A/N's note:

guys it's summeeer~ *sings* which means I've got more time to dedicate for fanfic writing. ;3 And now, here's my latest Kristanna story and I promise this time I'm going to do better with this and I'll try to update more often. Hope you enjoy~ Don't forget to R&R

Prologue:

"New York is currently under a blizzard warning. Heavy snow and wind gusts up to 45 mph could reduce visibility to nearly zero and make travel "nearly impossible," the National Weather Service said early this morning. It would be advised to stay out of the storm and keep cozy at—"

Kristoff clicked the filthy rickety-rackety radio off that barely even had battery to keep playing. He dusts the filth from his fingers off on his denim jeans, before placing his elbows back down on the counter to rest. He glances out the window, watching the snowstorm bellow by just outside. It was hard to look out beyond the fogged up screen, all he could see was harsh snow pouring down, mercilessly freezing everything at its wake. Plus, the evening darkness made it harder to visibly see outside.

"Of course," he whispered to himself sarcastically. "What kind of mad person would be out on a weather like this?"

It's Christmas Eve, and it looks like Jack Frost is putting his mad skills to the test. And thanks to the weather, it looks like Kristoff was stuck in his shop for the whole evening. There's probably ten feet of snow outside, and Kristoff was a big man. He knows the moment he steps into the snow, he'd just sink in and vanish before anyone even gets to notice him. Good thing he packed an extra shirt, a blanket, and a jacket in a duffle bag in case he wouldn't be able to get out the verge of the maddening storm. And one thing made him content; he was right.

He did feel bad that his best friend, Sven (AKA a brown Labrador retriever), had to spend the holidays alone in his apartment. But it was another good thing that he left the heater open for Sven and he left his food bowl with unlimited carrot-flavored dog food and water. He must be slacked on the couch right now, watching TV and switching the channel every once in a while with his mucky paws. Yep, double luck.

Kristoff sighs heavily as he adjusts his seat in front of the counter and stretches, the knots in his broad shoulders loosening. Today had actually been one of those days, business didn't run smoothly as he expected it to be. Some old man shouted at him earlier while he was carrying goods to his shop when he unexpectedly bumped into him, telling him to watch out and be more cautious (or something like that). He really couldn't care less. A businesswoman stormed out his shop, complaining something about why on earth would he sell iced coffees in winter. In winter. Well if she'd look at the name of his friggin' coffee shop she'd understand.

Reindeers Iced Coffees, and yes, the sign is proudly plastered outside his store, Kristoff was quite pleased with it. He had personally painted his shop's name on rough plywood he found lying around trash next to his store, and a comical looking reindeer drawn next to it. Loose nails keeping it at its place on the rooftop.

A loud bang startles the blonde, nearly spilling the coffee in hand.

Reindeers Iced Coffees the sign read, displayed outside the window.

Wait, scratch that. Had been hanging outside his store. He decides he'd put it back on top the very moment the storm stops.

He relaxes, shoulders deflating back into his stool as he took a sip from his drink. It's not like Kristoff liked celebrating Christmas, or he even liked the idea of Christmas, but something about the evening felt… dull.

Yes, he's cozied up in his store with the right temperature to keep him warm. He has his favorite drink in his hand, brewed Espresso. With an aromatic scent of coffee beans in the warm air, but he did like his coffee cold. He doesn't know why, but Kristoff couldn't deny. He has this weird, very weird, fetish for ice.

Yep, ice. He remembers it like in the back of his head, he's been molded in the field of ice. He remembers someone he once called papa that brought him to ice harvesting trips when he was a wee lad, exposing him to the frigid temperature and the slick beauty of ice. He's been surrounded by big, gruff men trying to make ice out for a living, and it gave hope in his heart that he, Kristoff Bjorgman, would successfully be like them when he grew up.

Well, he's here but without the successful part yet.

His muscles have been flexed from hard days work, his physique has grown quite rough like his old men. If they saw him now, he knew they'd be beaming with pride.

He remembers when he finally came to the city in his late teens, he remembers playing for his Middle School's team in hockey, The South West Weasels. He's been put to the test and pushed to the limit by their couch, in which he and his teammates called under the codename: The Duke. His middle school life had been turned into living hell because of the old man, Kristoff learned that he should never judge someone by looks. The Duke was small, scrawny, and barely had body fat in his body to keep moving. Kristoff literally thought he was a walking twig back then. But when he trained him, he trained him hard. He made poor Kristoff do over 500 push ups every time he messed up carrying the supplies for the game, he made him jog around the campus each time he'd say the wrong answer on his pop up quizzes about hockey. He literally almost made Kristoff choke on a hockey puck when Kristoff missed the goal, making their team lose their biggest game yet.

