#maybe Jack Frost nipping at your nose too?

[rozahline]

didn’t have anything holiday themed planned but a post on twitter inspired me to draw Mona! Since my first piece this year was a drawing of her, why not end the year with her as well!

[the-monkeies-girl]

what inspired you to start writing fics?

I had to have been 12, maybe 13. I did not speak English very well, in fact, it was god awful LOL. I really liked Anime though, and in a bid to get myself to learn a new language, I started to write here and there. It was very sparring, my first Fanfic being Ichigo Kurosaki x OC ( probably still on Fanfiction.net if I wanted to find it. ) And? I really, really liked it. So, in tandem with watching Subbed anime ( I learned a lot of english from that too ) I began my journey, and kept finding inspirations in little spots. My biggest one was when my mom told me that writing could be just like a painting. All the small details, all the nuances. I fell in love with it, and to this day, I really try to paint with my words the best I can/

When I was 15/16 ( i think ) I wrote a fanfiction on Quotev.com called 'Jack Frost Nipping At Your Nose' for Rise of the Guardians, I had a really big following there and also wrote heavily for the anime Hetalia as well at that time.

I somehow made my way to Tumblr and really gained momentum in the Big Hero 6 Fandom, Star Wars, a few other smaller fish, Fantastic Beasts and X-Men. I really took a break for 5 years, but after I saw all the Planet of the Apes, especially after Kingdom, I was shocked by the lack of fanfics for the entire fandom, so I started writing again and realized just how much I truly missed it.

I stay inspired because of people having such innate interest in it. It brings me great satisfaction to know that my stories are loved by not just myself, but many others. The push and pull of emotions I'm able to tell, I'm able to give readers, is more than enough for me to keep going.

[clarktooncrossing]

Giraffe's Eye View: Christmas Specials Special (2023) | Care Bears Nutcracker

Chestnuts are roasting on an open fire. Jack Frost is nipping at your nose. Mom and dad can hardly wait for school to start again. All the dogs in the neighborhood somehow learned to bark Jingle Bells in sync. Yet retail workers are still more annoyed with Mariah Carey. Snow is getting shoveled, tossed, and formed into sentient beings leading parades without permits. It makes for an excellent distraction as the Krampus abducts children for bad behavior. Fruitcake is exchanged only to find its permanent home in the garbage. Terrorists have hijacked the Holiday office party right before your boss can give you a Jelly of the Month Club membership as your bonus. And of course, the Turducken has returned to wreak its fiery vengeance upon an unsuspecting world! If all this doesn’t put you in the Christmas spirit, perhaps these following Holiday specials will!

Greetings people of today and robots of tomorrow! It is I, Santa Clark, your geeky giraffe friend with a deep love of Christmas! My obsession for the yuletide is rivaled only by Maleficent’s hatred for it, which is saying a lot considering she once teamed up with Mad Madam Mim to kidnap the literal Spirit of Christmas. Yes, that really happened. I know this due to my annual pilgrimage to the Island of Misfit Specials, home to obscure or nerdy festive media ranging from movies, TV episodes, and comics. It’s no easy journey. Constantly I find myself confronted by sinister snowmen, genocidal gingerbread men, and worst of all, crappy commercials. Getting stabbed in the foot by a candy-cane wielding cookie is one thing, but I swear I’ve seen that ad for Wilbur’s White Elephant Gift Emporium more times than I’ve seen Miracle on 34th Street! Sometimes at night I catch myself reciting that jingle. Wilbur’s White Elephant Gift Emporium: Where Christmas meets Convenience! Huh, maybe Maleficent had a point.

Nah, my deep-rooted appreciation for this time of year can weather even the most moronic marketing! It helps that most of the merry media I’ve seen have put me in the perfect Holiday mood! Examples include the time a Ninja Turtle found himself trapped in a truck full of stollen toys, a drunk department store Santa stumbling onto a wish-granting magic bag, Big Bird nearly becoming a popsicle, Gwenpool waking up in a world where Galactus took the place of jolly ol’ Saint Nicholas, a terrifying tree stump trying to slaughter some saps over a stupid ship war, and the year when Death gave the Little Match Girl the greatest gift of all. Needless to say, I thought I had seen it all. That is, until I took my friends on a trip to the Island, tasking them to find me new, strange, seasonal specials to review! Some of them were fair, finding me festive favorites as comforting as coco in front of the fireplace. Others were fiendish, wanting to feed off my misery like Gremlins after midnight. Regardless of how naughty or nice my companions were, I’ve compiled all of their suggestions into a makeshift advent calendar! So stay tuned everyday until Christmas to see how badly my buddies can shred what little sanity I have left.

On the second day of Christmas, my buddies gave to me...

For the record, it says something when nobody's even made a GIF for what I'm about to review.

Malicious as Molly was, she may have set the bar too high with Barbie. For along comes the fairy Claire (YourClairyGodmother), set on proving that the ‘all Canadians are friendly’ claim is a myth. Having recently reviewed a slew of their work herself, she saw fit to share her suffering with me by burdening me with a Care Bears Christmas caper of my choice. Oh how nice, my executioner allowed me to pick how I get to die! Mirroring Grumpy Bear’s dour attitude, I scoured the Care Bears Wiki to make my selection, all the while wondering how this franchise is still alive after all this time. Starting out in 1981 as greeting card characters, these bears became a beloved series of plush toys parents killed each other over at Black Friday’s. Not gonna lie, having Sinbad and Arnie fight over Funshine Bear would’ve made Jingle all the Way that much funnier. It’d certainly be more entertaining then what I ended up picking, that being Care Bears Nutcracker Suite. Dear Santa, I don’t remember asking for endless torment. At this rate getting my nuts cracked probably wouldn’t be as excruciating. Still, perhaps I’m being pessimistic. Let’s give them the benefit of the doubt and jump right in! After all, these bears beat out Black Cauldron at the box office. Surely they have something special to offer here.

Like terrible child voice actors. We’ve got those in spades here! Okay, I know it’s not nice to call out kids who are only here because of parental peer pressure, but A Charlie Brown Christmas set the bar so high two decades prior! Though to be fair, maybe this is like Hayden Christensen regaling Padme about sand. You can only do so much when the script serves you verbal fruitcake on a platter. Such as when one of the kids, tricked into portraying the Rat King in an elementary production of the ballet by his sister, rightfully laments how lame the show is. Seeing one of her students complaining, our blonde ballet instructor halts class in order to tell a self-insert fanfiction where she herself is Clara. Whoa, deja vuh.

For all of you fearful that this is going to get repetitive, put your worries at ease. The writers made no effort to make the narrative comprehensive here. Instead of a mysterious family member, our Young Clara stand-in Anna (Tara Strong) is visited by Funshine Bear (Susan Roman) and Grumpy (Bob Dermer). Right as they tumble down the chimney ready to help this privileged dork with whatever first world problem she has, a dimensional rift abruptly appears in her room, dropping out the titular Nutcracker (Michael Beattie) and an army of rats. Sadly this time they’re not led by Tim Curry and they’re even less intimidating than before. Whereas previously they at least had swords, now they rush forward into battle with nothing but the clothes on their back. As if that wasn’t idiotic enough, they’re easily frightened off by the two bears and Anna’s younger brother Peter (Stuart Stone) in a trench coat. Wow, I was wondering how they’d top the Mouse King getting taken out by a shrunken woman’s flimsy footwear. You fail at failing to disappoint, Care Bears. Good to know I don’t need to take any of the villains seriously. By chance is it too late to bring back that creepy book lady from the movie? She’d be a better foe than the Vizier (Don Francks), a Jafar wannabe decked out in purple that commands the cowardly vermin. He’s after the Nutcracker so he can, you guessed it, take over the world and ruin Christmas. How he’d ruin Christmas is never explained, though I doubt whatever logic they presented would’ve made sense anyway.

Regardless of the reason, our heroes elect to help Nutcracker in his quest to stop the Vizier, enlisting some Care Bears Cousins to help. Though really I assume it’s to expose kids to more toys they can buy, since Funshine and Grumpy managed to make an entire armada run away in fear. Why else bring in Brave Heart Lion (Dan Hennessey) or Lotsa Heart Elephant (Luba Goy) if not for promotional purposes? Remember kiddies, pester your parents into buying these new friends or else you’ll be a sad loser! Together with Baby Tugs (Melleny Brown) and Hugs (Tracey Moore), they leap into the dimensional portal to restore order to Toyland. Along the way they encounter a bunch of cranky citizens blaming the Vizier’s rise to power on a prince named Alan. Whoa, deja vuh times two. Before anybody asks, yes, once again the Nutcracker is clearly the missing monarch. The rest of our heroes only find out after battling more rodents on a runaway train, meeting a magical fairy that’s as useless as the owl, and getting turned into wood by the Vizier. Our story ends with the titular toy’s humanity easily being restored, the villains being beheaded for war crimes, and the ballet class from earlier never really putting on their pageant as their teacher Anna walks off with her boi toi. Whoa, deja vuh times three. All while the Care Bears watch on from the raptors, waiting to pick the kids off one by one for sport.

Do I even have to say it? Honestly, what point is there in me picking out the flaws? It’d be like stating how pretty Christmas lights are, there’s no purpose in proclaiming something so patent. For the sake of keeping you all from searching up this sugary-coated crap though, I’ll list off my reasons. The pacing was painfully slow, making this extended episode feel like the director’s cut of a Peter Jackson movie. Replacing the charismatic, complex characters of those works are cardboard cutouts who are criminally one-dimensional. Even Grumpy, who I maintain is the best character in this series, feels so one-note. Worst of all is the animation. Much as I dogged out Barbie Nutcracker, I can applaud the ambition on display. Somebody clearly put some effort into the final product. At no time did I feel the same could be said for this. This was some paycheck for an animator who clearly wanted nothing to do with these blasted bears. And if all the behind the scenes stories Claire told me are any indication, I might not be too far off. Needless to say, I did not care for this special. I also didn’t care for you suggesting it to me, Claire! So when Seerius dumps something rotten into your stocking, just know that’s from me! For now though, I need a better Holiday special featuring a character voiced by Tara Strong. 

<PREVIOUS REVIEW | INDEX | NEXT REVIEW >

[zoethespiritwolf]

Sweater weather - Jack frost x female! reader

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

Ship: Jack Frost x reader

Warnings: None? Maybe a bit of deprecating thoughts and bad writing, but other than that, nothing more

Genre: Enemies to lovers (kinda)

Fic type: Scenario

A/n: Based on this request. Am I a little obsessed with the trope 'morally grey character turns from villain to hero', especially if it's about ROTG? Absolutely!

Also, this is a relatively short oneshot. Please forgive me, I just got back from a major writer's block so I'm a bit out of practice.

But regardless of that, I truly hope you have a wonderful day and have a friendly dog or cat come up to you to share some love! <3

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

I never had the heart to tell him that he didn't help when my hands got cold.

Even before all of this mess, he would see my hands freezing and offer to warm them up by placing them in the large front pocket of his hoodie. If it were anyone else, it probably would've helped.

But this was Jack Frost we are talking about. The boy who nips your nose in the winter and brings winter and ice wherever he goes. Who's body is just as cold as snow itself.

And yet I still let him put my freezing hands near his body. Because despite my mind screaming at me not to get attached to him, I still managed to fall for him.

Even now, as we both lay in the deep ravine, both being betrayed and abandoned by Pitch with no way of escaping, he still takes his slightly frost-covered hands and brings them to his pocket.

"Come on," he tiredly sighs, bringing me closer to his body, one of his hands still holding mine in his pocket, "your hands are cold."

"It's too cold for us here," I shifted around a bit, in an attempt to look like the position was uncomfortable, rather than give away that I was nearly freezing to death, "I doubt this will do much."

The boy didn't say anything, just leaned back against the side of the ravine, holding me close, the cold slowly seeping into our bones.

And as the silence enveloped us, I started to wonder - why, after everything that I had done, after betraying you, do you still offer to warm my hands?

That after I made you believe that I was your friend who shared your beliefs, after joining Pitch Black the very second I was offered power, recognition, and the possibility to finally be seen, after helping Pitch bring down and destroy everything that was dear to his new friends, the Guardians, after deliberately betraying him for my own selfish gain... he still tried to warm my cold hands with his body.

Just like none of this happened before.

What do you see in me to offer me such kindness?

"You stole my heart," Jack's words made me jump, startling out of my thoughts as I jerked away from him, "And even after everything you did, after ...."

I could see his beautiful blue eyes darken, they reminded me of black eyes - dangerous, if you were not careful. And just as they darkened and the momentary pause stretched on, I could feel the heaviness in my chest become tighter, my guilt rs=ising up my throat like bile.

"After siding with him, I still can't find it within myself to hate you."

"Because I know you were fooled like I was. And most importantly," Jack continued on, slowly tracing patterns on my cold hands with his thumb before looking up, "Because I still love you."

[robbinggoodfellows]

A fun little Nischa holiday fic based on that video I saw of Gus Halper singing Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire

To Mischa the holiday season was a time of constant reminders from his adoptive parents that he was not wanted. Mischa's "parents" never gave him gifts, they barely gave him enough to eat or a warm bed to sleep in at night. And warmth meant a lot in Uranium, especially when the snow was blanketing the town and daring to invade Mischa's basement. So he spent the majority of this December in Noel's arms. With any moment the two had to themselves, Mischa would hold his boyfriend tighter than he felt humanly possible.

At first, this kind of affection which was far from unusual for Mischa was just sweet and endearing to Noel. He found it cute that Mischa wanted to lay directly on top of him, insisting he was Noel's blanket. But as the days leading up to Christmas crept up, Noel wondered why the two of them had not been at Mischa's house in weeks. It was normally their hangout spot because they had much more privacy than at Noel's house where his mother typically burst in to the room at the exact worst time. But as he was waiting for Mischa outside of his last class of the day before winter break, he tried to work up the courage to ask Mischa what was wrong.

Noel had the whole conversation scripted out when he realized Mischa would have normally been there by now. Noel looked around, making sure he was the only one within earshot before calling out "Mischa? Love, where are you?" His answer came in the form of sweet piano music from the choir room.

"Misch?" Noel was standing in the doorway of the room, smiling bigger than he normally did as Mischa stopped playing and looked up. "Hey." Mischa responded, his voice was adorably happy as usual, but a bit of pain found its way into his smile. "Chestnuts, huh?" Noel asked, sitting down on the piano bench next to Mischa and kissing his forehead. "Yeah, I fucked it up a bit though" Mischa laughed, and then he sighed and looked down at the keys. Noel wrapped an arm around Mischa's side, guiding Mischas right hand to the keys. He did the same with his other hand, lacing their fingers together and helping Mischa play the notes slowly.

"Chestnuts roasting on an open fire..." Noel started to sing, he waited to Mischa to continue.

"Jack Frost nipping at your nose" Mischa sang at a barely audible whisper, he was too focused on the piano.

"Yuletide carols being sung by a choir" Noel continued, "and folks dressed up like Eskimos"

Noel let go of Mischa's hands and Mischa barely noticed, he was staring so intensely at the sheet music in front of him.

"Everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe," When Noel sang the word mistletoe, he paused to kiss Mischa's cheek,

"Help to make the season bright." Mischa's hand slipped and he accidentally played the wrong note. "Fuck..." He cursed under his breath. His hands were trembling and when Noel looked closer, he noticed Mischa's eyes watering. "Don't cry my darling, I'm not mad you messed up if that's what you're worried about." Noel reassured, kissing the top of Mischa's head. Mischa shook his head and rubbed his eyes on the back of his arm. "Is not you, my divine poet." Mischa mumbled. Noel thought maybe this was part of why Mischa was avoiding his house.

"Are your parents being worse to you now that it's the holidays?" Noel asked and that's when Mischa broke down. He hugged Noel so tight, face pressed into his lovers shoulder, sobbing. And Noel rubbed his back and reached his free hand up to wipe the tears from Mischa's pink cheeks.

"They say money is tight." Mischa explains, once he's calmed down a bit, "They said they want to have money to buy presents for the people they love and that spending money on a son they did not wish for was useless. So the meals got smaller and when I asked for a blanket they decided to lock me out of my room for whole week because I was 'ungrateful'" Mischa looked at Noel, who was frowning, Mischa cupped his cheek and pressed their foreheads together. "Do not be sad, love. You did not cause problems."

