#santa clause 3

[shadow-turtle-234]

Courtesy of the OMITB Instagram page

[hottestsantatournament]

ROUND ONE

MATCHUP:

Dashing Through The Snow (Lil Rel Howery) VS. Santa Clause 3 Jack Frost (Martin Short)

[lazarusoftevmeck]

Scott Calvin + Text post

he's literally one of my favorite Tim characters

[fromsouptonuts]

[wasabiwarrior]

Please tell me I'm not the only one that at some point in their life, has had a crush on this Jack Frost.

I can't even explain why, I just did at some point

[sawyerfalksthesilverfox]

WIP: "Jack Frost Nipping at Your Nose"

[This is a snippet from a WIP that I am hesitant to share, as this is definitely a rare pair from a totally cringe-inducing movie and I hope I don't scare anyone off! And to verify: I only write sexy times for AGE APPROPRIATE characters. FULL STOP.

So now that I've established that, this is a snippet of older!Lucy Miller x Jack Frost. No, not that Jack Frost. The other one: Martin Short in the Santa Clause 3.

I have literally no idea how this fic got away from me. I've written over 20k WORDS already for this story! WHAT. Martin Short was the only decent thing IN that terrible film! Is it obvious I'm mildly embarrassed about this? Hence not posting in December. I'm a coward.]

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Lucy was rewarded with movement for her choice, and continued on until she could discern the rough estimate of a tall, masculine figure. Well, maybe not tall, but at least taller than the elves. Short? Short-ish? 

She squinted down the candy-cane decorated hallway, trying to sense if the set of white-suited shoulders and swish of tailored clothing belonged to the person she was looking for. 

Lucy fell into a sprint, her footsteps echoing on the tiles and sounding off loudly due to the high arch the peppermint canes provided. 

Frost heard the footsteps and paused, glancing over his shoulder. 

He debated bolting onward when he realized it was the Miller daughter, the very person he had been trying to avoid. She apparently had enough time to change, as her festive blouse and tight skirt had been swapped out for looser long-sleeved tee and a set of fleece leggings. (Which, despite covering more skin somehow made her legs look even more fantastic.) 

Oh chestnuts, he had let her catch up to him! 

"There you are," Lucy sighed as she rounded around to his front to face him. "I've been looking for you." 

"Me? Well, you found me," Frost affirmed. 

Lucy grabbed his hand, and yanked him into the room beside them. She had been too quick and too determined, that Frost hadn't even registered the warmth in his palm or the change of location until she pulled her hand away. 

"Hey! Nice people don't go about shoving others into storage rooms!" Frost snapped. 

"We need to talk, and that hallway echoes too much!" Lucy huffed. "When I was walking towards you, it sounded like an elephant was running through the Workshop!" 

"And what exactly, do you need to ask of ole Jack Frost that requires hush-hush conversation?" Frost inquired with a tilted eyebrow and look of modest curiosity. "Because I explained, doing a Secret Santa with the actual Santa Claus doesn't work!" 

Lucy's brow pinched, and she said simply, "The party." 

"What about it? I already told Missus The Claus: the eggnog wasn't my fault this time. Ask Paige, she was on refreshments since I was so unjustly banned. 1000-year old recipe, my frost-bitten butt!" 

"What – No, that's not it," Lucy sighed with a look of frustration. "You said you would be there, and you weren't." 

She took a small step toward him, and Frost noted with a mild panic that there was quite a large stack of boxes beside him. No room for retreat, as it was. 

"I... I missed you," she added quietly. "I had been hoping to talk to you. I don't get to see you very often, Uncle Jack." 

"Oh, well..." Frost drawled, trying to seem nonchalant. "I am quite the loquacious fellow." 

Lucy worried her bottom lip, drawing his attention to the spot. He watched as her teeth peeked out, nibbling at the spot and leaving her lip a darker rose than it previously had been. Inviting. Soft. 

Oh dear. 

"Exactly, and... And I rather like our conversations now. Now that I'm you know, older, and can appreciate your experience on things," Lucy managed. She knew that was too bold of a statement, but she was grasping at straws leftover from her confusion. 

Frost swallowed at the word 'experience' and he tried to distract himself from thinking about the connotations of that statement. Unfortunately, his brain decided to focus on her eyes. How did she do that? Despite sharing the same eye color, his were nothing like hers. Her lovely blue eyes were always so bright, even in the dusty, dim light of the storage room... 