Kristoff laughed to himself in the memory of it, shaking his head lightly. But it was also thanks to the old man that he learned the importance of hard work, and he was thankful.

One of Kristoff's hobbies also included skiing, ice skating (whenever he gets the chance), and ice sculpting. He likes grazing his calloused hand over the surface of ice, creating all kinds of wonders from mere blocks of ice.

And yes, he literally built his whole world around ice. And now that he's entering college, he doesn't even think of stopping with his intentions. He's finishing his high school year by next year, hopefully. And he's thinking of taking up business at CGI U down the street. He's dreamt for so long of putting up his own shop (well, he actually already did), but not like this. He wants tantalizing chandeliers sculpted perfectly in ice atop the ceiling. Cotton fabric and cushioned sofas that could tempt anyone to sit and have a rest. Crystal clear counter that'll persuade his customers to buy more. And a strong aroma of caffeine in the air, greeting everyone and anyone that enters his store, with him, most definitely at the counter, a big sheepish smile on his face.

But alas, it all just seems to be a dream.

Kristoff glanced at his shop, cupping his cheeks in calloused hands as disappointment stirred within his insides. His counter broken and nearly split in half, a creaking door, dusty shelves displaying all kinds of coffee brands, old wooden chairs and tables mindlessly looking unattractive no matter how many times he painted flowers and smiley faces on its rough surface. Really, it wasn't his best work yet. He barely even had a penny left to his name.

But there are other things Kristoff is proud of (not all of 'em is about ice). Like the fact that he has the bestest friend in the world, Sven. His brown Labrador retriever, always there by Kristoff's side. Well, his only friend in fact. Kristoff wasn't sociable, he refused partying out with his high school friends, or getting the chance to befriend his teammates from hockey back in middle school, he has more to tend to. Like feeding Sven with healthy carrots, and running his coffee shop business from going bankrupt, and getting ready for college, and ice sculpting, and ice skating, and—

He snaps out from his train of thoughts the moment the bell at his doorstep rang and to the sound of the door slamming with a loud 'thud'.

His eyes immediately shot open to stare at the girl before him.

She wore a lime-green dress completely frozen from the storm outside, skirt sticking out of its gracefulness. She turns to the counter.

Her teal eyes stared back to meet his brown orbs, cheeks rosy from the cold air. Alabaster skin sprinkled with freckles, button nose, and strawberry blonde hair tied into a firm bun atop her head. Her petite body was shaking badly, she wasn't looking good in such a state. Her teeth are clattering, and it's all that could be heard in the room, with him left to stare in silence at her, bewildered. She starts walking towards him the moment she notices.

"Cold!" she squeaks as she takes small, careful steps towards him, doll shoes creaking on the surface of his shop. "Cold, cold, cold, cold!"

The moment she reaches him, she triumphantly smiles and places her small hands on the counter. "Hi."

"Hey?" he gives her a quizzical look, eyes flicking up and down her body, trying to think of a logical reason why on earth a neatly dressed girl would be walking in the middle of a blizzard and entering his shop out of nowhere. "Well, you look… cold."

She laughs lightly, her laughter filling the warm air of his shop. "Funny, most guys who try to flirt with me usually tell me I look hot, or pretty, or cute but you just—wow."

"I'm not flirting," he deadpans as he stirs his coffee in his hands. "But really, you look cold."

"Kind of looking for a little sanctuary after going through bloody hell out there," she motions for the window. "So, um, coffee? Hot maybe, I'd like that. Hot coffee right now would be very nice."

His eyes twitched, eyes still refusing to break contact with her teal eyes. "Sorry," he barely says out. "But I don't sell hot coffee."

"What?" She says, pupils dilating the moment she hears his words. "But, this place is a coffee shop, right?"

"Yep."

"And you don't sell hot coffee?"

"Sorry," he puffs out a breath as he nervously ran his fingers through his unruly hair. He felt a heavy lump in his chest, and he swore it was guilt. For some odd reason, he didn't want to look up at the girl standing before him with pouting lips and big round eyes begging him to say that he has hot coffee in his menu. "If you look out the window, you'll see a sign saying Reindeers Iced Coffee, thus, this shop specializes in iced coffees only. Sorry," he repeats as he points out the window, her head following his direction.

"Oh," she squeaked, disappointment in her tone. Just when she was warming up to the heater, she starts walking towards the door again. "Guess I'll just have to find some other place, huh," she holds her hands out for the doorknob, but Kristoff simply couldn't watch anymore.

"Wait! Wait!" he called out the moment she twists the knob, jumping out his seat to actually make her stay. "I," he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, immediately looking towards a different direction. He feels his face flush for no reason in particular, or so he believes. "…think I can make an exception."

