onceuponnpc

[onceuponnpc]

Frostbite [3]

Pairing: Male!Icy (Ician) x Fem!Y/N

Warning: Dark Fantasy, Romance, Drama, Enemies to Lovers, Emotional tension, unresolved feelings, heavy past, Slow-burn, Mild Smut (Heavy make-out scene with strong sensual undertones, not yet explicit, but intense). Obsession / Toxic Romance Undertones (Dangerous attraction between former enemies). Slight emotional vulnerability beneath the angst and tension.

Part 1, Part 2

Your back hit the wall of the ruined tower cold, ancient stone biting against heated skin and Ician’s body followed like a storm finally breaking.

There was no more teasing. No more distance. No more pretending the tension between you wasn’t real.

His mouth found yours like it had been searching for too long, and now that it had you, it wasn’t letting go. The kiss was deeper this time darker, unapologetically hungry. He tasted like snowstorms and danger and something else beneath, something only you had ever glimpsed in him. You clung to his coat like a lifeline, fisting the frost-damp fabric between your fingers as he pressed into you, all hard lines and chilled fire.

A sound escaped him, quiet and low half a breath, half a growl as if he was barely holding something inside at bay. Something wild. Something breaking.

“You’re dangerous when you’re quiet,” you breathed, lips brushing along his sharp jaw. Your voice was teasing, but laced with something rawer.

He smirked against your throat, but it was shaky, undone. “You’re more dangerous when you stop pretending you hate me.”

His hands slid to your waist, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt like ice water against flame. His magic hummed beneath his skin cool, precise but his touch was far from cold. It left trails that made your back arch and your breath catch.

“You’re warm,” he whispered, as if confessing a sin. His palms traveled up your sides, reverent and greedy. “Too warm.”

You leaned in, lips grazing his, your breath a deliberate taunt. “Then why,” you asked slowly, “are you still so close?”

His laugh was quiet, almost reverent. “Because I like the way you melt.”

And then there were no more words.

He kissed you again no restraint now. No veils or facades or rivalries pretending to separate you. He kissed you like he needed you, like he hated himself for it, and loved it all the same. Your lips moved together in a rhythm forged from tension and history, the kind of rhythm that only comes after years of fighting what was inevitable.

His hand splayed across your back, tugging you flush against him. Skin to skin. Heat to heat. Your body shivered under his touch, not from cold, but from the sheer intensity of him the weight of his presence, the rawness of this moment.

You should’ve stopped. Logically, you both should have. You were enemies by every definition rivals drawn on opposite ends of the magical spectrum. Light and dark. Fire and ice.

But gods, it felt right.

Every brush of his lips, every flicker of his breath across your skin, carved away the barriers you’d both built. This wasn’t just about lust. It was release. Relief.

He pulled back just an inch and looked at you. His silver hair had fallen into his eyes, disheveled and soft in a way that made your breath stutter. His gaze flicked down to your lips, then back up again.

His voice was lower now, husky with restraint. “Tell me to stop, Y/N.”

He meant it. You could see it in his eyes. This wasn’t another game. He was offering you an exit, right here, right now. One word, and he’d let go.

You didn’t say it.

Instead, you took his hand the one still resting against your ribs and guided it higher, over your racing heart. You placed it there deliberately, your skin burning beneath his cold fingers.

“Don’t you dare,” you whispered, breath hitching.

Something shattered behind his eyes. Not a wall. Not control. Something more intimate.

He surged forward, capturing your mouth again, but this time the kiss was slower sweeter. Like he was memorizing you, mapping every inch of you with reverence, not possession. You melted into him, your hands sliding beneath his coat, seeking warmth and giving it in return.

No illusions. No magic. Just skin. Just breath. Just need.

The wall at your back was forgotten, replaced by the sensation of being held not as a prize, not as a conquest, but as something precious. His mouth traced down your neck, and you tilted your head instinctively, surrendering to the softness beneath the storm.

The fire he’d conjured earlier had dimmed now, glowing low and blue in the center of the ruined chamber. Its soft light danced across your tangled silhouettes, casting your shadows against broken stone and shattered pillars.

Eventually, you collapsed beside him in the remnants of what once was a ruin wrapped in ruin, two people unraveling together in the quiet aftermath. You lay draped in the warmth of his coat, the soft lining pulled around you both. The silence between you wasn’t awkward anymore. It was sacred.

