#it's more purple than anything?? i can understand the blue bc it's like a blueish purple but silver??

[jaeminlore]

If The Moon Tells You Something | Taeyong

summary: if the moon tells you something, believe it.

words: 4.1k+

category: jack frost au, rise of the guardians references and easter eggs, taeyong is a cutie, also inspired by my ocs raven, bc i love him

Fairy lights are strung across your headboard. They keep slipping off of the left corner, though, because your window is wide open. Winter hasn't been kind to your university's campus at all. Snow has been pelting the ground since the early morning.

Wind howls through the open window, rattling the pane and sending your thin, white curtains to billow out.

"This is ridiculous," you mutter. You head toward the pane and struggle to push it down, wondering why your house has to be so old; so finicky in extreme weather. Soon, your upper body is shivering from you leaning outside to brush away some of the heavy snow that had accumulated around the pane.

You can see the edge of your roof from your uncomfortable stretching. Snow falls onto your face as if it had been kicked off, so you wonder if there's an owl or a squirrel trying to make a small home for the night.

Instead, a boy peaks over. He smiles.

You shriek and back into your room, scraping your back on the wooden pane. "Ow," you bemoan quietly.

Hesitantly, you peak back out and are startled once again to see that the boy has — assumedly — jumped down to the awning just under your window. "Hello!" He greets, as if he is nothing but a casual passerby on the streets.

His dark locks are covered in white frost, and his lips are a blueish-purple. His eyelashes seem to be completely covered with icy snow. When he blinks at you, some of the melted ice trails from his eyelashes down his pale cheeks.

To you, he looks ethereal. Almost too beautiful to be human. It unnerves you, even more than him showing up unannounced in the middle of the night. "What— Who are you?"

He smiles, teeth sparkling. The air turns white when he talks. "I'm Taeyong."

You furrow your brows. "Are you trying to be Jack Frost or something? Because I'm pretty sure he doesn't scare people just before they're going to sleep!"

Taeyong is sitting cross-legged beneath your window. His elbows are perched on the sill and his chin is rested upon his palms. "Jack Frost is just a pseudonym. Like John Doe. I've been out all night doing icicle runs."

"What are icicle runs?"

"It's where I run across everyone's roof and leave icicles in my wake. It's a vital part of winter, you know." He says it so seriously, and his brown eyes glint with nothing but sincerity.

"So the legends are real?" you manage to breathe out, teeth beginning to chatter.

He laughs, and it sounds to be the warmest thing about him. "Am I going to start nipping at your nose? Maybe." He reaches out and pokes your nose.

You scrunch up your face as the chilliness spreads throughout your body. "Why don't you go bother someone else?"

Taeyong pauses. He looks almost sad. "Not many people can see me, you know? Usually just children. Really smart children who believe in myths adults struggle so hard to understand. Maybe the belief has never outgrown you."

You blink. "Maybe not."

"So I'm bothering you for now." The corners of his eyes crinkle.

You think of your assignment. An art piece on something you strongly believe in. Something abstract and realistic at the same time. Something that makes people think. Something that makes people believe what you do.

Usually, you'd be up to your chest in anxiety over such a large project, especially with it being due over winter break. However, you're snowed in this winter break, with no flights going in or out for a few days. You and your family decided it would be smart to refund the tickets and try for spring break instead.

The thought of spending the holidays alone, without your family, breaks your heart.

All this to say that you're nearly done with your project, since there's nothing better to do besides wallow around in your dorm or snoop through your absent roommates secret candy stash.

You're a bit at odds right now, wondering if the boy in front of you is real, or merely a fatigue-induced mirage crafted up from your extensive research on mythical legends and other things the majority of people tend to believe — at least to an extent.

"I'm real," the boy says. He drops into your dorm, and as soon as his bare feet hit the linoleum, a thin sheet of ice ripples across your floor, breaking apart like lightening bolts. It almost looks as if your floor is now a frozen lake, cracking to reveal the cold depths beneath. "At least, to you."

"So you're just a figment of my imagination?" You rubs your eyes. Once, twice. Then you blink. "You're still here."

