth of the kingdom to be true: demi-gods and fearsome dragons, werewolves and vampires, evil pirates and trickster genies. every mythical creature under the sun, they believed in it’s existence.
“time has been kind to you, hwa.” felix commented as he’d cut through his slice of steak.
“i can’t say the same for you, yongbok.”
laughter filled everyone’s lungs at the jab seonghwa made at the man’s graying hair and wrinkling skin.
the wedding was beautifully intimate.
with only loved ones in the perimeter, the two of you married down by the frozen lake, on the first official day of winter since the return of the summer season. the ceremony was quick, quaint, perfect for you two.
father jongho, much older than you’d remembered him being, orchestrated the marriage. there were plenty of jokes about how this was his first time marrying the same couple twice, which earned glares from seonghwa and giggles from you.
even that wolf, who’d scared you so much initially but proved to be nothing if not a big puppy, had come down to watch it, tail wagging when you offhandedly thanked him for pushing you into seonghwa’s arms that day, which never would have happened if you hadn’t crashed into the frozen water.
the funeral was painfully slow.
attended by the whole kingdom, not a single face sat without tears streaming down it as they watched the casket be carried down the isle, filled with their beloved king’s body.
father jongho hosted it, speaking beautiful words before handing the floor over to chan to give the eulogy. he himself was much older too, a full head of grey hair as he recounted the memories of his husband’s final years, the happiness that had been felt during them thanks to the return of his older, yet younger looking, brother.
even your father, who you hadn’t been on the best of terms with up until that point, had shed tear after tear. during the service, which was held in the familiar ballroom, he extended his condolences to chan and your husband, before lastly holding you in his frail arms for the first time in a while. he landed a kiss on your forehead before promising you would talk soon, do better to make use of the time you had left together.
the births were agonizingly worth it.
only you, seonghwa, mingi, chan and a wet-nurse were present for them. you’d screamed in agony, hand clasping seonghwa’s in it and telling him over and over about how you’d never allow him to put his wretched penis inside of you ever again, making everyone but your husband laugh.
yeosang and san came first, a set of beautiful boys born on the first day of spring. yeosang was quiet and well-mannered, unlike his twin san, who wreaked havoc everywhere he went yet he done so with the cutest little smile that had both of his parents melting into a puddle of forgiveness.
hongjoong and wooyoung came next, another set of beautiful boys born on the first day of autumn. hongjoong was the quieter one, taking after yeosang, while wooyoung became a double-act with his brother san, who taught him the ways of mischief and how to get away with it.
in your dreams, it is still cold.
frozen lakes and ice palaces fill your mind when you sleep, the memories of your life before dying- the first death- flashing into your subconscious occasionally. you no longer wake up in fear.
it’s never cold in bed, his body pressed against yours, his light breaths tickling at your ear and forcing you to break into a smile, alerting him of the fact you’re finally awake.
“i missed you.” he whispers and plants a kiss on your neck, smiling into your skin.
“we were sleeping for a few hours, what reason could you have for missing me?” you laugh as your roll over in his arms, tucking your head under his chin.
“hey! i went decades without you, so trust me when i say i have plenty of reasons for missing you.”
it’s hard sometimes, knowing you two have a much larger history together than your mind will allow you to remember but seonghwa is always here, ready to tell you stories of fights once had and dates once shared.
because he knows this is it, for good this time. no more goodbyes, no more losing you, no more isolation or frozen lands.
“we have about twenty minutes until the kids wake up.”
he feels a smile break out at your comment, arms squeezing you even tighter against him. “are you insinuating what i think you are, my lady?”
instead of a verbal reply, seonghwa feels a touch of warmth.
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Christmas in the Bunker Pt.1: Wanna Build a Snowman?
This fic will fill my Building a Snowman square in @spnchristmasbingo
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Warnings: None. Just fluff and a tiny smidge of angst (to make the fluff feel fluffier! 😉)
Summary: It's snowman building time - or is it?
Pairings: (Dean Winchester x Fem!reader), (Sam x Eileen [mentioned]), (OC - MJ - child), (OC - DJ - child [mentioned])
Word Count: 1,549
A/N: So, when I got my SPN Christmas Bingo Card, I had an immediate idea for a little Christmas Series.
If you just want to read each drabble as an individual story, you can for sure do that. But they'll all also be part of a series that takes place over the two weeks leading up to Christmas in the Bunker.
I'm calling them drabbles, but they'll range between 500 and 2500(ish) words, so - drabble/one-shot. I'm gonna try my very best to have them all out by December 25 at the absolute latest.
I hope you enjoy the series and I wanna wish every one of you a very Merry Christmas and the Happiest of Holidays!! 🎄🎅
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"Daddy! Daddy! Wake up!"