His chest rose and fell steadily beneath your cheek. One of his hands rested lazily at your hip, the other tangled loosely in your hair. He traced slow, absentminded circles on your skin, like he was grounding himself in your presence.

“You’re going to ruin me, fairy,” he murmured, so quietly you barely caught it.

You turned your head, brushing a lock of silver hair from his brow. His face was softer now, shadows gentled by moonlight. You smiled, exhausted and warm in the deepest parts of your soul.

“Too late, frostbite.”

He laughed. A real laugh unpolished and surprised, like he hadn’t meant to let it escape. You tucked the sound away like a secret only you were allowed to keep.

No vows were spoken. No promises made. But in the quiet rise and fall of your shared breath, something had shifted. Something had thawed.

The world beyond the ruins could freeze or burn tomorrow. Let it.

Tonight, tangled in fading firelight and each other’s arms, you were no longer enemies.

You were something else entirely. Something new.

Something melting.

🎪 Ringmaster’s Warning: No Copycats in This Tent 🎪

[onceuponnpc]

Frostbite [2]

Pairing: Male!Icy (Ician) x Fem!Y/N

Warning: Dark Fantasy, Romance, Drama, Enemies to Lovers, Emotional tension, unresolved feelings, heavy past, Slow-burn, Mild Smut (Heavy make-out scene with strong sensual undertones,not explicit, but intense). Obsession / Toxic Romance Undertones (Dangerous attraction between former enemies). Slight emotional vulnerability beneath the angst and tension.

Part 1, Part 3

You hadn’t meant to stay the night.

The plan was to leave before darkness settled, to avoid the weight of memory and magic that clung to the bones of Cloud Tower like ivy on a crypt. But time had a way of slipping sideways in places like this. You’d sat for a moment to rest, to breathe and somehow, the stars had crept in overhead.

Now the sky above was painted a bruised violet, dripping with silver light and the ghosts of fallen spells. The ruinous spires of the tower loomed around you, softened by the night, and Ician had conjured a fire pale blue, flickering with frost instead of flame. Yet oddly, it warmed the shattered remains of the throne room far more than it should have.

You sat across from him, knees drawn to your chest, the hem of your cloak dusted with frost. The stones beneath you were cold, but not unbearable. The same could be said of your company.

Ician lounged like this was his kingdom still one arm propped on the broken remains of a column, the other lazily twirling a shard of ice between long, tapered fingers. His eyes arctic and unreadable kept wandering back to you. Not like a challenge. Not like a threat.

Like a question he didn’t know how to ask.

“Still think I don’t have a heart?” he asked, breaking the silence. His voice was calm, almost indifferent but you knew better. You heard the edge beneath it, the fragile thread of curiosity wound around barbed sarcasm.

You met his gaze without flinching. “I think you buried it so deep, you’ve forgotten how it beats.”

The shard of ice in his hand cracked audibly. A small fracture, but telling.

Interesting.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back, one leg drawn up, the other stretched out before him like he ruled the ruins. His white hair tumbled over his shoulder in soft waves, catching moonlight in a way that made him seem both unreal and painfully, dangerously present.

“You used to hate me,” he said at last, his tone lower now. Almost vulnerable.

“I still could,” you replied, voice softer than you meant. “If you give me a reason.”

A smirk tugged at his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You kissed me back.”

“You kissed me first.”

He arched a brow, amused. “Didn’t hear a complaint.”

You scoffed and picked up a loose pebble from the cracked floor, tossing it at him. He froze it midair with a lazy flick of his fingers, then let it shatter against the pillar behind him with a smirk more genuine than the last. Showoff.

The silence that returned wasn’t awkward it pulsed between you, thick with unspoken truths and the weight of everything you refused to say aloud. The fire cracked and hissed, sending icy sparks into the air like stardust.

Eventually, you stood, brushing your hands down your thighs more to steady yourself than to rid the dirt.

“I should go.”

He tilted his head, studying you the way a hunter might study something that had wandered too close to its own edge.

“You could stay.”

Your breath caught slightly.

You looked at him……really looked. The way moonlight painted silver across the sharp planes of his face. The impossible blue of his eyes. The way his presence pressed against you, a subtle hum in the air like static before a storm. He was dangerous. Always had been. But that danger had stopped feeling like a threat.

Now it felt like gravity.

“I shouldn’t,” you murmured.

“But you want to.”

