#kristoff ; anna

[kristannafever]

Big Sky Ranch - 2

Kristanna Modern AU Rated: M (for now) WC: 3212

Chapter Index

------------------------

Sven fed him another beer as they sat on the tailgate after the long day, shooting the shit with the other three ranch hands.  Kristoff knew damn well Sven was lubricating his brain so that he wasn’t a stick in the mud all night.  He didn’t mind going to the saloon per se, he always ended up having a good time.  Most of that due to the liquor.  However, he did hate how many women hit on him and how many men decided they wanted to fight him.  He’d been in his fair share of scraps that he didn’t start.  All of which he won. 

Most of the time they’d be out of there before any real trouble started, except Sven’s idea to pregame with the other ranch hands meant that they’d get there later and most likely end up in some sort of skirmish by the end of the night.  Especially since Sven had a big mouth and got ridiculously loud when he was drunk.  And it was clear to Kristoff that he was ready to go blow off some serious steam.

After they wolfed down cheeseburgers that Sven had cooked for all the guys, they piled into the dually and put the greenhorn behind the wheel.  The kid was their designated driver for the evening since he was barely even old enough to drink, and the guys had told him if he wanted to come that it was going to be his job.   He didn’t mind at all, he just enjoyed hanging out with the guys and was happy to do it, which worked out great for everyone.

The place was already packed when they arrived, loud country music filtering into the gravel parking lot as they walked towards the building in the last dusk of the day.  Inside, everything was wood; the floors, the bar, the stools, tables and chairs, even the walls were adorned in wood paneling.  A currently empty stage and dancefloor took up a sizeable portion of the righthand corner.  Large wagon wheels with old style lanterns converted to house electric light bulbs, hung from the ceiling across the entire space, separated only by dingy looking ceiling fans that turned lazily around.  There were neon signs around the bar in the center of the back wall, illuminating the area and showcasing the shelves of liquor bottles behind the bar top.  The place was filled with cowboys, cowgirls, city folk lookin’ for cheap thrills, surly bouncers and scantily clad waitstaff.   It stunk of stale cigarette smoke, spilled beer and fryer oil.  The food was good; the wings, a staple, and they had them going out of the kitchen all night long.

The five men found themselves one of the standing tables as far away from the Jukebox beside the stage as possible so that they could shoot the shit without having to shout too much.  It was pretty standard for them.  They ordered two pitchers of beer and a coke for the greenhorn.  In a short time, the table would be lined with shots.

The place seemed busier than normal.   Plenty of women came up to their table to hit on them, a couple targeting Kristoff exclusively.  He rolled his eyes, feeling tired of being singled out because he stood taller than any of the other men crowded around the table.  Sven was taken and Kristoff wasn’t interested.  The three other guys were looking, these ladies should stop wasting their time on him.

It still boggled his mind how Sven had managed to settle down and ask Dixie to marry him.  He’d been a wild man until the day he met her at a grocery store, of all places.  After that it was him starting to skip out on Friday nights and ignoring Kristoff completely for the rest of the weekend, forcing him to go fishing alone or just sit in his cabin at nights and read or play his guitar – he didn’t have a television –which Kristoff had to admit to himself, had left him feeling lonely at times.   But for him, being alone was far better than having to try so hard to impress a woman and maintain her interest when they had next to nothing in common.  And that included the few cowgirls he had tried to date.  It hurt a little, that even women who seemed as likeminded as him, apparently still had no interest in a romantic relationship.  Or maybe he was just that bad at it.

After the beers, the shots came and Kristoff felt a little more tipsy than usual.  Maybe it was the fact they’d worked through lunch to knock off early, or that he’d forgotten how many beers they’d crushed before they hit the bar.  Either way, he was smiling and enjoying himself because his mind was being intoxicated.  Which was why when Cadillac Ranch started blaring through the speakers, he didn’t hesitate to follow the rest of the guys to the dance floor.  It was an unwritten rule whenever that Nitty Gritty Dirt Band song came on.

No self-respecting cowboy didn’t know how to line dance to that song, and Kristoff fell in step with everyone else with ease, years dancing it every time they went the saloon behind him.  They were even taught how to line dance in school for fucks sake.  He grinned the whole time too, kicking his heels and turning in step with everyone else on the dance floor.

*****

Anna spotted him as soon as the new country song started.  He was making his way to the dance floor with practically everyone else in the place, her friends who had brought her included. 

From her vantage point along a wall – she had no idea what kind of dance this was after all – she could not stop staring at him.  He was absolutely gorgeous with a big smile.  And damn, he could dance!  The way he swung his long legs around, the way his hips moved… Anna felt desire stir deep within her to watch something so incredibly sexy.

Hell, all of the people looked sexy dancing in rhythm, all decked out in what Anna had become to think of the ‘cowboy outfit’.  In fact, the only people not in that outfit were the ones watching, and none of them were dressed like those dancing.  They were dressed like her; a city-based idea of what a western look might be, even if a lot of them were in jeans and t-shirts.  Not many of them had proper cowboy boots, or those worn in, scuffed, wear-every-day hats, and there was no tucked in shirts.  She realized that was one item she’d forgotten about the ‘cowboy outfit’… the belt and large shaped metal buckle.  It seemed as though every person on the dance floor wore one.