"I know I didn't make your parents shitheads but it still upsets me" Noel responded. "The holidays are stressful enough with all the socializing involved, I can't imagine how hard it must be for you." He added. Mischa just looked at the floor for a few seconds. "Do you think I can stay with you through holidays?" Mischa asked, to which Noel pursed his lips and nodded. "Can we go to my house first so I can get some clothes and maybe grab my backup binder just in case?" Was Mischa's next question. "We can do anything you want, love." Noel whispered.

"Remember Ocean wants us to do something with her for Hanukah so if you can find your mothers latke recipe you always talk about you should bring it!" Noel said cheerfully as Mischa broke the sliding glass door of his basement residence with a rock in order to get in. And if his parents decided not to fix the door, Mischa could make multiple cases for child endangerment from them.

Mischa and Noel went home to Noel's house, which was the only home Mischa would know in Uranium, and the two spent their night cuddled in Noels bed watching Elf. This was Mischas fist normal holiday season. He was so in love.

[peterpparkrr]

All I want for Christmas is you

peterpparkrr’s 12 days of holiday drabbles

2. Christmas music + Sam Wilson

Summary: Sam loves Christmas music. You hate it.

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas! Make the yuletide gay!”

“Chestnuts roasting on an open fire, Jack Frost nipping at your nose.”

“All I want for Christmas is yooooouuuu, youuuu baaabbyyyy!”

It never stops. 

No matter what time of day it is, from the day after Thanksgiving through the entirety of December, Sam’s baritone fills your home with a never-ending shuffle of Christmas songs.

Your first Christmas together you thought it was sweet. Every time you were at Sam’s apartment you’d know where he was, just based on where the soft hum of a Christmas carol was coming from. It was comforting.

You’d moved in together by the time your second Christmas together came around. And that was when you learned that he played and sang Christmas music all season long.

Which was fine. It’s fine. 

Except you don’t exactly like Christmas music. 

Honestly, you hate it.

It’s cringy and hokey and the absolute last thing you want to be listening to. Especially for a month straight.

But you also refuse to damper even a smidge of the unabashed joy and happiness that is Sam Wilson at Christmastime. 

Bing Crosby is crooning when you geet home from work. You’re still taking off your coat and setting down your things when you see Sam come around the corner to greet you.

“Come dance with me, baby,” Sam calls out as he beckons you into the middle of the living room.

“Sam,” You begin to protest.

“It’s just the two of us, don’t be shy,” Sam says.

You finally give in and allow yourself to be pulled into Sam’s embrace, your head coming to rest on his shoulder as his hands wrap around you and you snake your hands around his back.

As you sway in time with the jazzy Christmas music 

“I love you,” Sam murmurs into your hair.

“I love you too,” You reply as you pull away just enough to smile at him. 

“I love that you put up with all the Christmas music even though you hate it,” He adds

“I don’t-” You begin to protest as you pull back a bit more.

“Yes you do,”  Sam says. “But you’d never admit it to my face because you love me. And that’s what I love about you.”

You shake your head.

“When it’s you singing it, or you dancing around the kitchen to it, or us getting to do this? That makes it impossible for me to actually hate this music.”

“A Christmas miracle,” Sam quips with a smile as he presses a kiss on the tip of your nose.

And you two dance like that for the rest of the song, slowly moving together to the music as you just enjoy this kind of moment. It’s not until the song ends that you lift your head off Sam’s shoulder.

“But maybe you could play a little less Michael Bublé?”

[skullrock]

stay - Steve x Reader

12 days of Christmas fics, day 6 - stay 

pairing: Steve x Reader

summary: Steve thinks it’s too cold for Reader to go home, and they agree. Tipsy shenanigans ensue. smut <3

warnings: gentle smut! alcohol mentions and swearin also

word count: 3.3k

a/n: this boi mouthy as heck ! I like writing talkative Steve so much... anyway ! hope u enjoy this! pls heed the smut caution. you can see the masterlist for tdocf here and join the taglist here. 

“Steve, I have to go.”

“One more,” he says, pulling you into him and kissing you again. He tastes like the wine you’d spent the last few hours sharing. He pulls back and smiles dopily. “Okay, wait, one more -“

“Steve,” you say again, pulling away from him, cheeks flushed. “It’s late and there’s going to be snow. I need to leave before I get snowed in.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he says, watching you grab your coat. “Is it so bad to have to spend a night with your boyfriend?”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t have any pajamas.”

“You don’t need any.”

You throw a glove at him. “Perv.”

“Got me.”

You lace up your boots and turn to face him. Steve’s smiling sadly - he always gets like this, tipsy or not. Never wants you to go, ever. He understands you need space sometimes - and so does he - but, god, does he miss you when you’re gone. He holds his arms out and you walk into them, burying your head in the crook of his neck.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you promise. “Unless the snow is bad, in which case, I’ll call you.”

“Not good enough,” he pouts. “Just be snowed in with me. It’s too cold for you to leave.” He smiles. “We have booze here!”

You contemplate it for a moment, but you don’t know how long the blizzard will last. You didn’t want to be stuck in the same outfit for days, and even though Steve insists you can wear his clothes, they don’t exactly fit. So you stand on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Next time.”

He scoffs. “Next time? What if it never snows again?”

“You’re so dramatic.”

He shrugs and kisses the top of your head. “Fine. I won’t make you stay.”

“I’ll see you as soon as I can, okay?”

He nods and crosses his arms, watching as you open the front door of his apartment. You move to step outside, but the reality of the weather slaps you in the face. The roads were covered, to the point where they were nonexistent. There had to almost be a half a foot of snow - the sidewalks were covered. And it was freezing, way colder than it was when you arrived in the early afternoon.

“Holy shit,” you say.

“Holy shit,” Steve repeats behind you. “Did we make out that long?”

“How did it show this much in eight hours?”

Steve makes an I don’t know noise and snakes his arms around your waist. “Looks like you’re gonna have to stay.”

You shut the door and turn to face him, trying to hide your smile. “You did this.”

“I did,” he says, pulling you inside more and stumbling slightly. “I paid Jack Frost one million dollars to make a blizzard.” He frowns slightly. “Do you want me to drive you home?”

“No way. You can’t drive as is, let alone with snow on the road and wine in your system.” Steve rolls his eyes and you kiss his jaw. “I guess I can spend the night.”

Steve smiles and fiddles with the zipper on your coat. “Take this stupid thing off.”

“Oh, you want to pick right back up, huh?”

“Always,” he says, absentminded, tugging your zipper down. “I think our session got cut… short.” He leans down to kiss under your ear, and you groan.

“Can you not be horny for five minutes?”

“Never in my life,” he murmurs, pushing the coat off of your shoulders. “Want me to get your boots?”

“I can,” you say, smirking. You turn around and bend down, making Steve groan, as you untie them.

“It’s not my fault I’m always horny when you do that.”

“What?” you say innocently. Alcohol always left you feeling a little bolder. “I’m just untying my shoes.”

Steve moves to the couch, waiting for you and turning a random channel on to act as ambient noise. The TV plays How The Grinch Stole Christmas, and you scrunch your nose as you come to join him.

“We can’t watch the Grinch while we fuck,” you say.

Steve reaches out to pull you onto his lap. “Why not? It’s festive, it’s fun, it’s definitely sexy -“

“Steve, you have to find something else!”

He rolls his eyes but grabs the remote and flips until he finds another movie. This time, he settles with A Christmas Story.

“Not this, either,” you argue. “There’s kids in it.”

“They aren’t watching us!”

“Well -“

Steve kisses you roughly, which easily shuts you up. He smiles against your lips and murmurs, “That worked.”

You pinch his side and he jumps before kissing you again, pulling you as close to him as possible. He loves feeling your warmth against his chest - being close to you was the happiest he ever felt. He groans when you wrap your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, just enough to rile him up. His hand ghosts at the hem of your shirt before he slides up to cup your breast.

You gasp. “Fuck, Steve.”

“You like that?”

“No, you’re freezing.”

Steve laughs loudly. “I can warm it up right here, then.”

“Whatever works,” you say, and sigh when his lips meet your neck, sucking gently at the skin. He flicks his tongue out before sucking again and moving down, placing careful kisses where he knows you like it. You grind down on him and he moans, bucking his hips up to make you moan.

“You sound so pretty,” he says, gently moving his fingers over your chest. “Look pretty, too.”

“So do you.” You tug at his hair again and he moans once more. “So pretty, Stevie.”

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he says, moving his hand from under your shirt and tugging on it. “Can I see you?”

“You mean the girls?”

“Hell yeah,” he breathes, and helps you move your sweater off.

He’s seen you countless times like this, but the sight always makes his breath hitch. All of you was beautiful - the softness, the squishiness, the curves. You were so soft to touch - and Steve moves his fingertips over your skin, admiring that fact. He smiles when you moan, bucking against him. His hands move to your bra, but just to tease you, not to take it off.

“You were so eager earlier,” you whisper. “And now you want to stall?”

“Not stalling,” he whispers back, eyes tracing over your body. “Just admiring.”

You blush and bite your lip as his fingers move to the band of your bra, unclasping it. He sits the bra aside and stares again, biting his lip too, before reaching out to touch you. You grind on him again as he pinches and squeezes, trying to get him to do more.

“Hey,” he says suddenly, looking up at you. “I want to take my time, okay? Show you how much I love you.”

You smile and run a hand through his hair before moving to grip his shoulders. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he says, smiling, and then leans forward to kiss along your chest. You groan but stay still for him, trying to be patient as he works on you slowly. It’s kind of torture - you’d been fooling around all day just to be teased again. But Steve’s look of pure adoration makes the wait worth it.

“Steve,” you moan, his lips meeting one of your nipples.

“What?” he asks, pulling back and smirking.

“Don’t be a dick.”

“Maybe if you asked nicely….”

You roll your eyes. “Steve. Play with my tits.”

“Please?”

“Please.”

“You’re so polite,” he jokes, then leans forward again to suck a nipple into his mouth. Your hips buck and he moves a hand down to gently grab your waist, steadying you. You dig your fingers into his shoulders as he continues, rolling his tongue over you before sucking again, nipping gently to make you squirm. His grip on your hip becomes harder the more he gets into it, and he’s soon letting out little moans of his own.

“M-more,” you moan, grinding on him. “Please.”

Steve smiles and kisses up your neck again, once more sucking on the sensitive skin there. Frustrated, you grip his hair and tug his head back before littering his neck with kisses, flicking your tongue out just as he was with you. Steve groans and bucks his hips, mouth falling open at the feeling.

“Such pretty sounds, Stevie,” you mock, whispering into his ear. “I think you have too many clothes on.”

“Up,” he breathes, and you roll off of him, working to unbutton your pants as he rips his own clothes off. He sits, and you slide off the couch and onto your knees, smirking as you place yourself in front of him. He’s already hard, tip pink and leaking, and he looks lost for words as you look up at him.

“Someone’s excited.”

“I… yeah,” he says, staring at you with blown pupils.

“Don’t watch the TV,” you say, and he shakes his head fervently.

“No way,” he promises.

You kiss the inside of his thigh gently, trying to hold back a smile as he already starts squirming above you. You alternate thighs with each kiss, moving slow and gentle, flicking your tongue out to make him huff. You kiss at the base of his cock, then up, finally licking at his tip. He groans and throws his head back, but you pinch him gently. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

“Trying,” he pants, looking back at you. “You’re too hot.”

“I know,” you tease.

“Maybe….” he trails off as you lick his tip again, but you stop.

“No, say it.”

Steve bites the inside of his cheek to keep the laugh from bubbling out. “Maybe you could, like, melt the snow.”

“Steve, shut up,” you laugh. “I’m trying to blow you and this is what you give me?”

“You should know how I act by now,” he says, and then gasps when you wrap your lips around his head.

Steve is never quiet. Ever. But he’s especially never quiet during sex. Whether that’s talking, or moaning, or just babbling, he can’t shut up. Add alcohol and he’s a blabbering mess. You listen as he groans and swears above you, taking him in more and more with each bob of your head. You move your hand to his base and move your head in tandem as you pump him.

“Oh, fuck, yes, like that, good -“

“You taste so good,” you moan, moving to kiss his tummy before taking him into your mouth again.

“O-oh, oh, Jesus,” he breathes. “Keep - please - talking -“

You move off of him, continuing your movements with your hand. “You’re so handsome, babe, just look how pretty this cock is.”

“Yes,” he moans, reaching his hand down to tangle in your hair.

Your cheeks redden before you say, “You want me to fuck myself on it?”

Steve moans loudly and pulls you up suddenly, laying you on the couch. He moves to the end of it, trying to face your wet core, but his legs dangle miserably off of the couch end.

“We can go to bed,” you start, but Steve cuts you off.

“Can’t wait,” he says, pulling you towards him awkwardly. “I - god, this hurts my dick-“

“Your bed is -“

Steve’s mouth on your clit makes you interrupt your sentence with a moan. He pulls you closer, licks a stripe up you, before sucking gently at your clit.

“F - Steve -“

“Could eat you out forever,” he groans, pressing a kiss to your clit. His eyes dart up to you and he’s temporarily distracted by how beautiful you look - like an angel, quite honestly. “You’re so gorgeous. How did I get so lucky?”

“I’m only in it for the money.”

“That sucks, because I have none,” he says, then leans forward to flick his tongue against your clit.

“G… good thing… you have a… nice dick,” you pant, and he smirks into you, gently fucking his tongue into you for a few moments before leaning back.

“I’m funny, too. And handsome. And athletic.”

“And smart, and brave, and the nicest person I’ve ever met.” You reach down to run your hand through his hair and he smiles gently up at you.

“Do you want to get off, or keep complimenting me?” He kisses your thigh. “I could go with either.”

Before you can answer, his mouth is on you again. He swirls his tongue around your nub and then fucks his tongue into you gently, never taking his eyes off of your face as he does. He feels himself leaking as you writhe under him, moaning out his name, trying to grind yourself on his face.

“Patience,” he says, pulling away. “Just relax, okay?”

“O… okay.”

Steve works on you again, forcing himself to go slower this time, moving his tongue gently around your core. His legs hurt from hanging off the end of the couch - he thinks it has to look comical - but he doesn’t care. He only cares about you and your pleasure, making you feel good, showing how much he loved you. When your legs start to shake, he pulls back, smiling smugly at you. “Coming so soon?”

“You’re good,” you say, sitting up so that he can awkwardly maneuver himself back onto the couch. You straddle him again, both of you moaning when the head of his cock presses against your folds. You kiss him as passionately and as slowly as you can, moaning when you taste yourself on him. Steve once again pulls you as close as possible, running his hands along your back slowly. Everything was slow, and as much as you wanted him, this felt good, too.

“Hold on,” he pants. “Gotta get a condom.”

“Whyyy,” you whine, climbing off of him. “Can’t you just grow one?”

He scrunches his nose and stumbles again as he heads for his room. “Gross!”

He comes back from his room with a condom and lube - why he wouldn’t just take you to the bed, you don’t know - and he stands in front of you. “How do you want this?”

“Let me ride you,” you say eagerly.

Steve smirks and sits, rolling the condom onto himself. “Just can’t resist me, huh?”

“We would have sex either way,” you say, straddling him again. You take the lube from him and pour some onto the condom, making him groan.

“Yeah, but you’re so obsessed with me,” he says.

Your brain hurts as you try to understand what he’s saying, the alcohol not helping. “Your penis would go into my vagina in literally any position.”

“Yeah, but you want to top me so bad.”

“Do you want me to tell you I love your cock?”

“That would be nice,” he smiles.

Without warning, you sink down onto him, slowly, but enough to make his mouth drop. You bite your lip as you sit on him, feeling him twitch inside of you, and you rest when you’re fully seated. Steve’s still, somehow, pleased into silence, staring at you with his mouth open. You lean forward and press your lips against his ear. “Your cock is incredible.”

Steve groans and grabs your hips. “More, please?”

You rise up slowly, then move back down slowly. Steve’s head lolls back to the couch, but you follow his ear with your lips. “Fill me up so good, baby.”