The words coiled between you like smoke. Your heart skipped traitorous and obvious.

“You’re full of yourself,” you said, though it came out softer than you intended.

He rose in one fluid motion, slow and deliberate. He crossed the space between you, the fire casting cool blue light over his pale skin and shadowed jaw. He moved like wind over ice silent, inevitable.

His fingers brushed your wrist. A whisper of cold, feather-light, sending a jolt up your spine that had nothing to do with temperature.

“Maybe,” he said, voice velvet and smoke, “I just know you.”

Your pulse fluttered. You swallowed.

And then he stepped behind you, slow, close. His breath brushed the side of your neck like a secret.

“You always ran hot,” he murmured, low and intimate. “And I always wondered… how long it would take to make you melt.”

You turned to face him, instinctive and immediate. The inches between you sparked like a live wire. His gaze dropped to your mouth, then back to your eyes.

His hand lifted, brushing against your jaw, fingers calloused and chilled but reverent. He tilted your face toward him, waiting giving you the chance to pull away.

You didn’t.

Not when his thumb traced the curve of your cheekbone. Not when his breath mingled with yours. Not when you saw the moment his mask slipped, and something raw and honest flickered in those glacial eyes.

“You think you can handle the heat?” you whispered, breathless.

He leaned in, lips barely brushing yours. A tease. A promise.

“I’m the storm, Y/N,” he said, voice rumbling like distant thunder. “You’re the lightning. Let’s burn this world down together.”

And this time, you kissed him.

It wasn’t reckless. It wasn’t rushed. It was slow exploratory, aching with tension years in the making. His hand slid to your back, splaying against your spine, pulling you closer like he never meant to let go again. Your fingers found his hair, threading through the soft, snow-silk strands, and his sigh was muffled against your mouth.

For a sorcerer carved from ice, his touch burned. Every caress was a question. Every kiss a challenge. He tasted like cold air and something sweeter underneath something buried but wanting to be found.

But he didn’t push.

Neither did you.

The night stretched long around you, the ruins holding their breath as history rewrote itself in flickers of firelight and the soft sounds of want. The two of you didn’t speak, not after that. Not because there was nothing to say but because silence had finally become enough. His forehead rested lightly against yours, eyes closed, hand curled around your waist like you were something fragile he was learning not to break.

Outside, the wind howled like it remembered your battles.

Inside, something softer began to bloom.

You felt it in the way his hand lingered at your hip. In the way his breath caught when your lips brushed his again. In the way your magic sparked, not against his but with it.

Something was melting.

And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t just the ice.

🎪 Ringmaster’s Warning: No Copycats in This Tent 🎪

[onceuponnpc]

🎪 The tent is open, the lights are dimmed and the NPC is accepting questions.

💌 Send me your chaos, your curiosity, your cursed confessions.

🩸 Anonymous or not, I’ll respond dramatically (and possibly with eyeliner tears).

💌 Ask me anything! IC or OOC, silly or serious. Even if you want me to flirt with your fave character

➤ Use the ask box. Be brave. Be weird. The more unhinged the better.

🌸 Ask Me, Hotline 🪷

[onceuponnpc]

Frostbite

Pairing: Male!Icy x Fem!Y/N

Setting: Winx Club / Cloud Tower Ruins / Magical Dimension

Warnings: Dark Fantasy, Romance, Drama, Enemies to Lovers, Emotional tension, unresolved feelings, heavy past, Slow-burn, Mild Smut (Heavy make-out scene with strong sensual undertones,not explicit, but intense). Obsession / Toxic Romance Undertones (Dangerous attraction between former enemies). Slight emotional vulnerability beneath the angst and tension.

Part 2

So I see that there is not a lot of x reader or x y/n stories on characters that I like so I decided to take it into my own hands and just occasionally write about them. This is basically for my own enjoyment but those who enjoy it just let me know.

The ruins of Cloud Tower stood like the bones of a fallen beast, jagged silhouettes clawing at a bruised and unforgiving sky. Shadows draped the crumbling walls like mourning veils, and the bitter wind howled through the hollow archways echoes of ancient spells long turned to dust.

You hadn’t planned to be here. Not today. Not ever again. The last thing you wanted was to get tangled in the remnants of dark magic and burned-out ambition. And yet, here you stood boots crunching over frost-covered stone, the air biting at your skin like a predator testing its prey. Every step forward was a defiance, a challenge hurled into the face of the past you swore you’d buried.