And none so well as that big blond cowboy.  In a t-shirt this time, tucked in of course, she got a better glimpse at his physique, which was nothing short of incredible.  His head stood out above the rest, his hat bobbing with every movement.  Anna pinched her bottom lip in her teeth and wished he would have been interested in her because she would have loved the affections of such a man.  He was something else. 

The song ended and everyone gave a hoot and holler followed by ruckus laughter.   Anna felt herself grinning watching them, and vowed to learn that dance so that she could participate the next time.  She couldn’t remember a time something looked so fun to be a part of.

Her friends came back and they found a table midway to the bar, Anna hastily sitting down in one of the chairs that faced the blond cowboy’s direction so she could look at him.  He might not be interested, or maybe he was one of the taken ones, but there was no harm in getting an eyeful of him for her to fantasize about later. 

The place seemed much louder after that dance, like it had recharged the crowd.  They’d only just stepped in the door when that song came on, and Anna tried to orient herself in a place like she’d never been in before.  It was somehow like the clubs in the city, and yet the furthest thing from them.   It confused her at first when her friends took off to dance in the midst of looking for a table, and she understood now that that song meant something to these people, and Anna found that endearing.

Someone ordered some pitchers and Anna didn’t complain, even though she didn’t drink beer that often.  She glanced at the table of cowboys to see the blond join his friends in tilting back a shot.  The way he did it, the fluid movement of it, and his face afterward, breathing out whatever he’d tasted through slightly parted lips before smiling at his friends, left Anna staring at him with her jaw on the table.  He was so good looking it was criminal.

Then his wandering eyes met hers.

Anna’s heart leapt in her chest and she snapped her mouth shut and turned her gaze to the left, then laughed along with whatever everyone else at the table had found funny.  She didn’t dare look back, embarrassed she’d been caught eye fucking him so blatantly.  Her cheeks were on fire.

It was torturous, keeping her eyes away from his table, only Anna wasn’t about to mortify herself further.  Instead, she pushed him from her mind in favor of paying attention to everyone else at her table.  It was hard. 

Until a group of men approached them to talk, she dared quickly glancing back at the table and he wasn’t standing there with his friends.  He’d probably gone off to the bathroom or outside to smoke a cigarette.  It surprised her how many people in their town smoked.  Did they not know how bad it was for them?  She had a second to wonder if that would affect her liking of that blond cowboy if he was indeed a smoker.

One of the guys in the group that approached sauntered over to Anna’s side and bent over, putting his face in her personal space.  His breath stank, and his icy blue eyes were the creepiest thing she had seen in combination with his unsettling smile. 

“Hey, sweetheart.  How’d you like to go home with a real cowboy tonight?”

*****

Kristoff kept glancing her direction to catch the waitress’s eyes again.  She never looked back his way.  He felt disappointed about that. 

The way she’d been looking at him… shit, it was lusty.  And he was drunk.  Longing stirred deeply within him and he suddenly did want to ask her out.  He realized, looking her way as she laughed and interacted with the other ladies at her table, she wasn’t just attractive, she was drop-dead gorgeous.  The pink hue on her freckled cheeks, that smile, those clear blue eyes that reminded him of his favourite glacier-fed lake up in the mountains… fuck, she was hot.  And every red-blooded man in the room could see that.

Which was why when he returned from taking a quick piss, he felt anger prickle inside when he noticed the table of women had been approached by a group of men that Kristoff knew were up to no good.  They’d been in scraps with those fellas plenty of times before.

“Kristoff, what the fuck, man?  You paying attention?”

He didn’t answer Sven, he could not stop staring at what was unfolding, his brow furrowed in frustration.  The greasiest of the assholes, their pathetic ringleader, was leaning over the waitress, clearly making her uncomfortable.  He saw her shake her head and say ‘no’, and the dickhole ignore her rejection.

“Those fuckers again?” Sven asked, following Kristoff’s line of sight.   The other three ranch hands turned to watch what was happening a couple of tables away.

“Thought we told them never to come back,” Kristoff muttered.

“We ‘bout to have another kerfuffle here boys,” Sven agreed. 

All five of them walked over, Kristoff’s focus like a laser on the one who was pestering the waitress.  They surrounded the other men and he took his position beside the slimeball who didn’t understand the word no.

“Not you cow-fuckers again,” one of them said.

“Thought we told y’all you wasn’t welcome here anymore,” said Buck, the oldest man on their crew.  The old timer had shown Kristoff a thing or two when he was a cocky eighteen-year-old coming up in the world of ranching.  Definitely had taken him down a peg, which he deserved at the time.  As did Sven.

“Fuck off old timer,” said the ringleader, who was still leaning over the waitress.  “Ain’t got nothin’ to do with the likes of you dude ranch motherfuckers.”

“I beg to differ,” Kristoff said with a menacing voice.  He’d had enough of these posers causing trouble in their bar.  Hell, in their whole damn town.  They were from the next county over and only came to theirs to stir up trouble.  They weren’t even ranchers.  Their ringleader’s daddy owned a farm equipment dealership.

“That so?” the ringleader asked, straightening to his full height and finally looking Kristoff in the eye.  The guy was just about as tall as him and had about fifty less pounds of muscle.  “We were just talking to the ladies.”

“These ladies don’t look too impressed,” Sven interjected.

“Damn straight we’re not,” the waitress spat.

Kristoff glanced at her, the redness in her cheeks and the anger on her face.  Shit, she was fiery when she was mad.  It made her even hotter.