Lucy sensed his hesitation, and slid ever closer to him. Had he not heard her? Perhaps in her effort to be surreptitious, she had been too audibly quiet? 

Frost meanwhile, was starting to panic. Lucy was too close to him now, and Frost made a showy gesture with his hand to mask that he was darting away from her proximity. 

"That does come with the territory," he said vaguely, with a broad sweep of his person that had him twirling around her. He left her beside a large stack of boxes, and she turned on her own heel to prevent him from heading to the door. 

"Where did you go?" Lucy asked, looking confused and... Hurt? Why did she look so upset? 

"Pardon?" Frost managed, as the young woman's facial expression made his throat constrict. 

"You... You left the party," she stated. "I only caught a glimpse of you, and then you were gone." 

"Oh, well... It was getting late, and you know, tomorrow's a big day. The big day, really. I thought I should get some shut-eye," Frost said with a shrug that wasn't very convincing. 

Lucy's brow furrowed, and she said flatly: "Uncle Jack, you... You told me you don't sleep." 

Frost went still, as his eyes darted to the side and back. His brain was just spinning tires in a snowbank, trying to come up with something to counter that or at the least, an amusing bon mot to distract her from the obvious. 

"You were avoiding me," she realized. Her already hurt expression turned really wounded then, as her face pinched and her shoulders dropped. 

"What? No!" Frost immediately protested. "Come on, that's ridiculous. You know I – I mean, come on! You're my favorite little elf!" 

Lucy frowned at him, and crossed her arms. 

Her stance had Frost floundering, so she chose to remain still until he explained himself. Frost stammered and took a couple steps backward, which only had Lucy holding her pose while advancing toward him. 

And the wall was getting closer, so escape was not going to be an option. Well, not unless he shoved her aside, and he wasn't really wanting to do that either. 

"Fine, fine! I did leave early because of you, but not for the reason you're thinking," Frost said. "Better?" 

"Not at all!" she complained. "What did I do to upset you so much?" 

"Huh? Nothing," Frost said immediately with a tone of confusion. 

Which only confused Lucy more. 

"What?!" she exclaimed in a huff. "I don't – I waited there for hours, and you had already left because of me, but not because you were upset with me?!" 

"Hours? What do you mean hours?" Frost asked. 

Lucy groaned, and looked up in the ceiling as if it could assist in the agonizing conversation about to occur. 

"I... I was standing under the mistletoe," she whispered. 

"Repeat that?" Frost asked, because it had only reached his ears as a jumble of noise given the fact she had directed it heavenward. 

"The mistletoe," Lucy groaned, and immediately regretted everything as Frost's face became startled. His eyes were the widest she had ever seen, with his mouth left mildly agape. 

But then, he looked away. The previous expression was replaced with something softer, but more troubling. 

He looked... Serious? Which was weird on its own, but then the added layer of resignation had him looking...  

Haunted. 

"Uncle Jack?" she whispered. 

"Is this because of how I've been looking at you lately?" Frost laughed quietly. "You're... You're reading too much into it, you silly thing. I just, I'm quite a fan of winter fashion, obviously, and well, you see – " 

"How have you been looking at me?" Lucy asked softly. 

Frost stared at her in disbelief, and swallowed harshly. "You mean... You haven't noticed my inappropriate perusal of your womanly person?" 

"Your what of my what?" Lucy asked, completely lost. 

Wait, so his less-than-covert glances were apparently more covert than he thought? Or was he (ironically) reading too much into what Lucy was saying? Or... Or... 

Or was there something else happening, something that he didn't quite yet see? 

Frost took a step towards her. Lucy shivered a fraction, wetting her lips with her tongue. She stared at him desperately, clearly trying to convey something with her eyes that her mouth was refusing to explain. 

Mistletoe, she had said mistletoe... 

"What is it that you want from me, dear Lucy?" Frost murmured. 

"I... Well, I... I suppose I was hoping for a kiss," Lucy admitted quietly. 

Somehow, even with all the tempting, teasing atmosphere of promise charged in the air between them, that was not what Frost had been anticipating her to say. 

"A kiss?" Frost repeated. 

"Yes! Why – Who, for who else would I have stood under the mistletoe for hours?" Lucy asked with an incredulous scoff. "My parents? My brother?" 

Realization began to flicker across Frost's face, but it left just as quickly as it appeared. Instead, it was replaced with a smug smile and a cocky eyebrow lift. 