Dean sat up suddenly, adrenaline pumping immediately, a lifetime of hunter's instincts making him alert and ready as he turned to his four year old daughter standing beside the bed on tiptoes.
"MJ? Baby, what is it?" he asked, smoothing back the honey brown curls that had fallen over her forehead.
MJ was bouncing now on the balls of her feet, her little pink cotton nightgown swaying along with her.
"It's morning and you said when it was morning, you'd be home and we'd go build a snowman, 'member?"
As reality sank in that MJ was just fine and was simply way over excited about going out into the freezing cold, Dean felt his muscles relax. A small groan left his lips. He could sense Y/N waking up beside him, shifting slightly into a more comfortable position.
"No, baby..." he started, but MJ bounced faster.
"Yes, Daddy. 'Member, we were gonna build snowmen but then you had to go and you promised you'd be back this morning and we'd build lots of snowmen then."
Dean was nodding along with her chattering while he rubbed a hand across his scratchy, tired eyes.
"Okay, first of all, sweetheart, I don't recall agreeing to building an army of snowmen. Secondly," Dean said, placing a finger against MJ's cupid bow mouth as she tried to argue, "secondly, it's not morning, baby."
Dean turned her chin to look at the LED numbers on the clock that sat on the nightstand. "Do you know what those numbers mean?"
MJ nodded. "Yep, that's the o'clock."
Dean smiled. "Exactly. And the o'clock says that it's only four in the morning."
MJ's big, round, green eyes got even bigger and Dean realized his mistake.
"I mean...not morning...it's not -"
But MJ was already rocketing around the room, ecstatic. "Yes! Yes! It's morning! Daddy said!" And she bounded out of their bedroom and down the bunker hallway to her bedroom next door.
"No, MJ! No...I didn't..."
Y/N snort-laughed beside him. He turned slowly to glare at her. Y/N beamed back at him, completely unimpressed with his scowl. "Wow, sweetie, that was a rookie move!"
"Ugh!" Dean moaned as he dropped his weary head into his hands. "I just got in two hours ago."
Y/N took pity on him and sat up a little so she could run her hand across the back of his neck, trying to squeeze out some of the kinks.
"I didn't even hear you come in."
She smoothed a hand across her round belly. "This little one had me asleep a half hour after I put MJ down."
Dean smiled at her and kissed her softly, and she moved her hand from the back of his neck over the warm smooth skin of his bare chest, wanting nothing more than to curl up with him and sleep for another ten hours.
But she could hear MJ next door singing the wrong words to Jingle Bells, loudly and off key, so she pulled back.
She ran her palm across Dean's cheek. "How was the hunt?"
Dean didn't respond. He just shook his head and closed his eyes, nuzzling his lips into her palm. She knew what that meant, something had gone wrong, there was someone they couldn't save. She so wished she could take the bad memories away for him.
He leaned forward and wrapped his big hands around the mound of her belly, pressing soft kisses there. "Are you behaving for your Mama, young man?"
Y/N chuckled as she carded her fingers through his short hair. "Young man?"
Dean shrugged and smiled. "Could be."
Y/N shook her head in mock sorrow, cupping Dean's cheek once again. "I'm sorry, my dear, but I'm afraid you're destined to live your life surrounded by women!"
Dean grinned wide as he pushed her gently back on the pillow. "Oh, what a struggle!" he rumbled, pressing his lips to Y/N's neck and then making her squeal by rubbing his scruff against the sensitive skin there.
Suddenly MJ popped her head around the doorframe of their bedroom with her hand over her eyes, censoring herself from watching her parents kissing.
"Ugh, Daddy come on!! The snow might leave!" she urged.
She ran back to her room and Dean sighed and started to push himself up. But Y/N grabbed onto his shoulder. "No, sweetie, don't worry about it. You go back to sleep. I'll go make her breakfast and tell her she'll just have to wait a couple of hours. She'll live."
Dean shook his head. "Ah...no. You sleep." He placed another kiss on her belly before he kissed her lips hard and fast. "You're the one growing the human."
Y/N smiled and shook her head. "No, Dean -" but he cut her off with another, softer kiss.
"It's okay, sweetheart, really." He said when he pulled away. "I'd really like to spend time with MJ and...make her happy, and just...just listen to her laugh." His eyes were happy, but slightly shadowed as he looked at her. "You know?"
Y/N smiled, understanding. "Okay. I'll make some hot chocolate for when you guys come back in."
"Uh uh." Dean scolded as he stood up and pulled on his jeans and a t-shirt. "You sleep."
He grabbed his red and black flannel that had been thrown across a chair and shrugged it on before leaning down and giving her another peck on the lips. "I mean it, I wanna see closed eyeballs and deep breathing from you when we get back."
She returned his mock serious look with a salute. "Yes, Sir! I will definitely not climb out of bed five minutes after you leave."