A whisper curled through the air taunting, sleek, and unmistakably familiar.

“Lost, little fairy?”

Your breath caught. That voice. It was a knife you’d once dodged and learned to crave.

Slowly, you turned.

There he was.

Ician.

He looked as he always had chillingly beautiful and maddeningly aloof. Hair as white as driven snow swept carelessly back, those glacial eyes fixed on you with a laziness that never quite hid the lethal sharpness behind them. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, more dangerous than any spell he’d ever cast. He looked like winter incarnate calm, cold, and ready to consume.

You straightened your spine, biting back the surge of emotions he always managed to drag out of you.

“Didn’t think you were still haunting this place,” you said, arms crossed tightly across your chest. “Thought you melted away with the rest of your ego.”

He took a step toward you graceful, silent, his boots gliding over a sheet of ice that shimmered beneath him with every movement.

“Cute,” he drawled. “Still got that little spark in you. I always liked that.”

You narrowed your eyes, the space between you thickening with old tension. “What are you doing here, Ician?”

He rolled his shoulders in a shrug so fluid it looked like it might slide off him. “Places like this don’t forget power. Neither do I.”

The silence that followed fell like fresh snow soft, stifling, and strangely intimate. You felt it settle into your bones. The ghosts of battles past danced in the corners of your mind: the searing magic, the shouted threats, the narrow escapes. He had tried to end you more than once. You had answered in kind.

But between every clash and collision, something had always hummed just beneath the surface. Something neither of you had dared name.

Attraction.

Undeniable. Unforgiving. Unspoken.

His gaze traced over you now, slower, more deliberate. Like he was memorizing the way time had reshaped you.

“You’ve changed,” he said softly.

“And you haven’t,” you shot back, jaw tight. “Still frozen. Still heartless.”

A low laugh tumbled from his throat, warm despite the frost on his breath. He moved closer and more closer than logic allowed, closer than your instincts warned—and the chill around him intensified, brushing against your cheek like a whisper made of snow.

“You sure about that, Y/N?”

His hand lifted, hovering just a breath away from your face. The cold emanating from his fingers stung in a strangely pleasant way, like the first snow after a long, blistering summer. You told yourself you hated how it made your skin prickle. You told yourself you hated the way your heart skipped.

But you didn’t.

Or maybe you did. Maybe that was the problem.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” you whispered, voice raw.

His lips tilted up, wicked and knowing. “Then play it with me.”

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft. It was a storm colliding with a wildfire chaotic and consuming. His lips were cold, unrelenting, like the first gust of wind before a blizzard, but the heat it sparked in you was nothing short of volcanic. His arm wrapped around your waist, firm and possessive, anchoring you to him like he feared you’d vanish.

But you didn’t pull away.

You stepped in.

Your fingers fisted the front of his coat, dragging him closer until there was no space left between you, no air, no hesitation. Only fire and ice.

“You’re insufferable,” you murmured against his mouth, breathless and dizzy.

He smiled, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “And you’re obsessed.”

Maybe he was right.

Maybe you both were.

Because somewhere in the frozen remains of a broken tower in a place built on darkness, downfall, and decay there was a spark neither of you had managed to extinguish. Not with time. Not with hatred. Not even with magic.

And perhaps, just perhaps, it wasn’t frostbite that burned the worst.

It was longing.

It was memory.

It was you and him always circling, always colliding, always dancing on the edge of ruin.

And this time?

You didn’t want to be saved from the fall.

Let me know if I should post a part two?

🎪 Ringmaster’s Warning: No Copycats in This Tent 🎪

[onceuponnpc]

🎪✨ Welcome to the Big Top of Emotional Damage ✨🎪

Ringmaster of (somewhat of) Romance. Conductor of Chaos. Collector of Crushed Hopes.

This is my little corner of Tumblr where fluff holds hands with heartbreak, and the popcorn’s been replaced with tissues. Step right up, mind the knife-thrower, and enjoy the show.

💧I tag things for your safety. Mostly. Sometimes. Okay, when I ✨remember✨

🎭 Tags of Directory 🤡

🎪 npc navigates – where the tent flaps open; blog updates, homepage, chaos control. [coming soon]

🎟 about the npc – a peek behind the velvet curtain: over-explaining my poor life choices, and maybe facts about me.

💔 npc's heartbreaks (works) – my masterlist, including all my written emotional landmines and romantic crimes.