"I'm not a figment of anything," he laughs. His eyes crinkle at the sides and there's a certain purity that seems to escape him in that moment. "I'm a guardian. I'm real. But only people who believe can see me."

"I didn't know I believed that much," you mumble to yourself.

A chill creeps down your spine, making you jolt in shock. You spin around, and Taeyong is just behind you, his pointer finger pressed between your shoulder blades.

"This is crazy," he whispers, more to himself than to you. "Not many people believe in Jack Frost, you know. Especially not adults."

"I'm barely an adult," you compensate. "I'm a college student. It's not like I have no wonder left in me."

Taeyong cocks his head to the side. Then he grins. His lip draw upwards into a wide, joyful expression. His eyebrows knit together, and you notice very briefly, that his eyes shine a certain hue of blue in the light. "Wonder. What a wonderful thing, huh?"

"I suppose."

Taeyong leaps back outside, and that's when you notice he isn't standing on anything. He's flying; floating in mid air with no foothold or handle anywhere.

You rush to the window and lean out, eyelids squinted as you try to catch a glimpse of him before the wind takes him away.

For a moment, you notice that he now has a staff in his hand. A long, hooked staff that resembles a gnarled tree branch of some sort. He holds it up, points it at the sky, and then he's gone.

And in his place, snowflakes fall.

-

"Do you believe in Jack Frost?" You ask your professor the next day. You're sitting with the old man outside on one of the many picnic tables around the campus. He's enjoying his own peaceful lunch break.

You, however, have nothing to do, and this is his last day of work until after winter break is over. You're beginning to think last night was just a strange dream, and you need someone to back you up. Therefore, your art professor.

He's one of those jolly old men who look like a mix between a mad scientist and Santa Claus. Professor Joyce, for instance, has a short white beard and bushy eyebrows that just nearly cover his friendly brown eyes. Currently, he is wearing khaki shorts and hiking boots, leaving his calves exposed to the harsh incoming winter. He's munching on carrot sticks, pondering your question with a ruddy smile. "Why? Has someone nipped at your nose?"

"Not exactly," you say, struggling to laugh at the joke that has him in mild stitches. "It's just... he's in Christmas songs, and he has like, ten movies named after him. I just wonder where the legend came from, and if it's real."

"I suppose all legends are real as long as there is belief. Who is to say that what exists in your head is not just as real as what is right in front of you? The entire system of belief begins with faith; the ability to believe what isn't seen."

"Yes, but say you did see something. Something most people don't believe in. How do you know that it wasn't a dream?"

"What did you see?" Professor Joyce narrows his eyes at you.

"Nothing," you speak quickly. "Nothing. I'm sure of it."

You wish him happy holidays, and let the man finish his lunch in peace. On your walk back to the dorm, you realize just how empty the campus is once students begin to return home. Only a few classes are left before break officially begins tomorrow, and only a few people are staying over break.

You wish you had followed your roommates lead and took your flight a week early. Lots of students had done that, after reading the weather reports and deciding it was smarter to simply miss a few classes rather than miss their entire winter break.

But no, you were dumb enough to think the storm would simply cease rather than get worse. Now you're stuck on campus looking like a fool, while only a few others mill around, matching your dismal mood.

You walk up the steps to your dorm building. The steps are coated in a thin sheen of ice, and the moment your sneaker sole steps on the last step, you slip and fall backwards. You close your eyes and brace for the impact of steps against your back, when you fall into someone's arms instead. Someone's very thin, cold arms.

"Woah there, better watch your step."

You jolt, jump out of the boy's arms and turn around. "Taeyong?" Hesitantly, you reach out and touch his hoodie-clad chest, surprised to feel solid muscle beneath it. You had half-expected your hand to fall right through.

"Questioning your beliefs again?" His voice is quiet; there's small smile on his face that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm real, y'know."

You ignore him and continue to head towards your dorm. However, instead of taking the hint, Taeyong walks alongside you, steps spritely. Once you reach your door and stop, taking out your keycard, he stops too, and leans against his staff, simply watching you. "How interesting," he murmurs.