“Aw, darlin’, don’t say that,” the man drawled, still staring Kristoff in the eyes.  “We were just tryin’ to show you ladies what us modern day cowboys look like.  We ain’t kickin’ shit with our boots all day long for pennies on the dollar.  We make bank.”  His eyebrows flicked up at the last word, driving in the insult.

“You are the furthest thing from an actual fuckin’ cowboy,” Kristoff growled.

Sven spoke over him, “Man, fuck off on out of here you goat ropers.” It was loud enough that some of the other patrons in the bar started to notice what was going on. 

That brought everything to a head.  A bouncer came charging over and shouted at everyone to ‘take it outside’.  All of the men immediately headed for the door.  Kristoff didn’t even turn around to look at the gorgeous waitress.

When they spread out into the parking lot, two groups formed on either side.  Kristoff and the ranchers on one, and daddy’s boy dickhead and his cronies on the other, while curious bar goers hugged the wall of the building to watch what was happening.  It wasn’t the first time the groups had found themselves faced off like this.  Kristoff had personally given each one of them a black eye.  Not that they didn’t get their licks in.  He wondered in the back of his mind if the waitress might abhor his appearance with a shiner.  He’d gotten his fair share over the years. 

And he was sure he was going to catch one tonight.  They’d all been in the liquor pretty hard.  He was sure that Davy, who’d been on the ranch only two years, was going to go down with one tap he was swaying so much on his feet. 

Kristoff curled his fists and the two groups of men traded threats, ready to swing, when blue and reds lit up the night sky and a vehicle gunned it through the parking lot in their direction and pulled to a screeching halt. 

“Shit, it’s the fuzz,” someone watching yelled, and everyone in the parking lot besides Kristoff’s group and handful of others onlookers, hauled ass into the darkness.  No doubt many of them were carrying something they didn’t want to get caught with.

Two cops, one that the ranchers knew well, walked into the circle of light cast off their headlights.

“You boys really need to stop picking fights with other patrons,” the one they knew said by way of greeting.  Clearly someone had called it in as soon as Kristoff and his group approached the other assholes.  It was probably that bartender who looked like a Hells Angels reject.  That guy did not tolerate shit.

“Come on, Frankie!” Sven threw his arms up.  “You know them boys just come here to cause trouble.”  He grinned.  “Just like you did when we was in grade school together.”

The mustached cop laughed.  “You’re one to talk, Sven.  You, and Kris, have brought your fair share.”

“Those guys are always botherin’ the ladies and pickin’ fights,” Buck piped up, then hocked a loogie into the dirt at his feet.

“It’s a free country,” said Frankie.  “We can’t stop em from going into a drinking establishment.”

“What you need to do is start waiting for them on the back roads those guys take,” Kristoff chimed in.  “I know for a fact they’re not drivin’ sober.”

“That so?” Frankie asked, turning very serious.  “And you boys have a DD?”

“Yo.”  The greenhorn raised his hand.

“Alright,” Frankie said, and started to step back towards his cruiser.  “We will keep our eyes peeled near there tonight if those guys come back to grab their truck.”

“They will,” Sven answered, “long as they don’t catch a whiff of pig.”

Frankie gave Sven a hard stare.  Sven, taking the hint, lifted his arms and lowered his head to the side in a gesture of surrender.

It went the same way every time those groups got into a fight.  When all was said and done, or the cops showed up, those boys took off running, found another bar or wherever else they wiled the time, and returned after closing to grab their truck to take home.  Yet every time the cops were told the group was driving drunk, those boys would see the police waiting and hold up somewhere overnight until one of them was sober enough to drive, or until the uni’s waiting quit their post for their shift change.  Every time those boys got away scot-free. 

Which was why Kristoff was glad it was Frankie who showed up this time.  He must have been filling in for someone’s night shift as with his seniority he was normally always on days.  The other cops had no idea that daddy’s boy’s crew used a shortcut through a barren pasture that kept them on lonely country roads and off the highway their whole way home.  But Frankie knew about it.

Kristoff hoped that this would be the night those assholes finally got what was coming to them. 

People started filtering back into the bar as the cops drove away and Kristoff caught the waitress’s eyes again.  She was looking at him in that lusty way that stirred the longing up within him again, only it didn’t last.  She turned with one last lingering look, then followed her friends back into the saloon, leaving Kristoff staring after her in a bit of a daze.

“Come on, Hoss.”  Sven slapped his hand on Kristoff’s shoulder.  “Let’s get on outta here and head home.” Kristoff nodded his agreement.  Nothing good ever happened after midnight anyway.

---

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[scurviesdisneyblog]

Character designs for Frozen (2013) by Bill Schwab

[noodles-and-tea]

🥺

[annasource]

"Whoa! Thank you."

Frozen (2013)

[munsster]

Hi I just read fixer user and I loved it! I was wondering if you could do a part 2 💖💖

an act of true love

A/N: (your pfp made me scream and curl my toes) an unexpected amount of ppl rlly enjoyed this dynamic. i suppose i have found my people 🤭 (gif creds: @kingofscoops)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader (Season 3)

Summary: In the dead of winter, there’s absolutely nothing that could keep you warm. After all, only an act of true love can thaw a frozen heart. 1.5k words

Warnings: fluff, mutual pining, pet names (sweetheart), mention of toxic ex boyfriend, cursing, gross flirting

Steve can hear you shivering through the receiver and your stuttered breaths crackling through the cord. You’re begging him to come over and fix your radiator in the middle of a snow storm. The roads aren’t closed yet, but a thin white powder blankets his front lawn and the top of his beemer and he can see the flakes whipping through the stream of light pouring from the streetlamp. So, he piles every blanket he has into his passenger seat and braves the drive to your house.