🫵 stylish customers - why don’t you roll in and join this dysfunctional show.

🎤 npc’s ramble corner – late-night circus gremlin thoughts, general unhinged commentary, and clown-core sadness.

🎶 npc’s playlists – the soundtracks of spiraling. Bonus points if you cry.

🗡 npc’s rules – read before entering the ring, or get metaphorically hit with a flaming baton.

🍭 npc recommends – fanfiction recs that made me sob or combust. With commentary. Probably in all caps.

🎩 npc answers – where your asks go to get serenaded or emotionally punted.

[onceuponnpc]

🏵️Stylish Customers [Tag Lists]🎟️

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@kthehoeforfictionalmen

[onceuponnpc]

Lists

💫Genderbend - based on character you wished were in a different gender, this can in unpopular characters or popular ones.

📚 MANGA - based on popular and unpopular manga.

💠 MANHWA - based on popular and unpopular manhwa.

🎞 ANIME - based on popular and unpopular anime.

🎮 GAMES - based on popular and unpopular games.

💋 Original Characters - based on OC’s I make or what is requested.

[onceuponnpc]

🎮 GAMES 🎮

✩ 🕹 npc plays games – currently stuck on the “romance the emotionally unavailable character” route. (not yet available)

[onceuponnpc]

🎞 ANIME 🎆

✩ 🎬 anime breakdowns – currently rewatching that one scene for pain. (not yet available)

[onceuponnpc]

💠 MANHWA 💠

✩ 🎨 manhwa spiral – full colour. full trauma. currently hoarding titles like secrets. (not yet available)

[onceuponnpc]

📚MANGA📚

✩📖 Manga tears – pages are flipping somewhere, but I’m still recovering from panel 7. (not yet available)

[onceuponnpc]

💫 GENDERBENT

✩ #🎭 genderbent chaos – currently into the gender blender, click now!

Winx Club

Male!Icy x reader: Thaw, Melt -based on Icy from Winx Club but she is a male in this au.

Male!Stormy x reader - based on Stormy from Winx Club, she is male in this au. [coming soon]

[onceuponnpc]

🎪💔 Meet thy NPC 🎭✨

———————————————————————————

✩ Name: K. Been called Ringmaster, Tragedy, and Menace?! often in the same sentence.

✩ Occupation: Background character with main character energy. Lives in chaos, collects heartbreak, and occasionally juggles flaming knives (or emotions).

✩ Current Status: Emotionally unavailable but theatrically present.

✩ Motto: “I’m just here to cause feelings and vanish.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

💬 About thy:

Stepping straight out of a cursed carnival and into your drafts, this NPC (Me) is the beautifully unhinged voice behind every whisper of romantic disaster in thy ask box.

With one hand on their velvet top hat and the other clutching a bleeding love letter, they flirt like a problem and ramble like it’s a soliloquy.

£££££££££££££££££££££££££££££

🃏 They don’t break the fourth wall {probably will do} they waltz through it in sequins.

💌 Will offer emotionally damaging fic, drag you further down the delulu, wax poetic at 2AM, and vanish into fog before you can ask how they’re doing.

🎭 Gender? Let’s guess. Like stage makeup. Like plot twists.

🎠 Weaknesses: red flags, tragic villains, eye contact, and beautiful lies, reality…

[onceuponnpc]

💌 NPC Answers 🎤 (Not Yet Available)

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🃏Currently tied up backstage with feelings. come back later for unhinged responses and emotionally unstable advice.

📌📌📌📌📌📌📌📌📌📌📌📌📌📌📌📌📌📌📌

“Your messages will be read, dramatically sighed over, and pinned to the tent wall in red thread. Replies pending heartbreak recovery.”🃏

[onceuponnpc]

NPC RAMBLE CORNER <Chat is impending>

🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

Coming soon: emotionally-charged monologues, late-night clown thoughts, and questionable metaphors. Currently being shouted into the void while juggling trauma and tea.

[onceuponnpc]

NPC RECOMMENDS [Awaiting decisions]

🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧

Temporarily closed while the fortune teller argues with the clown over taste. And currently arguing with the tightrope walker over what counts as peak fiction.

[onceuponnpc]

🎶🎤NPC Playlist🃏

🌚Currently lost in the funhouse, will emerge when the clown finishes crying. Pending approval from the ringmaster's emotional support raccoon.🌝