She turns back, a spark of hope in her teal eyes. "You can?"

"Grab a seat," he suggests as he began to set the ingredients behind the counter. The strawberry blonde began to happily skip towards him and sat at a stool, elbows prompted at the counter.

Kristoff got up to wrap a pink apron around his waist he grabbed from rack next to the window, from where it seemed like the storm was lighting up a little. And as he worked his stubby fingers along tying a knot behind his back, he hears giggling erupt from the room.

He turns to see the girl puffing her flushed cheeks by the counter, clearly holding back laughter.

"What? Never saw someone in an apron before?"

Startled, she clears her throat. "N-no. Let alone a man… in a pink one."

He shakes his head and goes back to work.

She thrums slick fingers at the surface of the counter as she watched him work his magic. Eyeing him, she noticed how much bigger his physique was compared to hers. Maybe he liked working out a lot? He had really unruly hair, guessing he didn't really clean up much. His face was flushed red, maybe from the steam, or the cold, or maybe even both.

"There you go," he said as he placed a hot mug down on the counter. "Enjoy."

She stared at the cup before her, he finished sooner that she expected. Or she really just let her train of thoughts get the better of her. She cradles the mug and takes a sip.

Immediately, her insides are all warmed up. The feeling of the cold no longer bothered her. She sighs in relief.

"This is amazing," she croaks out to see the blonde barista watching her enjoy her drink. "Chocolate?"

"Yep, with the best creamer in town."

"I looove chocolate!" she smiles at him with her thin lips and pink lipstick.

"I knew you would," he laughs as he grabbed the stool behind him, now face to face with his customer – or new friend. "That's actually the first – you're the first."

"The first…?" she asks, voice trailing off.

"The first person I've ever made hot chocolate for. I usually ignore customers who complain why I don't have anything hot on my menu, but you're the first person I've acknowledged hot chocolate as a request."

"Got a fetish for cold stuff or something?" she laughs lightly before she looks up to him with her big round eyes again, long lashes batting up to him. "But really, thank you."

"Anytime, feisty pants," he gives her a cheeky grin.

"I've got a name, just so you know," her slick fingers wrap along the mug, still begging for heat. "I'm Anna, and you?"

"Kristoff," he notices her, still slightly shivering from the frigid temperature. He couldn't care less about his introduction. "Still cold?"

"A little."

He takes his jacket off, and began to wrap it along her petite body. Her eyes widens in surprise. "Ah! No! You really don't have to!"

"I insist. S'okay with me."

"But then you'll get cold."

"I'm used to it anyway," he reassures her. She does notice how his lips were slightly chapped from the cold, maybe he did really like working around the cold. Anna's cheeks flush red, she's getting so much from a man she had just met.

"…Thank you." she says again, feeling the warmth from his shop and the warmth from his jacket envelop her skin.

Without even noticing, they've been staring for quite awhile. And the moment they notice, Kristoff desperately tries to change the subject.

"So!" he said, running stubby fingers through his hair. "This really isn't the best weather for Christmas eve, huh?"

"Yeah!" she squeaks as she pushed her bangs out of the way. "It really isn't the best especially on Christmas E—"

She stops dead on her words as her mouth hung open.

"What's up?" The blonde barista asks. "Is everything okay?"

"No," Anna said as she cupped her cheeks. "No, no, no, no, no! I can't believe I actually forgot!"

She then began scrambling in her purse before leaving a bill on his counter as she jumped off her seat and began rushing towards the door, unbeknownst to her his jacket is still wrapped along her.

"I got to go! Thanks for everything Kristoffer!" she waves back at him awkwardly, a shy smile on her face. "Merry Christmas!"

Kristoff stares with wide eyes at the open door of his shop, the cold chill of the winter air rushing inside as he wonders if he'd ever meet her again. He looks down on the mug she drank from, sadly poking at it.

"…It's Kristoff."

So, this is where this AU is set in:

Kristoff is a barista, he likes everything with ice in it. He's going to take business in college. Anna is going to take up mass communication in college (not sure about this one yet) and she's also kinda like a celebrity because of her part time job as a model (Kristoff doesn't know yet). Elsa is also taking business in college, and she's three years older than Anna. Hans is going to appear in the story, maybe a little later. This story is set in NY, I'm going to think a lot more on this story.

And oh yeah, this story is parallel to my Jelsa fic, My Boyfriend is a Winter fox. Both stories happen in the same world, but this one is focused on Kristanna while the other one is Jelsa. if you're a Jelsa fan, you can check it out if you want.

I hope you enjoyed, english really isn't my native language. but I'll try my best!

Don't forget to review! Till next time, bros!