Does he know how to repair a busted radiator? No.

Is he determined to do anything you require of him? Every single day for the rest of his life.

He’s crouched by the window of your living room, looking for any telltale signs of wear or leaking. You’re standing just behind him, bundled in two blankets and holding a spare flashlight. He’s quiet as he tinkers, but your mind is racing watching his soft toned arms through his cream thermal and his back muscles working when he turns over his shoulder to glance at you with a dashing smile. You nod quickly when he says something, though you’re not exactly sure what.

“Sweetheart?” he coos, raising his brows when you recoil under his gaze.

“Sorry, I didn’t… I wasn’t listening,” you say with a chuckle. He grins, dropping his head in understanding.

“Sorry, I know it’s boring,” he says, “but has it been making noises or anything?”

“Oh, yeah! It kinda groans when I first turn it on and it sounds like it might explode for the first couple minutes. I guess I’ve tuned it out by now.”

“That’s probably not a good sound then,” he teases, turning back to the radiator with a puzzled look.

“No, probably not.” You shuffle off to the kitchen, setting a kettle on the stove and humming softly.

After half an hour of tinkering and a roll of tape, Steve stands and wipes his hands on his jeans.

“That should do it! It’ll probably take a sec to heat up again,” he sighs, and you emerge from the kitchen, balancing two hefty mugs brimming with whipped cream. “Ooh, what’s this?”

“Hot cocoa. Secret family recipe,” you tease. In actuality, it’s just the standard package of chocolate powder and sugar. The secret lies in the healthy dash of cinnamon you mix into it.

“Secret, eh? Guess that gives me a reason to come see you more often,” he hums, following you to the couch and taking one of the mugs from your hands. It warms him up nicely, and he knows you gave him the bigger mug on purpose when you smile triumphantly. He takes a sip, moaning at the sweetness. You giggle at the whipped cream kissing his top lip.

“I hope I’m reason enough,” you say with a faux pout. He sits close enough to share the pile of blankets with you, your thighs pressed against one another in the captured heat.

“Duh, you’re the main attraction,” he huffs, “Your hot chocolate is like the flashy side show. It’s pretty neat but not quite as cool as the reason you bought the ticket.”

You giggle into your mug, face hot in the bellowing steam. Or because of his dimpled cheeks. Or the way his eyes swoop over your face. Or maybe the way he came rushing to your rescue in a storm without a second thought.

“Any new Brad-related developments? Or is he still giving you shit?” he says, swallowing a warm gulp of liquid chocolate.

You groan, head lulling back against the couch. “He keeps calling to say I’m a cold hearted bitch and then immediately hang up. I think he forgot that he’s the one who broke up with me.”

“Right, right. Why’s that again?”

“Something about his family’s values. And how he hates my friends,” you say, “I just remember getting mad because he seemed so jealous and mistrusting. Honestly, in hindsight, he was really childish about the whole thing.”

You shrug it off, but it snaps his heart in two all over again. He doesn’t even want to know the gorey details because he knows it’ll boil his blood. Just knowing that asshole said something like that to you makes his fists ball up in frustration. But he thinks of what you said. What did Brad have to be jealous about; he had the entire world and Steve never bat an eye. Not to you, at least.

“Jealous?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, he’d give me all these ultimatums where I’d have to choose between you and him. So random,” you huff. Though, maybe he was justified in some way. You and Steve have been this close since the day you met. Any love interest would feel threatened by his charm and that smile.

“Oh… weird”—He watches you take a cautious sip from your mug like maybe you regret saying anything at all—“Yeah. That’s random. Had no idea I posed such a threat to that guy. He seemed so… self-assured.”

You stare blankly, shrugging when you mutter, “you can call him a narcissistic prick, i don't care. And yeah, I was kinda surprised the first time he brought it up, because a big part of why I was attracted to him was for his confidence” you chuckle, “No idea what went wrong!

Steve absentmindedly squares his shoulders, sitting up straught on the plush cushions trying to make himself look strong and reliable and confident. You sip your hot chocolate and look at him funny.

“Are you okay?” you say, holding in a laugh.

He nods. “Oh, yeah. I’m just super confident ‘s all.”

You snort, choking on the sip you’d sucked down, pinching your eyes closed when he lurches forward with a worried look slapped across his face.

“Shit, here, let me help,” he huffs, setting his mug aside and wiping the drips from your chin with his sleeve, “Oh, god, are you hurt???”

You cackle with tears pricking in your eyes when he carefully takes your mug and places it next to his. You pat dry your neck, and he watches you softly.

“Stevie, you’re so sweet.”

His heart flutters in his warm chest when you smile at him.

“Well, I dunno about that.”

“No, seriously. You’re so caring and thoughtful, I’ve never met anyone like you,” you whisper.

He takes a shaky breath in.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

You nod heartily and grin wide, and you notice he’s staring at you. So you kick his calf under the blanket.

“Hey, ouch!”