You avoid his gaze and push into your room. "What?"

"You don't want to believe in me, yet you do. That's not usually how it works."

"I don't believe in Jack Frost," you say. You notice the way the light dims behind his kind eyes, and for a moment you wish you could take it back. "But you're here. You're in front of me, and I can't say you aren't real, because it's obvious you are."

Taeyong raises his eyebrows. "I suppose. But I'm only visible to you because you believed beforehand. So you're lying to me."

"I'm not," you say. "I don't believe in fairytales."

"Hmm," Taeyong hums. He skips towards your desk and finds your laptop, open to your last researching topic before you went to take a walk. "The Legend of Jack Frost. You believe in me."

His sing-song voice irritates you only mildly. "I don't," you insist. "I'm studying you. It's for... its for an art project."

"An art project," Taeyong settles his arms across his chest. "So I'm your muse then."

"No," you say.

"Of a sorts."

"Of a sorts," you grit out. "But I was just looking you up after last night. I wasn't planning on you returning."

"And why not?" Taeyong pouts, leaning against his staff again. "You're the only one who believes in me for, like, miles. I want to hang out with you."

"Well, I have work to do, so if you're staying, stay quietly."

"I will!" Taeyong leaps onto your roommates bed and crosses his legs. Frost trails across the mattress and up the headboard. It creeps up the wall and covers the poster of your roommate's celebrity crush. "I promise."

"Okay." You resolve that even if he is just a figment of your imagination, you should still work on your project. You pull up your design page and begin brainstorming. There are many things you believe in, but none strong enough to convince others to believe as well. Nothing comes to mind, so you sit in front of your laptop screen, chewing on the end of your stylus.

You shiver.

"Sorry," Taeyong finally speaks up. "That's the unfortunate side of being my friend: it's always cold."

You grab your blanket off of your bed and wrap it around your shoulders, eyeing the small man as he sits still, just as you asked. He looks preoccupied, touching each polaroid on your roommate's wall and turning it to frost. You wonder briefly how much lasting damage that will have on the picture. But, then again, if he isn't real, then the pictures are fine. "Who said we were friends?"

"Aren't we?" Taeyong smiles lazily. "You believe in me, and I'm starting to believe in you. That's what friends do."

"You're "starting" to believe in me?" You make air quotes. "Why wouldn't you believe in me? I'm a human. I'm real."

"I'm real," Taeyong says simply. "I'm immortal, but I'm real."

"You're not in my history book," you say.

"You're not in mine," Taeyong sticks his tongue out childishly. "But I'm in that book."

He points to the shelf on your wall. There's a book there, one given to you by your great aunt, a long time ago. It's a book passed down through generations, with legends from different cultures. Saint Nicholas, the Easter Bunny, the Sandman, The Boogeyman, The Tooth Fairy, and of course, Jack Frost. Other myths like yetis and leprechauns and the fae... anything children tend to believe in.

Anything you believe in. Or, used to believe in. Things that seem so childish when spoken aloud. Because you can't go out for drinks and discuss fairy circles. You can't leave cookies out for Santa when your roommate will laugh at you for it. You can't hide a tooth under your pillow out of fear that one morning it might still be there.

"That's from when I was a child," you say. "It's more for nostalgia than anything else."

Taeyong hums and drifts over to it, leaving a chill in his wake. He grasps the book and opens it up, He begins to leaf through it. "Usually, one who doesn't believe doesn't write notes on the things they don't believe in."

You feel your neck heat up as Taeyong trails his finger down your notes. "Why, just last year, you stuck your wisdom teeth beneath your pillow. Why would you do that if you don't believe?"

"I–" You take time to answer. "I'm not supposed to–"

"Not supposed to believe? Not supposed to have fun?" Taeyong looks concerned, closing the book and leaning in close. His face is just in front of yours, and his breath is cold against your cheeks. "Why not?"

You shrug and look away. "I don't know. It's different when you become an adult. People look at you weird if you believe in stuff like that."