“Yeah?” he asks, licking his lips, voice cracking.

“So fucking good,” you promise, moving your hips again. “You’re so cute, Steve.”

He mumbles a thank you and you kiss his cheek before picking up the pace, hands on Steve’s shoulders. His mouth falls open and he gets loud again, speaking gibberish and swearing, slowly rocking up into you to meet your hips. Your mouth falls back open when he moves a hand down to circle your clit with his lean fingers. “Oh, fuck, Steve!”

“Yeah?” he asks, fingers digging into your hips. “Feels good?”

You can only nod, continuing to ride him, until he suddenly starts thrusting up into you. He’s quick and hard, and you lean forward to bury your face into the crook of his neck as he continues. He wraps an arm around the back of your waist, his other hand still working at your clit.

“You feel so good,” he groans. “Squeezing me so tight. So hot.”

You laugh suddenly, but Steve’s pace doesn’t falter, even though his brows quirk together.

“Am I go- shit - gonna melt your dick?”

Steve laughs, then moans. “Y… yeah, maybe.”

You grab his face to kiss him as he continues. You almost die when he slides his tongue into your mouth, cock hitting just the right spots. You know you’re close, but you want to focus on Steve, so you move your feet to pin his legs to the couch.

“What?” he pants. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“Wanna be nice and gentle with you,” you whisper, and then start riding him again, slow and deep. Steve moans and presses his hips into the couch to prevent himself from fucking up into you. When you move to suck on his neck again, he whines, and tries to move your hips down on his cock faster.

“Patience,” you moan.

“Goin’ crazy,” he moans. “I’m… I’m close, sweetheart-“

“Come for me, baby boy,” you whisper, right into his ear, making goosebumps form on his skin. “Wanna feel you come in me, sweet boy. Want you to feel good.”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut and works his fingers against your clit quickly, trying to get you to come with him. You gasp and shudder into him, moaning “I’m close,” into his ear, and that’s when he finally lets himself come undone. He shivers and moans loudly, eyes rolling back, thrusting up into you gently. You come soon after, shaking on him, pressing yourself against his chest.

“Shit,” he breathes after a moment. “Holy….”

“Yeah,” you agree. “Yeah.”

“You okay?” he asks, folding his arms around you, keeping you close to his chest.

“Hell yeah I am,” you laugh. “You?”

“Never better.”

You kiss for a moment before sliding off of him. He ties and throws away the condom before joining you on the couch, chest pressed against yours. He kisses you again, gentle and light. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you murmur. “You’re so good and handsome and kind, Stevie.”

He moves to rest his head on your chest, eyes falling shut as you play with his hair.

“Did you tell Jack Frost you needed it to snow to get laid?”

Steve smiles into your skin. “I know I don’t need snow to get you to sleep with me.”

“Just a bottle of wine, right?”

“Noooo,” he says. “You wanna fuck me all the time.”

“True,” you say, pressing a kiss to his head. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

His eyes drift shut as you both watch the end of A Christmas Story, listening to your heartbeat as he holds you.

“Do you wanna move to your bed now?”

“No,” he yawns. “It’s not time to sleep yet.”

“You’re falling asleep right now, Steve.”

“No I’m not,” he says, closing his eyes again. “I’m just laying here.”

You laugh. “You’re impossible, Steve Harrington.”

Steve smiles sleepily. “And you’re beautiful.”

===

steeb tags:  @harrington-ofhawkins @harringtonisadingus @sassisaluxury @gothackedalready @willowrose99 @pxtrickhxckstettxr @harringtown @m-blasterrr @anerroroccurrrrred @marvels-gurl @the-almond-dinger @ssanjuniperoo @darth-el @kurtsbuckethat @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @astil-be @troop-scoop @ilovebucketbarnes​ @punchdescartes@metuel18 @dark-academics-and-florals @simplesammyx @lukeskisses @write-from-the-heart @bethhxrmon @flyingrichardgrayson @scoopsahoy @strangest-hour @lucifer-reads @stevexscoops @prettysbliss @patientplum @theworriedman

[where-dreamers-go]

Winter Writing Prompts

(A/N: Here’s a mixture of dialogue and situation writing prompts. Of course you are free to use, reblog, and have fun writing with these.)

“Jack Frost nipping at your nose.”

The fireplace was more than inviting.

Yet again, the blankets were stolen.

Maybe just…one more marshmallow.

“Throw the snowball like you mean it!”

“Ah! You’re in icicle.” “So, you’re saying I’m sweet?” “That’s a popsicle.”

“You’ve never had a white Christmas?” “Well there was a beignet incident a few years ago.”

They never saw the ice, even when it was too late.

“If you take my blanket, I”m taking you down.” “In a bad way?”

“But baby, it’s—“ “FREEZING! Open the door!”

“Let is snow~.” “You’re getting powdered sugar all over the counter.”

Their slippers were soaked, but at least the snowman had his nose.

“Rain or snow. Blizzard or traffic. I’ll make it back to you.”

Again, the carolers went to the wrong house.

“That….that is not Santa.”

To be wrapped warmly and safe in a blanket. That was the only want.

What was a holiday without rushing around the house/apartment to get ready?

“I ate too much cookie dough.”

“I can make it across snow just fine, but forbid I walk by a table or a doorway without hitting it.”

What was there to be full of cheer?

The marshmallows were a little too toasted, perhaps.

“Wasn’t the snowman over there?”

“No one goes caroling here.”

The amount of coal was alarming.

Frost covered the ground as the morning chill spread.

“Jack Frost didn’t nip my nose. He sent it running.”

[mae-gi-writes]

Kevin Frost | Kevin Moon (The Boyz)

Summary ❄ Being sick every winter sucks, until winter itself decides to bring itself to you in the form of Kevin Frost.

Genre ❄ fluff, fantasy, inspired by Jack Frost (as per my beautiful @nyuwings​ request)

A/N ❄ for my lovely @nyuwings​ with whom I’ve bonded with so quickly I keep wondering whether we’re soulmates. Thank you for your presence and for just being you. Ily. ❤

° . · ❄ · . °

Sighing for the nth time, you placed your hands up against the window, palms turning icy cold as you took in the array of snowflakes floating to the ground. It was that time of the year again, a time that signified celebration as the town of Sleva would get covered in a blanket of what your brothers liked to call fairy dust. Snow would bathe the entire streets white and would glimmer in the light of the street lamps lining the streets. You could already spot the Christmas lights in variants of red and green and yellow gold strung across the main intersections, probably where the Christmas market would be. Right about that time merchants would line the streets with their wooden carts, shouting out about all the fresh sausages and special meats they’d offer for a good price for the festive season. 

You knew Christmas season like the back of your hand. It was ironic then, that you were the only person not allowed out whenever Christmas and winter came around. 

“You’re sick,” your mother had scolded you once when you had mustered up the courage to ask her why you were the only one being left behind, “you’ll die if you go out in the snow.” 

And it was true. Your lungs were small, pea-sized, as the doctor had mentioned at one of your checkups. It was about the same time when you started asking questions, curiosity finally picking away at your logic. Going out in the snow and allowing your body to suffer the cold would deliver a fatal blow to your nervous system. 

He had not, however, told your parents to keep you locked in like a prisoner that would instantly face death the moment you caught wind of cold. But while your parents had taken dramatic measures to keep you tightly tucked in warmth until summer came around once more, you’d like to think that it was more of an exaggeration as an extension of their concern for your well-being, and not the actual truth. 

So that was why you were sitting like the pathetic picture that you were, staring out at the countless other people trudging through snow and laughing as they made up snowballs and built snowmen in their driveways. You wondered briefly what your friends were up to, knowing full well from their recounted stories that at this time of year they’d flock to the bars to catch glimpses of the beautiful young men, soldiers and men from military that would come home from their basecamps on these special occasions. 

“We can sneak you out!” One of your friends exclaimed the first time you had explained the real reason as to why you could barely set foot outside, “And we’ll bring you home before your parents wake up.” 

You shook your head though, politely denying their requests as your heart ached, “it’s fine. You guys have fun.” 

“We’ll find a nice catch for you, Y/N,” another winked at you and you plastered a smile on your face right up until they had turned the corner.

You had cried yourself to sleep that night.

So there you sat every day and night, surprised that your butt hadn’t made an indentation on the chair yet as the sound of your mother’s cooking echoed up the stairs. The attic was where you liked to spend most of your time. It was a place where you could be at peace with yourself and enjoy your own company, the silence that came with it filling your mind with nothing but serenity.

Something flashed across the window. 

Probably a snowball, you thought to yourself as you rubbed your eyes. The smell of your mother’s famous dumplings wafted through the attic room and you sniffed the air, stomach growling in anticipation. There was bound to be a feast on Christmas eve. It was a tradition your family never missed out.

A group of children were busy building a snowman in the yard opposite yours and snuggling a little closer to the window, you pulled your blanket tighter around your frame as you watched them, giggling amongst themselves, while sticking the carrot to form its nose. 

Another flash. So fast and blurred that you cried out in shock and almost toppled over from your seat. 

Blinking, you stared long and hard at what you thought you had seen. If you weren’t mistaken, you swore that it had looked a lot like--

“Hello!” 

You screamed, toppling over for good this time. You landed on your butt and must’ve caused a ruckus for your mother’s voice to float up questioningly, “Y/N? Are you okay?” 

“Fine!” you cried back without tearing your eyes away from the window. 

A boy gazed back at you with amusement glimmering through his eyes. No, not a boy. More like a young man in his twenties, maybe about the same age as you were.

And he was floating.

You opened your mouth only for the words to choke the back of your throat. You coughed instead and didn’t realize that the said young man had propped open the window until you heard him ask, “you good there? That was quite a fall--”

Rushing to clamp a hand over his mouth, you hurriedly looked back towards the staircase. Thank god it seemed like your mother was so engrossed in her cooking and you sighed in relief, before realizing that you were a little too close to the said stranger. 

Pulling away quickly and tugging your blanket over your frame, you hissed out, “who are you?” in a tone that you hoped was threatening enough for him to understand you were not here to make friendly conversation. If anything, he was a stranger and he was weird.

But either he was used to people’s rude demeanour or he just didn’t care, for he merely brushed some snow out of his raven coloured hair before settling himself on the window frame more comfortably. He had a wooden cane gripped tightly in his left hand and his feet were left bare. You wondered briefly whether he was cold.

“My apologies for barging in without introductions,” his voice was melodic, smooth, “my name is Kevin Frost. I’m...winter?” 

Your eyebrows dipped into a frown, “excuse me?”

“I’m winter personified. Kind of like a guardian, weather guardian. In my case, guardian of winter,” he lifted his cane as if proving a point. Except, what was so special about it? It just looked like a tree branch he’d picked up along the way, “I’m responsible for the snow, I guess?” 

“You guess?” 

This guy was crazy. 

It seemed like he read your mind, for he sighed and threw you a sympathetic look, “you don’t believe me.” 

“You end your statements like they’re questions. How am I supposed to be convinced by that?” 

Kevin lifted his hand at your words and as he twirled his fingers through air, a wisp of snowflakes suddenly danced along his knuckles as if by magic. Blinking in astonishment, your jaw fell open without warning and he chuckled, “close your mouth, sweetheart. You might catch a fly.”

You snapped your mouth shut, “there are no flies in winter,” you muttered through narrowed eyes while crossing your arms over your middle, “so say what you’re saying is real...What does that mean?” 

“That I control winter, kinda. I come around every year when the season rolls around.”

“Why?” 

“Why? Because the world needs winter,” he scoffed as though you had asked the most stupidest question, “without winter, the cycle would be broken.” 

“Well, you can take your winter and use it elsewhere.” 

He looked at you for a second too long that you couldn’t help but shift uneasily under his darkened gaze, “What?” you asked, though averting your eyes at the sudden change in his demeanour.

“You don’t like winter.” 

He said it like a statement. Without question. Confident that what he told was the truth. 

And he was right.

“What?!” it was his jaw that fell open this time, “so what? You’ve never touched snow before?” 

“I don’t,” you answered.

"Why not?"

Biting the inside of your cheek, you said, “I...my health isn’t the best during winter. I can’t go out.” 

You shook your head and his eyes grew even wider if that was possible, so baffled by your statement that he almost dropped his cane, “Oh that is really shitty.”

“Oh yes,” your eyes glued themselves to the floor, “that’s me.” 

The silence that followed made your heart drop. Why were divulging your darkest thoughts to a mere stranger? And one that climbed through windows and could weld snow like it was as easy as breathing? 

But Kevin’s hand reached out, palm open and facing upwards as his face softened. It was almost like he understood what it felt like to be different, deprived from something that everyone else could enjoy, “I think I can help with that.” 

“Uhm,” your eyes were skeptically analyzing the small wisps of cold air surrounding said hand, “I don’t think that’s the answer--”

“Just trust me.” 

“You’re a stranger.”

“And I’m the only way you can enjoy winter.” 

Maybe it was the truth that rang through his words despite barely knowing him, or maybe it was the idea of finally being free of the bodily chains that held you down and just out of reach of the unknown. But one look at the dark obsidian orbs that swam with nothing but an open invitation was enough to make you reach out, hand gently placing over his and shuddering slightly at the icy coldness of his fingers. 

"Allow me,” he murmured as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder before tugging you with him. And before you knew it, you were tumbling out of your window and into open air as you whipped along with the wind that carried you forward, over the houses, over the cityscape bathed with snow with Kevin’s hold tightening every so slightly on your frame. 

A gust of wind blew in your direction and your shoulders tensed, readying yourself to feel the air nip at your skin and skittle across your clothes with those icy fingers. 

But nothing. Nothing but a soft warmth that slowly spread through your limbs, almost as though you had sat by a warm campfire with a mug of warm hot chocolate. Your eyes shot up to meet Kevin’s, who only grinned at you with playful mischief. 

“Told you that you’d be safe with me, didn’t I?” 

With that, he swooped you along, the edge of your dress skimming the top of houses. You didn’t realize you were yelling in delight the higher you went as your legs dangled. Tingles shot down your spine and into your feet as you looked down at the ground, butterflies roaming your stomach in a mixture of fear and excitement. 

“Oh!--” the air stuck in your throat the moment you spotted the Christmas market, “Is that--Is that the Christmas market?!”

His chuckle grazed your ear, “sure is.”

“And that’s the church! Oh my gosh--It’s so pretty!” Gasping at the wondrous sights that appeared before you like a movie you’ve been dying to watch, you can’t help but tear up in blind joy. This, this is what you’ve been missing out on all this time? You couldn’t believe it; how magical it all was, how authentically beautiful and breathtaking. It was almost like looking into a snow globe. Untouchable. 

“Are you--Are you crying?” the panic laced in Kevin’s voice made you burst out laughing as you felt the ghost of his hand swiping at your cheek. It felt weird hanging in mid-air being too close to a man -- or could you call him a man? -- that was currently wiping away your tears like it was the most mundane occurrence. But at this point you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“No I’m just--It’s beautiful. I--I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on all this,” you spluttered out, chest tight with emotion, “why hasn’t anyone ever told me?” 

“Well to be fair, we are above all humans,” his murmur was so close to your ear that you turned out of curiosity, only to swallow hard at the closeness of your faces. 

You looked away, “and you’re not human?” 

You sensed his hesitation, “...not exactly.” 

“Then what are you?” 

Another round of silence as he struggled to give a coherent answer. Something told you that you weren’t going to be fond of all that he had to say. 

“It’s complicated.” 

You didn’t fight him, knowing full well that it would provoke more questions than provide you answers. He tugged you along silently over the house chimneys, allowing you to ogle at the arrays of food merchants littering the streets and settling you atop one of the roofs to enjoy a live show of musicians in Sleva’s Square. Curiosity burned at the tip of your tongue whenever you caught yourself looking at him for a second too long. But it seemed like your earlier conversation had dulled the light in his eyes and you decided it was best to keep your mouth shut, instead focusing on clapping along to the sound of merry jingles floating through the air.

It was past midnight when Kevin deposited you at your window sill, gingerly settling your feet onto the ground as you allowed your eyes to find his own dark orbs reflecting the dim light of the attic. 