You giggle, but he’s quick to grab the crook of your knee and tug you close so you’re laying flat on the couch. Your hands cover your face when he tickles your sides and leans over you playfully. He’s almost glad you can’t see him blushing or feel his heart racing or hear his head booming with thoughts of you. He gasps when you plant your socked foot on his thigh, but he holds your elbow gently to keep you close to him while he leans over you.

You’re laughing, and he can confidently say it’s his favorite sound. You palm his chest, and he takes a deep breath in. Your eyes flick open because you’ve never felt someones heart beat so fast and so warm just beneath your fingertips. He’s flushed and pink but he looks like a prince in the orange lamplight. And he’s so close to you.

Your fingers curl into the collar of his shirt, barely grasping, and you crane your neck towards him. You watch his honey eyes draw over your lips just before he leans in and kisses you.

His hand molds into your side, melting over the exposed skin like hot syrup. You press into his hold and smile with your fingers drawing up and across the back of his neck.

But the kiss short lived when he pulls away, shoving a hand through his ruffled hair.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Steve huffs, standing and backing away, “I don’t know what I’m doing. I should go!”

He crosses the floor in a daze, forcing his feet back into his shoes before you even can sit up and call after him.

“Steve, wait!”

But he’s shaking his head and reaching for the ice cold door handle with his jacket barely slung over his shoulders. He whips the door open, and you can see the pure white snow floating down in sheets outside.

“Keep the blankets! Just call me if the radiator breaks again, and I’ll see you!”

The door slams shut.

You tut, hand coming to your lips as you look around at the scene before you. The abandoned mugs on the coffee table, his blankets folded over the back of the couch, your repaired radiator whirring softly in the corner. The absence of Steve. What would the kids say. You know they’d lose it, but would they be upset if you ended up together. Would they realize they changed their minds and you’d jeopardized not only your friendship with Steve but with the entire party.

What if everything changes?

Oh, but what if nothing changes: you and Steve tip toeing around each other, the kids scheming and giggling at your misfortune, but now changed by the fact that you’ve kissed Steve. And he kissed you back. And you like him so much.

"Oh, god.”

more like this

masterlist

[somecallmejohn]

Couldn’t leave Santa Kristoff without his Mrs Claus and the snow queen.

[sofiamerliah]

Drawing her was a different feeling 😍

My most favourite Disney Character - ELSA ❄️

"Standing Frozen, in the Life I've chosen...

You won't find me, the Past is all behind me...

Buried in the Snow.... Let it Go..."

❤️❤️❤️❤️

[tiii13]

Arendelle Squad~

[10gallon]

Alright so, I noticed something...

Thoughts?

[firawren]

Frozen text post memes, part 4 of ?

[eylih]

We as society need to bring back Frozen memes 🗿

You can repost if you want but tell me before and credit me (I'll know if you don't, I'm caribbean)

[rebamacncheese]

Art for Chapter 2 of The Mountain Man, out today! https://archiveofourown.org/works/61260757/chapters/156567346#workskin

[antoineharrakblog]

New Frozen 1 & 2 Renders ❄️❄️❄️

Waiting for F3 ones! 🤩

[cloudberriesforaqueen]

Kristoff "looking at" Anna in The Art of Frozen 2! 🧡💚

"His final outfit was designed to complement Anna's final outfit so that they look good together." — Griselda Sastrawinata-Lemay, visual development artist

She also says this in the Official Movie Special!

"Britt (Brittney Lee) designed Kristoff's costume. Now Kristoff and Anna are a couple, so they're wearing couple outfits (laughs). They are color-coordinated, but not matchy-matchy. I just love the couples look."

+ Young Agnarr and Iduna also "looking at" each other!

— ♡

[munsster]

lost in the woods

A/N: i literally couldnt resist getting my grubby hands on this brainrot song (gif creds: @longestwave)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader (Season 3)

Summary: You, the party, and Steve attend an annual winter festival while he's feeling utterly lost in the woods. 3.7k words

Warnings: fluff, everything is corny xoxo, slight angst/anxiety/embarrassment, pet names (sweetheart, honey), flashback, general party shenanigans, GODAWFUL PINING, kissing

Robin had slapped a flyer for Tippecanoe’s First Annual Winter Festival on the counter, and Steve knew he had to be there with you somehow. He just had to make it subtle enough not to seem desperate but obvious enough that you knew he wanted you there. Which was easier than he predicted when he handed the flyer to Dustin and his eyes lit up at the idea of a real festival with live music and gingerbread and carnival games and sledding.

So you and Steve caravanned the children and Robin in your cars. Of course, driving separately was not Steve's ideal situation as he loves having you in his passenger seat picking the music and humming softly to yourself. But you had suggested it since there were more bodies than could fit in your station wagon. Robin had begged to differ, insisting there was always more space with a nod to the trunk, which made you giggle and subsequently made Steve absolutely melt. He didn't usually have the patience for her antics, but he would do anything to hear you laugh even if it meant contorting himself into your trunk.

However, he knows that's not the only reason you suggested separate cars with separate drivers. Things had been tense since the last time he saw you, and the guilt weighs on him like a cold metal barbell crushing his chest.

Your fingers curl into the collar of his shirt, barely grasping, and you crane your neck towards him. You watch his honey eyes draw over your lips just before he leans in and kisses you.

His hand molds into your side, melting over the exposed skin like hot syrup. You press into his hold and smile with your fingers drawing up and across the back of his neck.

But the kiss short lived when he pulls away, shoving a hand through his ruffled hair.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Steve huffs, standing and backing away, "I don't know what I'm doing. I should go!"