"What about angels and demons and ghosts and gods?" Taeyong says, "Don't adults believe in them?"

"Those are different." You sit at your desk and put your head in your hands. "Those aren't just debate topics. They bring hope of an afterlife; of something more meaningful than life itself."

"And we don't?" Taeyong sits on your desk and closes your laptop. He leans onto his palm and circles the rim of your mug. "We don't bring hope?"

"Not to adults. Not when you start thinking about what life really means."

"What about to you?" Taeyong asks. His eyes are blown out, brown in color, but that familiar icy blue returns, creeping into his irises. He finally blinks, and frost drifts down his cheeks. "Do we bring hope to you?"

You suck in a breath and stare at him. "Yes. You do."

-

Taeyong doesn't return for two days, and you truly start to think he's found someone else who believes much more than you. You imagine that your heart, or soul, or wherever the belief is stored, is rather dim compared to the schoolchildren across town.

You stay on your bed, tossing a stress ball into the air and catching it, over and over again. The wind howls outside, rattling your window into opening, but you're too sad to close it. Christmas Eve is only a week away, and all flights in and out are still cancelled. The snow isn't letting up either, so you don't even want to risk walking out of your dorm.

You sigh and close your eyes. "I can't believe I'm saying this," you whisper into the empty room. "But Jack Frost, if you're near, could you come visit me?"

The wind whistles louder, and your window slams shut.

You jolt up, eyeing the window. "What the–"

"You called?" Taeyong is the in your doorway, leaning on his staff. He has a sort of shit-eating grin on his face. "I knew it wouldn't take long before you missed me."

You avoid his eyes and pick at the hem of your sweater sleeves. "I'm just... lonely here. That's all. I don't miss you, per se."

"I think you missed me." Taeyong says. His eyes shine with mirth and just as the room gets colder, you feel warmth flood your veins.

You don't deny it. "Come distract me from my project. I'm too upset to do anything productive."

You fall back down onto your bed, scooting sideways until your shoulder is pressing against the wall.

Taeyong lays down beside you. He conjures up a snowball, and begins to throw it up in the air, in the same speed that you throw your stress ball. "Distract you, huh?"

"Yeah. Anything."

"Hmm, should I tell you about me? How I came to be?"

"Yes, please," you set the stress ball down and turn on your side. You focus on Taeyong's side profile: his sharp jawline and the boyish slope of his nose. His eyelashes are still covered in frost, in an ethereal way that makes you think of snowflakes against a windowpane.

"My name is Jack Frost. How do I know that? The moon told me so. But that was all he ever told me. And that was a long, long time ago..."

-

Taeyong leaves after his story, but he comes around every so often after that, if just to tell you hello and ask about your project. You're still stumped, but it's easier to feel creative when he's around, so you mostly doodle sketches of him.

He continues his story every night, adding on as he remembers. You illustrate his stories, drawing rough sketches of the way he describes the elves and the easter bunny.

With each night your wonder grows, and you end up begging him to stay, if just to finish the story sooner.

Taeyong finally does finish it, the day before Christmas Eve, and you've hung onto every word. "So Pitch was defeated?"

"Yeah," Taeyong says. "I mean, as long as there is fear, he'll exist. But as long as there is belief, so will we."

He smiles at you, and you wonder if he's always been this handsome.

-

Christmas Eve is spent FaceTiming your family, and leaving them hints about what you've bought them. You even watch a movie with them through the screen, and you feel a lot better than you did before. They reassure you that Christmas in Springtime is most definitely a thing, and not something they made up on the spot.

You feel a bit better about spending Christmas alone.

Well, not alone. Realistically, all the other students who got snowed in will more than likely gather in the cafeteria tomorrow for cold pizza and a small gift exchange with the professors that also stayed over.

But you'll feel alone. No one you know is snowed in, and you've still got your project to complete.

You know exactly what you want to believe in now, even if your professor or peers might laugh at you.

With the radio playing a low hum of holiday music, you begin to sketch a rough outline of your project onto your tablet screen.

Your window rattles again.