"Of course you do! It's a hot commodity, who wouldn't want to be kissed by The Jack Frost? I have 'em lined up 'round the block, just for even the mere chance at pressing their lips to mine!" Frost boasted boldly. 

Then he caught her eyes with a half-chuckle, then a full chuckle, and then his voice immediately dropped low and he slid toward her with a look of absolute concern, "So, um, why exactly?" 

Lucy chuckled at his antics, once again endeared by his dramatic and comedic personality. "Because… I love everything about winter." 

"You – You love everything about winter," he said with a decisive tone. "Including me, since I'm… I'm winter incarnate. Interesting, yes…" 

Frost tapped a finger to his lips as he held her eye contact. 

"There's no mistletoe now," he observed. 

"Are you stalling?" Lucy baited. Inside, her heartbeat was going at a rapid clip; part of her was certain this was a dream. There was no way Jack Frost was actually entertaining this conversation, was there? 

"Oh-ho," Frost cackled. "You really think – Me? Stalling! Ha! Laughable, Lucy dear!" 

But Lucy watched as he drummed his fingers against his cheek, and she absently wondered just what was going on in his mind. 

Frost was actually thinking perhaps this was some long-form prank of some kind; perhaps this "Lucy" was actually a well-crafted toy clone of the winsome redhead, and if he kissed her, she would blow up in a shower of confetti with a cacophony of sound to alert everyone that he had fallen for their trick. 

The audacity! 

Yes, yes, he could see it now! And it would be on-brand, because of all his pestering to be granted his own holiday... Perhaps once the trick was revealed, the Council would leap from the shadows and exclaim, "See, you're just an APRIL FOOL, JACK FROST! HAHAHA!" 

Which was a terrible prank! It didn't even make sense! Those immortal defalcators couldn't even do that right! 

But then again, the uncertainty in Lucy's bright eyes and the pink of her cheeks (getting darker by the moment) seemed far too realistic for even Christmas Magic to conjure. Sure, the smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose could be mimicked with a paintbrush... But could those miniature magic manufacturers craft such a delectable little pout of her lips like that? 

And Lucy Miller did like winter. Everyone knew that. Hell, the fucking reindeer knew that and he once watched Chet eat a styrofoam shoe thinking it was food (despite foam not being food and despite shoes also not being food). 

Little Lucy Miller. 

Well, not little anymore. Oh dear, definitely not. Little Lucy had a squeaky voice like one of the elves, and preferred a mountain of whipped cream with her cocoa, and liked glitter and ponies or something, probably, (he had never really asked). 

This Lucy, this... This different Lucy, this Lucy was like an entirely different person who just happened to have a very similar backstory to the aforementioned Little Lucy. 

This Lucy Miller, she liked her coffee black and classic rock and terrible puns. She always had double helpings of green bean casserole, but refused to eat ham and green bean soup. She liked taking care of the reindeer, and didn't mind if she got a bit muddy in the process. Her nails were always painted carefully with glitter accents, which were meticulously niveous in their execution. And she filled out her clingy clothing in the most perfect of ways. 

Frost came to a decision, which gave him a mild head rush and quickened his heartbeat. 

He leaned forward, tantalizingly close. Lucy inhaled sharply but softly, trying not to have Frost think she was startled and change his mind. 

Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh! He's leaning in to kiss you Lucy! Stay in the moment, stay in the moment! 

Frost's lips brushed feather-light over her cheek, and pressed gently. It was a whisper of a kiss, but it made her shiver all the same. 

Then he pulled away, eyeing the young woman with a smirk hinting at the corner of his lips. 

"Is that what you were thinking of, dear Lucy?" he whispered coyly as his chin rested on his knuckles. 

Lucy huffed shortly through her nose and made a noise of disapproval. She held his eye contact, trying not to smirk herself. The smug bastard. 

"More," she requested firmly, as her gaze dropped to Frost's lips and back up to his expressive blue eyes again. 

Frost licked his bottom lip, pausing as he considered her. His smirk faded as a small smile emerged. Then Frost reached for her, and his fingertips grazed over Lucy's cheek where the ghost of his kiss still lingered. 

"Well, allow me..." he murmured, and closed the gap between them. 

She tilted her head toward him, as her eyes slid shut. Frost met her carefully, giving her ample time to change her mind it seemed. This kiss was less chaste, and sparked across the seam of her lips. 

