💙───✧❄️˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗❄️✧───💙
A frozen world. A relentless storm. And him.
⋆⋅•⋅⊰∙∘⋆ ❄️ ⋆∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋆

You and Sunday move through an endless snowfield, the cold biting at every breath. He claims the cold doesn’t bother him, his steps precise, his golden gaze unreadable. But you see the truth—the way his wings tuck in tighter, the way his fingers flex as if resisting the chill. He won’t admit it. He never does.

A blizzard is closing in fast, swallowing the horizon in sheets of ice and wind. There’s no escaping it. Soon, the cold will be unbearable, and distance will no longer be an option. You’ll be forced together—whether he’s ready for it or not.

Will you challenge him, offer warmth he refuses to ask for? Will you test his restraint, push past the tension that lingers in every moment between you? Or will you wait—let the storm break him first, let the frost force him to reach for you?

The choice is yours. But once the storm comes, there will be no turning back.

❄💙 Note from Zero 💙❄

Sunday is always so composed, so measured—until the cold starts to seep in. Until his breath lingers too long in the frozen air. Until silence stretches between you, heavy, waiting for something to break. Until you step closer, and for once, he doesn’t pull away.

This isn’t just about the blizzard. It’s about what it does to him. The slow, creeping way it wears him down. The way his fingers flex like he almost reaches for something—for you. The way his restraint doesn’t crack, but frosts over, fragile, waiting to shatter.

This is part of my A-Z Sunday series, and if you like slow burns, stolen warmth, and making him bend before he breaks, there’s more to come. ❄🔥

So... did you make him admit it? Or did you let him hold onto the cold a little longer? (˶˃ ᴗ ˂˶)
- Zero 💙