You licked your lips that had run dry from the slow ebbing warmth of Kevin’s presence, “thank you, for today.” 

His grin was contagious, for you felt your own lips tug into a smile, “you’re welcome, sweetheart.” 

You couldn’t help the blush from spreading up your neck at the little pet name that he had garnered, “so who’s the next lucky lady then?” you were quick to change the subject, “you can’t tell me I’m the only who gets to ride along with Kevin Frost.”

He smirked and you swore your heartstrings tugged. Reaching up with his hand, he proceeded to tuck your hair behind your ears and only grinned a little wider when your face flushed.

“You are,” he whispered, and with another cold gust of wind, he was gone before you could utter another word. 

° . · ❄ · . °

Kevin Frost’s presence was starting to become a constant in your life that winter, dropping by on numerous occasions throughout the day and night as he kept you company. He entertained you with stories of his day; how he’d helped a few children ice skate by freezing the entire lake over, or how he’d made it snow a little harder for others to get enough snow to finish off their snowman.

Sometimes, he would whip up some Christmas creations in your attic itself and wrap you in his arms as he danced along to the snowflakes cascading from your ceiling. He’d hum to a few Christmas tunes as you went, stepping onto his feet and him on yours because-- you’d realized shortly after -- that he wasn’t as such of a good dancer as he claimed he was. 

Most nights though, he’d make it a must to fly you to one of the rooftops to enjoy the scenery. You would huddle closer for warmth, your blanket heavy on your shoulders and his arm around you keeping you heated while you exchanged stories of your past and childhood. In exchange he would recollect where he’d come from; how his earliest memory had started from the moment he’d fallen out of an icicle in the North Pole and how, from that day onwards, he’d fly around the world to provide snow when it was necessary.

“So that means you’ll be gone once spring comes around?” you couldn’t help the words that slipped from your mouth. Coughing a little, you nestled closer out of instinct. For some reason, you had been a little weaker these past few days, reason being the numerous secret outings after dinner time. Not that you had mentioned that to your mother when she’d commented on your physical state. That was recipe for disaster.

"My duty will lie elsewhere when that time comes."

"I notice you always talk in riddles whenever you don't want to say things that will hurt people."

He glanced at you, maybe out of shock or maybe just because he already knew how you'd picked up on his habits in the few days that you had spent together.

When he spoke next, his voice was a raspy whisper, “I don’t like hurting people.”

"Don’t avoid my question, Kevin Frost.” 

The words hung between you like a cold breath of winter. Kevin’s skin was warm and yet, your fingers felt numb from gripping one of the roof tiles too hard. 

“Yes,” he pressed his lips together, “I’ll be gone. Until the next winter season.” 

“So you’re leaving me.”

“I never said I was going to stay.” 

The words stung like bees, as though someone had reached into your chest for the sole purpose of squeezing your heart until it pinched with pain. 

He must’ve regretted his outburst, for in the silence that followed there was a soft mumble of his apology. 

"And you said you didn’t like hurting people,” you scoffed and saw him wincing from the corner of your eye, “that’s exactly what you’re doing.” 

Gathering up your skirts and wrapping the blanket a little tighter around your shoulders when you felt a gentle whoosh of the winter air scald your skin, you muttered, “I’d like to go home now.” 

The fly back was laden with a heavy silence that pressed down on your throat and made your eyes burn with the onset of tears, though you refused to cry for him. You knew, deep down, that he’d be gone in the blink of an eye. He wasn’t the personification of winter for nothing and it ultimately wasn’t his fault for leaving you. 

He wasn’t to blame. 

It was just a matter of unleashing your own frustrations because you were going to miss him. More than he could imagine.

The moment your feet touched the wooden edge of your window sill, you fought the urge not to turn around and bury yourself into his arms. He grasped your hand, the other around your waist as he helped you inside like he always did, except this time your heart skipped a beat despite the small pang of pain resonating through your chest. 

“Y/N,” came his murmur the moment your feet touched your attic floor. You turned around reluctantly, heart collapsing the moment you caught sight of the glistening wetness in Kevin’s dark orbs. 

“I--” he took a shaky inhale, stepped towards you until you were close enough for your feet to touch, “I never wanted you to get attached, nor did I want to get attached...to you.”

Your head angled to the floor as you bit your lip, not wanting him to see how much you were breaking inside. 

"Oh come here sweetheart,” and that was when his arms laced around your middle to pull you close, a movement so surprising that it made you gasp. Your hands flew to his chest to push him away, only for him to hold on a little tighter and nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck. Your heart felt like it had suddenly been ignited with fireworks, heat coursing through your veins at the sudden display of affection that left you lightheaded.

“I don’t like seeing you unhappy,” his whisper echoed through your ear and as if on impulse he tightened his hold. 

“You’ll...” you broke off when the tears started choking you up, arms going around his chest to press your cheek against his collarbone, “you’ll come back though. You can promise that...right?”

Feeling him nod, you pulled away to get that same affirmation from his eyes, which you did once your gazes locked. Gently, Kevin’s hand went up to hold your cheek, brushing his thumb slightly over your cheekbone and causing your breath to stutter inside your throat. 

Time felt like it had stopped as you stood there, unmoving, just watching the shades of dark brown moving to soft maroon of Kevin’s eyes as the light danced against his face. 

And then he leaned down. His lips feathered over your forehead before pressing a soft, chaste kiss upon it, “I promise.” 

° . · ❄ · . °

As Winter slowly ebbed away with the arrival of Spring, so did Kevin Frost. It was as if you were waking up from a dream all this time, a dream that you hoped would last forever. It was only when it was warm enough to step outside that you spotted all of his silent messages displayed across the town. Ice sculptures depicting two miniature figures flying through the sky, dancing on rooftops and laughing together paved the way from the door of your backyard to the edge of your fencing and you swore that if you had been alone you would’ve broken down into tears.

But you held on to that thin strand of hope that Kevin Frost would return the next winter. You hoped. Believed that he would keep his word. 

Summer was a daze where you occupied yourself helping your brothers, who had recently bought a stand to open up a bakery shop at the end of your street. As you slowly started learning the ropes of rolling dough out and making confectionaries that the locals were so fond of, you slowly developed the skill of decorating them to your liking; which was winter-themed. Soon enough, cookies in the forms of snowflakes were being displayed, there were icy popsicles in the shape of ice-skating rollers, cakes to show the frozen lake and small figurines dancing atop its surface icing. 

The one creation that sold the best out of all these was the pastry depicting a scene from when you and Kevin Frost had sat upon a roof, heads nestled close and looking like there wasn’t anywhere else in the world you’d rather be. You had carved into the dough with the best of your ability, with the details springing from the golden crust once it had gone through the oven as bits and pieces of white chocolate made up the snowflakes falling in that idealistic landscape.

"My daughters just love your creations!” One lady once stated as she bought a cake box and about dozens of your pastry, “she finds them so adorable that she shares them with her friends at recess!” 

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m glad she likes them,” you smiled back as you exchanged the box of goodies for some gold coins. Your brother, named Hyunjae, nudged you the moment the woman was out of earshot, “so now that we’ve established that you know how to bake. Care to elaborate where you met this man?” 

“What?” you tried keeping your face impassive. But you’d be a fool to think your brother would be satisfied with your obliviousness. 

“Y/N, I’d like to know whatever’s going on in that little head of yours,” Hyunjae slung an arm around your shoulder with a sly smirk, “so do please enlighten your brother before he finds that man and lands him one.” 

You gasped, “You wouldn’t dare!” 

“Well it seems like he’s breaking your heart, whoever that man in the pastry is.” 

"I--He’s--There’s no one.”

“Y/N.” 

“Hyunjae, leave her alone,” your eldest brother, who went by the name of Younghoon, just threw Hyunjae a stern stare, “she’ll tell us when she wants to.” 

“You’re no fun Younghoon.” 

Before you knew it, the temperature had dropped and the lush greenery of the foliage adorning the town slowly turned to warm hues of orange and red and yellows that fell to the ground, signalling that a new season was making its way through Sleva. Working in your house kitchen was a given now that it was too cold for your body to handle. You woke up before down each day to prepare the set of pastries and adorned cakes that your brothers would then transport to the market place as you watched, waving until their figures disappeared behind the wooden structures of the buildings. 

And then, the first snow came. 

You weren’t exactly sure when or how Kevin Frost was going to make his appearance. It had been so long that your memory fogged up whenever you tried to remember the details of his features. Did he have a mole at the corner of his eye or was that just a figment of your imagination? Nevertheless, the first time you spotted snowflakes drifting to the ground, there was a rush of adrenaline through your heart and you just knew that Kevin Frost was here.

That night, you set up the fire in your attic as per usual and gathered your blanket around you before huddling over to the edge of the window. No expectations, your mind told you, no expectations that he’d make it to you today. And that was alright.

Your hand went to press against the window pane. It was cold. It sent a shiver through your body and you coughed slightly, muffling it with your palm. 

Who were you kidding? There was absolutely no reason why you sat at the edge of the window with your palms bearing the cold if not for one glimpse of Kevin Frost, one sign from him that he had returned with the winter that buried Sleva in its magical beauty.

You imagined him now, that playful asymmetrical smirk and those gorgeous feline eyes and the tender way he would look at you whenever you would spark a conversation that would keep you awake till the early hours of the morning.

You missed him.

Breath fogging up the glass as your nose went to press against it, you took this moment to close your eyes. 

Get a grip Y/N. You had to live your life just like he was living his. He wasn’t even human, so why? What made him so important that you felt like your heart was constantly dancing to the rhythm of his voice? 

Your eyes fluttered open as you took a breath--

Only to look straight into Kevin Frost’s eyes. 

Gasping in shock, your jaw fell slack as you gazed at his face from behind the window pane, his hand pressing up where yours was as he grinned back at you.

“Kev--” your throat felt tight, “Kevin?” 

Your hands scrabbled for the latch. You flung it open.

He was here. He came back as he had promised.

Your heart swelled twice the size of your chest, tears gathering along your eyes so that they made your sight all blurry as you reached out to feel his hands clasping your own and before you knew it, you were being cradled to Kevin Frost’s chest as he held you as though he was never going to let go.

“Kevin?” your murmur was muffled against his shirt and reaching out to cup your cheek, he tilted your face towards his in a manner so gentle that your lungs seemed to stop functioning altogether. 

His eyes were the same dark obsidian, his nose scrunching in that same manner of his whenever he was deeply amused and whether it was due to your shock, you weren’t about to make a comment when he was here in the flesh, in your arms. 

“Long time no see,” his mouth was pressed to your temple and he pecked the area, over and over again like he himself couldn’t quite believe it, “sweetheart.” 

His pet name made you laugh, though the tears now pooled down your cheeks, “long time indeed.” 

“Kept my promise though, didn’t I?” his hand went up to smooth over the back of your head in an affectionate manner and you swore you felt your heart melt at his touch.

“Still as cocky as ever.” 

“Admit it, you missed me.” 

You grumbled out a small whine of agreement while looking away and Kevin only chuckled in response. He pushed back your hair, curled it behind your ear before cupping your cheek once more as he searched your gaze.

The intensity of his dark orbs made something in your chest constrict, hands tightening ever so slightly on his shirt, “what? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“I wanted to try something.” 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I saw a bunch of couples doing it so it got me thinking.” 

Heat spread through your cheeks and coursed down the back of your neck at how casually he seemed to handle the matter. It must’ve been obvious from the look on your face for Kevin only chuckled and bent down so close that his nose brushed yours, eyes slowly drifting shut when he angled his head to the side.

When his lips touched yours, you swore your heart burst into a million of fireworks. 

A shy, tentative kiss. A first kiss for Kevin Frost. That was for sure. 

It felt unreal, cold lips against warm ones that made you shudder out of the sheer sensation. His hand moved to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he caught your lower lip between his own. You let out a small sound of appreciation and spurred on, he kept on kissing you that way over and over again while his other arm tugged you close so that you were pressed up to him, all of your curves molded to his hard frame.

He pulled back and for the first time in forever he was the definition of being flustered, red cheeks and shy smile, “how...how did it feel?” he asked like a little five year old boy. 

The grin that almost split your face in two was priceless and you'd never know that his heart was racing hundred miles an hour the moment you did.

"Cold," you giggled at his confused frown, "...and magical."

Satisfied with your answer, the young man pressed another kiss to your cheek in a manner so delicate it made your insides blossom with butterflies.

"So," Kevin turned towards the now open window which was now coated in snowflakes, "shall we?"

Your hand slipped into his as you made your way to the ledge, noting the gentleness of his arm as it wound around your waist and caressed your side.

"Show me what you've made of this winter, Kevin Frost."

[leileisa]

midnight encounters [hanamaki takahiro x reader]

pairing: hanamaki takahiro x reader

warnings: none, zip, zero, n/a

word count: 1.5k

a/n: lowkey for @noya-sleftankle​ but nobody tell her🙄

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

there was always something about the night sky that made you never want to go to sleep. maybe it was the stillness of the city, with the street lamps that glowed a dim off-white and unforgivingly exposed the empty roads and sidewalks. or maybe it was the cool air that somehow always managed to calm you as you sat on the wooden bench that belonged to the park barely two blocks away from your house with a near-boiling cup of coffee in your hands. though you come out to the park to think, you’ve never actually come up with an answer as to why you like to stay up.

when you hear people talk about sleep, and how it’s ‘one of the easiest things to do’, and how it’s a moment to just forget what’s going on in your life, you feel conflicted. yes, it’s one of the easiest things to do, and yes, it’s also a way to forget, but that’s what makes falling asleep one of the scariest things as well. time flies by so quickly when you’re asleep, and you have no clue what’s going on in your surroundings. it’s like you’re willingly giving up your awareness just for a few moments of peace that you wont ever remember. and when you think about people freely giving away their consciousness, you can’t help but feel unsettled.

maybe you’re just at odds with everyone else in your city, but the last thing you want to do is forget.

to you, thinking is how you learn and improve. in order to grow as a person one has to reflect on their thoughts, and there’s nothing better than to do that when the moon is out and all other distractions that are present during the bustling days are doing the very last thing you want to do: sleeping.

and while doing it at an empty park in the dead of night seems like an unusual place to think, there’s an odd sense of familiarity that encourages a constant endurance of thinking that you can’t ignore. you tend to lose all sense of your surroundings when you’re thinking, and even though it irks you that being ignorant to your surroundings while lost in thought is the same unawareness that someone has when they’re asleep, you’re biased and believe that there’s nothing that tops indulging yourself in your imagination. and yes, you know it’s dangerous, but there’s always a sense in comfort when you know you’re not alone.

“hey there, stranger.”

it’s not exactly a false statement- you don’t know his name, and he has no knowledge of yours. You don’t really have a clear picture as to what he looks like, either. It’s always cold outside when you two happen to stumble across each other, and tonight, it just happens to be snowing. there’s white all around, and jack frost is definitely nipping at your nose, but there’s a warmth that floods through your body when his voice breaks your train of thought.

“hey, stranger.”

it’s not much of a response, but for some reason when you two have these inconsistent interactions, your mind comes to an abrupt stop. it’s unusual, rare, an absolutely almost impossible thing to happen to you, but there’s not really a lot of thinking when this stranger comes around to your park bench. for some reason, things almost come naturally, and no thought is needed.

“sorry i’ve been m.i.a for so long,” he says, clearing off the snow on the bench to sit next to you. it has been a while- a couple of weeks, actually, but you know it’s not his fault. you understand that things get busy. life sucks, you’re well aware, but there’s always things to look forward to. you’d ‘found it hard to admit, at first, but the company of a stranger who avoids sleep just as avidly as you do gives you a sense of relief. “sometimes i think i bother you when you’re out here.”

“it bothered me in the beginning,” you say, handing your hot cup to him when you noticed that he was sporting gloveless hands. “here, it’s cold. i’ve heard frostbite is quite an unpleasant experience.”

he laughs at that, and you can’t help but smile. he takes the cup without hesitation and says a soft ‘thank you’ in response. he knows that the liquid inside is coffee, because you tell him that it is. but he also knows that you’re not one to drink coffee (tea is your favorite, he remembered), and he can’t help but wonder if the only reason you brought it out here is because he mentioned that coffee was his preferred caffeinated drink of choice.

