Jack Frost x Reader.
Just another day in your little town, Christmas had passed just over a week ago and as the new year rolled in, you couldn't help but think that spending New Year on your Tumblr dashboard was the best way to bring in the New Year, but, everyone was busy.
Your friends were invited to parties and your parent(s) were going out, even your eleven-year-old brother had been invited to his friend's house!
You sighed heavily, as you lay on your bed, staring up to the ceiling above, making patterns out of boredom, but thoughts trailed into your head, thoughts that could not be explained or given a straightforward answer.
“Bored.” You groan as you sit up, looking around your room with dullness, glancing over every individual object in your room which ranged from your cosy white jumper with red poka-dots on it that was incredibly warm and fluffy and looks great with a pair of pyjamas for a lazy day to your sketch book filled with doodles. Your eyebrows burrow in confusion as you thought you didn’t leave it on your desk since it was in reach of your parent(s) view.
You get up gently since you didn’t want your head to spin widely from dizziness and stroll towards it. Getting to your desk, you open your sketchbook; your hand trails the pencil lines of the young mans face as you chuckle slightly as you take your sketchbook and place it in your wardrobe away from sight.
“Why are you hiding it?” A voice questioned from your bedroom window, you turned swiftly towards it but saw nobody there, just your Christmas decorations you needed to take down. Shaking your head, you push you sketchbook further in the wardrobe and that’s when a gust of wind rushed underneath it and travelled towards the bedroom window. You gasped quietly as you reached for your well used baseball bat and swung it above your head.
“Woah! Put the bat down!” The voice called again but it seemed to be closer to you. The pages of your sketch book slowly turned over as the voice laughed with glee.
“Hey, there’s me!” the voice exclaimed as it turned the book around and showed the page to you. You just laughed.
“This is a joke, right?” You questioned with a smirk as you glanced over the Jack Frost sketch you made up. “You can’t be Jack Frost.”
“Because I got told he was a myth.” You answered honestly.
“Many people do. Only some believe in me.” The voice answered, as something ice cold held your right hand, you glanced around swiftly before you closed your [e/c] eyes believing in the cold of Jack Frost, believing of what he was capable of creating.
A cold tingle raced around your nose and your eyes snapped open to see a tall, teenage boy standing in front of you. You squeal a little as you leapt back slightly, from shock as your hand tugged away from the boy’s blue tinted hand.
The boy was clearly in his late teens, about 17 years of age, leaning on a seven foot tall staff which was similar to a shepherds crook only a little defined with frost, and bits of wood out of place. Jack was at least six foot one since his head rested on his staff with ease. He had a pale complexion with hints of blue under his eyes, his fingers and the tip of his ears; he also had slightly pink cheeks and nose probably flushed from the cold. The boys eyes were memorising, the brightest blue you had ever seen, but you noticed the right eye was a little darker than the other, but it didn’t matter since you were lost in these magical orbs. His salt and pepper eye brows were raised a little as your eye’s continued to scan him. Your eye’s made their way past his button nose to his smirk that he wore, his lips were tinted a dark blue, probably from being ice cold. Slowly you noticed the detail on his navy blue hoodie, crystal like patterns of frost had frozen the material of his hood, the top of his chest, the cuffs of the sleeves and the seems of the pockets to recreate the amazing structure. You notice his brown trousers, also lightly covered in frost are torn at the bottom, or it appeared to be snagged by the undergrowth, your eye’s notice that his feet were a light purple and blue colour but most of all, he wasn’t wearing any shoes.
“You haven’t got any shoes on.” You stated breathlessly as you glanced back over him.
“I know, I haven’t wore them in about three hundred years.”
“Three hundred years?!” You shriek from astonishment as you lift his arm up and twirl underneath it, examining the rest of him. He laughs as he swirls on the balls of his feet.
“Yep, three hundred years.”
“But, wont you get Frost-,”
“Cant.” He butts in, since he knows what you’re going to say as he hands you your sketchbook, you glance over it with curiosity.
“Hold it for a second, I gotta take this in.” You answer as you glimpse over him once more. Jack Frost was in your bedroom. The myth. The legend. The man that your mom nagged about since you refused to wear a hat in the winter time when you were little.
“You’re Jack Frost.” You mumble, he continues to flick through your sketch book with much interest as you can’t keep your eyes off him.
“Yep.” He answered, still flicking through you sketch book.
“The guy who creates the blizzards, the snowdays, the- the ice on the ground-,” You stutter rapidly, you catch a glimpse of him still dazed by your sketches.
“Will you put that down and listen to me please?” You ask a little annoyed since you had many questions for the so-called myth. Jack’s eye’s snap up and lock into yours for a couple of seconds as he places the book on your bedside table.
“Yeh, sure, sorry.” He replied as he sat by you with the staff between his legs.
“It’s okay.” You nod, you sigh heavily as you turn to him
"What do you want to know, err…”
“[y/n].” you raise an eyebrow at him but you soon smirk at his peaceful face.
“Awesome name…” He mumbles, as he repeats your name that seems to roll of his tongue like a work of art, just like him.
“Thanks…” You press your lips together as you look at him who is fiddling with his staff, he looks almost entranced by this piece as bark as he twirls it in-between his palms.
“Well, what can you do, Jack Frost?” His head snaps up with confusion, his eyebrows are burrowed, probably because someone is interested in him and his life for the first time in years but he smiles gently as he sees your interested face.
“Do you want me to show you?”