He hadn't planned on rushing out of your house and into the snow without any of his belongings, but that's how it happened. It's the subject of most of his nightmares. The look on your face and the blaring sound the door made when it slammed. He had stood on your porch wringing his hands and exhaling puffs of hot air when he finally decided to go through with his running away.

But now he felt completely lost. And he could tell he was losing you, too.

Robin had thoroughly scolded him when he called her that night, telling him he's an idiot for walking out on you when you two were clearly and stupidly in love. He agreed and wallowed in self pity, listening to sappy love songs and soft rock until he eventually fell asleep.

This festival was his chance to make apologize. To fall for you all over again. If only he could get you alone without the squeaky voices of a handful of pestering teens.

El and Max drag you and Robin toward the steep hill carved out for sledding, and Steve follows with the group of boys hot on his trail. They coo taunting endearments at him, urging him to share a sled with you. Dustin hollers something or other about his probably fake girlfriend Suzie and how he officially has more game than Steve.

You look back at him sweetly and mouth 'sorry' before you plop down onto your sled. For all the trouble, you mean. You know the kids would be much calmer if they knew Steve didn't actually want you. And he clearly doesn't after the other night. And the way he seems so nonchalant. He shakes his head and mouths 'don't worry about it' as he shoves his jittery hands in his pockets. The wind whips at his hot face and he wishes he'd brought a scarf. Or some dignity.

"You have to win something for her," Lucas says once they reach the bottom of the hill, and Steve is hit with the realization that all of these twerps somehow got girlfriends before him. Although, Dustin's status is still questionable. He at least has the audacity to lie about his romantic endeavors.

"Yeah," Max agrees, pointing to the tip-a-jug stand lined with winter themed plushies, "Girls love stuffed animals. Plus, winning will be an excellent show of your strength."

"And generosity! The ladies love a charitable man," Mike adds. Steve rolls his eyes, worried you'll hear them from where you walk just a few paces ahead with Will and El. But maybe they have a point.

"I don't need advice from schoolchildren."

"You mean romantically successful schoolchildren!" Dustin chirps.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose while they beg him to win you something good. Finally, he gives in, sifting a few singles from his wallet. Max calls you over to watch Steve win, and you chuckle weakly, knowing they forced him into it somehow.

The vendor hands him a basket of blue bean bags with snowmen painted on them. Steve's heart races when you step up next to him.

"Good luck," you huff. You both know these games are rigged from the moment the cash hits the counter. But he smiles at you and holds one of the bags in his palm. God, somehow you're even prettier with snowflakes in your hair and the warm fairy lights twinkling behind you.

He lasers in on the game, winding up that rubber arm like he's back in little league hoping for a strike out. The first few jugs clatter backwards. Suddenly, the kids are much more invested learning the possibility that he might actually win.

It's down to the final jug, and he takes a deep breath. In all honesty, he's never been this successful in any stupid carnival game. Why he is tonight is a mystery. Maybe next he'll be struck by lightning.

Except, the last bean bag thuds against the side of the apparatus, and the crowd groans. He perches his hands on his hips and bows his head.

"You did pretty good, kid. Why don't you pick one of the medium sized prizes?" The vendor asks, gesturing to the small stuffed animals halfway up the wall.

"Which one do you want, sweetheart?"

He turns back and his eyes lock with yours. He's hoping the kids were right. Maybe you'll be impressed or charmed. Or maybe you'll think he's being vain and trying needlessly to boost his ego. But you glance at him in surprise, eagerly stepping forward and tugging on his sleeve.

"Steve, I can't accept your prize. You won it fair and square."

"They begged me to play. I only did it because I love showing off," he teases, and it makes you giggle. Hallelujah. You point to the small polar bear plush, and the vendor hands it to you. Steve's heart flutters when you accept the bear so tenderly and thank him like you're shy. But he's never known you to be bashful. At least, not when it comes to teasing him.

Everyone, including Robin, coos and hoots and hollers at the two of you basking in the soft carnival game light. You whip around and tell them to shush.

"Quit it, I'm not afraid to send you all home right now," Steve says, pointing an accusatory finger. You hide your grin behind your plush when his hair bounces from his intensity.

The kids grumble, and Dustin says, "Yes, mom and dad," begrudgingly but with a shit eating grin on his face. It makes Steve blush more than it should.

You suggest stopping for gingerbread-flavored funnel cake and hot apple cider and face a hoard of suddenly starving children.

Dustin sighs dramatically, catching your attention. "This night is so beautiful, don't you think, Steve?"

"Careful, Henderson, I'm your ride home," Steve says.

"What? I’m just saying it would be a shame to waste such a romantic night." Dustin tries his hardest to wink subtly. "If only it weren't for Brad—"

"No, she dumped Brad," El helpfully suggests. The news lights up their eyes, and they bounce around excitedly.

"Who raised these kids?" Steve huffs, eyebrows raised and cringing at their blatant attempts at match making.

You roll your eyes, announcing, "You guys, Steve has more important things to worry about than a girlfriend."

Steve looks at you. You're trying to settle them down, but all it does is shatter his heart and make him their target. He knows it's in good fun and all but the wobble in your voice makes his knees buckle and his throat tighten. He needs to fix this and fast if he wants any chance at reconciliation.

Max stares him down. "What did you do?"