After a moment, Frost pulled away and left her breathless all over again. Her eyes flew open, staring at him with an expression of longing. 

"Did that satisfy your craving, then?" Frost murmured, and his voice had an edge of something rough in it now. 

Lucy whined in her throat, and shook her head in the negative. 

Frost chuckled, then quipped: "Sorry, perhaps I'm a bit rusty. It's been a couple decades since I conned anyone into wanting to kiss me." 

"Not what I meant," Lucy complained. "I want... I need..." 

Frost swallowed harshly, delighted and mildly stunned. Hoo boy. This was as exciting as it was terrifying. Oh shit! If her parents – or Santa Claus – or the Council – or anyone in the damned North Pole globe, really – found out that he had kissed Lucy Miller... 

"Please?" Lucy whispered. Her hand trembled, just a fraction, as it slid onto his upper arm. His breath caught, and then he found himself hypnotized by her lips and drawn to them again by some unseen, magnetic force. 

His crashed upon hers with an exhale of relief, as he gathered her lithe body into his awaiting arms. Lucy melted into him, and warmth flooded his heart and ricocheted throughout his body like a misfired lightning bolt. 

Oh, right! Her magic hugs! He should've anticipated... 

He should've... 

He... 

Damn, she tasted like heaven. Her kiss reminded him of the warmth of apple pie beneath that little à la mode scoop of vanilla: chasing the chill, making it come alive with spice and cinnamon, and warmth, and that feeling of coming home, and... 

Lucy groaned as she fisted his candy-cane inspired lapels, diving more into the kiss that Frost offered. Her tongue was questing in his mouth as he sought to uncover more about him. This time, more about his passion, his affections, his desires... His kiss was making her shiver, making her want to burrow further into his warm arms, like cuddling beneath a blanket to watch the snowstorm rage outside a window. 

At a length, Frost pulled away for a moment. He had lost himself in their passionate kiss, and needed to ground himself. She stared up at him with a look of dazed hunger; blissed but wanting more. 

Which he probably was mirroring right back at her, if he was being honest. Which was making the pants of his suit a tad too tight in the front. Which in turn, was making him feel like a much younger version of himself. He hadn't felt such a heady rush and need for heavy petting in a hundred years... 

"Eh, one more," Frost mumbled, mostly to himself, and captured her sweet little mouth again. 

[cloud-based-and-rainpilled]

AU Hellworld where Martin Short and Michael Sheen’s careers are switched

Note: I confused Martin Sheen and Martin Short this doesn’t even work as a pun goddammit

[willowsfanarts]

loving him was red - latest artwork

[prismatica-the-strange]

You're just a man who smells like a cookie

[mxmagestyk]

[candyheartedchy]

Made a The Santa Clause AU because why not 🤷‍♀️

[starleska]

dude, it cracks me up that Jack is constantly drinking throughout the whole film. the first three drinks are all hot cocoa/'cocoaccinos' and the fourth is alcohol, probably whiskey...do you think he's drinking these to keep himself warm? 😭💔

[bad268]

aaa hii I love your bernard the elf one shots and I was wondering if you could write a romantic one-shot where the reader is also a head elf // becomes one of the head elves?? idk why but I feel like there would be more head elf’s and assistants to take shifts at the workshop or something 😭

if you can’t it’s okay but if you can tysm!! 🤗💕

Carry You Home (Bernard X Head Elf! Reader)

Fandom: The Santa Clause

Requested: Clearly (I usually don't accept requests for fictional people anymore, but I was in a mood)

Warnings: None

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1101

Summary: At least you had Bernard to carry you home.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

You walked through the workshop looking for one person and one person only: Bernard. You hadn’t seen him since that morning, and you were too busy running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Christmas was right around the corner, and as Co-Head Elf, you had a deadline to uphold. 

You two had decided that splitting up would make everything easier on both of you, and Santa was all for letting you do whatever you thought would make December run smoother. So far, it had been successful, so who was he to say no?

Right. The only problem with the system, that you found, was the fact that you only saw Bernard at the beginning and end of your day. Sometimes, you would get lucky and run into him during lunch, but that wasn’t a guarantee. Today, you were meant to meet up with Bernard for a status report before dinner, but your rounds went longer than you expected. You didn’t finish until nearly eight PM, and by the time you realized that Bernard was nowhere to be found, you started panicking.