“good thing i’ve got you here to keep me warm, huh?”

you can tell that he’s grinning without even thinking, and when you look up to meet his eyes, you’re exactly right. his face is scrunched up in the goofiest smile you’ve ever seen, and you just shake your head and let out a quiet laugh of your own.

“it’s a good thing that i’m always thinking one step ahead.” you retort, leaning into his shoulder as he wraps the arm that doesn’t hold his cup around your shoulders.

“you’re always so thoughtful,” he says, squeezing your shoulder. “to be honest, that’s why i think i bother you. i feel like i disturb your peace and queit out here.”

“you do,” you agree, “but i don’t mind it when it’s you that interrupting. i don’t have to think when i talk to you.”

“you’re too sweet,” he takes a sip of the coffee you gave him, “again, i’m sorry for being gone for so long. life’s been stressful.”

“you’re never obligated to come see me,” you say, moving the arm around your shoulder into your lap. he intertwines his hand with yours, and the simple yet intimate action makes your cheeks burn a darker shade of pink than they were a few moments ago. “but if you ever want to, you know how to find me.”

he goes silent, and you can tell that he’s pondering hard at something. he’s not one to do this, you know him, you know that he’s more of a ‘speak before you think’ kind of person. he’s biting at his lip and chewing on the inside of his cheek, and you can hear the slight tapping of his finger against his cup. they’re signs that he’s thinking too hard, that he’s probably stressed about something, so you open your mouth to speak-

“you can-“

“i want-“

you both speak at the same time, and it makes the both of you let out a laugh. his shoulders relax as he takes a deep breath, and tells you to go first. “i just want you to know that you can tell me anything,” you say.

“so you promise you wont hate me for what i’m about to say next?” he asks, and you get worried. his thumb is rubbing in circles around your hand, and you place your other one on top of it to try and calm him down.

“i promise.” you reassure him. he shifts his body to turn and face you, but he’s looking at your hands when he speaks.

“i want to see you tomorrow,” he says, and you’re confused. he know’s you’re always here, at the same bench, at the same time at night, and he knows he has your full permission to come visit you, but-

“tomorrow as in tomorrow afternoon, or morning, or-or any time when the sun is out. i want to see you more.” he blurts it out, and you can tell that this, this is the kind of thing that your stranger would say to you. it’s something that’s in the moment, hasty and hurried as he tries to put his thoughts together. but he knows what he’s saying, and so do you.

“ok,” you say. “i’m okay with that.” and the way that he looks at you, with eyes wide and mouth slightly open, and the off-white illumination from the street lamp behind you, you just know that this is a sight that you’ll be thinking about for a vast majority of the future.

“i’ll take you on a date,” he promises, and you just grin up at him. he’s cupping your hands in his much larger ones, and there’s flecks of white on his brown-pink hair, and his smile is so bright you almost doubt that the moon is out.

“you know where to find me?” you joke, because it’s obvious where you’ll be. this is the same spot where you’ve meet countless times in the past months, with the same darkness and quiet that provides you peace of mind.

“of course i do.” you can’t help but feel excited to see what it’s like in the day time, full of kids, adult, dogs and so many other things. it’ll be a completely different change in scenery, but with you can’t help but be reassured in the fact that your stranger will be right besides you.

“i’ll even beat you to it.”

and it’s like hell that you’ll ever let that happen.

[jaeminlore]

If The Moon Tells You Something | Taeyong

summary: if the moon tells you something, believe it.

words: 4.1k+

category: jack frost au, rise of the guardians references and easter eggs, taeyong is a cutie, also inspired by my ocs raven, bc i love him

Fairy lights are strung across your headboard. They keep slipping off of the left corner, though, because your window is wide open. Winter hasn't been kind to your university's campus at all. Snow has been pelting the ground since the early morning.

Wind howls through the open window, rattling the pane and sending your thin, white curtains to billow out.

"This is ridiculous," you mutter. You head toward the pane and struggle to push it down, wondering why your house has to be so old; so finicky in extreme weather. Soon, your upper body is shivering from you leaning outside to brush away some of the heavy snow that had accumulated around the pane.

You can see the edge of your roof from your uncomfortable stretching. Snow falls onto your face as if it had been kicked off, so you wonder if there's an owl or a squirrel trying to make a small home for the night.

Instead, a boy peaks over. He smiles.

You shriek and back into your room, scraping your back on the wooden pane. "Ow," you bemoan quietly.

Hesitantly, you peak back out and are startled once again to see that the boy has — assumedly — jumped down to the awning just under your window. "Hello!" He greets, as if he is nothing but a casual passerby on the streets.

His dark locks are covered in white frost, and his lips are a blueish-purple. His eyelashes seem to be completely covered with icy snow. When he blinks at you, some of the melted ice trails from his eyelashes down his pale cheeks.

To you, he looks ethereal. Almost too beautiful to be human. It unnerves you, even more than him showing up unannounced in the middle of the night. "What— Who are you?"

He smiles, teeth sparkling. The air turns white when he talks. "I'm Taeyong."

You furrow your brows. "Are you trying to be Jack Frost or something? Because I'm pretty sure he doesn't scare people just before they're going to sleep!"

Taeyong is sitting cross-legged beneath your window. His elbows are perched on the sill and his chin is rested upon his palms. "Jack Frost is just a pseudonym. Like John Doe. I've been out all night doing icicle runs."

"What are icicle runs?"

"It's where I run across everyone's roof and leave icicles in my wake. It's a vital part of winter, you know." He says it so seriously, and his brown eyes glint with nothing but sincerity.

"So the legends are real?" you manage to breathe out, teeth beginning to chatter.

He laughs, and it sounds to be the warmest thing about him. "Am I going to start nipping at your nose? Maybe." He reaches out and pokes your nose.

You scrunch up your face as the chilliness spreads throughout your body. "Why don't you go bother someone else?"

Taeyong pauses. He looks almost sad. "Not many people can see me, you know? Usually just children. Really smart children who believe in myths adults struggle so hard to understand. Maybe the belief has never outgrown you."

You blink. "Maybe not."

"So I'm bothering you for now." The corners of his eyes crinkle.

You think of your assignment. An art piece on something you strongly believe in. Something abstract and realistic at the same time. Something that makes people think. Something that makes people believe what you do.

Usually, you'd be up to your chest in anxiety over such a large project, especially with it being due over winter break. However, you're snowed in this winter break, with no flights going in or out for a few days. You and your family decided it would be smart to refund the tickets and try for spring break instead.

The thought of spending the holidays alone, without your family, breaks your heart.

All this to say that you're nearly done with your project, since there's nothing better to do besides wallow around in your dorm or snoop through your absent roommates secret candy stash.

You're a bit at odds right now, wondering if the boy in front of you is real, or merely a fatigue-induced mirage crafted up from your extensive research on mythical legends and other things the majority of people tend to believe — at least to an extent.

"I'm real," the boy says. He drops into your dorm, and as soon as his bare feet hit the linoleum, a thin sheet of ice ripples across your floor, breaking apart like lightening bolts. It almost looks as if your floor is now a frozen lake, cracking to reveal the cold depths beneath. "At least, to you."

"So you're just a figment of my imagination?" You rubs your eyes. Once, twice. Then you blink. "You're still here."

"I'm not a figment of anything," he laughs. His eyes crinkle at the sides and there's a certain purity that seems to escape him in that moment. "I'm a guardian. I'm real. But only people who believe can see me."

"I didn't know I believed that much," you mumble to yourself.

A chill creeps down your spine, making you jolt in shock. You spin around, and Taeyong is just behind you, his pointer finger pressed between your shoulder blades.

"This is crazy," he whispers, more to himself than to you. "Not many people believe in Jack Frost, you know. Especially not adults."

"I'm barely an adult," you compensate. "I'm a college student. It's not like I have no wonder left in me."

Taeyong cocks his head to the side. Then he grins. His lip draw upwards into a wide, joyful expression. His eyebrows knit together, and you notice very briefly, that his eyes shine a certain hue of blue in the light. "Wonder. What a wonderful thing, huh?"

"I suppose."

Taeyong leaps back outside, and that's when you notice he isn't standing on anything. He's flying; floating in mid air with no foothold or handle anywhere.

You rush to the window and lean out, eyelids squinted as you try to catch a glimpse of him before the wind takes him away.

For a moment, you notice that he now has a staff in his hand. A long, hooked staff that resembles a gnarled tree branch of some sort. He holds it up, points it at the sky, and then he's gone.

And in his place, snowflakes fall.

-

"Do you believe in Jack Frost?" You ask your professor the next day. You're sitting with the old man outside on one of the many picnic tables around the campus. He's enjoying his own peaceful lunch break.

You, however, have nothing to do, and this is his last day of work until after winter break is over. You're beginning to think last night was just a strange dream, and you need someone to back you up. Therefore, your art professor.

He's one of those jolly old men who look like a mix between a mad scientist and Santa Claus. Professor Joyce, for instance, has a short white beard and bushy eyebrows that just nearly cover his friendly brown eyes. Currently, he is wearing khaki shorts and hiking boots, leaving his calves exposed to the harsh incoming winter. He's munching on carrot sticks, pondering your question with a ruddy smile. "Why? Has someone nipped at your nose?"

"Not exactly," you say, struggling to laugh at the joke that has him in mild stitches. "It's just... he's in Christmas songs, and he has like, ten movies named after him. I just wonder where the legend came from, and if it's real."

"I suppose all legends are real as long as there is belief. Who is to say that what exists in your head is not just as real as what is right in front of you? The entire system of belief begins with faith; the ability to believe what isn't seen."

"Yes, but say you did see something. Something most people don't believe in. How do you know that it wasn't a dream?"

"What did you see?" Professor Joyce narrows his eyes at you.

"Nothing," you speak quickly. "Nothing. I'm sure of it."

You wish him happy holidays, and let the man finish his lunch in peace. On your walk back to the dorm, you realize just how empty the campus is once students begin to return home. Only a few classes are left before break officially begins tomorrow, and only a few people are staying over break.

You wish you had followed your roommates lead and took your flight a week early. Lots of students had done that, after reading the weather reports and deciding it was smarter to simply miss a few classes rather than miss their entire winter break.

But no, you were dumb enough to think the storm would simply cease rather than get worse. Now you're stuck on campus looking like a fool, while only a few others mill around, matching your dismal mood.

You walk up the steps to your dorm building. The steps are coated in a thin sheen of ice, and the moment your sneaker sole steps on the last step, you slip and fall backwards. You close your eyes and brace for the impact of steps against your back, when you fall into someone's arms instead. Someone's very thin, cold arms.

"Woah there, better watch your step."

You jolt, jump out of the boy's arms and turn around. "Taeyong?" Hesitantly, you reach out and touch his hoodie-clad chest, surprised to feel solid muscle beneath it. You had half-expected your hand to fall right through.

"Questioning your beliefs again?" His voice is quiet; there's small smile on his face that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm real, y'know."

You ignore him and continue to head towards your dorm. However, instead of taking the hint, Taeyong walks alongside you, steps spritely. Once you reach your door and stop, taking out your keycard, he stops too, and leans against his staff, simply watching you. "How interesting," he murmurs.

You avoid his gaze and push into your room. "What?"

"You don't want to believe in me, yet you do. That's not usually how it works."

"I don't believe in Jack Frost," you say. You notice the way the light dims behind his kind eyes, and for a moment you wish you could take it back. "But you're here. You're in front of me, and I can't say you aren't real, because it's obvious you are."

Taeyong raises his eyebrows. "I suppose. But I'm only visible to you because you believed beforehand. So you're lying to me."

"I'm not," you say. "I don't believe in fairytales."

"Hmm," Taeyong hums. He skips towards your desk and finds your laptop, open to your last researching topic before you went to take a walk. "The Legend of Jack Frost. You believe in me."

His sing-song voice irritates you only mildly. "I don't," you insist. "I'm studying you. It's for... its for an art project."

"An art project," Taeyong settles his arms across his chest. "So I'm your muse then."

"No," you say.

"Of a sorts."

"Of a sorts," you grit out. "But I was just looking you up after last night. I wasn't planning on you returning."

"And why not?" Taeyong pouts, leaning against his staff again. "You're the only one who believes in me for, like, miles. I want to hang out with you."

"Well, I have work to do, so if you're staying, stay quietly."

"I will!" Taeyong leaps onto your roommates bed and crosses his legs. Frost trails across the mattress and up the headboard. It creeps up the wall and covers the poster of your roommate's celebrity crush. "I promise."

"Okay." You resolve that even if he is just a figment of your imagination, you should still work on your project. You pull up your design page and begin brainstorming. There are many things you believe in, but none strong enough to convince others to believe as well. Nothing comes to mind, so you sit in front of your laptop screen, chewing on the end of your stylus.

You shiver.

"Sorry," Taeyong finally speaks up. "That's the unfortunate side of being my friend: it's always cold."

You grab your blanket off of your bed and wrap it around your shoulders, eyeing the small man as he sits still, just as you asked. He looks preoccupied, touching each polaroid on your roommate's wall and turning it to frost. You wonder briefly how much lasting damage that will have on the picture. But, then again, if he isn't real, then the pictures are fine. "Who said we were friends?"

"Aren't we?" Taeyong smiles lazily. "You believe in me, and I'm starting to believe in you. That's what friends do."

"You're "starting" to believe in me?" You make air quotes. "Why wouldn't you believe in me? I'm a human. I'm real."

"I'm real," Taeyong says simply. "I'm immortal, but I'm real."

"You're not in my history book," you say.

"You're not in mine," Taeyong sticks his tongue out childishly. "But I'm in that book."

He points to the shelf on your wall. There's a book there, one given to you by your great aunt, a long time ago. It's a book passed down through generations, with legends from different cultures. Saint Nicholas, the Easter Bunny, the Sandman, The Boogeyman, The Tooth Fairy, and of course, Jack Frost. Other myths like yetis and leprechauns and the fae... anything children tend to believe in.

Anything you believe in. Or, used to believe in. Things that seem so childish when spoken aloud. Because you can't go out for drinks and discuss fairy circles. You can't leave cookies out for Santa when your roommate will laugh at you for it. You can't hide a tooth under your pillow out of fear that one morning it might still be there.

"That's from when I was a child," you say. "It's more for nostalgia than anything else."

Taeyong hums and drifts over to it, leaving a chill in his wake. He grasps the book and opens it up, He begins to leaf through it. "Usually, one who doesn't believe doesn't write notes on the things they don't believe in."

You feel your neck heat up as Taeyong trails his finger down your notes. "Why, just last year, you stuck your wisdom teeth beneath your pillow. Why would you do that if you don't believe?"

"I–" You take time to answer. "I'm not supposed to–"

"Not supposed to believe? Not supposed to have fun?" Taeyong looks concerned, closing the book and leaning in close. His face is just in front of yours, and his breath is cold against your cheeks. "Why not?"

You shrug and look away. "I don't know. It's different when you become an adult. People look at you weird if you believe in stuff like that."

"What about angels and demons and ghosts and gods?" Taeyong says, "Don't adults believe in them?"

"Those are different." You sit at your desk and put your head in your hands. "Those aren't just debate topics. They bring hope of an afterlife; of something more meaningful than life itself."

"And we don't?" Taeyong sits on your desk and closes your laptop. He leans onto his palm and circles the rim of your mug. "We don't bring hope?"

"Not to adults. Not when you start thinking about what life really means."

"What about to you?" Taeyong asks. His eyes are blown out, brown in color, but that familiar icy blue returns, creeping into his irises. He finally blinks, and frost drifts down his cheeks. "Do we bring hope to you?"

You suck in a breath and stare at him. "Yes. You do."

-

Taeyong doesn't return for two days, and you truly start to think he's found someone else who believes much more than you. You imagine that your heart, or soul, or wherever the belief is stored, is rather dim compared to the schoolchildren across town.

You stay on your bed, tossing a stress ball into the air and catching it, over and over again. The wind howls outside, rattling your window into opening, but you're too sad to close it. Christmas Eve is only a week away, and all flights in and out are still cancelled. The snow isn't letting up either, so you don't even want to risk walking out of your dorm.