"Come on, Steve the King," Lucas sighs, "You're supposed to be working with us, not against us!"

Steve shakes his head and turns away from the slander. You follow his lead. You're staring straight ahead, pretending to look at the menu while he fiddles with the hem of his sleeve.

Then, El notices a small mistletoe hanging from the edge of the canopy. The kids giggle and nudge each other, and Robin's eyes go wide realizing the front of the line crosses through its path. And you and Steve are standing side by side.

So just as the line shuffles forward, Robin elbows her way between the two of you, earning a hearty grumble from Steve.

"Sorry, I—uh"—solid gameplan, Robin—"Lovely weather we're having."

You chuckle and look up at the way the snow seems to hover midair. Little specks of white illuminated by the festivities with a backdrop of darkness and starlight.

"Yeah, I guess so," you hum. Steve crosses his arms over his chest with a sour look when he spots the mistletoe dangling above the two of you.

"Oh, gosh! Would you look at that," Robin chirps, "Mistletoe! You know what that means."

"You cut the line just so you could kiss me?" you say, smile creeping onto your face. She shrugs, and you hold her jaw while you lean in and peck her cheek. Steve lets out a sigh of relief, but Robin is stirred, her cheeks blooming a rosy pink from more than just the cold.

"Satisfied?"

Robin nods, tugging on her hat and warbling about checking out the ice sculptures and how she'd be back in a second. Steve sheepishly reclaims his spot beside you.

"You want one, too?" you tease. His heart flutters considering it, but his silence has you recoiling and turning away. "Sorry. Just... kidding."

Of course, he wants to kiss you. And he doesn't want it to be an accident or a mistake or a regret. He's already messed up once, and the thought of messing it up with you again hurts like an icicle to the heart.

The kids bound towards the huge tree sprouting from the center of the fair grounds. An announcement had called for the first annual tree lighting at nine, and crowds had flocked to the base of the looming tree. Not Steve, though. He lingers just behind you while you order the funnel cake. He's a little embarrassed when you turn back around holding the plate to find yourselves deserted by your group.

"Where'd everyone go?"

"Distracted by the lights, I guess," he huffs, feeling the pang in his chest when you nod wearily. "Wanna sit down? I saw an open bench back there."

You grab an extra fork and follow him to the bench seated along the edge of the grounds. There's a perfect view of the grand tree with a couple minutes to spare. The bench is snug enough, your thigh pressed to his. It reminds you of that night in your living room and the way he looked at you like he really cared. Like he could have actually wanted you. Honestly, you think, who was he kidding.

But it's second nature the way you hand him a fork.

"Mmm, tastes like..." he hums while trying to decipher the distinct flavor but all he can muster is cinnamon and sugar.

"Gingerbread?" you tease. He ducks his head, grinning and reaching for another bite.

"That would make sense."

You laugh when powdered sugar kisses the tip of his nose. He's confused why you're staring at him like that and rubs his sleeve across his mouth, which makes you laugh harder.

"What?"

You try and wipe it way but miss by a long shot, swiping at his chin through your giggle fit. He finally wipes the tip of his nose. You take a deep breath in, calming your laughter.

"Sweetheart, what is it? What's on my face?"

"You got it." You shake your head. "Just some powdered sugar."

"All that for a little sugar," he teases, grinning from ear to ear when you stifle a laugh. You settle into the bench and he drapes his arm long the back of it. He likes having you so close. It makes him feel foolish and ecstatic and boyish. And he doesn't think he's ever felt so warm before.

You're about to say something when the tree lights up. A million tiny bulbs of green and red and yellow lead to the shining star on top. It illuminates his face, and you can really see the glimmer reflected in his brown eyes. Carolers sing holy night across the festival, but you can still hear them loud and clear. You want to tell Steve he's everything. You would if you could be sure it wouldn't scare him away. People clap and whistle. You're conflicted.

Is this how he felt before he ran away?

"I owe you an apology," he blurts. He turns to face you to find you're already looking him dead in the eyes. His stomach twists because that means it's real and he's not daydreaming. The hope makes him nervous.

You shake your head.

"No, Steve, you have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I should apologize. I still have all the blankets you left, and it's the middle of winter."

"Sweetheart, please, I'm the one who ran out on you," he huffs, "I was being a coward. I've liked you for so long, and I wanted to kiss you, and I know the kids are usually full of shit—and I can't believe I'm saying this—but they're right. I belong to you. I mean it, I'm yours. And as cheesy as it sounds, without you... I feel lost."

The air between you feels thick enough to carve with a butter knife. It's not snowing anymore, but still, something stirs and shimmers and wavers as his confession sets in. It gets a little harder to breathe and he can almost feel the altitude sickness from the flicker in your eye. Though, shortness of breath is nothing compared to the way you make him feel on top of the world with just a glance.

His heart sinks when you tear up and look away.

"Hey," he whispers, leaning in when you desperately press your mittens to your cheeks.

"Sorry. Sorry." You tilt your head back and squint your eyes shut to stop the hot flow of tears.

"It's okay. I didn't mean to make you cry," he says softly when you cover your face and chuckle dryly.

"I know. I just feel like..." you huff, feeling a little silly for crying when Steve rubs your back like he means every word he said. Like he's really sorry and all he wants is you. "It was never the right time for us."

He can't help the way his heart crumbles to pieces like forgotten pastry between your skilled fingers. You're trying not to cry, and it's his fault. You take a deep breath. He thinks he would buy you all the sweet things in the world to make you happy. Even if it meant you didn't need him anymore. It would be enough to know he could do something good for you.