You looked through the workshop, upstairs and downstairs, in the reindeer stables, in the kitchen, in the courtyard, in every nook and cranny you could think of, and there was no sign of Bernard. None of the elves were much help either, most having said they hadn’t seen him in hours. That just raised more red flags in your mind as you frantically ran through the workshop for the one-hundredth time, it seemed.

That’s when you had a lightbulb moment. If you couldn’t find him in the workshop or your flat, he had to be in his office. That was the only option you could think of, so you set off for it immediately.

It was in the far corner of the workshop because Bernard always complained about the noise and how he could not work if it was too loud. You always thought that was BS since he was the one who opted for all of the louder, faster-paced environments during rounds and let you take the smaller, quieter departments. That was your thing.

You made your way through the corridors before you reached the now significantly darker hallway. It didn’t take you long to reach Bernard’s office door before you raised your hand to knock lightly on the wood. You barely tapped it before the door opened slightly. You pushed your way in carefully and stopped in your tracks as soon as you registered the scene in front of you.

Bernard was slumped back against his chair, asleep. You should have known this was where he would end up. He had been working himself to the bone every day in the lead-up to Christmas. It wasn’t something you saw often because he usually waited until you fell asleep before he dozed off. 

You smiled to yourself as you walked up behind the chair and gently grabbed the blanket that was folded neatly across the back of his chair. He shuffled around in the chair for a second, causing you to freeze and hold your breath as he settled back down. When he finally did, you let out your breath and unfolded the blanket to place over him. You did not want to wake him up, everyone knew he needed all the sleep he could get, and if he was going to sleep in his office, the least you could do was make sure he stayed warm. You tucked the blanket around his shoulders, making sure it wouldn’t somehow fall off during the night. Then, you quietly made your way out. Just as you were about to close the door behind you, you heard rustling from inside his office again, so you peeked your head through the doorframe. 

Sure enough, your eyes immediately met Bernard’s bleary ones. 

“Morning, sleepyhead,” You whispered with a smirk as he yawned and rubbed his hands over his face, “Well, it’s not morning, but you looked like you were getting some good sleep there. Santa knows you needed that.”

“Would’ve been better if you were here,” He teased as he leaned back in his chair, looking like he was ready to fall back asleep any second.

“You’re such a flirt when you’re tired,” You rolled your eyes as you walked back into the room. “Is that your attempt at getting me to sleep in here with you? To be honest, I would much rather lay in our bed in our flat where we don’t have the threat of Curtis or someone walking in here randomly.”

“People don’t just randomly walk in here,” Bernard dismissed as he stood up, wrapping the blanket tighter around his shoulders before walking up to you and pulling you into the blanket with him. “And even if they did, that’s their problem.”

“Okay. Well, I don’t know about you, but I’d also rather not sleep in my jeans that I’ve been wearing all day,” You pointed out, wrapping your arms around his waist and absorbing his body heat. That’s when you realized just how cold you actually were as well. “Plus, our heater is better.”

“You’ve sold me,” He sighed with a joking eye-roll before kissing your forehead as you yawned. “Jump up. I’ll carry you home.”

“You literally just woke up, and now you’re offering to carry me? You’ve been having too much eggnog,” You questioned as you looked at him skeptically.

“Maybe I have,” He chuckled, shrugging his shoulders, “Maybe I just like carrying you.”

“Weirdo, but I’m not gonna turn down a free ride.” You jumped up and wrapped your arms around his waist as he adjusted one arm under your legs and the other around your shoulders, holding the blanket up.

“Hold the blanket,” He said as you used one of your arms to keep the blanket around your shoulders while he moved his other arm to keep you up. Then, he walked out of his office, pausing to let you turn the light off and lock the door. “I’m not trying to drop you. That would make me a bad boyfriend, and I’m not trying to get on the naughty list this close to Christmas.”

“That would not be a good thing,” You commented as you leaned your head against his shoulder and looked up at him as he walked through the workshop. It was mostly silent by now, save for the couple who were passing through to the kitchens or whatnot, but it made you realize just how late it was getting. At least you had Bernard to carry you home.

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[daddybird7]

full art is ready

[kscribbs]

Was inspired by this post from @muppethollz to do a lil' Jack meme illo.

Miller's Law!Jack under the cut, complete with partially-thawed/greying hair, à la one of my older artworks.

[a-rat-with-adhd]

❄Bernardie❄