Okay okay don't rip me apart guys. I've been YEARNING TO WRITE A JACK FROST FANFICTION FOR A WHILE. I know a lot of people don't like OCs as love interests, but I'm just- *Smashed head into wall* bear with me. I really had a good plot line for this and I hope you guys like it~!

Oh, and I'm gonna post a song for every chapter.

White Christmas Micheal Buble

watch?v=vNPwkLjCxZQ

Rain battered at the buildings and streets, attacking the ground with force as if it were trying to destroy the timid town nestled away in the valley at the base of the mountain range. Winter winds tore through the streets causing bitter agony among the residents. Winter was always like this for Wimbleview. No snow ever fell, the last recorded over a decade ago. Only freezing rain attacked the town. It seems as if the young spirit of winter forgot about the town. He hadn't. The children had forgotten about the spirit. They didn't care. Greed overcame the children, they didn't want the snow days. They wanted toys on Christmas. They wanted video games and tablets and computers. The children didn't want to go outside and enjoy the glistening snow the spirit brought.

Eventually, he stopped coming and let nature take its natural toll.

It was this year that he decided to visit the town. As he soared through the night sky, he was slightly shocked not to see the golden sand reaching every house. Occasionally he would peer into a window and find out why. Just as the past years, the children were absorbed into their games, ignoring the need to sleep. With a sigh, he took off yet again and came to rest on the ledge of another house. Inside this one, the light was still on, but no televisions were on. He noticed the soft music before he noticed the window was cracked open slightly, the raised blinds wavering in the chilly wind he brought.

Inside the room, a girl of about seventeen was sitting at a desk. She seemed to be hypnotized by her writing. Carefully, he slipped into the room and peered over her shoulder. What he read both startled and surprised him. She was writing about him, in a way.

... and Jak looked to Medusa, examining her. "Do you honestly have to leave?" He asked quietly. She nodded, lips twitching into a frown.

"You know I can't stay here.. After what my father did..." The blonde mumbled while turning away. Jak carefully put a frozen hand on her shoulder, causing Medusa to wince.

"We can go together."

"Jak, no. I'll only hurt you by possessing another girl to feed my stupid and immature mind."

The rest of what was written was obscured by her hair from the way she was hunched over her work. Amused, the true Jack Frost smirked and chuckled. He jerked back towards the window quickly as the girl did, pulling her russet hair back into a ponytail. She stood and the boy managed to finish reading the rest of the page.

Antonio frowned at the conversation, stepping away from the room. He had known something had happened to his wife Eden... Medusa... Had she possessed her with her power? Oh, god. The thought made him want to hurl...

Huh. He didn't know the full story, but it sounded interesting. Jack glanced back over at the girl who was switching out CD's in her silver stereo. Something called 'Michael Bublé Christmas'. The song that came fist amused him.

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas...

Chuckling, the white spirit left the room. He'd defiantly need to watch this human closely.

Claire woke up too early for her liking. Literally, she grabbed her pillow and threw it across the room causing her alarm clock to fall off of her dresser. At least it shut up. She sat up and winced at the pain in her lower back for a moment. She stood and ignored the pain as she wandered down the hall and into the horrible mess called a kitchen. One of her dad's infamous notes was stuck to the fridge. Working late. She didn't even have to glance at the note to know what it said. With a sigh she grabbed a fudge poptart from one of the cabinets in worse shape than the others. If it's nearly broken, why the hell do they still use it?

Finishing the sweet treat, Claire brushed her hair in the small bathroom she shared with her dad. A gun was hidden under the sink. Oh, yeah. Shocking, right? Not really.. she was used to the guns hidden around the house. Her dad was the chief of police in the town, makes sense he would care majorly for her safety. Why? Nothing ever happens in the silent town. Only cuddly animals die and rain, rain, and more god damn rain. And fog. Fog happens too.

With an exaggerated sigh, she muttered to herself as she got dressed in jeans, a purple turtleneck and her grey converse. Claire didn't care much about appearance. Turtlenecks are ugly? She begs to differ. She loves some-what odd fashion. On next came her brown trench coat to fend off the bitter cold. On the way out the door she grabbed her notebook and pen. Perhaps she could get some writing done while she was out.

Her feet carried her to the small coffee shop that was too modern for the old-fashioned town, Grind Me. How they were allowed such a perverted name, Claire will never know. But they served good espresso and played relaxing jazz. That's all that matters. With a smile she left the cold, dreary outside to be welcomed by the warmth the shop offered.

"Hey, Claire-Bear!" Cricket, the petite strawberry blonde waitress giggled, bouncing to the end of the counter. Her accent was obviously one from down south. "You want the normal, hun?" She held the Southern hospitality trait, too. Despite being only twenty-three, Cricket acted as if she was everyone's mamma. And to everyone, no matter what age, she was in a way.

With a nod, the writer replied, "Hey, Chicky. Please. I'll be sitting-"

"In the booth by the door," The bubbly waitress finished slowly, teasing gently. "I know. You've sat there since we first opened. Sweet pea, I know you better than you know yourself. And I know when you're depressed," She moved out from behind the counter with the steaming cup of energy Claire needed.

She frowned at her drink as it was set in front of her. "I'm not depressed."

"Dad been working late?" The waitress asked, raising an eyebrow and placing a hand on her cocked hip.

"... Yeah," Claire grumbled, causing the waitress to give a slight chuckle before walking off to tend to the needs of another customer. The dark-haired girl pulled her notebook and pen from her bag and flipped to her latest chapter, folding the corner back to its correct spot.

Writing was Claire's everything. She could pour her heart and soul into any character she wanted. Medusa was the evil backstabbing bitch, who found love in Jak Frost- excuse Claire while she screams into the booth in her mind. Jak.. was overall her favorite character. Everything about him screamed amazing. He was bitter, but that was only a façade. He loved Medusa. He didn't care about her past. All the frozen little guy cared about was how she was to him, and that was all he needed. Jaxon and Roxanne... they hated him because of the way he had acted, possessed by Phantos, Medusa's evil father. With a sigh she started writing, but soon stopped. Today there just wasn't the itching need to scribble the story of her characters down.

Her attention turned towards the world beyond the glass beside her, her mind blocking out the soft jazz playing from the speakers around the shop. The storm clouds were ever-present, glaring down at the boring valley. Cars lazily drifted by, spitting mist and steam where they moved. Kids wandered in and out of the old arcade across the street. Mothers were escorting their little ones down the slick, cracked sidewalks, scolding them to put their mittens back on and to stop jumping in puddles.

Oh, it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Boring, slow, and annoying. As every year. Claire hated it. She hated every part of the winter. Except the ideas she had for her precious Jakky. If only he was real... But he couldn't be. At least, not here, in Wimbleview. It never snowed, something which crushed her spirits every year. She wished it would snow, oh she begged to a god she didn't believe in that it would snow! Did it? Never.. Never did the powdery flakes she saw in pictures fall from the sky.

One day, Claire knew she would leave this forsaken town and move away, to forget the memories. Forget her mothers terrible fate. Forget how her father worried every time she got sick (which was quite often.) Forget the nightmares, the torments, the anxiety.. Forget it all. She could move to Russia! Yes, the Siberian plain. She could enjoy the delicate snow and wild life and sell her works, possibly start a family. She could do what she wanted.

The only thing stopping her was the stupid rainy small town smack dab in the middle of Canada.