You smile to yourself. "Come in, Taeyong."

You feel him before you see him by the cold frost that creeps across the windowpane and over to your feet, uncovered by your blanket. You shiver, and Taeyong finally makes himself known.

He stands beside your chair, watching you work. "It's me," His voice brightens. He leans down until his chest brushes against your shoulder.

Warmth spreads through your body just as quickly as the cold chill his skin brings. His chilly breath brushes against the shell of your ear, and you do your best not to let it distract you as you show him your project. "Yeah."

"Why?" Taeyong's voice has a sudden softness to it you haven't heard before.

"Because..." You trail off, wondering if its appropriate to tell an immortal guardian that you have a crush on him. It most certainly is, but Taeyong's eyes are a beautiful mix of brown and blue, and his eyelashes are a pretty cream color, mesmerizing as they fall against his opaque skin. "Because you're what I believe in most."

With Taeyong so close, you can hear his breath catch in his throat. "You admitted it," he whispers. "Like, properly."

"No sense telling myself any different," you conclude.

Taeyong doesn't answer; doesn't move, so you turn your head to check his reaction.

You heart lurches in your chest when you realize hes already looking at you. Your nose bumps against his. A chill spreads across your face, opposing Taeyong's cheeks, now rosy with a sort of frost bitten warmth one receives after coming into the house after a long day of playing in the snow.

You focus on his eyes. The reflection of the fairy lights behind the two of you flicker in his eyes, along with an emotion you can't name.

It disappears just as quickly, and it's replaced by a sort of serene glow. His gaze drifts down your face, landing on your lips. You bite your bottom lip nervously, and he watches action.

His hand, on your shoulder suddenly, like he's just decided he needs to steady himself. "I've never felt this warm before," he whispers.

"Does it hurt?" your lips brush against his, and there’s a jolt down your spine from how cold his lips are.

"Not really," he says, eyes closing. "It's nice. It makes me feel close to you. I want to be close to you."

His voice gets softer as he continues; the vulnerability fills your heart with affection.

"Taeyong," you hum, "you can kiss me."

Something like an expression of thanks escapes Taeyong's lips in the form of a sigh. He kisses you, lips cold and chapped against your smooth ones.

His hand stays on your shoulder, but it drifts slowly towards your neck. His nimble fingers play against the seam of your collar, and every time he accidentally grazes you skin, he pushes closer. Closer, until his chest is flushed against yours and your desk chair rolls back, breaking the two of you apart in a fit of laughter.

"Taeyong." You stand up and rest your palm against his chest. "Come here."

Taeyong nods, eyes on you the entire time while you turn him and push him towards the bed. He sits on the end almost obediently and looks up at you, eyes starry and wide.

You move your body between his spread legs and cup his face. You let the pad of your thumb brush across his jaw, cold and smooth. "You're really pretty," you say.

Taeyong blinks up at you. His lips, pale and purple, curl up into a smile. His eyebrows furrow, like he's unsure. "Really?"

You want to tell him that he's a snowflake personified. He's the sunlight on a patch of snow and the way a child lights up when a snowball in thrown. He's the cheer of a snow day and the cold nip at your shoulders when you open the front door.

You can't say it, not right now, so you bend down and kiss him again, allowing your mouth to melt against his.

His cold fingers grip the bottom of your shirt. He tugs you down: closer, closer, closer until the two of you are lying down, legs tangled together.

Taeyong stops to lean his forehead against yours, breath chalky in the warm air of the dorm. "I think I can hold off the snow long enough for you to fly over."

"What?" you sit up. "Taeyong, really? You'd do that?"

Taeyong nods, still lying down. He's smiling up at you, like you're something magnificent in a light he's never seen before. In reality you are just you, and there's a painting of him in the background, more beautiful then he's ever perceived himself to be. "As long as you promise to come back, where I — and a few extra weeks of winter — will be waiting."

#nct au #nct fluff #nct angst #nct scenario #nct scenarios #taeyong au #taeyong fluff #taeyong angst #taeyong scenario #taeyong scenarios #destwrites