A/N: Okay, I'm pissed off. Sorry for those who thought it was a new story of mine but fanifction decided that To Believe breached some guidelines; I don't understand how since there are many JF/Reader fics out there. So to shove it in their faces I'm re-posting it. If it gets taken off again I will kill them. And that's a promise.

But because I changed it to first person I hope it won't.

Disclaimer: Nopes, not mine.

I don't believe. I'm not a child. Santa Claus? The Easter Bunny? Sandman? Jack Frost? I don't even hear of him, not until my mum affectionately pinches my cheek and says don't you let Jack Frost nip your nose! (as if I was ten, not sixteen).

I won't mum, I reply then and go on my way. I don't realise that he is watching me, eyes full of anger at my dismissive statement.

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That night, I can't fall asleep. I toss and turn, I try counting sheep, I even hug my favourite teddy (of which no one knows because I'm not ten, I'm sixteen) but nothing helps.

I hear a soft noise, a cold crackle outside my window. My eyes snap open but it is dark and at first I can't see. I blink blink blink and then I spot it. A small but beautiful pattern on the glass made of frost; so brilliantly white and so, so delicate and detailed. And one name flashes in my mind; Jack Frost.

The next morning I ask my mum about Jack Frost. She laughs. It's just a figure of speech, darling. And I think, of course. How stupid to even think he's real. But I have doubts. And I don't see him, crouched on my windowsill, staff clutched tightly in silent fury. I've angered him again, and I don't even know it.

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It's the second night I can't sleep. This time I don't toss or turn, I don't count sheep or hug my teddy. I wait. And I whisper, please, if you're real, show me. That's when the window opens, letting inside a gust of freezing wind. I cower under my covers in search for warmth, but they are lifted and I see him.

His hair is white like the falling snow outside and equally unkept; windblown, almost. His eyes are a crystal blue, and they are looking right at me. I cannot move, because the intensity of his gaze is keeping me in place. Instead, I whisper,

"Jack Frost."

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He visits me every night afterwards. I like him; his cheerful personality, his jokes, the fact that he brings joy to others. I like him so much that it begins to frighten me. I blush whenever he is near, I stutter when I talk to him, I feel self conscious of my sleep-mussed hair. When I voice my concerns about my less-than-appealing appearance he assures me he doesn't care. He calls me beautiful. He kisses me.

His lips are cold, but to me they are heaven. He brings me closer, clutching at me almost desperately. And I don't know why he does it, but I don't care. And when we break apart, I utter two words.

Jack Frost.

Aha, so there it is. Hope y'all enjoyed that! Please please PRETTY PLEASE review :) Again. I'm really sorry ; (