Dean pushed out his lips and nodded. "So...six minutes?"
"Exactly."
***
Y/N walked up to the small door at the back of the laundry room. To a casual observer it would look like a broom cupboard or a linen closet. But in reality, it was a magically sealed door that led to the most protected outdoor area anywhere in the world.
Behind the bunker was a giant yard, complete with swing set and sand box, both of which were non-operational for the winter. But there was also a six foot by six foot skating rink that Dean had made himself, refusing to let anyone else help, not even Sam.
Rowena and Cas told him they could make it appear in a heartbeat, but he wouldn't hear of it. He wanted to do it for MJ and DJ, Sam and Eileen's son, as a Christmas present, since the holiday was barely two weeks away.
He told the witch and the angel that they'd done more than enough for them with all the magical and angelic warding and protections that kept the yard completely cloaked from outsiders.
Only friends and family had the ability to open the door from the laundry room. All it took was their fingerprint. But unless your fingerprints were magically imprinted in the door, you couldn't get through. A rather ingenious spell that Auntie Ro and Uncle Cas had worked on together to protect their little adopted family.
And to anyone who passed by the old, abandoned building that was the bunker on the outside, the field beyond the building just looked overgrown and wild.
It was a wonderful place for MJ and DJ to get exercise and fresh air in safety.
Y/N stepped through the door now to let Dean and MJ know that the promised, homemade, hot cocoa was ready, marshmallows and all.
She wrapped her giant wool wrap tighter against the brisk winter wind that hit as soon as she stepped outside. She smiled as she saw the small army of snowmen that father and daughter had built over the last hour.
They were both standing by the biggest and tallest snowman out of the bunch and Dean held a giant snowball in his hands. He shook his head.
"I don't know, kiddo. He's so tall, I don't know if I can reach the top to put his head on." Dean reached out, his elbows still tucked to his sides and groaned as he pretended to stretch as far as he could.
"Nope. I don't think I can reach. You'll have to lift me up."
MJ fell into fits of giggles at that image. "No, Daddy!" she said breathlessly. "I can't lift you! You're too big!"
"I don't know." Dean reasoned. "You are pre-tty strong."
But MJ was shaking her head, grinning. "No. You pick me up!"
Dean's jaw dropped. "I never thought of that!" he said in wonderment. "Boy! You are one smart cookie!"
He handed her the giant snowball head and scooped her up to sit on one of his broad shoulders. He clamped her in place with one giant hand at her waist.
MJ stuck the head in place and Dean cheered, running her around while MJ pumped her fists.
"We did it!" she cheered in her high-pitched voice, breathless with the excitement of being so tall and moving so fast.
As Y/N watched she felt her heart grow in her chest just as the little one in her belly somersaulted. She ran her hand down the bump and spoke quietly to them.
"You sure are lucky to have him, sweet pea." She nodded. "We all are."
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dramioneasks · 2 years
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Christmas Fics 2021 (Part 8)
Christmas Traditions by Grangermalfoy07 - K, one-shot - Christmas traditions & Christmas trees. The Granger-Malfoy family go on their annual Christmas tree trip with their family & friends.
Boxing Day by Lilian_Silver - T, one-shot - Hermione goes to Diagon Alley the day after Christmas, to return a gift that she can’t even stand to have in her home.
All Wrapped Up by ambpersand - E, one-shot - What do you give a wizard who can buy himself the world? Whatever he pleases, Hermione thinks to herself. And she knows well enough that the only thing he pleases is her. _________ Inspired by Mignonettes' art, "Pretty as a Present."
Wishful Thinking by hayjames - T, one-shot - Draco Malfoy never thought he’d be asking Hermione Granger to dance, especially with the added danger of mistletoe sprouting at random, but there’s a first time for everything.
we all stare up at the moon by wmthackeray - not rated, one-shot - Hermione wonders how long it will take her to love him. Not long, she thinks. She's more than halfway there already. draco and hermione find themselves on a mission on christmas eve. it's cold. there is one bed.
Winter Kisses and Woollen Mittens by Megan_P_Cook - T, one-shot - “Scorp! Lyra! Dinner is ready.” The two silver haired toddlers came bounding towards Hermione, barrelled over soft mounds of snow and raced each other towards the front door of the log cabin. They’d spent the majority of the afternoon throwing snowballs and building snowmen with button eyes and carrot noses. Their childish laughter and squeals echoed through the forest of pine trees surrounding the cabin, bringing a beaming smile to their mother’s face. Scorpious and Lyra shuffled through the door, traipsing the fresh blanket of snow in with them. Hermione swirled her wand to tidy up behind them and cast a warming charm around her children as they removed their coats and snow boots. “Daddy!” they both screamed, running with open arms towards a tall blonde standing in the doorway of the kitchen.
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