You sigh and close your eyes. "I can't believe I'm saying this," you whisper into the empty room. "But Jack Frost, if you're near, could you come visit me?"

The wind whistles louder, and your window slams shut.

You jolt up, eyeing the window. "What the–"

"You called?" Taeyong is the in your doorway, leaning on his staff. He has a sort of shit-eating grin on his face. "I knew it wouldn't take long before you missed me."

You avoid his eyes and pick at the hem of your sweater sleeves. "I'm just... lonely here. That's all. I don't miss you, per se."

"I think you missed me." Taeyong says. His eyes shine with mirth and just as the room gets colder, you feel warmth flood your veins.

You don't deny it. "Come distract me from my project. I'm too upset to do anything productive."

You fall back down onto your bed, scooting sideways until your shoulder is pressing against the wall.

Taeyong lays down beside you. He conjures up a snowball, and begins to throw it up in the air, in the same speed that you throw your stress ball. "Distract you, huh?"

"Yeah. Anything."

"Hmm, should I tell you about me? How I came to be?"

"Yes, please," you set the stress ball down and turn on your side. You focus on Taeyong's side profile: his sharp jawline and the boyish slope of his nose. His eyelashes are still covered in frost, in an ethereal way that makes you think of snowflakes against a windowpane.

"My name is Jack Frost. How do I know that? The moon told me so. But that was all he ever told me. And that was a long, long time ago..."

-

Taeyong leaves after his story, but he comes around every so often after that, if just to tell you hello and ask about your project. You're still stumped, but it's easier to feel creative when he's around, so you mostly doodle sketches of him.

He continues his story every night, adding on as he remembers. You illustrate his stories, drawing rough sketches of the way he describes the elves and the easter bunny.

With each night your wonder grows, and you end up begging him to stay, if just to finish the story sooner.

Taeyong finally does finish it, the day before Christmas Eve, and you've hung onto every word. "So Pitch was defeated?"

"Yeah," Taeyong says. "I mean, as long as there is fear, he'll exist. But as long as there is belief, so will we."

He smiles at you, and you wonder if he's always been this handsome.

-

Christmas Eve is spent FaceTiming your family, and leaving them hints about what you've bought them. You even watch a movie with them through the screen, and you feel a lot better than you did before. They reassure you that Christmas in Springtime is most definitely a thing, and not something they made up on the spot.

You feel a bit better about spending Christmas alone.

Well, not alone. Realistically, all the other students who got snowed in will more than likely gather in the cafeteria tomorrow for cold pizza and a small gift exchange with the professors that also stayed over.

But you'll feel alone. No one you know is snowed in, and you've still got your project to complete.

You know exactly what you want to believe in now, even if your professor or peers might laugh at you.

With the radio playing a low hum of holiday music, you begin to sketch a rough outline of your project onto your tablet screen.

Your window rattles again.

You smile to yourself. "Come in, Taeyong."

You feel him before you see him by the cold frost that creeps across the windowpane and over to your feet, uncovered by your blanket. You shiver, and Taeyong finally makes himself known.

He stands beside your chair, watching you work. "It's me," His voice brightens. He leans down until his chest brushes against your shoulder.

Warmth spreads through your body just as quickly as the cold chill his skin brings. His chilly breath brushes against the shell of your ear, and you do your best not to let it distract you as you show him your project. "Yeah."

"Why?" Taeyong's voice has a sudden softness to it you haven't heard before.

"Because..." You trail off, wondering if its appropriate to tell an immortal guardian that you have a crush on him. It most certainly is, but Taeyong's eyes are a beautiful mix of brown and blue, and his eyelashes are a pretty cream color, mesmerizing as they fall against his opaque skin. "Because you're what I believe in most."

With Taeyong so close, you can hear his breath catch in his throat. "You admitted it," he whispers. "Like, properly."

"No sense telling myself any different," you conclude.

Taeyong doesn't answer; doesn't move, so you turn your head to check his reaction.

You heart lurches in your chest when you realize hes already looking at you. Your nose bumps against his. A chill spreads across your face, opposing Taeyong's cheeks, now rosy with a sort of frost bitten warmth one receives after coming into the house after a long day of playing in the snow.

You focus on his eyes. The reflection of the fairy lights behind the two of you flicker in his eyes, along with an emotion you can't name.

It disappears just as quickly, and it's replaced by a sort of serene glow. His gaze drifts down your face, landing on your lips. You bite your bottom lip nervously, and he watches action.

His hand, on your shoulder suddenly, like he's just decided he needs to steady himself. "I've never felt this warm before," he whispers.

"Does it hurt?" your lips brush against his, and there’s a jolt down your spine from how cold his lips are.

"Not really," he says, eyes closing. "It's nice. It makes me feel close to you. I want to be close to you."

His voice gets softer as he continues; the vulnerability fills your heart with affection.

"Taeyong," you hum, "you can kiss me."

Something like an expression of thanks escapes Taeyong's lips in the form of a sigh. He kisses you, lips cold and chapped against your smooth ones.

His hand stays on your shoulder, but it drifts slowly towards your neck. His nimble fingers play against the seam of your collar, and every time he accidentally grazes you skin, he pushes closer. Closer, until his chest is flushed against yours and your desk chair rolls back, breaking the two of you apart in a fit of laughter.

"Taeyong." You stand up and rest your palm against his chest. "Come here."

Taeyong nods, eyes on you the entire time while you turn him and push him towards the bed. He sits on the end almost obediently and looks up at you, eyes starry and wide.

You move your body between his spread legs and cup his face. You let the pad of your thumb brush across his jaw, cold and smooth. "You're really pretty," you say.

Taeyong blinks up at you. His lips, pale and purple, curl up into a smile. His eyebrows furrow, like he's unsure. "Really?"

You want to tell him that he's a snowflake personified. He's the sunlight on a patch of snow and the way a child lights up when a snowball in thrown. He's the cheer of a snow day and the cold nip at your shoulders when you open the front door.

You can't say it, not right now, so you bend down and kiss him again, allowing your mouth to melt against his.

His cold fingers grip the bottom of your shirt. He tugs you down: closer, closer, closer until the two of you are lying down, legs tangled together.

Taeyong stops to lean his forehead against yours, breath chalky in the warm air of the dorm. "I think I can hold off the snow long enough for you to fly over."

"What?" you sit up. "Taeyong, really? You'd do that?"

Taeyong nods, still lying down. He's smiling up at you, like you're something magnificent in a light he's never seen before. In reality you are just you, and there's a painting of him in the background, more beautiful then he's ever perceived himself to be. "As long as you promise to come back, where I — and a few extra weeks of winter — will be waiting."

[harmonie-writes]

Mission: Christmas Kiss

To @elcie-chxn​

Merry Christmas my dear! I hope you have a wonderful, safe holiday!! Things have been a bit hectic recently and I’m sorry I wasn’t able to post this a few minutes ago): But I’m your Secret Santa! I hope you like the fic! 

Pairing: Chan x YN

Genre: fluff, friends to lovers, high school au

Warnings: maybe language, but really it’s fluff and occasional crack

-----------

Since the beginning of time, or really since the time you and Chan have known each other in your neighboring homes. The shared birthdays and the movie nights that ended up turning into sleep over, and the holiday breaks you’d spend together glued at the hip. In all honesty, everyone saw the blooming connection between you both except for the two in said party and it stayed like that all the way until high school ended.

The most memorable moments were always during winter break though, and how your holidays were spent. Doing Christmas shopping for friends and family, and trying to sneakily hide the gifts that you bought for each other from said person. Even going with his crazy friends to go sledding or ice skating even though you know that Jack Frost would be nipping at your nose the moment you set foot out of the house, and neither of you would ever think twice about the weather. Maybe it was hidden at the time, but regardless you both felt warm and unbothered by the weather when you were together.

———

“-an? Chan?”

“Huh?” Chan was pulled out of his daze as he moved his focus to Soonyoung. 

“My guy, you’ve been in lalaland all day, and by that I mean you’ve been making heart eyes at YN since she got here.”

Chan looked away with a small scoff in hopes to hide the fact that he was caught, but also to hide the blush that touched his cheeks. “I have not been making heart eyes at them… that’s how I always look at them.” He couldn’t help the way he fiddled with his sweater sleeves as he mumbled the last part, not knowing that Soonyoung still heard him. 

“Oh my god!” Chan’s eyes grew wide before slapping a hand over his senior’s mouth to muffle the rest of that sentence while looking around to see if anyone noticed. 

“Shhhh! Don’t be so loud!” Chan hissed only to jump when he felt a hand clamp on his shoulder.

“Why are we ‘oh my god-ding’?” Jun asked as he walked up with Minghao. 

“Because there is half price hot chocolate!” “Chan likes YN!” They exclaimed at the same time before Chan shot him a death glare which went unnoticed by Soonyoung. 

Minghao patted the two of them on the back before shoving them in the direction of the hot chocolate stand by the skating rink, “Boys this is old news.”

“What do you mean ‘old news?’”

“He means we figured it out during our Halloween party when you’re dearest showed up as a sexy pirate, and if you didn’t make it so obvious I would’ve volunteered myself to be locked in the brig,” Jun commented as he trailed behind them with his hands resting behind his head.

“Dude.”

“I’m just saying, but! That’s not the point right now, right now our mission is to fill in the guys and start planning our ship!”

Soonyoung pulled out his phone and opened up the group chat to fill in the rest of the guys. “As payment you will buy us hot chocolate.”

“One, why do I have to buy the hot chocolate? Two, you’ve never had a significant other so how do you know this will work?” Chan asked, as he glared at the three boys in front of him while still pulling out his wallet.

“First reason is this will be payment for our services, and secondly, don’t bring that up,” Jun pouted as he was being called out. 

“The guys will be here in about 15 minutes,” Soonyoung announced as he turned back to the group.

“Well, while you guys get the drinks I’m going back to the rink, because we left YN when we left to check on you two,” Minghao said as he waddled on his blades back to the ice.

—————

Eyes fixed on the grooves ingrained in the ice from other blades you let your mind wander to where the boys went before briefly drifting to ways of getting Chan to notice you, only to remember that the costume you wore during Halloween didn’t seem to work. It wasn’t until you heard the scraping of ice that you turned and saw that Minghao had rejoined you.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Same as usual.”

“Chan?”

“Yup.”

“Have you ever, oh I don’t know, considered making it more obvious to him? This is Chan we are talking about,” Minghao sighed as he skated in front of you. 

Rolling your eyes you held out your hands, “I have tried. I even took his joke idea for the Halloween costume, but he didn’t really say anything other than it looked nice.” 

“I can’t deny that that was his best moment, but I don’t think he actually thought you’d wear it,” Minghao hummed, as he drug you to the furthest side of the rink. “But that doesn’t matter since that was months ago. What we need to do is plan a way to get you to make the first move.”

“I guess so,” you shrugged, letting your gloved hand fall from his. 

Deciding to give both of you a push in the right decision seemed to be the better form of action and what better way of doing it than subtly hinting to you while giving Chan a plan. “You know what we could do?”

You just hum in response waiting to hear what your dark haired friend had to say.

“Why don’t you manage to lure him to an area with an overhang… like the entrance to the park? I could take one of the guys with me to set up a mistletoe.”

Your lips purse as you ponder whether or not this would be the smartest decision, and honestly it wasn’t a bad idea, certainly better than your idea. “Alright, we can do that, and if he doesn’t want to kiss me then I guess I can settle for a forehead kiss like normal.”

“Perfect. We start tonight.”

—————

Glancing down at his phone Jeonghan saw a message from Minghao pop up in the group chat. “Alright, today we get our baby his first love!” He passed his phone to Joshua who read the message out loud for the group.

“When you said you were going to do a mission I didn’t realize that it would be happening tonight…” Chan mumbled, sinking down in his chair.

Lightly slapping the back of Chan’s head, Soonyoung chuckled, “There is no time like the present, and what better day than today? And it’s Christmas!”

Rubbing the sore portion of his head Chan rolled his eyes, “Thought we’d be planning more than rushing in.”

“Don’t think, just do. Besides you like them anyway so why wait?” Soonyoung said, as he started dragging the youngest back to the ice. “You guys set up the entrance and we will see you soon!” Soonyoung called over his shoulder.

—————

The air between you and Chan seemed to crackle with electricity as you both thought of the events that would precede after, completely oblivious that the other had knowledge of the plan. 

—————

Seungkwan glanced over at Vernon who was mindlessly scrolling through his phone as he waited for the text saying that they were done. Finally hearing the phone ping, they decided now was the best time to leave the two of you alone. 

“Alright, we are gonna go and get the apartment ready for the movie marathon. Are you guys still going to come?” Seungkwan asked, looking over at the two of you sliding to the edge of the rink.

You glance over at Chan and see him nod his head. “Yeah, we will be coming over shortly, we just need to grab your gifts.”

“Sweet, so you’ll pick up some snacks before coming over?” Vernon asked, as he started walking towards the others.

“Do we have a choice?” Chan frowned as he helped you step off the ice.

“No, no you don’t. See you!” Seungkwan waved over his shoulder.

The two of you watched as they walked further from the two of you leaving you with the building anxiety of what was about to come.

“So…” 

“So…”

“I guess we should go since we have to stop and get food before heading over,” Chan said, while picking up both sets of skates.

You followed behind slightly and fiddled with the ends of your coat as a few bad scenarios played out in your head. Breathe YN, breathe. Everything will be fine. 

As you trained your eyes on the entrance you could see the small plant hanging from the arch, and it seemed like Chan noticed as well when he took hold of your hand. This small action sent your heart thumping wildly in your chest. Did this mean that he felt the same way? Were you just crazy? 

Again you were pulled from your thoughts when Chan had cleared his throat only to see the creeping blush rush to his cheeks and him scratching his neck. 

“There’s uh, mistletoe,” Chan mumbled, “you know what they say about mistletoe.” He gently turned you toward him as you both stood directly underneath the tiny plant. In all honesty, Chan was happy you couldn’t feel how his palms started to sweat from his nerves, but he was damn sure you could hear his heart thundering in his chest. 

A small smile touched your lips as you glanced into his dark eyes, “I think I’ve heard a thing or two about it.” 

Taking that as a good sign Chan started leaning in and was pleasantly surprised when you met him half way. Feeling the press of your lips against his sent a warmth through him, and he couldn’t help but deepen the kiss by bringing his hand to your cheek. But like all good things, they must come to an end thanks for the need to breathe. 

Sucking in a breath Chan rested his forehead against yours and couldn’t help but bask in your presence. “I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he murmured, feeling your arms wrap around his middle.

“Wait, you have?” You pulled away from the hug to look at him.

“Way too long.”

Before any other notes on the subject could be said Chan’s phone started ringing, and you both looked at the caller ID before putting it on speaker. “Minghao?”

“As touching as that moment was we are freezing.”

“Wait… where are you?” You both frantically whip your head around to see the twelve of them huddling behind a park bench.

“Oh my god…” you breathe feeling heat on your cheeks for a whole new reason. 

Chan hung up the call with a roll of his eyes and a small chuckle, “I’ve wanted to say this for awhile now, but I think I’m in love with you.”

“I love you too Channie, but let’s continue this conversation later I’m getting cold,” you pout.

“Alright, alright. Oh and YN?” Chan pulled your hand back as you started to head towards the group.

“Yeah?”

Placing a brief kiss to your lips Chan smiled, “Merry Christmas YN.”

“Merry Christmas Chan.”

[clarktooncrossing]

Giraffe's Eye View: Christmas Specials Special (2023) | A Muppet Christmas Carol

Chestnuts are roasting on an open fire. Jack Frost is nipping at your nose. Mom and dad can hardly wait for school to start again. All the dogs in the neighborhood somehow learned to bark Jingle Bells in sync. Yet retail workers are still more annoyed with Mariah Carey. Snow is getting shoveled, tossed, and formed into sentient beings leading parades without permits. It makes for an excellent distraction as the Krampus abducts children for bad behavior. Fruitcake is exchanged only to find its permanent home in the garbage. Terrorists have hijacked the Holiday office party right before your boss can give you a Jelly of the Month Club membership as your bonus. And of course, the Turducken has returned to wreak its fiery vengeance upon an unsuspecting world! If all this doesn’t put you in the Christmas spirit, perhaps these following Holiday specials will!

