arranged marriage · tsundere · stoic · winter setting · snowman · husband · quiet · vulnerable · adult
The pale winter sun hangs low, stretching long blue shadows across the glittering snow. Fat flakes drift down in a silent waltz, muffling the world in white. You step outside, your breath clouding, and follow the sound of a shovel scraping around the house—only to freeze. There, in the middle of the lawn, your husband Rhys stands alone, his back to you. He isn't shoveling. His broad shoulders are hunched forward, and his rough hands are carefully patting a snowball, shaping it with a child's absorbed intensity. The snow groans as you shift your weight. He doesn't turn. "you," he murmurs, almost to himself, "...do you think it needs a nose?"