Then you turn to him, and he's doe eyed and handsome and hopeful.

You whisper, "But, now—"

Suddenly, the hoard returns, stampeding and complaining about the cold and how Robin is flirting with the pretty exhibit curator and the tree lighting was so cool but now El wants to take pictures with her new camera and are you gonna eat that? Steve's still hanging onto your every word over the ruckus. Now?

You offer them the rest of the funnel cake which Mike and Dustin devour in seconds. You give Will your scarf when he shivers, and Steve offers his gloves to Lucas who gives one to Max so he can hold her other hand.

"Hey, remember when I told you you'd be cold?" you tease Will who shrugs shyly and Lucas who grumbles, squeezing Max's hand.

"But why would they wear proper clothing when they know you're too caring to refuse?" Max says, cocking a brow. You squint at her.

"Are you calling me a pushover?"

She giggles and kisses your cheek before skipping away with Lucas and shouting, "Only because I love you!"

El hooks her arm in yours and tugs you towards the string light tunnel near the exit. You glance back at Steve who listens to Dustin talk about all the old couples watching the tree lighting ceremony. He makes a point to tell Steve he'd like to come back every year.

Steve looks to you and agrees.

You think El's trying to win the record for most polaroids taken in ten seconds. She takes a few of Max and Lucas and a couple of all of the boys together. She's shouting at them to behave when you wander off towards Steve.

Your knuckles brush his, and you startle, but he's already holding your soft, gloved hand and biting back a grin. You tug him towards you and face him with a fierce look in your eye.

"Quit putting the moves on me, Harrington," you tease, but he sweeps your hair out of your face anyway. Oh, and he looks like he wants to kiss you. Just like before. Only this time, he's not going to run away. And you can tell when he gently cradles your neck that he’s gonna stick around for a long time.

But just as he leans in, a flash goes off and you look straight into El’s lens as the camera clacks and zips. You quickly let go of Steve’s hand and huff out a laugh when one of the kids wolf whistles. Steve chuckles and dips in to kiss your cheek. El skips over and hands you the polaroid, telling you to shake it until it develops.

Once it does, you’re already headed back to the parking lot. You hand it to Steve, and his face lights up.

The light tunnel frames the picture like a halo. Your eyes are wide, staring into the camera while the flash shines on your shocked face. But he’s still looking at you and waiting for his kiss, holding your face with your mitten tucked into his cold hand. You think he looks handsome. He knows that’s because he’s lovesick, and it shows

“I hope you know I’m keeping this,” he says, pinching the corner like it’ll fly away in a snow flurry. You giggle.

“Fine, but I want it on weekends.”

“Deal,” he teases. He plops into his driver’s seat, tucking the polaroid into his sun visor. You lean down and perch your forearms on the window.

“Drive safe, Stevie,” you whisper, glancing at his sweet smile and flushed face.

“I want to kiss you.”

You raise your eyebrows and peek into the back seat where Will, El, and Max giggle. And then to where Dustin is slumped in the passenger’s seat, his forehead rested against the glass.

“Dustin is gonna be furious when he finds out you said that, and he wasn’t awake to witness it,” you hum, but Steve couldn’t care less with you so close to him.

“Maybe it’ll teach him to mind his own damn business.” Steve says it so casually, it makes you smile.

“His meddling isn’t all bad,” you shrug, “It brought us together.”

Well, shit, Steve thinks. He’s never gonna hear the end of it from the kid.

“In that case, I owe him one,” he says, out of focus when you lean further into the car. “Or a couple.”

You smile against his mouth and he hums lowly. It’s gentle. Unhurried. Like it could stop the world from turning if only for a second. If the festival were any quieter, your heartbeats would be audible. You pull away with a small grin and smooth down the collar of his jacket. He holds your wrist, fingers lazily wrapping around the cuff of your mitten to keep your hand close to his chest.

Max pokes Dustin’s shoulder and he wakes with a loud startle. He orients himself to find the both of you staring back at him.

“What was that for? What did I miss?” he whines with a furrowed brow. Max rolls her eyes, tugging her headphones on.

“Dude,” she huffs. El giggles, shaking her head, and Will waves when you stand back from the window.

You pat Steve’s shoulder and say, “Seriously, please be careful. It’s slippery.”

Steve nods, giving you a little salute. You smile. He blushes.

“You, too, honey,” he coos, hoping you’ll linger by his window just a little longer. But Dustin snaps his fingers impatiently.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” he says, already nodding off again. You chuckle.

“I’ll follow you out,” you say with a nod, “Nighty night, Dusty.”

Dustin swats away the tease with a, “Yeah, yeah. Talk to me when you’re boyfriend-girlfriend.”

Steve cocks a brow and you laugh, shrugging. His engine revs to life and you back away further with a cute little wave when his headlights flicker on. He watches you open your car door and disappear inside before slowly creeping out of the parking spot. You shuck your mittens and set them in the cupholder, Robin grinning from beside you the entire time.

“We saw everything,” she says. Mike and Lucas share a knowing glance in the backseat, and you hold up one finger.

“Not a word.”

But you smile the whole way home.

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Happy 5th Anniversary, Frozen II!!

On this day, 5 years ago, the sequel to the 2013 Disney-animated blockbuster was released in theaters!