Greetings people of today and robots of tomorrow! It is I, Santa Clark, your geeky giraffe friend with a deep love of Christmas! My obsession for the yuletide is rivaled only by Maleficent’s hatred for it, which is saying a lot considering she once teamed up with Mad Madam Mim to kidnap the literal Spirit of Christmas. Yes, that really happened. I know this due to my annual pilgrimage to the Island of Misfit Specials, home to obscure or nerdy festive media ranging from movies, TV episodes, and comics. It’s no easy journey. Constantly I find myself confronted by sinister snowmen, genocidal gingerbread men, and worst of all, crappy commercials. Getting stabbed in the foot by a candy-cane wielding cookie is one thing, but I swear I’ve seen that ad for Wilbur’s White Elephant Gift Emporium more times than I’ve seen Miracle on 34th Street! Sometimes at night I catch myself reciting that jingle. Wilbur’s White Elephant Gift Emporium: Where Christmas meets Convenience! Huh, maybe Maleficent had a point.

Nah, my deep-rooted appreciation for this time of year can weather even the most moronic marketing! It helps that most of the merry media I’ve seen have put me in the perfect Holiday mood! Examples include the time a Ninja Turtle found himself trapped in a truck full of stollen toys, a drunk department store Santa stumbling onto a wish-granting magic bag, Big Bird nearly becoming a popsicle, Gwenpool waking up in a world where Galactus took the place of jolly ol’ Saint Nicholas, a terrifying tree stump trying to slaughter some saps over a stupid ship war, and the year when Death gave the Little Match Girl the greatest gift of all. Needless to say, I thought I had seen it all. That is, until I took my friends on a trip to the Island, tasking them to find me new, strange, seasonal specials to review! Some of them were fair, finding me festive favorites as comforting as coco in front of the fireplace. Others were fiendish, wanting to feed off my misery like Gremlins after midnight. Regardless of how naughty or nice my companions were, I’ve compiled all of their suggestions into a makeshift advent calendar! So stay tuned everyday until Christmas to see how badly my buddies can shred what little sanity I have left.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my buddies gave to me...

Jim Henson was dead, to begin with. In life he was a storyteller, bringing life to the felt friends from Sesame Street and The Muppet Show to delight audiences around the world. He was also a director, creating fabulous new fairy tales in the form of The Dark Crystal and Labyrinth. Not too shabby for a guy who didn’t think he could build a career off of puppets. With Kermit on his arm the world would know Jim as an artist, optimist, visionary, innovator, comedian, winner of the Best Beard Award, and friend. When he died, the rest of the world wept tears. The same could sadly not be said for Richard Hunt, the company’s first openly gay puppeteer who had provided life to roles such as Scooter, Beaker, and Sweetums the Ogre. Yet these losses were felt by the caring colleagues they left behind. So when they were approached by Walt Disney Studios to produce their own take on A Christmas Carol, all of them sought to prove that life continued after death. With Jim’s son Brian acting as first time director, did they succeed?

Considering two of my own friends wanted me to review A Muppet Christmas Carol, I’d say that’s a resounding yes. Heck, I’m surprised it was only Hobo and Young (YoungSamurai18) who wanted me to assess this adaptation, everybody and their grandmother loves talking about it. Still, I didn’t want to deny Hobo the chance to contribute to this special, so I convinced the geeky, gaming gecko to pick Power Rangers instead. Jee, thanks for selecting something of equal quality. That left the wrestle-maniac wide open to pile-drive his pick right into my skull. At last, I’m free to sing this picture’s praises to the high heavens! Nothing can stop me from cementing this cinematic classic as the seasonal staple that it is! From the highest mountains I can shout that this is the greatest thing in the history of the-

Yeah, I think it's okay.

Assuming all of you haven’t left by now, let me explain. None of this comes from a hatred of Henson, as I hope the opening made clear. In fact, I love the Muppets. Their show would play on a constant loop in my house whenever I wasn’t watching the original Muppet Movie, which happens to be one of my all-time favorite films. Both it and this movie were scripted by Jerry Juhl, a man I believe knew these characters better than even Jim did. That same understanding is shown here too since every character is cast as the perfect counterpart from the book. Kermit the Frog (Steve Whitmire) unsurprisingly portrays Bob Cratchet with Miss Piggy (Frank Oz) acting as his wife. 'Acting' being the keyword here. No doubt Kermit kept reminding her that their marital bond was fake only for Piggy to bring up the wedding from Muppets Take Manhattan. Joining these two is Robin (Jerry Nelson) as Tiny Tim and three original characters standing in for their kids. If you thought adult Piggy was a handful, wait ‘til you meet her identical twin daughters. Her genes must’ve karate-chopped the crap out’a her husband’s! 

If that all wasn’t amazing enough, we have Fozzie (Oz) as Fozziwig, a pun so perfect I’m convinced the entire film was made around it. His normal hecklers, Statler and Waldorf, also fill in the roles of double Marleys magnificently. I could go on, but I know you’re all waiting for me to mention the actual best part of this movie: Gonzo the Great (Dave Goelz) as Charles Dickens! Oh my gosh, that is too amazing for words! You can keep Dan Stevens, this little blue weirdo is the definitive on-screen Dickens. People already loved Gonzo before this flick, but now? He may as well be the main Muppet! Every time he’s on screen narrating the story or interacting with Rizzo (Whitmire) you’re glued to his every word. You can tell he’s loving simply being here and that enthusiasm is infectious! That alone makes this movie worth a watch.

Still, what would Mr. Dickens's story be without ghosts? Here it was decided to produce new puppets for the parts in place of choosing old classics. First there’s Christmas Past, a strange, uncanny specter brought to life via a water tank and a green screen. She’s also the most unsettling of the trio, looking like a reject from Labyrinth. The only reason she doesn’t haunt my nightmares is her sing-song voice provided by Jessica Fox. Not to mention her colleague is a right jolly old elf. I always laugh when I see him, in spite of myself. Of course I’m talking about Christmas Present (Nelson), this version easily being the best. He’s larger than life, endlessly kind, and absentmindedly can only focus on the present moment. Like Dory he forgets whatever was mentioned mere seconds after it happened. Unlike Dory he doesn’t belittle his coworkers behind the scenes. If nothing else, he at least gets the best song on the soundtrack. Finally we're left with a lackluster Christmas Future, looking like some tall doofus in a hood. Whenever I see him walk around I expect him to hit his head on something before hearing Robert Groves yell, “Ow!”

Having said that, he’s still more lively than Scrooge. Yup, we’ve reached the point where your respect is thrown off the windowsill. Michael Caine is a fine enough actor, even making for an awesome Alfred. However, his Scrooge leaves something to be desired. When he was cast in the role, Caine decided to treat the material as seriously as Shakespeare, a decision I ultimately believe hurt his performance. Dude refuses to emote for a good chunk of the runtime. His best scenes are when he’s angrily shouting at his book keepers, crying over losing Belle (Meredith Braun), or at the end when he’s singing about his newfound sense of purpose. Otherwise he seems bored. Worse, it appears as though he’s faking emotions. Some may argue that’s what acting is, but I’d argue great actors can make you feel along with them. This wasn’t a problem for Tim Curry in Muppet Treasure Island. It wasn’t a problem for former Scrooges like Jim Carrey, Starlight Glimmer, Chris Bean, or any of the freak’n ducks! All of them are puzzle pieces placed perfectly to enhance the overall picture while Caine was forced in. Nothing against him personally, he’s just not one of the great Scrooges of cinema, at least not to me.

Despite that, I get why folks love this retelling. On my list of Christmas Carol adaptations it ranks number eight. Everything else about it has stood the test of time terrifically. The puppet performances are phenomenal, the script smartly streamlines the story for all audiences, and the music by Paul Williams is the Swedish Chef’s kiss. Unsurprising, really, given this man almost won an Academy Award for writing Rainbow Connection. All of this makes for a good introductory film. Chances are you first saw this when you were a kid and it’s what introduced you to both the Muppets and A Christmas Carol. It’s why you’re so happily familiar with both now and eagerly await to share this movie with your own children someday. When that day comes, I hope you all enjoy that Christmas feeling together. After all, it is a movie from the heart! Made with a special kind of caring with the ways of love made clear!

Get it? They’re the words to the song! Wakka Wakka! Ah. whatever! Now I’m in the mood for more classic Disney Christmas specials...

< PREVIOUS REVIEW | INDEX | NEXT REVIEW >

[babbushka]

White Christmas

Clyde Logan x Reader ; 1.9k

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

Just like the ones I used to know

Where the treetops glisten and children listen

To hear sleigh bells in the snow

 You’re in the kitchen finishing up the very last decorations on the gingerbread house, when Sadie sighs. She’s been huffin’ and puffin’ all evening, much to your dismay. You had hoped that buildin’ the homemade house from scratch would be a fun activity to end off Christmas Eve, but your normally sunshiney niece was practically gloom and glum all night.

She reaches for the final perfect gumdrop, but you use your hand to block her, givin’ her a questioning look, wondering what in tarnation is going on in that mind of hers. Christmas was her favorite holiday, it always had been, and for the first time in years all the Logans had decided to celebrate together, everyone staying in the nice new house you and Clyde bought after the heist.

“Do you think it’ll come tonight?” Sadies finally chews her lip and asks, pouts with those big sad eyes of a child whose dream has been crushed.

Your heart aches, knowin’ what she means. You both glance out the window, to the decidedly un-snowy front yard. In the reflection of the glass, you can see the disappointment on her face, and your heart aches.

“I don’t know sweatpea, but I hope so.” You say, twisting her ponytail affectionately.

“We’ve had snow every year.” Sadie sighs again, plucking off one of the red and green M&M decorations on the roof of her house, popping it in her mouth and chewing noisily before sighing once again with a, “I hate global warming.”

“Me too, me too.” You give a sympathetic smile, pulling her into your arms for a little while, a nice reassuring hug. Before you let her go, you try to get her back in the spirit by whispering real quiet so only she can hear, “But instead of worrying about that for right now, why don’t you run up and get ready for bed, hm? Santa Claus can’t come if you’re not asleep by eight.”

That perks Sadie right up, and before you know it she’s bolting out of your arms with a glance at the clock, realizing it’s already seven-thirty.

“Shoot, you’re right!” She gasps, “Goodnight Uncle Clyde! G’night Aunt (Y/N)!” She gives you each a kiss on the cheek, you in the kitchen and your husband on the couch in the living room, before running into one of the guest bedrooms which she has claimed.

You chuckle fondly at the renewed excitement, and with the gingerbread houses finished, you grab a mug from the counter and fill it with icy cold ‘nog.

You hang in the doorway for a moment, simply admiring the view before you. Clyde is relaxed on the couch in his Christmas pajamas – something you purchased for the whole family so you could all match. He’s got his prosthetic off, put away somewhere in the master bedroom, and his hair is freshly washed and fluffy. From the angle he’s sitting at, all you can see is the strong contour of his profile, and you get the sudden urge to kiss his nose.

 I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

With every Christmas card I write

"May your days be merry and bright

And may all your Christmases be white"

 “Is that the news?” You ask, and he perks up at the sound of your voice, that permanent scowl of his fading away to something much more soft and sweet.

“Yep.” He says, forever a man of many words.

“Has the weather come on yet?” You ask hopefully, but he sighs in that very Logan way that they all do, and you already know the answer before he’s tellin’ you.

“Nope.” He tells you anyway. When he sees your eyes sadden, he reaches out to you, beckons you with his hand and a, “C’mere darlin’, sit with me?”

You sit on the armrest of the couch, and he wraps his arm around your waist. You lean your head on top of his and offer him the mug you brought, still nice and chilled from the frozen bowl you had poured it into just shy of an hour ago.

“Want some eggnog?” You offer, but he shakes his head, tears his gaze away from the news – still no weather – to look at you, smile at you.

“Not if you can’t have any.” He says, and you kiss him softly, just a chaste little something when you push it into his hand.

“There’s no brandy, I made it special so Sadie could have some too.” You explain and his whole face lights up at that, makin’ you chuckle and card your fingers through his hair gently as his huge mouth gulps down half the mug in one swig.  

“When d’ya think we can tell everyone?” He asks, throwing a glance to your stomach, and you can’t help but laugh at the cream that sticks to his moustache.

“Not for two more weeks, just to be safe.” You reply, and he nods in understanding.

You steal the mug back from him for just a moment, just long enough to catch a sip or two before letting him finish it off, and you lean your head back down on top of his, feeling safe and warm in his loving embrace as the low light from the TV flickers on and on, as the two of you wait for a forecast.

  The whole family has gone to sleep by the time you and Clyde decide to turn off all the lights and make your way upstairs.

With Jimmy across state lines to see his daughter more, the whole gang didn’t have much opportunity to get together all that often. You figured that if there were any time of the year to celebrate with your loved ones, it was Christmas, so you managed to convince Clyde to open up the house to his brother and sister, as well as some of your family and friends.

All in all, absolutely every one of the spare rooms was filled for a long weekend of all sorts of traditions. Sadie was so excited to see the new house, she ran around and around the place, gawkin’ and gaspin’ at the newness of it all.

You knew it shouldn’t make you feel so proud and petty, but well, compared to the kind of livin’ Bobby Jo had managed to secure for herself, you thought you did pretty damn good.

But Sadie was snoozin’ in her bed, as were everyone else. You thought about the poem, how Clyde had read it aloud to the whole group, his deep baritone the perfect pitch for the smooth rumblings about sugar plums and sleighs and tiny reindeer. You thought about how they were all dreamin’ themselves, the house so quiet as you both made the rounds to switch off the lights on the tree, blow out all the candles.

It’s only when you’re passing under the doorway to go into the kitchen and help Clyde put away the eggnog and gingerbread houses, that you see the little bundle of green that’s been taped up above your heads, your husband appearing just on the other side of the door.

“Would ya looky here,” He says shyly, always ever so shy your husband, shy as he smile and quirks a brow as he points up to the, “Mistletoe.”

“Now who put that there?” You wonder teasingly, softly, eyes already closing and leanin’ in, lips puckering.

“Someone smart.” Clyde whispers, arms coming around your waist, big warm hand splayed out on your back, pressing you close to him.

On the in the background Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye are singing in red velvet in front of a live audience, and you let your heart swell with the romance of it all.

 I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

Just like the ones I used to know

Where the treetops glisten and children listen

To hear sleigh bells in the snow

 After smoochin’ in the doorway, the two of you can barely keep your hands off of one another, and he walks you back back back against the kitchen counter. He’s so strong, sometimes you forget how strong he is, your husband, forget those special ops muscles. He’s eager, excited, his kisses more and more urgent as he maneuvers you so that he can stand between your legs as your breath puffs and pants against one another.

Y’all hadn’t had much opportunity for any sex, with the entire house packed with family, and you knew you couldn’t reasonably get away with anything in this moment, but it was still thrilling to try. He’s handsy, big warm palm sliding up your blouse and gropin’ grabbin’ pinchin’ at ya.

You only giggle and bite at his lips, bite at his big cheesin’ grin, that special smile only you ever get to see.

You lean back enough to just get a good look at him – and that’s when you notice it.

“Clyde!” You gasp softly, hopping off the counter and immediately moving to the living room once more.

“Hmm?” He frowns, concerned and following you hot on your tail, not seeing what you’re seeing.

But you see it, the soft white flurries that flutter down from the black of night. The porch-lights are on and you can catch bits and pieces of the fluff. Your first thought is of Sadie, how she’s going to get to wake up to a winter wonderland, get to wake up to snowmen and snow angels and maybe even a snowball fight.

But your second thought, is that you want to feel the snowflakes on your face, on your tongue, and even though it’s late, you turn to Clyde with a pleading, hopeful expression.

“Can we go outside?” You ask, your hands braced on his chest, practically unable to contain yourself.

He smiles and kisses your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, until you’re laughin’ and coverin’ your mouth to try and keep quiet, so as to not wake up the rest of the family.

“Only if you’re warm enough darlin’, I don’t wantcha catchin’ cold.” He says softly, appraising you in your pajamas, wondering if he should stick you in ten more layers.

