Hello, readers! I decided to compile all of the requested Jarida fics I've written on Tumblr so that you guys could read them too if you aren't on Tumblr. I will update when I get a new request and write the fic.

If you have a fic you wish to request, I will be more than happy to do it! Just leave it in a review. Give me a bit of time though, because requests pile up and I get busy with my life. I ask to keep it at a T rating. Thank you!

And, as always, please review and let me know what you think!

Requested by: Anonymous on Tumblr

Disclaimer: I don't own 'Brave' or 'ROTG'

"You three behave!" the young woman yelled after her younger brothers as they raced out onto the white field.

She huffed and watched the breath leave her lips in a cloud of white before disappearing into the air. Rubbing her hands viciously up and down her arms, she trudged through the ankle deep snow to a metal bench nestled under an oak. She dusted off stray flakes of snow before sitting down, flinching at the cold that eagerly attack her warm flesh.

The young woman blew an errant curl from her blue eye as she traced the path of the three red heads out on the snow. Their laughter floated back to her as they prided themselves on their ability to creep up behind the other youngsters and stuff handfuls of chilling ice down the neck of their shirts. The children hollered in response: some ran to their mother's with tearstained faces, others turned and assaulted the triplets with an icy attack of their own.

She chuckled as she wrapped her arms around herself and buried the raw skin of her face into her scarf. No one was getting hurt. It was only a bit of fun. Sure her mother wouldn't approve, but her brothers were spending energy that she wouldn't have to deal with at home. Sounded good to her.

Her ears perked at the soft crunch of snow.

"Anyone sitting here?" came a vibrant tenor.

Her eyes darted over her shoulder to meet matching blue eyes buried in the pale face of a young man whose hair was a white was the snow that dusted the city. She didn't recognize him. She'd remember someone with that color of hair, wouldn't she?

She shook her head. "No, unless you consider the air."

He smirked and grasped ahold of the snow dust bench with a bare hand and vaulted over the back of it before sitting down next to her.

"Watching your brothers?" he asked, his eyes never turning to her face.

The young woman recoiled slightly at the question. "How'd you know a thing like that?" she demanded.

"There are three boys," he answered, his finger pointing out each one of them, "with hair as red—and, well, frankly, as unmanageable as yours."

Her lips pursed together tightly as she felt her anger rise at the insult, but she miraculously managed to shove it down and question tersely, "So?"

A smirk pulled at his lips as he leaned back, propping his elbows up on the back of the bench and finally looking at her. "So, unless you're a young mother a three, I'm pretty sure they're your brothers."

"What are you implying?" she bit back, her mind whirling over the possible meanings of the mother comment.

"That you have three brothers," he responded slowly.

Swallowing her brief embarrassment of the misunderstood comment, she huffed and turned away, eyeing him cautiously out the corner of her eye. She didn't like his smirk. It reminded her too much of her brothers, and—if she were to be honest—herself. It was a flashing neon sign of mischief, but his eyes caught her. They seemed gentle, a bit sad almost as he watched the children in the field play.

"You have any siblings?" she asked casually.

"Had a younger sister," he responded softly.

"Had?" she prodded, turning to face him.

She spied the pain that flickered through his crystal eyes for a fraction of second before his smirk returned and he shrugged lightly. "Long story."

"Divorce…?" she prompted.

When he didn't answer her, she steered the conversation down a side path. "What are you doing here then?"

"I just like watch the kids play," he answered simply, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. He let out a laugh, and she turned to witness one of her brothers running away with a gleeful screech from a young girl doused in slush. She couldn't make out which one it was at this distance, but she had a feeling it was Hubert.

Her eyes flickered back to the young man who was watching her brother's play quite intently. "You a pervert or something?" she asked warily before mentally kicking herself. Who would answer yes to that?
He chuckled lightly at the question, appearing to take no offence. "No. Sometimes I'll join in," he admitted, "start a snowball fight."

"Oh," she responded as she let her eyes scan him over.

How was he not cold?! All that rested on his slender frame was a blue sweater dusted with snow, khaki pants and worn tennis shoes. She arched an eyebrow and asked, "Don't you own any warmer clothes?"

His eyes turned from the kids to her. "Don't you own any conditioner?" he returned with a laugh.

"Cheeky much," she grumbled.

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"Perhaps, but I'll take it as one."

She huffed and rolled her eyes. Each second just proved him insufferable.

Snow crunched under his boots as he stood up. "Love to continue the banter with you," he said with a smirk as he started walking away, "but an upcoming snowball fight has my name on it."

"And that happens to be?" she called after him.

He turned on his heel, a smile tugging at his lips. "Jack," he answered. "And what name should I write next to mine when I convince you to join me in some fun instead sitting alone?"

"Merida."

"Well, Merida," he said as he stuffed his hands into his pockets as he cocked his head in the direction of the squealing kids, "what do you say?"

She laughed and shook her head. "More of a summer person. Snow's too cold for me."

"Aw, c'mon," he pouted as he walked back for her. He reached out and wrapped a long-fingered hand around hers. Even through her gloved she could feel the chilled flesh.

"You're going to get frostbite, you know," she told him as he pulled her to her feet.

He shrugged and began to drag her to the field.

"I told you already, I don't like the snow!"

"No," he responded with a smirk, "you said it's too cold. But you see, fun can always beat out the cold."

He let go of her hand and scooped up a clump of snow. He molded it in his hands before arching it towards a kid. "Snowball fight!" he hollered as he ran into the fray, dodging snowballs with ease and tossing expertly made ones himself.

She felt a giggle pass her lips as he dashed back to her and pulled her into the war zone with him. He was right in the end. Fun definitely beat out the cold.

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