Frigid (Jack Frost x Reader)

    Your (e/c) gaze skimmed the snow slathered park. The trees were holding the overbearing weight of the snow with diligent resistance, and you were surprised that some of the limbs were still up.  Not only that, a fresh layer of snow coated the walkway, making the whole vicinity a beautiful winter wonderland picture. Not only that, the park was abandoned of any occupants since it was nearing dark. 

    "Perfect," you breathed, a ghost of your breath whisking from your chapped lips before dispersing. No matter how many layers clothing, a scarf, a beanie, and gloves, the frost of winter still seeped into your frame. You were freezing, but it was worth it. 

    Reluctantly, you peeled off your gloves, exposing your skin to the raw temperature. You couldn't function the camera properly with the husky gloves in your way, and there was no way you could pass over this shot. 

    

    Clicking on your camera, you fiddled with the options, adjusting the settings to your liking to fit the snow crusted area. Lifting it up, you began to focus it, expertly stilling your hands to minimal movement for the shot. As you began to pressure your finger onto the button, you noted a blue sweater and tattered pants clad boy in the background in front of a tree. His back was faced to you, and from your point of view, you could discern that he was holding some stick in one hand and the other was pressed against the tree. And his hair was white.

    How odd.

    Either way, he was ruining your picture, and it was enough for you to boldly call out. 

    "Hey, uh, could you please move for a few seconds to the left? I'm taking a picture. It'll be real quick, I promise," your voice projected out the strange boy. 

    He didn't seem to acknowledge you, aside from that he briefly turned his head to you, then turned away. The tree he was standing in front of beginning to acquire an odd glossy surface, as if frost was beginning to creep up its surface. Huh. Still, the fact that he looked over and didn't respond began to make you  bristle lightly.

    You begin to stride forward towards him, hooking the camera's strap around your neck and weaseling your gloves on.

    

    "Hey! I'm talking to you," you stated firmly, with a seasoning of indignation.

    

    He turned to you, and the sight of him made you abruptly halt in your beeline to him. Your mouth parted slightly, your (e/c) eyes widening a fraction. 

    Whoever he was, he practically looked like an embodiment of winter now that you had a better look of him. Still gaping, your eyes rode up and along his lanky yet agile frame. His skin was pale like he never seen summer before, and his bedhead hair was a stark white that easily rivaled the snow that clumped across the ground. Not only that, his eyes were an eccentric blue that you've never seen before. The white haired boy reflected your surprised expression, his eyebrows drawn up and his mouth parted slightly. 

    Oh, and he was unbearably cute. But you decided to ignore your own opinion. 

    "You're wearing no shoes," you managed to sputter out, severing the awestruck spell that captivated both of you. Not only was he barefoot, his attire looked hardly plausible in dealing with the winter weather. His frayed and tattered pants looked like they were about to fall off, and his blue sweater was thin enough to attract frost around the collar. "You have to be freezing!"

    White haired boy continued to stare at you, and you noticed that his lips were moving softly, until you could finally make out what he was saying. 

       

    "...You. You can see me! You can see me!" he was babbling, earnest and laughter bounding his voice. A broad grin and breathy laughter  filtered free of his lips, and he leaned against his staff as if he was about to fall over. "You can see me." 

    

    You were utterly unbalanced and surprised by the his whimsical actions, your eyebrows furrowing as you slowly nodded. "Uh huh, yes I can see you. Why wouldn't I see you?" You sounded dumbfounded. 

    "Because-- older people never see me!" he laughed, seeming overjoyed at some concept that was invisible to you. 

    "I'm not that old!" you broke. "So? Why are you so excited?" 

    

    "No, I mean-- little kids don't even see me!" he continued eagerly, his white smile arching far and wide. You didn't know exactly why, but his happiness was contagious, and you felt oddly jubilant for him. Even if he was talking utter nonsense.

    His blue eyes gleamed at you, his broad grin dropping into a more subdued and crooked grin, amusement bright in his face. 

    "You believe in me," he said, and you felt mildly confused, if not already. 

    "I don't get it."

    "You don't?"

    "What do you mean believe in you?" 

    The pale boy smiled, and the smile transitioned to a cocky grin. He retreated a few steps, and propped his staff against a tree. He spanned his arms out, presenting a sweeping bow to you before straightening up. 

    "I'm Jack Frost," he said with a wide grin. 

    Your initial response was shock, until it dwindled down to disbelief. "You can't be," you breathed, "I don't believe you." Yet some instinct told you that you indeed believe him. Your mother always chided you for being childish, and mostly for stubbornly believing in Santa, and the other holiday figures. Jack Frost was one of them.

    "You can see me, so you do believe in me," Jack pressed eagerly on, his white smile still beaming. 

    

    Raising your gloved hands in universal surrender, you negotiated and challenged, "Okay, sure. If you're actually The Jack Frost, prove it."

    Smiling still, then grinning, Jack mused, "The Jack Frost. I like the sound of that." His eyebrows cocked up at the challenge, and suddenly he snagged your hand, tugging you forward. 

    "H-Hey!" you stuttered, surprised at the motion. Despite your gloves, you could feel each of his frigid fingers seeping coldness into your hands. "What are you doing?" 

    He was already towing you forward, forcing you into a tag along jog, while chained to him by hand. Glancing over, he shot you a smile, "Proving it to you." 

    "Where are we going?" you questioned, fighting the flush dusting your cheeks as you recognized your hands linked together, and silently you chided yourself for acting so ridiculous. 

    

    "You'll see!" 

    

    You stumbled after Jack Frost as he reeled you beside him, barely keeping up, your feet slipping slightly against the ice coating the walkway. His arm swooped out, briefly cupping you to his side as you regained your balance. "Careful," he grinned, already noticing your fluster at being held. Shouldering him away, you made an attempt to be defiant, huffing and turning your head to hide your flush. 

    He still didn't let go of your hand, and you forgot about taking the winter shot of the park.