But then you’re grinning up at him, pulling him by the hand to stick your feet into slippers to protect from the chill of the snow that’s already starting to stick, and you toss him one of your beaming grins with a twinkle in your eye as you tell him, “I won’t be if you’re holdin’ me.”

 You don’t stay out long, just enough time to get the cool bite of the gentle breeze on your face, jack frost nipping at your nose, as they say. Clyde is right by your side, hand on your waist, walking around and around the yard with you in the dark, the only light coming from the strands of icicle lights that Jimmy had helped hang up, and the porch lamps.

It’s not much right now, but you just know that come morning, Sadie’s going to be laughing and shouting and wakin’ y’all up to come outside.

So for now, it’s enough that it’s here, enough that you can chuckle softly as you brush the snow out of Clyde’s hair.

 I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

With every Christmas card I write

"May your days be merry and bright

And may all your Christmases be white"

                                                       -----------

Tagging my Clyde lovin’ friends! <3  @autumnlovesadam @dreamboatdriver @fullofbees @adamsnackdriver @kyloxfem​ @formerly-anonhamster​ @kylo-renne​ @callmehopeless​ @magikevalynn​ @scheherazades-horcrux​ @whiskey-bumblebee​

[fan-with-issues]

It's Only The First Day (Tommy x Nikki)

(A/N Yeah so this was originally for @saint-of-los-angeles birthday but I didn't get it done on time so I decided to publish it on Christmas but same thing so here it is)

Tags: @rock-em-sock-em-rock-n-roll @sodalitefully @duffshairdye @arnold-layne @slashscowboyboots @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands @spook-bitches @saint-of-los-angeles @youre-in-the-jungle-baby

~

Nikki woke up, expecting to feel the warmth of his fiance right next to him but instead, was met with nothing and the sound of faint music playing in the background. Nikki forward his eyebrows in confusion as he got up from his place in the bed and made his way downstairs.

As he made his downstairs the smell of food surrounded him and the music became more clear, was that Christmas music? As he got down the final step his eyes widened, Christmas decorations surrounded their house as Nat King Cole played in the background. 

“Chestnuts roasting on an open fire, Jack Frost nipping at your nose!” He heard Tommy poorly sing as he came into his view holding a box of what he expected to be more decorations for the house. Tommy made eye contact with Nikki, setting the box on the kitchen counter  as he made his way towards him, kissing his cheek. 

“Morning, babe. How’d you sleep?” Tommy asked.

“Tommy, can I be asking why you’re setting up Christmas decorations at,” Nikki looked at the nearest clock on the wall, “11 A.M?”

“Getting into the holiday spirit!”

“It’s literally the first day of December.”

“Still, it’s never too early.” Tommy said with a smile. Nikki was never the person to really celebrate a holiday whether it’d be early or not because of his childhood, unlike Tommy who grew up in a stable family who celebrated the holiday season. Nikki always envied that about Tommy. 

But ever since they got together it’s been different, at first Nikki never saw the point of holidays but after celebrating a few with Tommy he finally understood. It’s not about where you are and what you do on that day, it’s about who you’re spending it with that makes it enjoyable.

“Whatever you say, T-bone,” Nikki shook his head, “well you do that, I’m going back to b- gah!” Before Nikki could ask questions Tommy quickly picked him up bridal style and carried him to the living room. “Too late!” Tommy said as he plopped Nikki down on the coach, quickly getting  a blanket and throwing it at him, “You’re already out of bed, might as well get comfortable while I continue making breakfast.” 

Nikki wrapped the blanket around himself and got comfortable as he watched Tommy cook breakfast, it still surprised him how good of a cook Tommy was considering how he is.

As Tommy finished, he brought out both their plates, putting down Nikki's before sitting down next to him, flipping through the channels. 

Nikki looked down at his plate, his heart clenched as he saw the heart shaped whip cream on top of the pancakes. "You're so cliche, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, but you love me." Tommy said, stuffing his face. Nikki rolled his eyes as he took a bite, moaning in satisfaction, what did he do to deserve Tommy?

They ate in silence, enjoying each others company as they watched some cliche romance holiday  movie that was playing. 

Well, that is until their front door opened.

"Sup, you lovebirds! your favorite blonde has arrived!" Vince dramatically said, entering their house as Mick followed behind him. 

"Can I be asking why the hell you guys are here?" Nikki said irritatingly, Vince shrugged as he plopped down on one of the coaches.

"Can't we just visit our favorite lesbian couple for no reason?" Vince asked, the Terror Twins raised their eyebrows in questioning.

"He was bored and decided to come here." Mick said, taking a seat next to Vince. 

"Then why are you here, Mick?" Tommy asked, setting down his plate on the coffee table.

"He dragged me here." Mick said, Vince lightly punched him and smiled. Tommy and Nikki didn't know if they were imagining it or not but they both swore they saw a light blush on both Mick and Vince.

"Well, if you guys are staying, might as well help us with Christmas decorations."

"Is that why it looks like a Hallmark holiday special threw up in here?"

Nikki and Mick snickered as Tommy gave Vince an offended look.

"Like you could do any better, Vince!" Tommy challenged, Vince raised an eyebrow. 

"Are you challenging me, Lee?" Vince asked, Tommy smirked.

"What if I am?" Hinted Tommy. Nikki and Mick both looked at eachother, knowing fully well what was going to happen next.

"Fine! Come on, Mick, we're going to prove a drummer wrong!" Vince said, grabbing Mick, not to harshly to hurt his back, and dragging him to the door. Mick muttering a 'I'm too old for this shit' before closing the door behind him. 

"Did you seriously just challenge Vince to a Christmas decoration competition?" Nikki asked.

"Hell yeah! We're gonna shove the holiday spirit right into their fucking faces they won't even see it coming!" Tommy said victoriously, Nikki thought for a moment. 

Maybe this won't be so bad? 

[rosesnvines]

Springtime Blues

(Not exactly very blueish, I think the most blue are Jack’s eyes and his hood, lol. Anyway, hope you enjoy!!)

Pascal woke with a start as Rapunzel bounced out of the bed.

“Come on Pascal! Time to get up! It’s the first day of spring!” Pascal grunted and rolled over. Rapunzel groaned. “Oh come on Pascal, you promised to get me some flowers!” Pascal opened one eye ruefully and sniffed before opening both eyes and walking into Rapunzel’s hands. “Oh, thank you!” She rushed to the window, chatting excitedly the whole way. “OK, I’ll lower you down and I’ll do some chores while you gather the flowers. Think you’ll need fifteen minutes?” Pascal shook his head. “Alright, sweeping and mopping?” Pascal nodded. “Great! I’ll get a vase set up before I get you.” Rapunzel flung open the window and gasped. “Snow! Snow on the first day of spring?” It was true, there was a fine powder coating the ground below. Rapunzel moaned. “I wanted some flowers!” She sighed and backed away from the window. “Well Pascal, I guess you can head back into bed if you want.” Pascal squeaked and patted her shoulder reassurringly. Rapunzel chuckled. “Thanks Pascal. Well, there’s always tomorrow.” 

“Aw, come on, snow isn’t that bad.” Rapunzel and Pascal froze and looked at each other in shock. Who was that talking? Rapunzel glanced around for some kind of weapon and saw a frying pan. She picked it up and tiptoed back to the window. 

“Who, who said that?” 

“Huh?” She couldn’t see anyone at the window and she knew someone wasn’t down on the ground. So where was he? 

“You, I’m talking to you. Who are you?” 

“Wait, me? You can hear me?” A face popped down into the window, a boy around Rapunzel’s age was hanging upside down from her roof. A blue cape fell over his head of white hair. Rapunzel screamed and hit him with the pan. “Ow!” He fell off the roof, but didn’t fall to the ground below. Rapunzel screamed again and hid behind her mannequin. He came into the room with a staff, his feet not even touching the floor. 

Rapunzel watched, mesmerized. “How, how are you doing that?” 

He glanced down at his feet before floating down to the ground. He looked at her and grinned. “Oh, I can use the winds to get around.” The grin vanished and he touched his nose gingerly. “But why’d you go and do that for? I have a perfectly good nose, thank you very much.” 

“Oh, oh I’m so sorry. It’s just . . . no one ever comes here besides Mother.” 

He blinked at her. “Wait, am I the first person you’ve ever met besides your mother?” She bit her lip and nodded, holding the pan to her chest. “Why’s that . . . whoa, that’s a lot of hair.” 

Rapunzel gasped and leveled her pan at the boy. “What, what do you want with my hair?” 

“What do I want with your hair? What do you want with your hair? I’ve never seen that much hair in my life, and I’ve traveled the world!” He moved some of it aside with his staff. “No wonder why you don’t leave this tower! You have all this hair to take care of. Why don’t you cut it?” 

“What? How could you even suggest that? I can’t cut my hair!” 

He put up his hands. “Alright, alright, forget I even mentioned it.” He glanced around the room. “So, this is where you live. With your mother, right?” 

Rapunzel began to lower the pan. “Um, yeah. You’re not, you’re not going to cut my hair or want to use it?” 

The boy looked at her, confused. “What? It’s your hair, you do with it what you want. I’m just not used to seeing so much hair.” He smiled softly. “Or a cute girl like you cooped up in this tower.” His eyebrows furrowed. “Who, by the way, can see and hear me? How?” 

She blinked. “Wait, no one can see or hear you but me?” She glanced at Pascal. He shrugged, he seemed to be able to see the boy. 

“Well, yeah, your lizard could already see me, but most humans can’t.” 

Rapunzel took a step forward. “Who are you?” 

The boy took a bow. “I’m Jack Frost.” 

Rapunzel curtsied. “I’m Rapunzel. But what makes you special?” 

“I’m the spirit of winter.” 

“The spirit . . . of winter?” Rapunzel gasped. “Oh so you’re the one who made it snow out there!” 

Jack winked. “Bingo.” 

Rapunzel crossed her arms and huffed. “Well you do realize it’s the first day of spring, right? I’m supposed to have flowers, not snow!” 

“Oh, well, sorry, miss Rapunzel, but I didn’t realize having snow today would vex you all that much. I was just trying to vex the Easter Bunny.” 

Rapunzel blinked. “The Easter Bunny? But, Easter’s not for another two weeks!” 

Jack grinned. “I know, but Bunny’s coming up today, and it really gets under his skin.” He bowed again. “But I promise I won’t bring snow next year, if it pleases you.” 

“Oh, um, alright. But, why do you like getting under the Easter Bunny’s skin?” 

“Jack Frost!” Rapunzel yelped at the yell and ducked behind the mannequin again. Jack just grinned even wider and stepped to the window. 

“Aw, what’s wrong, don’t like a little late snow?” 

“It’s spring, you bloody showpony! Now get down here and clean this up!” Rapunzel inched towards the window and peeked out. A large rabbit stood below, thumping his right foot as he glared at Jack Frost. 

Jack sat on the window ledge. “What? You expect me to melt the snow? You know I can't do that, Bunny. That's your job.” 

Bunny huffed. “You have a point, but you have to stop making it snow! It's spring now, stay in your season!” 

“Where's the fun in that?” Bunny glared at him. Jack just grinned impishly back. 

Bunny threw up his paws. “Fine! But you’d better not make it snow any later in spring ever again!” He tapped the ground, and he jumped into the hole that opened up under his paw. The hole closed and a little flower popped up on top. 

“He looked really mad,” said Rapunzel as Jack burst out laughing. 

“Aw, come on, just a little harmless fun.” 

“Well I think you should leave him alone.” 

Jack thought for a moment. “Nah, I’m going to make it snow really hard one Easter. That's going to be loads of fun.” 

“Why do you like making him angry?” 

Jack shrugged. “He makes it way too easy. I'm just trying to get him to loosen up and have a little fun.” He looked at Rapunzel. “Just like you.” 

Rapunzel took a step back. “Me?” 

“Oh yes, you, you sound like you need to get out and have a little fun yourself.” 

Rapunzel took a couple more steps back, shaking her head. “Oh no, Mother forbade me from leaving the tower. There are so many people who want to use my hair for bad things.” 

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Really? I don’t think they even know about your hair! If they did, they’d be talking about it a lot.” He kicked some of it again. 

Rapunzel picked it up and brought it closer to her. “Well, that’s why I stay here, so no one can find me and my hair.” 

He shrugged. “Uh, alright, whatever you say.” He pointed at her. “But you still need to get out and have some fun. I mean, haven’t you ever wanted to get out and just do something?” 

Rapunzel chuckled nervously. “Well, there is one thing . . .” 

“Yeah?” 

“Well, it happens on my birthday, which is in the summer, but, um, every year, there are these lanterns that float in the sky and I would so like to see where they start rising into the sky.” 

“Ah, that does sound pretty cool,” said Jack with a big grin. “But, why haven’t you gone to see it?” 

“Because someone will see me and want to use my hair.” She clasped her hands. “But, maybe, when I’m older, Mother will take me to see them herself!” 

Jack tilted his head. “How old are you, Rapunzel?” 

Rapunzel crossed her arms and smirked. “I’m going to be eighteen this summer.” 

“Really? Wow, you’re practically an adult!” 

Rapunzel gasped and pressed the pan close to her chest. “Really? Oh, then maybe Mother will let me go this year!” She bounced and squealed. 

Jack smiled softly as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, I certainly hope you will, you really should get out more.” He tapped his fingers on his chin. “And as a matter of fact, since I really can’t come out in the summer . . .” His face broke into a huge grin. “Oh, I could do that . . .” 

“Um, do what?” 

He winked. “Just you wait and see.”

“Wait!” But he had already flown out the window. By the time Rapunzel got to the window, he was a speck in the morning sky. She let out a huff. “My first friend since you, Pascal, and he’s left me hanging!” She burst out laughing before jumping with joy. “I have a new friend!” She stopped and clapped her hands over her mouth. “Oh, but I can’t tell Mother about this, she’s going to freak out.” She let out a breath. “Keep it cool, I’ve got to keep it cool Pascal.” Pascal squeaked and pointed with his tail. “Oh yes, I could do my chores while I wait.” She grabbed the duster. “Though, I do hope Jack doesn’t come back when Mother does, or that she gets here when he’s here. That would be awkward.” Pascal nodded in understanding. “Well, let’s get to work then.” She did her usual routine, Gothel came by for lunch and left after dinner. But there was no sign of Jack. Rapunzel began to wonder if he would be coming back at all when a soft wind pushed a few snowflakes into the tower. Pascal noticed them and pointed them out to Rapunzel. 

She gasped. “Jack! Jack, are you back?” There was no answer. She put her head out the window, looking around for him. She heard a snicker. She glanced up, and Jack kissed her nose. She giggled. “What was that for?” 

“I’m Jack Frost, I nip at your nose,” he replied with a huge grin on his face. 

Rapunzel covered her nose and giggled. “It’s cold!” 

Jack chuckled. “Precisely.” 

“So, why did you have to leave?” asked Rapunzel as she stepped away from the window. Jack flew in, his hand behind his back. 

“A surprise.” 

Rapunzel eyed the hidden arm. “Do you, do you have scissors?” 

“Well, I did use scissors on these.” He pulled his arm from behind his back to reveal a large bouquet of flowers. Rapunzel’s hands flew to her face as she let out squeals of delight. 

“That’s, there’s . . . I’ve never seen so many different kinds of flowers before!” 

“An appropriate apology for covering all your flowers in snow, I hope.” 

Rapunzel took the bouquet. “Oh Jack, they’re lovely!” 

“So, you forgive me?” 

Rapunzel hugged him. “Of course!” SHe gasped and backed away quickly. “Oh, I’m sorry, I should have asked first if . . .” 

“Oh no, it’s fine. I’m more worried about you. I am cold, after all, I’m the spirit of winter.” 

Rapunzel giggled. “Oh no, I’m fine. I didn’t feel cold at all, in fact . . .” she took a step closer, “may I hug you again?” 

Jack opened his arms wide, his smile nearly as wide. “Sure!” Rapunzel nearly toppled him over with the force of her hug. But she couldn’t help it, she was so happy to have made a new friend, and she would never complain about seeing snow in spring every again.